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diff --git a/43862.txt b/43862.txt deleted file mode 100644 index fc92036..0000000 --- a/43862.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3760 +0,0 @@ - IN THE MORNING GLOW - - - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost -no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - - -Title: In the Morning Glow - Short Stories -Author: Roy Rolfe Gilson -Release Date: October 01, 2013 [EBook #43862] -Language: English -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE MORNING GLOW *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - -[Illustration: Cover art] - - - - -[Illustration: "'WHAT A BEAUTIFUL DREAM!'" (See page 187)] - - - - - IN THE - MORNING GLOW - - SHORT STORIES - - - By - - ROY ROLFE GILSON - - AUTHOR OF - "Miss Primrose" "The Flower of Youth" - Etc. Etc. - - - - ILLUSTRATED - - - - NEW YORK - GROSSET & DUNLAP - PUBLISHERS - - Published by arrangement with Harper & Brothers - - - - - Copyright, 1902, by HARPER & BROTHERS. - - _All rights reserved._ - - Published October, 1902. - - - - - TO - MY WIFE - - - - - *Contents* - - -GRANDFATHER - -GRANDMOTHER - -WHILE AUNT JANE PLAYED - -LITTLE SISTER - -OUR YARD - -THE TOY GRENADIER - -FATHER - -MOTHER - - - - - *Illustrations* - - -"'WHAT A BEAUTIFUL DREAM!'" . . . . . . _Frontispiece_ - -"WHEN GRANDFATHER WORE HIS WHITE VEST YOU WALKED LIKE OTHER FOLKS" - -"YOU STOLE SOFTLY TO HIS SIDE" - -"WATCHED HIM MAKE THE BLUE FRAGMENTS INTO THE BLUE PITCHER AGAIN" - -"THE SAIL-BOATS HE WHITTLED FOR YOU ON RAINY DAYS" - -"YOU CLUNG TO HER APRON FOR SUPPORT IN YOUR MUTE AGONY" - -"YOU WATCHED THEM AS THEY WENT DOWN THE WALK TOGETHER" - -"TO AND FRO GRANDMOTHER ROCKED YOU" - -"YOU SAID 'NOW I LAY ME' IN UNISON" - -"MOTHER TUCKED YOU BOTH INTO BED AND KISSED YOU" - -"THEY TOOK YOU AS FAR AS THE BEDROOM DOOR TO SEE HER" - -"'BAD DREAM, WAS IT, LITTLE CHAP?'" - -"'FATHER, WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU DON'T SAY ANYTHING, BUT JUST -LOOK?'" - -"'MOTHER,' YOU SAID, SOFTLY" - -"THE PICTURE-BOOK" - -"BEFORE YOU WENT TO BED" - - - - - *Grandfather* - - -When you gave Grandfather both your hands and put one foot against his -knee and the other against his vest, you could walk right up to his -white beard like a fly--but you had to hold tight. Sometimes your foot -slipped on the knee, but the vest was wider and not so hard, so that -when you were that far you were safe. And when you had both feet in the -soft middle of the vest, and your body was stiff, and your face was -looking right up at the ceiling, Grandfather groaned down deep inside, -and that was the sign that your walk was ended. Then Grandfather -crumpled you up in his arms. But on Sunday, when Grandfather wore his -white vest, you walked like other folks. - -[Illustration: "WHEN GRANDFATHER WORE HIS WHITE VEST YOU WALKED LIKE -OTHER FOLKS"] - -In the morning Grandfather sat in the sun by the wall--the stone wall at -the back of the garden, where the golden-rod grew. Grandfather read the -paper and smoked. When it was afternoon and Mother was taking her nap, -Grandfather was around the corner of the house, on the porch, in the -sun--always in the sun, for the sun followed Grandfather wherever he -went, till he passed into the house at supper-time. Then the sun went -down and it was night. - -Grandfather walked with a cane; but even then, with all the three legs -he boasted of, you could run the meadow to the big rock before -Grandfather had gone half-way. Grandfather's pipe was corn-cob, and -every week he had a new one, for the little brown juice that cuddled -down in the bottom of the bowl, and wouldn't come out without a straw, -wasn't good for folks, Grandfather said. Old Man Stubbs, who came -across the road to see Grandfather, chewed his tobacco, yet the little -brown juice did not hurt him at all, he said. Still it was not pleasant -to kiss Old Man Stubbs, and Mother said that chewing tobacco was a -filthy habit, and that only very old men ever did it nowadays, because -lots of people used to do it when Grandfather and Old Man Stubbs were -little boys. Probably, you thought, people did not kiss other folks so -often then. - -One morning Grandfather was reading by the wall, in the sun. You were -on the ground, flat, peeping under the grass, and you were so still that -a cricket came and teetered on a grass-stalk near at hand. Two red ants -climbed your hat as it lay beside you, and a white worm swung itself -from one grass-blade to another, like a monkey. The ground under the -apple-trees was broken out with sun-spots. Bees were humming in the red -clover. Butterflies lazily flapped their wings and sailed like little -boats in a sea of goldenrod and Queen Anne's lace. - -"Dee, dee-dee, dee-dee," you sang, and Mr. Cricket sneaked under a -plantain leaf. You tracked him to his lair with your finger, and he -scuttled away. - -"Grandfather." - -No reply. - -"_Grand_father." - -Not a word. Then you looked. Grandfather's paper had slipped to the -ground, and his glasses to his lap. He was fast asleep in the sunshine -with his head upon his breast. You stole softly to his side With a long -grass you tickled his ear. With a jump he awoke, and you tumbled, -laughing, on the grass. - -[Illustration: "YOU STOLE SOFTLY TO HIS SIDE"] - -"Ain't you 'shamed?" cried Lizzie-in-the-kitchen, who was hanging out -the clothes. - -"Huh! Grandfather don't care." - -Grandfather never cared. That is one of the things which made him -Grandfather. If he had scolded he might have been Father, or even Uncle -Ned--but he would not have been Grandfather. So when you spoiled his -nap he only said, "H'm," deep in his beard, put on his glasses, and read -his paper again. - -When it was afternoon, and the sun followed Grandfather to the porch, -and you were tired of playing House, or Hop-Toad, or Indian, or the -Three Bears, it was only a step from Grandfather's foot to Grandfather's -lap. When you sat back and curled your legs, your head lay in the -hollow of Grandfather's shoulder, in the shadow of his white beard. -Then Grandfather would say, - -"Once upon a time there was a bear..." - -Or, better still, - -"Once, when I was a little boy..." - -Or, best of all, - -"When Grandfather went to the war..." - -That was the story where Grandfather lay all day in the tall grass -watching for Johnny Reb, and Johnny Reb was watching for Grandfather. -When it came to the exciting part, you sat straight up to see -Grandfather squint one eye and look along his outstretched arm, as -though it were his gun, and say, "Bang!" - -But Johnny Reb saw the tip of Grandfather's blue cap just peeping over -the tops of the tall grass, and so he, too, went "Bang!" - -And ever afterwards Grandfather walked with a cane. - -"Did Johnny Reb have to walk with a cane, too, Grandfather?" - -"Johnny Reb, he just lay in the tall grass, all doubled up, and says he, -'Gimme a chaw o' terbaccer afore I die.'" - -"Did you give it to him, Grandfather?" - -"He died 'fore I could get the plug out o' my pocket." - -Then Mother would say: - -"I wouldn't, Father--such stories to a child!" - -Then Grandfather would smoke grimly, and would not tell you any more, -and you would play Grandfather and Johnny Reb in the tall grass. -Lizzie-in-the-kitchen would give you a piece of brown-bread for the chaw -of tobacco, and when Johnny Reb died too soon you ate it yourself, to -save it. You wondered what would have happened if Johnny Reb had not -died too soon. Standing over Johnny Reb's prostrate but still animate -form in the tall grass, with the brown-bread tobacco in your hand, you -even contemplated playing that your adversary lived to tell the tale, -but the awful thought that in that case you would have to give up the -chaw (the brown-bread was fresh that day) kept you to the letter of -Grandfather's story. Once only did you play that Johnny Reb lived--but -the brown-bread was hard that day, and you were not hungry. - -Grandfather wore the blue, and on his breast were the star and flag of -the Grand Army. Every May he straightened his bent shoulders and -marched to the music of fife and drum to the cemetery on the hill. So -once a year there were tears in Grandfather's eyes. All the rest of -that solemn May day he marched in the garden with his hands behind him, -and a far-away look in his eyes, and once in a while his steps quickened -as he hummed to himself, - - "Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching." - -And if it so happened that he told you the story of Johnny Reb that day, -he would always have a new ending: - -"Then we went into battle. The Rebs were on a tarnal big hill, and as -we charged up the side, 'Boys,' says the Colonel--'boys, give 'em hell!' -says he. And, sir, we just did, I tell you." - -"Oh Father, Father--_don't!_--such language before the child!" Mother -would cry, and that would be the end of the new end of Grandfather's -story. - -On a soap-box in Abe Jones's corner grocery, Grandfather argued politics -with Old Man Stubbs and the rest of the boys. - -"I've voted the straight Republican ticket all my life," he would say, -proudly, when the fray was at its height, "and, by George! I'll not -make a darned old fool o' myself by turning coat now. Pesky few -Democrats ever I see who--" - -Here Old Man Stubbs would rise from the cracker-barrel. - -"If I understand you correctly, sir, you have called me a darned old -fool." - -"Not at all, Stubbs," Grandfather would reply, soothingly. "Not by a -jugful. Now you're a Democrat--" - -"And proud of it, sir," Old Man Stubbs would break in. - -"You're a Democrat, Stubbs, and as such you are not responsible; but if -I was to turn Democrat, Stubbs, I'd be a darned old fool." - -And in the roar that followed, Old Man Stubbs would subside to the -cracker-barrel and smoke furiously. Then Grandfather would say: - -"Stubbs, do you remember old Mose Gray?" That was to clear the -battle-field of the political carnage, so to speak--so that Old Man -Stubbs would forget his grievance and walk home with Grandfather -peaceably when the grocery closed for the night. - -If it was winter-time, and the snowdrifts were too deep for grandfathers -and little boys, you sat before the fireplace, Grandfather in his -arm-chair, you flat on the rug, your face between your hands, gazing -into the flames. - -"Who was the greatest man that ever lived, Grandfather?" - -"Jesus of Nazareth, boy." - -"And who was the greatest soldier?" - -"Ulysses S. Grant." - -"And the next greatest?" - -"George Washington." - -"But Old Man Stubbs says Napoleon was the greatest soldier." - -"Old Man Stubbs? Old Man Stubbs? What does he know about it, I'd like -to know? He wasn't in the war. He's afraid of his own shadder. U. S. -Grant was the greatest general that ever lived. I guess I know. I was -there, wasn't I? Napoleon! Old Man Stubbs! Fiddlesticks!" - -And Grandfather would sink back into his chair, smoking wrath and weed -in his trembling corn-cob, and scowling at the blazing fagots and the -curling hickory smoke. By-and-by-- - -"Who was the greatest woman that ever lived, Grandfather?" - -"Your mother, boy." - -"Oh, Father"--it was Mother's voice--"you forget." - -"Forget nothing," cried Grandfather, fiercely. "Boy, your mother is the -best woman that ever lived, and mind you remember it, too. Every boy's -mother is the best woman that ever lived." - -And when Grandfather leaned forward in his chair and waved his pipe, -there was no denying Grandfather. - -At night, after supper, when your clothes were in a little heap on the -chair, and you had your nighty on, and you had said your prayers, Mother -tucked you in bed and kissed you and called Grandfather. Then -Grandfather came stumping up the stairs with his cane. Sitting on the -edge of your bed, he sang to you, - - "The wild gazelle with the silvery feet - I'll give thee for a playmate sweet." - - -And after Grandfather went away the wild gazelle came and stood beside -you, and put his cold little nose against your cheek, and licked your -face with his tongue. It was rough at first, but by-and-by it got softer -and softer, till you woke up and wanted a drink, and found beside you, -in place of the wild gazelle, a white mother with a brimming cup in her -hand. She covered you up when you were through, and kissed you, and -then you went looking for the wild gazelle, and sometimes you found him; -but sometimes, when you had just caught up to him and his silvery feet -were shining like stars, he turned into Grandfather with his cane. - -"Hi, sleepy-head! The dicky-birds are waitin' for you." - -And then Grandfather would tickle you in the ribs, and help you on with -your stockings, till it was time for him to sit by the wall in the sun. - -When you were naughty, and Mother used the little brown switch that hung -over the wood-shed door, Grandfather tramped up and down in the garden, -and the harder you hollered, the harder Grandfather tramped. Once when -you played the empty flower-pots were not flower-pots at all, but just -cannon-balls, and you killed a million Indians with them, Mother showed -you the pieces, and the switch descended, and the tears fell, and -Grandfather tramped and tramped, and lost the garden-path completely, -and stepped on the pansies. Then they shut you up in your own room -up-stairs, and you cried till the hiccups came. You heard the dishes -rattling on the dining-room table below. They would be eating supper -soon, and at one end of the table in a silver dish there would be a -chocolate cake, for Lizzie-in-the-kitchen had baked one that afternoon. -You had seen it in the pantry window with your own eyes, while you fired -the flower-pots. Now chocolate cake was your favorite, so you hated -your bread-and-milk, and tasted and wailed defiantly. Now and then you -listened to hear if they pitied and came to you, but they came not, and -you moaned and sobbed in the twilight, and hoped you would die, to make -them sorry. By-and-by, between the hiccups, you heard the door open -softly. Then Grandfather's hand came through the crack with a piece of -chocolate cake in it. You knew it was Grandfather's hand, because it -was all knuckly. So you cried no more, and while the chocolate cake was -stopping the hiccups, you heard Grandfather steal down the stairs, -softly--but it did not sound like Grandfather at all, for you did not -hear the stumping of his cane. Next morning, when you asked him about -it, his vest shook, and just the tip of his tongue showed between his -teeth, for that was the way it did when anything pleased him. And -Grandfather said: - -"You won't ever tell?" - -"No, Grandfather." - -"Sure as shootin'?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, then--" but Grandfather kept shaking so he could not tell. - -"Oh, Grandfather! _Why_ didn't the cane sound on the stairs?" - -"Whisht, boy! I just wrapped my old bandanna handkerchief around the -end." - -But worse than that time was the awful morning when you broke the blue -pitcher that came over in the _Mayflower_. An old family law said you -should never even touch it, where it sat on the shelf by the clock, but -the Old Nick said it wouldn't hurt if you looked inside--just once. You -had been munching bread-and-butter, and your fingers were slippery, and -that is how the pitcher came to fall. Grandfather found you sobbing over -the pieces, and his face was white. - -"Sonny, Sonny, what have you done?" - -"I--I d-didn't mean to, Grandfather." - -In trembling fingers Grandfather gathered up the blue fragments--all -that was left of the family heirloom, emblem of Mother's ancestral -pride. - -"'Sh! Don't cry, Sonny. We'll make it all right again." - -"M-Moth--Mother 'll whip me." - -"'Sh, boy. No, she won't. We'll take it to the tinker. He'll make it -all right again. Come." - -And you and Grandfather slunk guiltily to the tinker and watched him -make the blue fragments into the blue pitcher again, and then you -carried it home, and as Grandfather set it back on the shelf you -whispered: - -[Illustration: "WATCHED HIM MAKE THE BLUE FRAGMENTS INTO THE BLUE -PITCHER AGAIN"] - -"Grandfather!" - -Grandfather bent his ear to you. Very softly you said it: - -"Grandfather, the cracks don't show at all from here." - -Grandfather nodded his head. Then he tramped up and down in the garden. -He forgot to smoke. Crime weighed upon his soul. - -"Boy," said he, sternly, stopping in his walk. "You must never be -naughty again. Do you hear me?" - -"I won't, Grandfather." - -Grandfather resumed his tramping; then paused and turned to where you -sat on the wheelbarrow. - -"But if you ever _are_ naughty again, you must go at once and tell -Mother. Do you understand?" - -"Yes, Grandfather." - -Up and down Grandfather tramped moodily, his head bent, his hands -clasped behind him--up and down between the verbenas and hollyhocks. He -paused irresolutely--turned--turned again--and came back to you. - -"Boy, Grandfather's just as bad and wicked as you are. He ought to have -made you tell Mother about the pitcher first, and take it to the tinker -afterwards. You must never keep anything from your mother again--never. -Do you hear?" - -"Yes, Grandfather," you whimpered, hanging your head. - -"Come, boy." - -You gave him your hand. Mother listened, wondering, while Grandfather -spoke out bravely to the very end. You had been bad, but he had been -worse, he confessed; and he asked to be punished for himself and you. - -Mother did not even look at the cracked blue pitcher on the clock-shelf, -but her eyes filled, and at the sight of her tears you flung yourself, -sobbing, into her arms. - -"Oh, Mother, don't whip Grandfather. Just whip me." - -"It isn't the blue pitcher I care about," she said. "It's only to think -that Grandfather and my little boy were afraid to tell me." - -And at this she broke out crying with your wet cheek against her wet -cheek, and her warm arms crushing you to her breast. And you cried, and -Grandfather blew his nose, and Carlo barked and leaped to lick your -face, until by-and-by, when Mother's white handkerchief and -Grandfather's red one were quite damp, you and Mother smiled through -your tears, and she said it did not matter, and Grandfather patted one -of her hands while you kissed the other. And you and Grandfather said -you would never be bad again. When you were good, or sick--dear -Grandfather! It was not what he said, for only Mother could say the -love-words. It was the things he did without saying much at all--the -circus he took you to see, the lessons in A B C while he held the book -for you in his hand, the sail-boats he whittled for you on rainy -days--for Grandfather was a ship-carpenter before he was a -grandfather--and the willow whistles he made for you, and the soldier -swords. It was Grandfather who fished you from the brook. Grandfather -saved you from Farmer Tompkins's cow--the black one which gave no milk. -Grandfather snatched you from prowling dogs, and stinging bees, and bad -boys and their wiles. That is what grandfathers are for, and so we love -them and climb into their laps and beg for sail-boats and tales--and -_that_ is their reward. - -[Illustration: "THE SAIL-BOATS HE WHITTLED FOR YOU ON RAINY DAYS"] - -One day--your birthday had just gone by and it was time to think of -Thanksgiving--you walked with Grandfather in the fields. Between the -stacked corn the yellow pumpkins lay, and they made you think of -Thanksgiving pies. The leaves, red and gold, dropped of old age in the -autumn stillness, and you gathered an armful for Mother. - -"Why don't all the people die every year, Grandfather, like the leaves?" - -"Everybody dies when his work's done, little boy. The leaf's work is -done in the fall when the frost comes. It takes longer for a man to do -his work, 'cause a man has more to do." - -"When will your work be done, Grandfather?" - -"It's almost done now, little boy." - -"Oh no, Grandfather. There's lots for you to do. You said you'd make -me a bob-sled, and a truly engine what goes, when I'm bigger; and when I -get to be a grown-up man like Father, you are to come and make willow -whistles for my little boys." - -And you were right, for while the frost came again and again for the -little leaves, Grandfather stayed on in the sun, and when he had made -you the bob-sled he still lingered, for did he not have the truly engine -to make for you, and the willow whistles for your own little boys? - -Waking from a nap, you could not remember when you fell asleep. You -wondered what hour it was. Was it morning? Was it afternoon? Dreamily -you came down-stairs. Golden sunlight crossed the ivied porch and -smiled at you through the open door. The dining-room table was set with -blue china, and at every place was a dish of red, red strawberries. -Then you knew it was almost supper-time. You were rested with sleep, -gentle with dreams of play, happy at the thought of red berries in blue -dishes with sugar and cream. You found Grandfather in the garden -sitting in the sun. He was not reading or smoking; he was just waiting. - -"Are you tired waiting for me, Grandfather?" - -"No, little boy." - -"I came as soon as I could, Grandfather." - -The leaves did not move. The flowers were motionless. Grandfather sat -quite still, his soft, white beard against your cheek, flushed with -sleep. You nestled in his lap. And so you sat together, with the sun -going down about you, till Mother came and called you to supper. Even -now when you are grown, you remember, as though it were yesterday, the -long nap and the golden light in the doorway, and the red berries on the -table, and Grandfather waiting in the sun. - -One day--it was not long afterwards--they took you to see Aunt Mary, on -the train. When you came home again, Grandfather was not waiting for -you. - -"Where is Grandfather?" - -"Grandfather isn't here any more, dearie. He has gone 'way up in the sky -to see God and the angels." - -"And won't he ever come back to our house?" - -"No, dear; but if you are a good boy, you will go to see him some day." - -"But, oh, Mother, what will Grandfather do when he goes to walk with the -little boy angels? See--he's gone and forgot his cane!" - - - - - *Grandmother* - - -In the days when you went into the country to visit her, Grandmother was -a gay, spry little lady with velvety cheeks and gold-rimmed spectacles, -knitting reins for your hobby-horse, and spreading bread-and-butter and -brown sugar for you in the hungry middle of the afternoon. For a bumped -head there was nothing in the bottles to compare with the magic of her -lips. - -"And what did the floor do to my poor little lamb? See! Grandmother -will make the place well again." And when she had kissed it three -times, lo! you knew that you were hungry, and on the door-sill of -Grandmother's pantry you shed a final tear. - -When you arrived for a visit, and Grandmother had taken off your cap and -coat as you sat in her lap, you would say, softly, "Grandmother." Then -she would know that you wanted to whisper, and she would lower her ear -till it was even with your lips. Through the hollow of your two hands -you said it: - -"I think I would like some sugar pie now, Grandmother." - -And then she would laugh till the tears came, and wipe her spectacles, -for that was just what she had been waiting for you to say all the time, -and if you had not said it--but, of course, that was impossible. -Always, on the day before you came, she made two little sugar pies in -two little round tins with crinkled edges. One was for you, and the -other was for Lizbeth. - -After you had eaten your pies you chased the rooster till he dropped you -a white tail-feather in token of surrender, and just tucking the feather -into your cap made you an Indian. Grandmother stood at the window and -watched you while you scalped the sunflowers. The Indians and tigers at -Grandmother's were wilder than those in Our Yard at home. - -Being an Indian made you think of tents, and then you remembered -Grandmother's old plaid shawl. She never wore it now, for she had a new -one, but she kept it for you in the closet beneath the stairs. While -you were gone, it hung in the dark alone, dejected, waiting for you to -come back and play. When you came, at last, and dragged it forth, it -clung to you warmly, and did everything you said: stretched its frayed -length from chair to chair and became a tent for you; swelled proudly in -the summer gale till your boat scudded through the surf of waving grass, -and you anchored safely, to fish with string and pin, by the Isles of -the Red Geraniums. - -"The pirates are coming," you cried to Lizbeth, scanning the horizon of -picket fence. - -"The pirates are coming," she repeated, dutifully. - -"And now we must haul up the anchor," you commanded, dragging in the -stone. Lizbeth was in terror. "Oh, my poor dolly!" she cried, hushing -it in her arms. Gallantly the old plaid shawl caught the breeze; and as -it filled, your boat leaped forward through-- - -"Harry! Lizbeth! Come and be washed for dinner!" - -Grandmother's voice came out to you across the waters. You hesitated. -The pirate ship was close behind. You could see the cutlasses flashing -in the sun. - -"More sugar pies," sang the Grandmother siren on the rocks of the front -porch, and at those melting words the pirate ship was a mere speck on -the horizon. Seizing Lizbeth by the hand, you ran boldly across the -sea. - -By the white bowl Grandmother took your chin in one hand and lifted your -face. - -"My, what a dirty boy!" - -With the rough wet rag she mopped the dirt away--grime of your long -sea-voyage--while you squinted your eyes and pursed up your lips to keep -out the soap. You clung to her apron for support in your mute agony. - -[Illustration: "YOU CLUNG TO HER APRON FOR SUPPORT IN YOUR MUTE AGONY"] - -"Grand--" you managed to sputter ere the wet rag smothered you. Warily -you waited till the cloth went higher, to your puckered eyes. Then, -"Grand-m-m--" But that was all, for with a trail of suds the rag swept -down again, and as the half-word slipped out, the soap slipped in. So -Grandmother dug and dug till she came to the pink stratum of your -cheeks, and then it was wipe, wipe, wipe, till the stratum shone. Then -it was your hands' turn, while Grandmother listened to your belated -tale, and last of all she kissed you above and gave you a little spank -below, and you were done. - -All through dinner your mind was on the table--not on the middle of it, -where the meat was, but on the end of it. - -"Harry, why don't you eat your bread?" - -"Why, I don't feel for bread, Grandmother," you explained, looking at -the end of the table. "I just feel for pie." - -It was hard when you were back home again, for there it was mostly -bread, and no sugar pies at all, and very little cake. - -"Grandmother lets me have _two_ pieces," you would urge to Mother, but -the argument was of no avail. Two pieces, she said, were not good for -little boys. - -"Then why does Grandmother let me have them?" you would demand, -sullenly, kicking the table leg; but Mother could not hear you unless -you kicked hard, and then it was naughty boys, not Grandmothers, that -she talked about. And if that happened which sometimes does to naughty -little boys-- - -"Grandmother don't hurt at all when _she_ spanks," you said. - -So there were wrathful moments when you wished you might live always -with Grandmother. It was so easy to be good at her house--so easy, that -is, to get two pieces of cake. And when God made little boys, you -thought, He must have made Grandmothers to bake sugar pies for them. - -"Suppose you were a little boy like me, Grandmother?" you once said to -her. - -"That would be fine," she admitted; "but suppose you were a little -grandmother like me?" - -"Well," you replied, with candor, "I think I would rather be like -Grandfather, 'cause he was a soldier, and fought Johnny Reb." - -"And if you were a grandfather," Grandmother asked, "what would you do?" - -"Why, if I were a grandfather," you said--"why--" - -"Well, what would you do?" - -"Why, if I were a grandfather," you said, "I should want you to come and -be a grandmother with me." And Grandmother kissed you for that. - -"But I like you best as a little boy," she said. "Once Grandmother had -a little boy just like you, and he used to climb into her lap and put -his arms around her. Oh, he was a beautiful little boy, and sometimes -Grandmother gets very lonesome without him--till you come, and then it's -like having him back again. For you've got his blue eyes and his brown -hair and his sweet little ways, and Grandmother loves you--once for -yourself and once for him." - -"But where is the little boy now, Grandmother?" - -"He's a man now, darling. He's your own father." - -Every Sunday, Grandmother went to church. After breakfast there was a -flurry of dressing, with an opening and shutting of doors up-stairs, and -Grandfather would be down-stairs in the kitchen, blacking his Sunday -boots. On Sunday his beard looked whiter than on other days, but that -was because he seemed so much blacker everywhere else. He creaked out -to the stable and hitched Peggy to the buggy and led them around to the -front gate. Then he would snap his big gold watch and go to the bottom -of the stairs and say: - -"Maria! Come! It's ten o'clock." - -Grandmother's door would open a slender crack--"Yes, John"--and -Grandfather would creak up and down in his Sunday boots, up and down, -waiting, till there was a rustling on the stairs and Grandmother came -down to him in a glory of black silk. There was a little frill of white -about her neck, fastened with her gold brooch, and above that her gentle -Sabbath face. Her face took on a new light when Sunday came, and she -never seemed so near, somehow, as on other days. There was a look in -her eyes that did not speak of sugar pies or play. There was a little -pressure of the thin lips and a silence, as though she had no time for -fairy-tales or lullabies. When she set her little black bonnet on her -gray hair and lifted up her chin to tie the ribbon strings beneath, you -stopped your game to watch, wondering at her awesomeness; and when in -her black-gloved fingers she clasped her worn Bible and stooped and -kissed you good-bye, you never thought of putting your arms around her. -She was too wonderful--this little Sabbath Grandmother--for that. - -Through the window you watched them as they went down the walk together -to the front gate, Grandmother and Grandfather, the tips of her gloved -fingers laid in the hollow of his arm. Solemn was the steady stumping -of his cane. Solemn was the day. Even the roosters knew it was Sunday, -somehow, and crowed dismally; and the bells--the church-bells tolling -through the quiet air--made you lonesome and cross with Lizbeth. Your -collar was very stiff, and your Sunday trousers were very tight, and -there was nothing to do, and you were dreary. - -[Illustration: "YOU WATCHED THEM AS THEY WENT DOWN THE WALK TOGETHER"] - -After dinner Grandfather went to sleep on the sofa, with a newspaper -over his face. Then Grandmother took you up into her black silk lap and -read you Bible stories and taught you the Twenty-third Psalm and the -golden text. And every one of the golden texts meant the same -thing--that little boys should be very good and do as they are told. - -Grandmother's Sunday lap was not so fine as her other ones to lie in. -Her Monday lap, for instance, was soft and gray, and there were no texts -to disturb your reverie. Then Grandmother would stop her knitting to -pinch your cheek and say, "You don't love Grandmother." - -"Yes, I do." - -"How much?" - -"More'n tonguecantell. What is a tonguecantell, Grandmother?" - -And while she was telling you she would be poking the tip of her finger -into the soft of your jacket, so that you doubled up suddenly with your -knees to your chin; and while you guarded your ribs a funny spider would -crawl down the back of your neck; and when you chased the spider out of -your collar it would suddenly creep under your chin, or there would be a -panic in the ribs again. By that time you were nothing but wriggles and -giggles and little cries. - -"Don't, Grandmother; you tickle." And Grandmother would pause, -breathless as yourself, and say, "_Oh_, my!" - -"Now you must do it some more, Grandmother," you would urge, but she -would shake her head at you and go back to her knitting again. - -"Grandmother's tired," she would say. - -You were tired, too, so you lay with your head on her shoulder, sucking -your thumb. To and fro Grandmother rocked you, to and fro, while the -kitten played with the ball of yarn on the floor. The afternoon -sunshine fell warmly through the open window. Bees and butterflies -hovered in the honeysuckles. Birds were singing. Your mind went -a-wandering--out through the yard and the front gate and across the -road. On it went past the Taylors' big dog and up by Aunty Green's, -where the crullers lived, all brown and crusty, in the high stone crock. -It scrambled down by the brook where the little green frogs were hopping -into the water, leaving behind them trembling rings that grew wider and -wider and wider, till pretty soon they were the ocean. That was a big -thought, and you roused yourself. - -[Illustration: "TO AND FRO GRANDMOTHER ROCKED YOU"] - -"How big is the ocean, Grandmother?" - -"As big--oh, as big as all out-doors." - -Your mind waded out into the ocean till the water was up to its knees. -Then it scrambled back again and lay in the warm sand and looked up at -the sky. And the sand rocked to and fro, to and fro, as your mind lay -there, all curled up and warm, by the ocean, watching the butterflies in -the honeysuckles and the crullers in the crock. And all the people were -singing ... all the people in the world, almost ... and the little green -frogs.... "Bye--bye, bye--bye," they were singing, in time to the -rocking of the sand ... "Bye--bye" ... "Bye" ... "Bye" ... - -And when you awoke you were on the sofa, all covered up with -Grandmother's shawl. - -So you liked the gay week-day Grandmother best, with her soft lap and -her lullabies. Grandfather must have liked her best too, you thought, -for when he went away forever and forgot his cane, it was the Sunday -Grandmother he left behind--a little, gray Grandmother sitting by the -window and gazing silently through the panes. - -What she saw there you never knew--but it was not the trees, or the -distant hills, or the people passing in the road. - - - - - *While Aunt Jane Played* - - -Aunt Jane played the piano in the parlor. You could play, too--"Peter, -Peter, Punkin-eater," with your forefinger, Aunt Jane holding it in her -hand so that you would strike the right notes. But when Aunt Jane played -she used both hands. Sometimes the music was so fast and stirring that -it made you dance, or romp, or sing, or play that you were not a little -boy at all, but a soldier like Grandfather or George Washington; and -sometimes the music was so soft and beautiful that you wanted to be a -prince in a fairy tale; and then again it was so slow and grim that you -wished it were not Sunday, for the Sunday tunes, like your tight, black, -Sunday shoes, had all their buttons on, and so were not comfy or made -for fun. You could not march to them, or fight to them, or be a -grown-up man to them. Somehow they always reminded you that you were -only a pouting, naughty little boy. - -The sound of the piano came out to you as you lingered by the table -where Lizzie-in-the-kitchen was making pies. You ran into the parlor -and sat on a hassock by Aunt Jane, watching her as she played. It was -not a fast piece that day, nor yet a slow one, but just in-between, so -that as you sat by the piano you wondered if the snow and sloppy little -puddles would ever go and leave Our Yard green again. Even with rubber -boots now Mother made you keep the paths, and mostly you had to stay in -the house. Through the window you could see the maple boughs still -bare, but between them the sky was warm and blue. Pretty soon the -leaves would be coming, hiding the sky. - -"Auntie." - -"Yes," though she did not stop playing. - -"Where do the leaves come from?" - -"From the little buds on the twigs, dearie." - -"But how do they know when it's time to come, Auntie Jane? 'Cause if -they came too soon, they might catch cold and die." - -"Well, the sun tells them when." - -"How does the sun tell them, Auntie?" - -"Why, he makes the trees all warm, and when the buds feel it, out they -come." - -"Oh." - -Your eyes were very wide. They were always wide when you wondered; and -sometimes when you were not wondering at all, just hearing Aunt Jane -play would make you, and then your eyes would grow bigger and bigger as -you sat on the hassock by the piano, looking at the maple boughs and -hearing the music and being a little boy. - -It was a beautiful piece that Aunt Jane was playing that March morning. -The sun came and shone on the maple boughs. - -"And now the sun is telling the little buds," you said to yourself in -time to Aunt Jane's music, but so softly that she did not hear. - -"And now the little buds are saying 'All right,'" you whispered, more -softly still, for the bigger your eyes got, the smaller, always, was -your voice. - -A little song-sparrow came and teetered on a twig. - -"Oh, Auntie, see! The birdie's come, too, to tell the buds, I guess." - -Aunt Jane turned her head and smiled at the sparrow, but she did not -stop playing. Your heart was beating in time to the music, as you sat -on the hassock by the piano, watching the bird and the sun. The sparrow -danced like Aunt Jane's fingers, and put up his little open bill. He -was singing, though you could not hear. - -"But, Auntie." - -"Yes." - -"Who told the little bird?" - -"God told the little bird, dearie--away down South where the oranges and -roses grow in the winter, and there isn't any snow. And the little bird -flew up here to Ourtown to build his nest and sing in our maple-tree." - -Your eyes were so wide now that you had no voice at all. You just sat -there on the hassock while Aunt Jane played. - -Away down South ... away down South, singing in an orange-tree, you saw -the little bird ... but now he stopped to listen with his head on one -side, and his bright eye shining, while the warm wind rustled in the -leaves ... God was telling him ... So the little bird spread his wings -and flew ... away up in the blue sky, above the trees, above the -steeples, over the hills and running brooks ... miles and miles and -miles ... till he came to Our Yard, in the sun. - -"And here he is now," you ended aloud your little story, for you had -found your voice again. - -"Who is here, dearie?" asked Aunt Jane, still playing. - -"Why, the little bird," you said. - -The sparrow flew away. The sun came through the window to where you sat -on the hassock, by the piano. It warmed your knees and told you--what -it told the buds, what God told the little bird in the orange-tree. -Like the little bird you could stay no longer. You ran out-of-doors -into the soft, sweet wind and the morning. - -Aunt Jane gave the keys a last caress. Grandmother turned in her chair -by the sitting-room window. - -"What were you playing, Janey?" - -"Mendelssohn's 'Spring Song,' Mother." - -The little gray Grandmother looked out-of-doors again to where you -played, singing, in the sun. - -"Isn't it beautiful?" she murmured. - -You waved your hand to her and laughed, and she nodded back at you, -smiling at your fun. - -"Bless his heart, _he's_ playing the music, too," she said. - - - - - *Little Sister* - - -In the daytime she played with you, and believed all you said, and was -always ready to cry. At night she slept with you and the four dolls. -She was your little sister, Lizbeth. - -"Whose little girl are you?" they would ask her. If she were sitting in -Father's lap, she would doubtless reply-- - -"Father's little girl." - -But-- - -"Oh, _Lizbeth_!" Mother would cry. - -"--and Mother's," Lizbeth would add, to keep peace in the family. -Though she never mentioned you at such times, she told you privately -that she would marry you when you grew to be a man, and publicly she -remembered you in her prayers. Kneeling down at Mother's knee, you and -Lizbeth, in your little white nighties, before you went to bed, you said -"Now I lay me" in unison, and ended with blessing every one, only at the -very end _you_ said: - -[Illustration: "YOU SAID 'NOW I LAY ME' IN UNISON"] - -"--and God bless Captain Jinks," for even a wooden soldier needed God in -those long, dark nights of childhood, while Lizbeth said: - -"--and God bless all my dollies, and send my Sally doll a new leg." - -But though God sent three new legs in turn, Sally was always losing -them, so that finally Lizbeth confided in Mother: - -"Pretty soon God 'll be tired of sending Sally new legs, I guess. _You_ -speak to Him next time, Mother, 'cause I'm 'shamed to any more." - -And when Mother asked Him, He sent a new Sally instead of a new leg. It -would be cheaper, Mother told Father, in the long-run. - -In the diplomatic precedence of Lizbeth's prayers, Father and Mother -were blessed first, and you came between "Grandfather and Grandmother" -and "God bless my dollies." Thus was your family rank established for -all time by a little girl in a white night-gown. You were a little -lower than your elders, it is true, but you were higher than the legless -Sally or the waxen blonde. - -When Lizbeth and you were good, you loved each other, and when you were -bad, both of you at the same time, you loved each other too, _very_ -dearly. But sometimes it happened that Lizbeth was good and you were -bad, and then she only loved Mother, and ran and told tales on you. And -you--well, you did not love anybody at all. - -When your insides said it would be a long time before dinner, and your -mouth watered, and you stood on a chair by the pantry shelf with your -hand in a brown jar, and when Lizbeth found you there, you could tell by -just looking at her face that she was very good that day, and that she -loved Mother better than she did you. So you knew without even thinking -about it that you were very bad, and you did not love anybody at all, -and your heart quaked within you at Lizbeth's sanctity. But there was -always a last resort. - -"Lizbeth, if you tell"--you mumbled awfully, pointing at her an uncanny -forefinger dripping preserves--"if you tell, a great big black Gummy-gum -'ll get you when it's dark, and he'll pick out your eyes and gnaw your -ears off, and he'll keep one paw over your mouth, so you can't holler, -and when the blood comes--" - -Lizbeth quailed before you. She began to cry. - -"You won't tell, _will_ you?" you demanded, fiercely, making eyes like a -Gummy-gum and showing your white teeth. - -"No--o--o," wailed Lizbeth. - -"Well, stop crying, then," you commanded, sucking your syrupy fingers. -"If you cry, the Gummy-gum 'll come and get you _now_." - -Lizbeth looked fearfully over her shoulder and stopped. By that time -your fingers were all sucked, and the cover was back on the jar, and you -were saved. But that night, when Mother and Father came home, you -watched Lizbeth, and lest she should forget, you made the eyes of a -Gummy-gum, when no one but Lizbeth saw. Mother tucked you both into bed -and kissed you and put out the light. Then Lizbeth whimpered. - -[Illustration: "MOTHER TUCKED YOU BOTH INTO BED AND KISSED YOU"] - -"Why, Lizbeth," said Mother from the dark. - -Quick as a flash you snuggled up to Lizbeth's side. "The Gummy-gum 'll -get you if you don't stop," you whispered, warningly--but with one -dismal wail Lizbeth was out of bed and in Mother's arms. Then you knew -all was over. Desperately you awaited retribution, humming a little -song, and so it was to the tune of "I want to be an angel" that you -heard Lizbeth sob out her awful tale: - -"Harry ... he ... he said the Gummy-gum 'd get me ... if I told about -the p'serves." - -And it was _you_ the Gummy-gum got that time, and your blood, you -thought, almost came. - -But other nights when you went to bed--nights after days when you had -both been good and loved each other--it was fine to lie there in the -dark with Lizbeth, playing Make-Believe before you fell asleep. - -"I tell you," you said, putting up your foot so that the covers rose -upon it, making a little tent--"I tell you; let's be Indians." - -"Let's," said Lizbeth. - -"And this is our little tent, and there's bears outside what 'll eat you -up if you don't look out." - -Lizbeth shivered and drew her knees up to her chin, so that she was -nothing but a little warm roll under the wigwam. - -"And now the bears are coming--wow! wow! wow!" - -And as the great hungry beasts pushed their snouts under the canvas and -growled and gnashed their teeth, Lizbeth, little squaw, squealed with -terror, and seized you as you lay there helpless in your triple role of -tent and bears and Indian brave; seized you in the ticklish ribs so that -the wigwam came tumbling about your ears, and the Indian brave rolled -and shrieked with laughter, and the brute bears fled to their mountain -caves. - -"Children!" - -"W-what?" - -"Stop that noise and go right to sleep. Do you hear me?" - -Was it not the voice of the mamma bear? Stealthily you crept under the -fallen canvas, which had grown smaller, somehow, in the _melee_, so that -when you pulled it up to your chin and tucked it in around you, Lizbeth -was out in the cold; and when Lizbeth tucked herself in, then you were -shivering. But by-and-by you huddled close in the twisted sheets and -talked low beneath the edge of the coverlet, so that no one heard -you--not even the Gummy-gum, who spent his nights on the back stairs. - -"Does the Gummy-gum eat little folks while they're asleep?" asked -Lizbeth, with a precautionary snuggle-up. - -"No; 'cause the Gummy-gum is afraid of the little black gnomes what live -in the pillows." - -"Well, if the little black gnomes live in the pillows, why can't you -feel them then?" - -"'Cause, now, they're so teenty-weenty and so soft." - -"And can't you ever see them at all?" - -"No; 'cause they don't come out till you're asleep." - -"Oh ... Well, Harry--now--if a Gummy-gum had a head like a horse, and a -tail like a cow, and a bill like a duck, what?" - -"Why--why, he _wouldn't_, 'cause he _isn't_." - -"Oh ... Well, is the Gummy-gum just afraid of the little gnomes, and -that's all?" - -"Um-hm; 'cause the little gnomes have little knives, all sharp and -shiny, what they got on the Christmas-tree." - -"_Our_ Christmas-tree?" - -"No; the little gnomes's Christmas-tree." - -"The little gnomes's Christmas-tree?" - -"Um-hm." - -"Why?" - -"'Cause ... why, there ain't any why ... just Christmas-tree." - -"Just ... just Christmas-tree?" - -"Um." - -"Why ... I thought ... I ..." - -And you and Lizbeth never felt Mother smooth out the covers at all, -though she lifted you up to straighten them; and so you slept, -spoon-fashion, warm as toast, with the little black gnomes watching in -the pillows, and the Gummy-gum, hungry but afraid, in the dark of the -back stairs. - -The pear-tree on the edge of the enchanted garden, green with summer and -tremulous with breeze, sheltered a little girl and her dolls. On the -cool turf she sat alone, preoccupied, her dress starched and white like -the frill of a valentine, her fat little legs straight out before her, -her bright little curls straight down behind, her lips parted, her eyes -gentle with a dream of motherhood--Mamma Lizbeth crooning lullabies to -her four children cradled in the soft grass. - -"I'll tell you just one more story," she was saying, "just one, and -that's all, and then you children must go to sleep. Sally, lie still! -Ain't you 'shamed, kicking all the covers off and catching cold? -Naughty girl. Now you must listen. Well ... Once upon a time there was -a fairy what lived in a rose, and she had beautiful wings--oh, all -colors--and she could go wherever she wanted to without anybody ever -seeing her, 'cause she was iwisible, which is when you can't see anybody -at all. Well, one day the fairy saw a little girl carrying her father's -dinner, and she turned herself into an old witch and said to the little -girl, 'Come to me, pretty one, and I will give thee a stick of -peppermint candy.' Now the little girl, she just loved candy, and -peppermint was her favorite, but she was a good little girl and minded -her mother most dut'fly, and never told any lies or anything; so she -courtesied to the old witch and said, 'Thank you kindly, but I must -hurry with my father's dinner, or he will be hungry waiting.' _And what -do you think_? Just then the old witch turned into the beautiful fairy -again, and she kissed the little girl, and gave her a whole bag of -peppermint candy, and a doll what talked, and a velocipede for her -little brother. And what does this story teach us, children? ... Yes. -That's right. It teaches us to be good little boys and girls and mind -our parents. And that's all." - -The dolls fell asleep. Lizbeth whispered lest they should awake, and -tiptoed through the grass. A blue-jay called harshly from a neighboring -tree. Lizbeth frowned and glanced anxiously at the grassy trundle-bed. -"'Sh!" she said, warningly, her finger on her lip, whenever you came -near. - -Suddenly there was a rustle in the leaves above, and out of their -greenness a little pear dropped to the grass at Lizbeth's feet. - -"It's mine," you cried, reaching out your hand. - -"No--o," screamed Lizbeth. "It's for my dollies' breakfast," and she -hugged the stunted, speckled fruit to her bosom so tightly that its -brown, soft side was crushed in her hands. You tried to snatch it from -her, but she struck you with her little clinched fist. - -"No--o," she cried again. "It's my dollies' pear." Her lip quivered. -Tears sprang into her eyes. You straightened yourself. - -"All right," you muttered, fiercely. "All right for you. I'll run -away, I will, and I'll never come back--_never_!" - -You climbed the stone wall. - -"No," cried Lizbeth. - -"I'll never come back," you called, defiantly, as you stood on the top. - -"No," Lizbeth screamed, scrambling to her feet and turning to you a face -wet with tears and white with terror. - -"Never, _never_!" was your farewell to her as you jumped. Deaf to the -pitiful wail behind you, you ran out across the meadow, muttering to -yourself your fateful, parting cry. - -Lizbeth looked for a moment at the wall where you had stood. Then she -ran sobbing after you, around through the gate, for the wall was too -high for her, and out into the field, where to her blurred vision you -were only a distant figure now, never, never to return. - -"Harry!" she screamed, and the wind blew her cry to you across the -meadow, but you ran on, unheeding. She struggled after you. The -daisies brushed her skirt. Creeping vines caught at her little shoes -and she fell. Scratched by briers, she scrambled to her feet again and -stumbled on, blind with tears, crying ever "Harry, Harry!" but so -faintly now in her sobs and breathlessness that you did not hear. At -the top of a weary, weary slope she sank helpless and heartbroken in the -grass, a little huddle of curls and pinafore, so that your conscience -smote you as you stood waiting, half hidden by the hedge. - -"Don't be a cry-baby. I was only fooling," you said, and at the sound -of your voice Lizbeth lifted her face from the grasses and put out her -arms to you with a cry. In one hand was the little pear. - -"Oh, I don't want the old thing," you cried, throwing yourself beside -her on the turf. Smiling again through her tears, Lizbeth reached out a -little hand scratched by briers, and patted your cheek. - -"Harry," she said, "you can have all my animal crackers for your -m'nagerie, if you want to, and my little brown donkey; and I'll play -horse with you any time you want me to, Harry, I will." - -So, after all, you did not run away, and you and Lizbeth went home at -last across the meadow, hand in hand. Behind you, hidden and forgotten -in the red clover, lay your quarrel and the little pear. - -When Lizbeth loved you, there were stars in her brown eyes; when you -looked more closely, so that you were very near their shining, you saw -in their round, black pupils, smiling back at you, the face of a little -boy; and then in your own eyes, Lizbeth, holding your cheeks between her -hands, found the face of a little girl. - -"Why, it's _me_!" she cried. - -And when you looked again into Lizbeth's eyes, you saw yourself; and -"Oh, Mother," you said afterwards, for you had thought deeply, "I think -it's the _good_ Harry that's in Lizbeth's eyes, 'cause when I look at -him, he's always smiling." That was as far as you thought about it -then; but once, long afterwards, it came to you that little boys never -find their pictures in a sister's eyes unless they are good, and love -her, and hold her cheeks between their hands. - -Lizbeth's cheeks were softer than yours, and when she played horse, or -the day was windy, so that the grass rippled and the trees sang, or when -it was tub-day with soap and towels up-stairs, her cheeks were pink as -the roses in Mother's garden. That is how you came to tell Mother a -great secret, one evening in summer, as you sat with her and Lizbeth on -the front steps watching the sun go down. - -"I guess it's tub-day in the sky, Mother." - -"Tub-day?" - -"Why, yes. All the little clouds have been having their bath, I think, -'cause they're all pink and shiny, like Lizbeth." - -But once Lizbeth's cheeks were white, and she stayed in bed every day, -and you played by yourself. Twice a day they took you as far as the -bedroom door to see her. - -[Illustration: "THEY TOOK YOU AS FAR AS THE BEDROOM DOOR TO SEE HER"] - -"H'lo," you said, as you peeked. - -"H'lo," she whispered back, very softly, for she was almost asleep, and -she did not even smile at you, and before you could tell her what the -Pussy-cat did they took you away--but not till you had seen the two -glasses on the table with the silver spoon on top. - -There was no noise in the days then. Even the trees stopped singing, and -the wind walked on tiptoe and whispered into people's ears, like you. - -"Is it to-day Lizbeth comes down-stairs?" you asked every morning. - -"Do you think Lizbeth will play with me to-morrow?" you asked every -night. Night came a long time after morning in the days when Lizbeth -could not play. - -"Oh, dear, I don't think I feel very well," you told Mother. Tears -spilled out of your eyes and rolled down your cheeks. Mother felt your -brow and looked at your tongue. - -"_I_ know what's the matter with my little boy," she said, and kissed -you; but she did not put you to bed. - -One day, when no one was near, you peeked and saw Lizbeth. She was -alone and very little and very white. - -"H'lo," you said. - -"H'lo," she whispered back, and smiled at you, and when she smiled you -could not wait any longer. You went in very softly and kissed her where -she lay and gave her a little hug. She patted your cheek. - -"I'd like my dollies," she whispered. You brought them to her, all -four--the two china ones and the rag brunette and the waxen blonde. - -"Dollies are sick," she said. "They 'most died, I guess. Play you're -sick, too." - -Mother found you there--Lizbeth and you and the four dolls, side by side -on the bed, all in a little sick row. And from the very moment that you -kissed Lizbeth and gave her the little hug, she grew better, so that -by-and-by the wind blew louder and the trees sang lustily, and all Our -Yard was bright with flowers and sun and voices and play, for you and -Lizbeth and the four dolls were well again. - - - - - *Our Yard* - - -The breadth of Our Yard used to be from the beehives to the red -geraniums. When the beehives were New York, the geraniums were Japan, -so the distance is easy to calculate. The apple-tree Alps overshadowed -New York then, which seems strange now, but geography is not what it -used to be. In the lapse of years the Manhattan hives have crumbled in -the Alpine shade, an earthquake of garden spade has wiped Japan from the -map, and where the scarlet islands lay in the sun there are green -billows now, and other little boys in the grass, at play. - -In the old days when you sailed away on the front gate, which swung and -creaked through storms, to the other side of the sea, you could just -descry through a fog of foliage the rocky shores of the back-yard fence, -washed by a surf of golden-rod. If you moored your ship--for an -unlatched gate meant prowling dogs in the garden, and Mother was cross -at that--if you anchored your gate-craft dutifully to become a soldier, -you could march to the back fence, but it was a long journey. Starting, -a drummer-boy, you could never foretell your end, for the future was -vague, even with the fence in view, and your cocked hat on your curls, -and your drumsticks in your hand. Lizbeth and the dolls might halt you -at the front steps and muster you out of service to become a doctor with -Grandmother's spectacles and Grandfather's cane. And if the dolls were -well that day, with normal pulses and unflushed cheeks, and you marched -by with martial melody, there was your stalled hobby-horse on the side -porch, neighing to you for clover hay; and stopping to feed him meant -desertion from the ranks, to become a farmer, tilling the soil and -bartering acorn eggs and clean sand butter on market-day. And even -though you marched untempted by bucolic joys, there lay in wait for you -the kitchen door, breathing a scent of crullers, or gingerbread, or -apple-pies, or leading your feet astray to the unscraped frosting-bowl -or the remnant cookies burned on one side, and so not good for supper, -but fine for weary drummer-boys. So whether you reached the fence that -day was a question for you and the day and the sirens that beckoned to -you along your play. - -Across the clover prairie the trellis mountains reared their vine-clad -heights. Through their morning-glories ran a little pass, which led to -the enchanted garden on the other side, but the pass was so narrow and -overhung with vines that when Grandfather was a pack-horse and carried -you through on his back, your outstretched feet would catch on the -trellis sides. Then the pack-horse would pick his way cautiously and -you would dig your heels into his sides and hold fast, and so you got -through. Once inside the garden, oh, wonder of pansies and hollyhocks -and bachelor's-buttons and roses and sweet smells! The sun shone -warmest there, and the fairies lived there, Mother said. - -"But when it rains, Mother?" - -"Oh, then they hide beneath the trellis, under the honeysuckles." - -Mother wore an apron and sun-bonnet, and knelt in the little path, -digging with a trowel in the moist, brown earth. You helped her with -your little spade. Under a lilac-bush Lizbeth made mud-pies, and the -pies of the enchanted garden were the brownest and richest in all Our -Yard. They were the most like Mother's, Lizbeth said. Grandfather sat -on the wheelbarrow-ship and smoked. - -"Do fairies smoke, Grandfather?" - -"The old grandfather fairies do," he said. - -Of all the flowers in the enchanted garden you liked the roses best, and -of all the roses you liked the red. There was a big one that hung on -the wall above your head. You could just reach it when you stood on -tiptoe, and pulling it down to you then, you would bury your face in its -petals and take a long snuff, and say, - -"Um-m-m." - -And when you let it go, it bobbed and courtesied on its prickly stem. -But one morning, very early, when you pulled it down to you, you were -rough with it, and it sprinkled your face with dew. - -"The rose is crying," Lizbeth said. - -"You should be very gentle with roses," Mother told you. "Sometimes -when folks are sick or cross, just the sight of a red rose cheers them -and makes them smile again." - -That was a beautiful thought, and it came back to you the day you left -Our Yard and ran away. You were gone a long time. It was late in the -afternoon when you trudged guiltily back again, and when you were still -a long way off you could see Mother waiting for you at the gate. The -brown switch, doubtless, was waiting too. So you stole into Our Yard -through the back fence, and hid in the enchanted garden, crying and -afraid. It began to rain, a gentle summer shower, and like the fairies -you hid beneath the honeysuckles. Looking up through your tears, you -saw the red rose--and remembered. The rain stopped. You climbed upon -the wheelbarrow-ship and pulled the rose from the vine. Trembling, you -approached the house. Softly you opened the front door. At the sight -of you Mother gave a little cry. Your lip quivered; the tears rolled -down your cheeks; for you were cold and wet and dreary. - -"M-mother," you said, with outstretched hand, "here's a r-rose I brought -you"; and she folded you and the flower in her arms. It was true, then, -what she had told you--that when people are cross there is sometimes -nothing in the world like the sight of a sweet red rose to cheer them -and make them smile again. - -Once in Our Yard, you were safe from bad boys and their fists, from bad -dogs and their bites, and all the other perils of the road. Yet Our -Yard had its dangers too. Through the rhubarb thicket in the corner of -the fence stalked a black bear. You had heard him growl. You had seen -the flash of his white teeth. You had tracked him to his lair. Just -behind you, one hand upon your coat, came Lizbeth. - -"'Sh! I see him," you whispered, as you raised your wooden gun. - -Bang! Bang! - -And the bear fell dead. - -"Don't hurt Pussy," said Mother, warningly. - -"No," you said, and the dead bear purred and rubbed his head against -your legs. Once, after you had killed and eaten him, he mewed and ran -before you to his basket-cave; and there were five little bears, all -blind and crying, and you took them home and tamed them by the kitchen -fire. - -But the bear was nothing to the Wild Man who lived next door. In the -barn, close to your fence, he lay in wait for little girls and boys to -eat them and drink their blood and gnaw their bones. Oh, you had seen -him once yourself, as you peered through a knot-hole in the barn-side. -He was sitting on an upturned water-pail, smoking a pipe and muttering. - -You and Lizbeth stole out to look at him. Hand in hand you tiptoed -across the clover prairie where the red Indians roved. You scanned the -horizon, but there was not a feather or painted face in sight -to-day--though they always came when you least expected them, popping up -from the tall grass with wild, blood-curdling yells, and scalping you -when you didn't watch out. Across the prairie, then, you went, -silently, hand in hand. The sun fell warm and golden in the open. -Birds were singing in the sky, unmindful of the lurking perils among the -tall grass and beyond the fence. Back of you were home and Mother's -arms, and in the pantry window, cooling, two juicy pies. Before you, -across the clover, a great gray dungeon frowned upon you; within its -walls a creature of blood and mystery waiting with hungry jaws. Hushed -and timorous, you approached. - -"Oh, I'm afraid," Lizbeth whimpered. Savagely you caught her arm. - -"'Sh! He'll hear you," you hissed through chattering teeth. A cloud -hid the sun, and the ominous shadow fell upon you as you crouched, -trembling, on the edge of the raspberry wood. - -"Sh!" you said. Under cover of the forest shade you crept with bated -breath, on all-fours, stealthily. Oh, what was that? That awful sound, -that hideous groan? From the barn it came, with a crunching of teeth -and a rattle of chain. Lizbeth gave a little cry, seized you, and hid -her face against your coat. - -"'Sh!" you said. "That's him! Hear him!" - -Through wood and prairie rang a piercing cry-- - -"Mother! I want my mother!" - -And Lizbeth fled, wailing, across the plain. You followed--to cheer -her. - -"Cowardy Calf!" you said, but you did not say it till you had reached -the kitchen door. And in hunting the Wild Man you never got farther -than his groan. - -Mornings in Our Yard the clover prairie sparkled with a million gems. -The fairies had dropped them, dancing in the moonbeams, while you slept. -Strung on a blade of grass you found a necklace of diamonds left by the -queen herself in her flight at dawn, but when you plucked it, the -quivering brilliants melted into water drops and trickled down your -hand. Then the warm sun came and took the diamonds back to the fairies -again--but your shoes were still damp with dew. And by-and-by you would -be sneezing, and Mother would be taking down bottles for you, for the -things that fairies wear are not good for little boys. And if ever you -squash the fairies' diamonds beneath your feet, and don't change your -shoes, the fairies will be angry with you, and you will be catching -cold; and if you take the queen's necklace--oh, then watch out, for they -will be putting a necklace of red flannel on you! - -Wide-awake was Our Yard in the morning with its birds and wind and -sunshine and your play, but when noonday dinner was over there was a -yawning in the trees. The birds hushed their songs. Grandfather dozed -in his chair on the porch. The green grass dozed in the sun. And as the -shadows lengthened even the perils slept--Indians on the clover prairie, -bear in the rhubarb thicket, Wild Man in the barn. In the apple-tree -shade you lay wondering, looking up at the sky--wondering why bees -purred like pussy-cats, why the sparrows bowed to you as they eyed you -sidewise, what they twittered in the leaves, where the clouds went when -they sailed to the end of the sky. Three clouds there were, floating -above the apple-tree, and two were big and one was little. - -"The big clouds are the Mother and Father clouds," you told yourself, -for no one was there to hear, "and the little one is the Little Boy -cloud, and they are out walking in the sky. And now the Mother cloud is -talking to the Little Boy cloud. 'Hurry up,' she says; 'why do you walk -so slow?' And the Little Boy cloud says, 'I can't go any faster 'cause -my legs are so short.' And then the Father cloud laughs and says, -'Let's have some ice-cream soda.' Then the Little Boy cloud says, 'I'll -take vaniller, and make it sweet,' and they all drink. And by-and-by -they all go home and have supper, and after supper the Mother cloud -undresses the Little Boy cloud, and puts on his nighty, and he kneels -down and says, 'Now I lay me down to sleep.' And then the Mother cloud -kisses the Little Boy cloud on both cheeks and on his eyes and on his -curls and on his mouth twice, and he cuddles down under the moon and -goes to sleep. And that's all." - -Far beyond the apple-tree, far beyond your ken, the three clouds -floated--Father and Mother and Little Son--else your story had been -longer; and in the floating of little clouds, in the making of little -stories, in the sleeping of little boys, it was always easiest when Our -Yard slumbered in the afternoon. - -When supper was over a bonfire blazed in the western sky, just over the -back fence. The clouds built it, you explained to Lizbeth, to keep -themselves warm at night. It was a beautiful fire, all gold and red, -but as Our Yard darkened, the fire sank lower till only the sparks -remained, and sometimes the clouds came and put the sparks out too. -When the moon shone you could see, through the window by your bed, the -clover prairie and the trellis mountains, silver with fairies, and you -longed to hold one in your hand. But when the night fell moonless and -starless, the fairies in Our Yard groped their way--you could see their -lanterns twinkling in the trees--and there were goblins under every -bush, and, crouching in the black shadows, was the Wild Man, gnawing a -little boy's bone. Oh, Our Yard was awful on a dark night, and when you -were tucked in bed and the lamp was out and Mother away downstairs, you -could hear the Wild Man crunching his bone beneath your window, and you -pulled the covers over your head. But always, when you woke, Our Yard -was bright and green again, for though the moon ran away some nights, -the sun came every day. - -With all its greenness and its brightness and its vastness and its -enchanted garden, Our Yard bore a heavy yoke. You were not quite sure -what the burden was, but it was something about tea. Men, painted and -feathered like the red Indians, had gone one night to a ship in the -harbor and poured the tea into the sea. That you knew; and you had -listened and heard of the midnight ride of Paul Revere. Through the -window you saw Our Yard smiling in the morning sun; trees green with -summer; flight of white clouds in the sky; flight of brown birds in the -bush. Wondering, you saw it there, a fair land manacled by a tyrant's -hand, and the blood mounted to your cheeks. - -"Mother, I want my sword." - -"It is where you left it, my boy." - -"And my soldier-hat and drum." - -"They are under the stairs." - -Over your shoulder you slung your drum. With her own hands Mother -belted your sword around you and set your cocked hat on your curls. -Then twice she kissed you, and you marched away to the music of your -drum. She watched you from the open door. - -It was a windy morning, and you were bravest in the wind. From the back -fence to the front gate, from the beehives to the red geraniums, there -was a scent and stir of battle in the air. Rhubarb thicket and -raspberry wood re-echoed with the beat of drums and the tramp of -marching feet. Far away beyond the wood-pile hills, behind the trellis -mountains where the morning-glories clung, tremulous, in the gale, even -the enchanted garden woke from slumber and the flowers shuddered in -their peaceful beds. On you marched, through the wind and the morning, -on through Middlesex, village and farm, till you heard the cannon and -the battle-cries. - -"Halt!" - -You unslung your drum. Mounting your charger, you galloped down the -line. - -"Forward!" - -And you rode across the blood-stained clover. Into the battle you led -them, sword in hand--into the thickest of the fight--while all about -you, thundering in the apple-boughs, reverberating in the wood-pile -hills, roared the guns of the west wind. Fair in the face of that -cannonade you flung the flower of your army. Around you lay the wounded, -the dead, the dying. Beneath you your charger fell, blood gushing from -his torn side. A thrust bayonet swept off your cocked hat. You were -down yourself. Tut! 'Twas a mere scratch--and you struggled on. -Repulsed, you rallied and charged again ... again ... again, across the -clover, to the mouths of the smoking guns. Afoot, covered with blood, -your shattered sword gleaming in the morning sun, you stood at last on -the scorched heights. Before your flashing eyes, a rout of redcoats in -retreat; behind your tossing curls, the buff and blue. - -A cry of triumph came down the beaten wind: - -"Mother! Mother! We licked 'em!" - -"Whom?" - -"The Briddish!" - -And Our Yard was free. - - - - - *The Toy Grenadier* - - -It was a misnomer. He was not a captain at all, nor was he of the Horse -Marines. He was a mere private in the Grenadier Guards, with his musket -at a carry and his heels together, and his little fingers touching the -seams of his pantaloons. Still, Captain Jinks was the name he went by -when he first came to Our House, years ago, and Captain Jinks he will be -always in your memory--the only original Captain Jinks, the ballad to -the contrary notwithstanding. - -It was Christmas Eve when you first saw him. He was stationed on sentry -duty beneath a fir-tree, guarding a pile of commissary stores. He -looked neither to the left nor to the right, but straight before him, -and not a tremor or blink or sigh disturbed his military bearing. His -bearskin was glossy as a pussy-cat's fur; his scarlet coat, with the -cross of honor on his heart, fitted him like a glove, and every gilt -button of it shone in the candlelight; and oh, the loveliness, the -spotless loveliness, of his sky-blue pantaloons! - -"My boy," said Father, "allow me to present Captain Jinks. Captain -Jinks, my son." - -"Oh!" you cried, the moment you clapped eyes on him. "Oh, Father! What -a beautiful soldier!" - -And at your praise the Captain's checks were scarlet. He would have -saluted, no doubt, had you been a military man, but you were only a -civilian then. - -"Take him," said Father, "and give him some rations. He's about -starved, I guess, guarding those chocolates." - -So you relieved the Captain of his stern vigil--or, rather, the Captain -and his gun, for he refused to lay down his arms even for mess call, -without orders from the officer of the guard, though he did desert his -post, which was inconsistent from a military point of view, and deserved -court-martial. And while he was gone the commissary stores were -plundered by ruthless, sticky hands. - -Lizbeth brought a new wax doll to mess with the Captain. A beautiful -blonde she was, and the Captain was gallantry itself, but she was a -little stiff with him, in her silks and laces, preferring, no doubt, a -messmate with epaulets and sword. So the chat lagged till the Rag Doll -came--an unassuming brunette creature--and the Captain got on very well -with her. Indeed, when the Wax Doll flounced away, the Captain leaned -and whispered in the Rag Doll's ear. What he said you did not hear, but -the Rag Doll drew away, shyly-- - -"Very sudden," she seemed to say. But the Captain leaned nearer, at an -angle perilous to both, and--kissed her! The Rag Doll fainted to the -floor. The Captain was at his wits' end. Without orders he could not -lay aside his gun, for he was a sentry, albeit off his post. Yet here -was a lady in distress. The gun or the lady? The lady or the gun? The -Captain struggled betwixt his honor and his love. In the very stress of -his contending emotions he tottered, and would have fallen to the Rag -Doll's side, but you caught him just in time. Lizbeth applied the -smelling-bottle to the Rag Doll's nose, and she revived. Pale, but -every inch a rag lady, she rose, leaning on Lizbeth. She gave the -Captain a withering glance, and swept towards the open door. The -Captain did not flinch. Proudly he drew himself to his full height; his -heels clicked together; his gun fell smartly to his side; and as the -lady passed he looked her squarely in her scornful eyes, and bore their -_conge_ like a soldier. - -Next morning--Christmas morning--in the trenches before the Coal -Scuttle, the Captain fought with reckless bravery. The earthworks of -building-blocks reached barely to his cartridge-belt, yet he stood erect -in a hail of marble balls. - -"Jinks, you're clean daft," cried Grandfather. "Lie down, man!" - -But the Captain would not budge. Commies and glassies crashed around -him. They ploughed up the earthworks before him; they did great -execution on the legs of chairs and tables and other non-combatants -behind. Yet there he stood, unmoved in the midst of the carnage, his -heels together, his little fingers just touching the seams of his -pantaloons. It was for all the world as though he were on dress parade. -Perhaps he was--for while he stood there, valorous in that Christmas -fight, his eyes were on the heights of Rocking Chair beyond, where, safe -from the marble hail, sat the Rag Doll with Lizbeth and the waxen -blonde. - -There was a rumble--a crash through the torn earthworks--a shock--a -scream from the distant heights--and the Captain fell. A monstrous -glassy had struck him fairly in the legs, and owing to his military -habit of standing with them close together--well, it was all too sad, -too harrowing, to relate. An ambulance corps of Grandfather and Uncle -Ned carried the crippled soldier to the Tool Chest Hospital. He was -just conscious, that was all. The operation he bore with great -fortitude, refusing to take chloroform, and insisting on dying with his -musket beside him, if die he must. What seemed to give him greatest -anguish was his heels, for, separated at last, they would not click -together now; and his little fingers groped nervously for the misplaced -seams of his pantaloons. - -Long afterwards, when the Captain had left his cot for active duty -again, it was recalled that the very moment when he fell so gallantly in -the trenches that day a lady was found unconscious, flat on her face, at -the foot of Rocking Chair Hill. - -Captain Jinks was never the same after that. Still holding his gun as -smartly as before, there was, on the other hand, a certain carelessness -of attire, a certain dulness of gilt buttons, a smudginess of scarlet -coat, as though it were thumb-marked; and dark clouds were beginning to -lower in the clear azure of his pantaloons. There was, withal, a certain -rakishness of bearing not provided for in the regulations; a little -uncertainty as to legs; a tilt and limp, as it were, in sharp contrast -to the trim soldier who had guarded the commissary chocolates under the -Christmas fir. Moreover--though his comrades at arms forbore to mention -it, loving him for his gallant service--he was found one night, flat on -his face, under the dinner-table. Now the Captain had always been -abstemious before. Liquor of any kind he had shunned as poison, holding -that it spotted his uniform; and once when forced to drink from -Lizbeth's silver cup, at the end of a dusty march, his lips paled at the -contaminating touch, his red cheeks blanched, and his black mustache, in -a single drink, turned gray. But here he lay beneath the festive board, -bedraggled, his nose buried in the soft rug, hopelessly -inarticulate--though the last symptom was least to be wondered at, since -he had always been a silent man. - -You shook him where he lay. There was no response. You dragged him -forth in his shame and set him on his feet again, but he staggered and -fell. Yet as he lay there in his cups--oh, mystery of discipline!--his -heels were close together, his toes turned out, his musket was at a -carry, and his little fingers were just touching the seams of his -pantaloons. - -For the good of the service Mother offered to retire the Captain on half -pay, and give him free lodging on the garret stair, but he scorned the -proposal, and you backed him in his stand. All his life he had been a -soldier. Now, with war and rumors of war rife in the land, should he, -Captain Jinks, a private in the Grenadier Guards, lay down his arms for -the piping peace of a garret stair? No, by gad, sir! No! And he -stayed; and, strangest thing of all, he was yet to fight and stand guard -and suffer as he had never done before. - -But while the Captain thus sadly went down hill, the Rag Doll retired to -a modest villa in the closet country up-stairs. It was quiet there, and -she could rest her shattered nerves. Whether she blamed herself for her -rejected lover's downfall, or whether it was mere petulance at the -social triumphs of the waxen blonde is a question open to debate. -Sentimentalists will find the former theory more to their fancy, but, -the blonde and her friends told a different tale. Be that as it may, -the Rag Doll went away. - -January passed in barracks; then February and March, with only an -occasional scouting after cattle-thieves and brigand bands. The Captain -chafed at such inactivity. - -"War! You call this war!" his very bristling manner seemed to say. "By -gad! sir, when I was in the trenches before..." - -It was fine then to see the Captain and Grandfather--both grizzled -veterans with tales to tell--side by side before the library fire. When -Grandfather told the story of Johnny Reb in the tall grass, the Captain -was visibly moved. - -"Jinks," Grandfather would say--"Jinks, you know how it is -yourself--when the bacon's wormy and the coffee's thin, and there's a -man with a gun before you and a girl with a tear behind." - -And at the mention of the girl and the tear the Captain would turn away. - -Spring came, and with it the marching orders for which you and the -Captain had yearned so long. There was a stir in the barracks that -morning. The Captain was drunk again, it is true, but drunk this time -with joy. He could not march in the ranks--he was too far gone for -that--so you stationed him on a wagon to guard the commissary stores. - -A blast from the bugle--Assembly--and you fell into line. - -"Forward--_March!_" - -And you marched away, your drum beating a double-quick, the Captain -swaying ignominiously on the wagon and hugging his old brown gun. As -the Guards swung by the reviewing-stand, their arms flashing in the sun, -the Captain did not raise his eyes. So he never knew that looking down -upon his shame that April day sat his rag lady, with Lizbeth and the -waxen blonde. Her cheeks were pale, but her eyes were tearless. She did -not utter a sound as her tottering lover passed. She just leaned far -out over the flag-hung balcony and watched him as he rode away. - -It was a hard campaign. Clover Plain, Wood-pile Mountain, and the -Raspberry Wilderness are names to conjure with. From the back fence to -the front gate, from the beehives to the red geraniums, the whole land -ran with blood. Brevetted for personal gallantry on the Wood-pile -Heights, you laid aside your drum for epaulets and sword. The Guards -and the Captain drifted from your ken. When you last saw him he was -valiantly defending a tulip pass, and defying a regiment of the Black -Ant Brigade to come and take him--by gad! sirs--if they dared. - -The war went on. Days grew into weeks, weeks into months, and the -summer passed. Search in camps and battlefields revealed no trace of -Captain Jinks. Sitting by the camp-fire on blustering nights, your -thoughts went back to the old comrade of the winter days. - -"Poor Captain Jinks!" you sighed. - -"Jinks?" asked Grandfather, laying down his book. - -"Yes. He's lost. Didn't you know?" - -"Jinks among the missing!" Grandfather cried. Then he gazed silently -into the fire. - -"Poor old Jinks!" he mused. "He was a brave soldier, Jinks was--a brave -soldier, sir." He puffed reflectively on his corn-cob pipe. Presently -he spoke again, more sadly than before: - -"But he had one fault, Jinks had--just one, sir. He was a leetle too -fond o' his bottle on blowy nights." - -November came. The year and the war were drawing to a close. Before -Grape Vine Ridge the enemy lay intrenched for a final desperate stand. -To your council of war in the fallen leaves came Grandfather, a scarf -around his throat, its loose ends flapping in the gale. He leaned on -his cane; you, on your sword. - -"Bring up your guns, boy," he cried. "Bring up your heavy guns. Fling -your cavalry to the left, your infantry to the right. 'Up, Guards, and -at 'em!' Cold steel, my boy--as Jinks used to say." - -Grandfathers for counsel; little boys for war. At five that night the -enemy surrendered--horse, foot, and a hundred guns. Declining the -General's proffered sword, you rode back across the battle field to your -camp in the fallen leaves. The afternoon was waning. In the gathering -twilight your horse stumbled on a prostrate form. You dismounted, -knelt, brushed back the leaves, peered into the dimmed eyes and ashen -face. - -"Captain!" you cried. "Captain Jinks!" And at your call came Lizbeth, -running, dragging the Rag Doll by her hand. Breathless they knelt beside -him where he lay. - -"Oh, it's Captain Jinks," said Lizbeth, but softly, when she saw. Prone -on the battle-field lay the wounded Grenadier, his uniform gray with -service in the wind and rain. - -"Captain!" you cried again, but he did not hear you. Then the Rag Doll -bent her face to his, in the twilight, though she could not speak. A -glimmer of recognition blazed for a moment, but faded in the Captain's -eyes. - -"He's tired marching, I guess," said Lizbeth. - -"'Sh!" you said. "He's dying." - -You bent lower to feel his fluttering pulse. You placed your ear to the -cross of honor, rusted, on his breast. His heart was silent. And so he -died--on the battlefield, his musket at his side, his heels together, -his little fingers just touching the seams of his pantaloons. - - - - - *Father* - - -Every evening at half-past six there was a sound of footsteps on the -front porch. You ran, you and Lizbeth, and by the time you had reached -the door it opened suddenly from without, and you each had a leg of -Father. Mother was just behind you in the race, and though she did not -shout or dance, or pull his coat or seize his bundles, she won his first -kiss, so that you and Lizbeth came in second after all. - -"Hello, Buster!" he would sing out to you, so that you cried, "My name -ain't Buster--it's Harry," at which he would be mightily surprised. But -he always called Lizbeth by her right name. - -"Well, Lizbeth," he would say, kneeling, for you had pulled him down to -you, bundles and all, and Lizbeth would cuddle down into his arms and -say: - -"_Fa_-ther." - -"What?" - -"Why, Father, now what do you think? My Sally doll has got the measles -awful." - -"No! You don't say?" - -And "Father!" you would yell into his other ear, for while Lizbeth used -one, you always used the other--using one by two persons at the same -time being strictly forbidden. - -"Father." - -"Yes, my son. - -"The Jones boy was here to-day and--and--and he said--why, now, he -said--" - -"_Fa_-ther" (it was Lizbeth talking into _her_ ear now), "do you think -my Sally doll--" - -It was Mother who rescued Father and his bundles at last and carried you -off to supper, and when your mouth was not too full you finished telling -him what the Jones boy said, and he listened gravely, and prescribed for -the Sally doll. Though he came home like that every night except Sunday -in all the year, you always had something new to tell him in both ears, -and it was always, to all appearances, the most wonderful thing he had -ever heard. - -But now and then there were times when you did not yearn for the sound -of Father's footsteps on the porch. - -"Wait till Father comes home and Mother tells him what a bad, bad boy -you have been!" - -"I don't care," you whispered, defiantly, all to yourself, scowling out -of the window, but "Tick-tock, tick-tock" went the clock on the -mantel-shelf--"Tick-tock, tick-tock"--more loudly, more swiftly than you -had ever heard it tick before. Still you were brave in the broad light -of day, and if sun and breeze and bird-songs but held out long enough, -Mother might forget. You flattened your nose against the pane. There -was a dicky-bird hopping on the apple-boughs outside. You heard him -twittering. If you were only a bird, now, instead of a little boy. -Birds were so happy and free. Nobody ever made them stay in-doors on an -afternoon made for play. If only a fairy godmother would come in a gold -coach and turn you into a bird. Then you would fly away, miles and -miles, and when they looked for you, at half-past six, you would be -chirping in some cherry-tree. - -"Tick-tock, tick-tock--whir-r-r! One! Two! Three! Four! Five!" -struck the clock on the mantel-shelf. The bright day was running away -from you, leaving you far behind to be caught, at half-past six--caught -and ... - -But Father might not come home to supper to-night! Once he did not. At -the thought the sun lay warm upon your cheek, and you rapped on the pane -bravely at the dicky-bird outside. The bird flew away. - -"Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock." - -Swiftly the day passed. Terribly fell the black night, fastening its -shadows on you and all the world. Grimly Mother passed you, without a -look or word. She pulled down the window shades. One by one she -lighted the lamps--the tall piano-lamp with the red globe, the little -green lamp on the library-table, the hanging lamp in the dining-room. -Already the supper-table was set. - -The clock struck six! - -You watched Mother out of the corners of your eyes. Had she forgotten? - -"Mother," you said, engagingly. "See me stand on one leg." - -"Mother does not care to look at naughty little boys." - -"Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock." - -You were very little to punish. Besides, you were not feeling very -well. It was not your tummy, nor your head, nor yet the pussy-scratch -on your finger. It was a deeper pain. - -"Tick-tock, tick-tock." - -If you should die like the Jones boy's little brother and be put in the -cemetery on the hill, they would be sorry. - -"Tick-tock, tick-tock." - -Mother went to the window and peered out. - -"TICK-TOCK!" - -"Whir-r-r-" - -And the clock struck half-past six! - -Steps sounded upon the porch--Mother was going to the door--it opened! - -"Where's Buster?" - -And Mother told! - -... And somehow when Father spanked it always seemed as if he were -meddling. He was an outsider all day. Why, then, did he concern himself -so mightily at night? - -After supper Father would sit before the fire with you on one knee and -Lizbeth on the other, while Mother sewed, till by-and-by, just when you -were most comfy and the talk most charming, he would say: - -"Well, Father must go now." - -"Oh no, Father. Don't go yet." - -"But Father must. He must go to Council-meeting." - -"What's a Council-meeting, Father?" you asked, and while he was telling -you he would be putting on his coat. - -"Don't sit up for me," he would tell Mother, and the door would shut at -half-past seven just as it had opened at half-past six, with the same -sound of footsteps on the porch. - -"Oh, dear," you would say. "Father's always going somewhere. I guess -he doesn't like to stay home, Mother." - -Then Mother would take you and Lizbeth on her lap. - -"Dearies, Father would love to stay at home and play with you and -Mother, but he can't. All day long he has to work to take care of us -and buy us bread-and-butter--" - -"And chocolate cake, Mother?" - -"Yes, and chocolate cake. And he goes to the Council to help the other -men take care of Ourtown so that the burglars won't get in or the -street-lamps go out and leave us in the dark." - -Your eyes were very round. That night after you and Lizbeth were in bed -and the lights were out, you thought of the Council and the burglars so -that you could not sleep, and while you lay there thinking, the -wolf-wind began to howl outside. Then suddenly you heard the patter, -patter, patter of its feet upon the roof. You shuddered and drew the -bedclothes over your head. What if It got inside? Could It bite -through the coverlet with its sharp teeth? Would the Council come and -save you just in time? ... Which would be worse, a wolf or a burglar? A -wolf, of course, for a burglar might have a little boy of his own -somewhere, in bed, curled up and shivering, with the covers over his -head.... But what if the burglar had no little boy? Did burglars ever -have little boys? ... How could a man ever be brave enough to be a -burglar, in the dead of night, crawling through windows into pitch-dark -rooms, ... into little boys' rooms, ... crawling in stealthily with -pistols and false-faces and l-lanterns? ... - -But That One was crawling in! Right into your room, ... right in over -the window-sill, ... like a cat, ... with a false-face on, and pistols, -loaded and pointed right at you.... You tried to call; ... your voice -was dried up in your throat, ... and all the time He was coming nearer, -... nearer, ... nearer... - -"Bad dream, was it, little chap?" asked the Council, holding you close -to his coat, all smoky of cigars, and patting your cheek. - -[Illustration: "BAD DREAM, WAS IT, LITTLE CHAP?"] - -"F-father, where did he go?" - -"Who go, my boy?" - -"Why, the burglar, Father." - -"There wasn't any burglar, child." - -"Why, yes, Father. I saw him. Right there. Coming through the -window." - -And it took Father and Mother and two oatmeal crackers and a drink of -water to convince you that it was all a dream. So whether it was in -frightening burglars away, or keeping the street-lamps burning, or -smoking cigars, or soothing a little boy with a nightmare and a fevered -head, the Council was a useful body, and always came just in time. - -On week-day mornings Father had gone to work when you came down-stairs, -but on Sunday mornings, when you awoke, a trifle earlier if anything-- - -"Father!" - -Silence. - -"Father!" a little louder. - -Then a sleepy "Yes." - -"We want to get up." - -"It isn't time yet. You children go to sleep." - -You waited. Then-- - -"Father, is it time yet?" - -"No. You children lie still." - -So you and Lizbeth, wide-awake, whispered together; and then, to while -away the time while Father slept, you played Indian, which required two -little yells from you to begin with (when the Indian You arrived in your -war-paint) and two big yells from Lizbeth to end with (when the Paleface -She was being scalped). - -Then Father said it was "no use," and Mother took a hand. You were -quiet after that, but it was yawny lying there with the sun so high. -You listened. Not a sound came from Father and Mother's room. You rose -cautiously, you and Lizbeth, in your little bare feet. You stole softly -across the floor. The door was a crack open, so you peeked in, your -face even with the knob and Lizbeth's just below. And then, at one and -the same instant, you both said "Boo!" and grinned; and the harder you -grinned the harder Father tried not to laugh, which was a sign that you -could scramble into bed with him, you on one side and Lizbeth on the -other, cuddling down close while Mother went to see about breakfast. - -It was very strange, but while it had been so hard to drowse in your own -bed, the moment you were in Father's you did not want to get up at all. -Indeed, it was Father who wanted to get up first, and it was you who -cried that it was not time. - -Week-days were always best for most things, but for two reasons Sunday -was the best day of all. One reason was Sunday dinner. The other was -Father. On Sunday the dinner-table was always whitest with clean linen -and brightest with silver and blue china and fullest of good things to -eat, and sometimes Company came and brought their children with them. -On Sunday, too, there was no store to keep, and Father could stay at -home all day. - -He came down to breakfast in slippers and a beautiful, wide jacket, -which was brown to match the coffee he always took three cups of, and -the cigar which he smoked afterwards in a big chair with his feet thrust -out on a little one. While he smoked he would read the paper, and -sometimes he would laugh and read it out loud to Mother; and sometimes -he would say, "That's so," and lay down his paper and talk to Mother -like the minister's sermon. And once he talked so loudly that he said -"Damn." Mother looked at you, for you were listening, and sent you for -her work-basket up-stairs. After that, when you talked loudest to -Lizbeth or the Jones boy, you said "Damn," too, like Father, till Mother -overheard you and explained that only fathers and grandfathers and bad -little boys ever said such things. It wasn't a pretty word, she said, -for nice little boys like you. - -"But, Mother, if the bad little boys say it, why do the good fathers say -it--hm?" - -Mother explained that, too. Little boys should mind their mothers, she -said. - -It was easy enough not to say the word when you talked softly, but when -you talked loudest it was hard to remember what Mother said. For when -you talked softly, somehow, you always remembered Mother, and when you -talked loudly it was Father you remembered best. - -The sun rose high and warm. It was a long time after breakfast. -Fragrance came from the kitchen to where you sat in the library, all -dressed-up, looking at picture-books and waiting for dinner, and -wondering if there would be pie. Father was all dressed-up, too, and -while he read silently, you and Lizbeth felt his cheeks softly with your -finger-tips. Where the prickers had been at breakfast-time it was as -smooth as velvet now. Father's collar was as white as snow. In place -of his jacket he wore his long, black Sunday coat, and in his shoes you -could almost see your face. - -"Father's beautifulest on Sunday," Lizbeth said. - -"So am I," you said, proudly, looking down your blouse and trousers to -the shine of your Sunday shoes. - -"So are you, too," you added kindly to Lizbeth, who was all in white and -curls. - -Then you drew a little chair beside Father's and sat, quiet and very -straight, with your legs crossed carelessly like his and an open book -like his in your lap. And when Father changed his legs, you changed your -legs, too. Lizbeth looked at you two awhile awesomely. Then she -brought her little red chair and sat beside you with the Aladdin book on -her lap, but she did not cross her legs. And so you sat there, all -three, clean and dressed-up and beautiful, by the bay-window, while the -sun lay warm and golden on the library rug, and sweeter and sweeter grew -the kitchen smells. - -Then dinner came, and the last of it was best because it was sweetest, -and if Company were not there you cried: - -"It's going to be pie to-day, isn't it, Mother?" - -But Mother would only smile mysteriously while the roast was carried -away. Then Lizbeth guessed. - -"It's pudding," she said. - -"No, pie," you cried again, "'cause yesterday was pudding." - -"Now, Father, you guess," said Lizbeth. - -"I guess?" - -"Yes, Father." - -And at that Father would knit his brows and put one finger to one side -of his nose, so that he could think the harder, and by-and-by he would -say: - -"I know. I'll bet it's custard." - -"Oh _no_, Father," you broke in, for you liked pie best, and even to -admit the possibility of custard, aloud, might make it come true. - -"Then it's lemon jelly with cream," said Father, trying another finger -to his nose and pondering deeply. - -"Oh, you only have one guess," cried you and Lizbeth together, and -Father, cornered, stuck to the jelly and cream. - -"Oh, dear," Lizbeth said, "I don't see what good it does to brush off -the crumbs in the middle of dinner." - -Silence fell upon the table, you and Lizbeth holding Father's -outstretched hands. Your eyes were wide, the better to see. Your lips -were parted, the better, doubtless, to hear. Only Mother was serene, -for only Mother knew. And then through the stillness came the sound of -rattling plates. - -"Pie," you whispered. - -"Pudding," whispered Lizbeth. - -"Jelly," whispered Father, hoarsely. - -The door swung open. You rose in your seats, you and Lizbeth and -Father, craning your necks to see, and, seeing-- - -"_Pie!_" you cried, triumphantly. - -"Ah!" said Father, lifting his pie-crust gayly with the tip of his fork. - -"Apples," you said, peeping under your crust. - -"Apples, my son? Apples? Why, no. Bless my soul! As I live, this is a -robber's cave filled with sacks of gold." - -"Oh, _Father_!" you cried, incredulous, not knowing how to take him yet; -but you peeped again, and under your pie-crust it was like a cave, and -the little slices of juicy apple lay there like sacks of gold. - -"And see!" said Father, pointing with his fork, "there is the entrance -to the cave, and when the policemen chased the robbers--pop! they went, -right into their hole, like rabbits." - -And sure enough, in the upper crusts were the little cuts through which -the robbers popped. Your eyes widened. - -"And oh, Father," you said, "the smoke can come out through the little -holes when the robbers build their fire." - -"Aha!" cried Father, fiercely. "I'm the policeman breaking into the -cave while the robbers are away," and he took a bite. - -"And I'm another policeman," you cried, catching the spirit of the thing -and taking a bigger bite than Father's. - -"And I'm a policeman's wife coming along, too," said Lizbeth, helping -herself, so that Mother said: - -"John, John, how am I ever going to teach these children table manners -when--" - -"But see, Mother, see!" Father explained, taking another bite, and -ignoring Mother's eyes. "If we don't get the gold away the robbers will -come back and--" - -"Kill us!" you broke in. - -"Yes, kill us, Mother!" shouted Father, balancing another sack of gold -on the end of his fork. "Yes, yes, Mother, don't you see?" - -"I see," said Mother, just between laugh and frown, and when the robbers -came back around the coffee-pot hill, lo! there was no gold or cave -awaiting them--only three plates scraped clean, and two jubilant -policemen and a policeman's wife, full of gold. - -And when Father was Father again, leaning on the back of Mother's chair, -she said to him, "You're nothing but a great big boy," so that Father -chuckled, his cheek against hers and his eyes shining. That was the way -with Father. Six days he found quite long enough to be a man; so on -Sunday he became a boy. - -The gate clicked behind you, Father in the middle and you and Lizbeth -holding each a hand, and keeping step with him when you could, running a -little now and then to catch up again. Your steps were always longest -on Sunday when you walked with Father, and even Lizbeth knew you then -for a little man, and peeked around Father's legs to see you as you -strode along. Father was proud of you, too, though he did not tell you. -He just told other people when he thought you could not hear. - -"Little pitchers have big ears," Mother would warn him then, but you -heard quite plainly out of one ear, and it was small at that. - -Everybody looked as you three went down the shady street together, and -the nice young ladies gave you smiles and the nice old ladies gave you -flowers, handing them out to you over their garden walls. - -"Thank you. My name is Harry," you said. - -"And I'm Lizbeth," said little sister. And as you passed on your stride -grew longer and your voice sank bigger and deeper in your throat, like -Father's. - -But it wasn't the town you liked best to walk in with Father in the -long, warm Sunday afternoons. It was the river-side, where the willows -drooped over the running waters, and the grass was deepest and greenest -and waved in the sun. On the meadow-bank at the water's silver edge you -sat down together. - -"Who can hear the most?" asked Father. - -You listened. - -"I hear the river running over the log," you said, softly. - -"And the birds," whispered Lizbeth. - -"And the wind in the willows," said Father. - -"And the cow-bells tinkling way, way off," you added, breathlessly. - -"Oh, and I hear the grass whispering," said Lizbeth. - -"And oh, a bee," you cried. - -"And something else," said Father. - -You held your breath and listened. From the distant village the wind -blew you faintly the sound of-- - -"Church-bells," cried you and Lizbeth together. - -You fell to playing in the long grass. Lizbeth gathered daisies for -Mother. You lay with your face just over the river-bank, humming a -little song and gazing down into the mirror of the waters. You wondered -how it would feel to be a little boy-fish, darting in and out among the -river grasses. - -By-and-by you went back to Father and sat beside him with your cheek -against his arm. - -"Father." - -"Yes." - -"What do you think when you don't say anything, but just look?" - -[Illustration: "'FATHER, WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU DON'T SAY ANYTHING, -BUT JUST LOOK?'"] - -"When I just look?" - -"Yes. Do you think what I do?" - -"Well, what do you think?" - -"Why, I think I'd like to be a big man like you and wear a long coat, -and take my little boy and girl out walking. Did you think that, -Father?" - -"No. I was thinking how nice it would be just to be a little boy again -like you and go out walking by the river with my father." - -"Oh, Father, how funny! I wanted to be you and you wanted to be me. I -guess people always want to be somebody else when they just look and -don't say anything." - -"What makes you think that, my boy?" - -"Well, there's Grandmother. _She_ sits by the window all day long and -just looks and looks, and wishes she was an angel with Grandfather up in -the sky." - -"And Lizbeth?" - -"Oh, Lizbeth wishes she was Mother." - -"And how about Mother? Does she wish she were somebody else, do you -think?" - -"Oh no, Father, _she_ doesn't, 'cause then she wouldn't have me and -Lizbeth. Besides, she don't have time to just sit and look, Mother -don't." - -Your eyes were big and shining. Father just looked and looked a long -time. - -"And what do you think _now_, Father?" - -"I was thinking of Mother waiting for you and Lizbeth and Father, and -wondering why we don't come home." - -And almost always after that, when you went out walking with Father, -Sundays, Mother went with you. It seemed strange at first, but fine, to -have her sit with you on the river-bank and just look and look and look, -smiling but never saying a word; and though you asked her many times -what she thought about as she sat there dreaming, she was never once -caught wishing that she were anybody but her own self. She was happy, -she told you; but while it was you she told, she would be looking at -Father. - -Oh, it was golden in the morning glow, when you were a little boy. But -clouds skurried across the sky--black clouds, storm clouds--casting -their chill and shadow for a while over all Our Yard, darkening Our -House, so that a little boy playing on the hearth-rug left his toy -soldier prostrate there to wander, wondering, from room to room. - -"Mother, why doesn't Father play with us like he used to?" - -"Mother, why do you sew and sew and sew all the time? Hm, Mother?" - -All through the long evenings till bed-time came, and long afterwards, -Father and Mother talked low together before the fire. The murmur of -their voices downstairs was the last thing you heard before you fell -asleep. It sounded like the brook in the meadow where the little green -frogs lived, hopping through water-rings. - -Of those secret conferences by the fire you could make nothing at all. -Mother stopped you whenever you drew near. - -"Run away, dear, and play." - -You frowned and sidled off as far as the door, lingering wistfully. - -"Father, the Jones boy made fun of me to-day. He called me -Patchy-pants." - -"Never mind what the Jones boy says," Mother broke in; but Father said, -"He ought to have a new pair, Mother." You brightened at that. - -"The Jones boy's got awful nice pants," you said; "all striped like a -zebra." - -Father smiled a little at that. Mother looked down at her sewing, -saying never a word. That night you dreamed you had new pants, all -spotted like a leopard, and you were proud, for every one knows that a -leopard could whip a zebra, once he jumped upon his back. - -Leaning on the garden fence, the Jones boy watched you as you sprinkled -the geraniums with your little green watering-can. - -"Where'd you get it?" he asked. - -"Down at my father's store," you replied, loftily, for the Jones boy had -no watering-can. - -"Your father hasn't got a store any more." - -"He has, too," you replied. - -"He hasn't, either, 'cause my pa says he hasn't." - -"I don't care what your pa says. My father has, too, got a store." - -"He hasn't." - -"He has." - -"He hasn't, either." - -"He has, teether." - -"I say he hasn't." - -"And I say he has," you screamed, and threw the watering-can straight at -the Jones boy. It struck the fence and the water splashed all over him -so that he retreated to the road. There in a rage he hurled stones at -you. - -"Your--father--hasn't--got--any-- store--any--more--old--Patchy-pants-- -old--Patchy-pants--old--" - -And then suddenly the Jones boy fled, and when you looked around there -was Father standing behind you by the geraniums. - -"Never mind what the Jones boy says," he told you, and he was not angry -with you for throwing the watering-can. The little green spout of it -was broken when you picked it up, but Father said he would buy you a new -one. - -"To-morrow, Father?" - -"No, not to-morrow--some day." - -You and Lizbeth, tumbling down-stairs to breakfast, found Father sitting -before the fire. - -"Father!" you cried, astonished, for it was not Sunday, and though you -ran to him he did not hear you till you pounced upon him in his chair. - -"Oh, Father," you said, joyfully, "are you going to stay home and play -with us all day?" - -"_Fa_-ther!" cried Lizbeth. "Will you play house with us?" - -"Oh no, Father. Play _store_ with us," you cried. - -"Don't bother Father," Mother said, but Father just held you both in his -arms and would not let you go. - -"No--let them stay," he said, and Mother slipped away. - -"Mother's got an awful cold," said Lizbeth. "Her eyes--" - -"So has Father; only Father's cold is in his voice," you said. - -You scarcely waited to eat your breakfast before you were back again to -Father by the fire, telling him of the beautiful games just three could -play. But while you were telling him the door-bell rang, and there were -two men with books under their arms, come to see Father. They stayed -with him all day long--you could hear them muttering in the library--and -all day you looked wistfully at the closed door, lingering there lest -Father should come out to play and find you gone. - -He did not come out till dinner-time. After dinner he walked in the -garden alone. He held a cigar in his clinched teeth. - -"Why don't you smoke the cigar, Father?" - -He did not hear you. He just walked up and down, up and down, with his -eyes on the ground and his hands thrust hard into the pockets of his -coat. - -Mother watched him for a moment through the window. Then with her own -hands she built a fire in the grate, for the night was chill. Before it -she drew an easy-chair, and put Father's smoking-jacket on the back of -it and set his slippers to warm against the fender. On a reading-table -near by she laid the little blue china ash-tray you had given Father for -Christmas, and beside it a box of matches ready for his hand. Then she -called him in. - -He came and sat there before the fire, saying nothing, but looking into -the flames--looking, looking, till your mind ran back to a Sunday -afternoon in summer by the river-side. - -"I know what you are thinking, Father." - -Slowly he turned his head to you, so that you knew he was listening -though he did not speak. - -"You're thinking how nice it would be, Father, if you were a little boy -like me." - -He made no answer. Mother came and sat on one of the arms of his chair, -her cheek against his hair. Lizbeth undressed her dolls for the night, -crooning a lullaby. One by one you dropped your marbles into their -little box. Then you rose and sat like Mother on an arm of Father's -chair. For a while you dreamed there, drowsy, in the glow. - -"Mother," you said, softly. - -[Illustration: "'MOTHER, YOU SAID, SOFTLY'"] - -"Yes," she whispered back to you. - -"Mother, isn't it _fine_?" you said. - -"Fine, dearie?" - -"Yes, Mother, everything ... 'specially--" - -"Yes, sweetheart?" - -"--'specially just having Father." - -Father gave a little jump; seized you; crushed you in his arms, stars -shining in his brimming eyes. - -"Little chap--little chap," he cried, but could get no further, till -by-and-by-- - -"Mother," he said--and his voice was clear and strong--"Mother, with a -little chap like that and two girls like you and Lizbeth--" - -His voice caught, but he shook it free again. - -"--_any_ man could begin--all over again--and _win_," he said. - - - - - *Mother* - - -A," you said. - -"And what's that?" - -"B." - -"And that?" - -You sat on Mother's lap. The wolf-wind howled at the door, and you -shuddered, cuddling down in Mother's arms and the glow. The wilder the -wolf-wind howled, the softer was the lamp-light, the redder were the -apples on the table, the warmer was the fire. - -On your knees lay the picture-book with its sad, sad little tale. -Mother read it to you--she had read it fifty times before--her face -grave, her voice low and tragic, while you listened with bated breath: - - "Who killed Cock Robin? - 'I,' said the Sparrow, - 'With my bow and arrow-- - I killed Cock Robin.'" - - -[Illustration: "THE PICTURE-BOOK"] - -It was the first murder you had ever heard about. You saw it all, the -hideous spectacle--a beautiful, warm, red breast pierced by that fatal -dart--a poor, soft little birdie, dead, by an assassin's hand. A lump -rose in your throat. A tear rose in your eye--two tears, three tears. -They rolled down your cheek. They dropped, hot and sad, on the fish -with his little dish, on the owl with his spade and trowel, on the rook -with his little book. - -"P-poor Cock R-robin!" - -"There, there, dear. Don't cry." - -"But, M-mother--the Sparrow--he k-killed him." - -Alas, yes! The Sparrow had killed him, for the book said so, but had -you heard? - -"N-no, w-what?" - -The book, it seems, like other books, had told but half the story. -Mother knew the other half. Cock Robin was murdered, murdered in cold -blood, it was true, but--O merciful, death-winged arrow!--he had gone -where the good birds go. And there--O joy!--he had met his robin wife -and his little robin boy, who had gone before. - -"And I expect they are all there now, dear," she told you, kissing your -tear-stained cheek, "the happiest robins that ever were." - -Dry and wide were your eyes. In the place where the good birds go, you -saw Cock Robin. His eyes and his fat, red breast were bright again. He -chirped. He sang. He hopped from bough to bough, with his robin wife -and his little robin boy. For in the mending of little stories or the -mending of little hearts, like the mending of little stockings, Mother -was wonderful. - -In those times there were knees to your stockings, knees with holes in -them at the end of the day, with the soiled skin showing through. - -"Just look!" Mother would cry. "Just look there! And I'd only just -mended them." - -"Well, you see, Mother, when you play Black Bear--" - -"I see," she said, and before you went to bed you would be sitting on -the edge of a tub, paddling your feet in the water. - -[Illustration: "BEFORE YOU WENT TO BED"] - -"You dirty boy," she would be saying, scrubbing at the scratched, black -knees; but when you were shining again she would be saying-- - -"You darling!" - -And though your stockings were whole in the clean of morning when you -scampered out into the sun, in the dirt of night when you scampered back -again--O skein, where is thy yarn? O darning-needle, where is thy -victory? - -Summer mornings, in the arbor-seat of the garden, Mother would be -sewing, her lap brimming, her work-basket at her feet, the sun falling -golden through the trellised green. In the nap of the afternoon, when -even the birds drowsed and the winds slept, she would be sewing, ever -sewing. And when night fell and the dishes were put away, she would be -sewing still, in the lamp-light's yellow glow. - -"Mother, why do you sew and sew?" - -"To make my little boy blue sailor suits and my little girl white -frocks, and to stop the holes." - -"Do you like to sew, Mother?" - -"I don't mind it." - -"But doesn't it make you tired, Mother?" - -"Oh, now and then." - -"But I should think you'd rest sometimes, Mother." - -"Should you, dear?" - -"Yes, I would. Oh, I'd sew a _little_--just enough--and then I'd play." - -"But Mother does sew _just enough_, and it takes all day, my dear. What -do you say to that?" - -You pondered. - -"Well," you said, and stopped. - -"Well?" she said, and laughed. Then you laughed, too. - -"A mother," you told them afterwards, "is a person what takes care of -you, and loves you, and sews and sews--just enough--all day." - -Since mothers take care of little boys, they told you, little boys -should take care of their mothers, too. So right in front of her you -stood, bravely, your fists clinched, your lips trembling, your eyes -flashing with rage and tears. - -"You sha'n't touch my mother!" - -But Mother's arms stole swiftly around you, pinning your own to your -side. - -"Father was only fooling, dear," she said, kneeling behind you and -folding you to her breast. "See, he's laughing at us." - -"Why, little chap," he said, "Father was only playing." - -Mother wiped away your tears, smiling at them, but proudly. You looked -doubtfully at Father, who held out his arms to you; then slowly you went -to him, urged by Mother's hand. - -"You must always take care of Mother like that," he said, "and never let -any one hurt her, or bother her, when Father's away." - -"Mother's little knight," she said, kissing your brow. And ever -afterwards she was safe when you were near. - -"Oh, that Mrs. Waddles. I wish she wouldn't bother me." - -Under her breath Mother said it, but you heard, and you hated Mrs. -Waddles with all your soul, and her day of reckoning came. Mother was -in the garden and did not hear. You answered the knock yourself. - -"Little darling, how--" - -"You can't see my mother to-day," you said, stiffly. - -"That's very strange," said Mrs. Waddles, with a forward step. - -"No," you said, a little louder, throwing yourself into the breach and -holding the door-knob with all your might. "No! You mustn't come in!" - -"You impertinent little child!" cried Mrs. Waddles, threateningly, but -you faced her down, raising your voice again: - -"You can't see my mother any more," you repeated, firmly. - -"And why not, I'd like to know?" demanded the old lady, swelling -visibly. "Why not, I'd like to know?" - -"'Cause I'm to take care of my mother when my father's away, and he said -not to let anybody bother her that she don't want to see." - -It was a long explanation and took all your breath. - -"Oh, is _that_ it?" cackled Mrs. Waddles, with withering scorn. "And -how do you _know_ that your mother doesn't want to see me--_hey_?" - -"'Cause--she--said--so!" - -You separated your words like the ABC book, that Mrs. Waddles might -understand. It was a master-stroke. Gasping, her face on fire, -gathering her skirts together with hands that trembled in their black -silk mitts, Mrs. Waddles turned and swept away. - -"I never!" she managed to utter as she slammed the gate. - -You shut the door softly, the battle won, and went back to the garden. - -"Well, _that's_ over," you said, with a sigh, as Mother herself would -have said it. - -"What's over, dear?" - -"Mrs. Waddles," you replied. - -So you took care of Mother so well that she loved you more and more as -the days of your knighthood passed; and she took care of you so well -that your cheeks grew rosier and your eyes brighter and your legs -stronger, and you loved her more and more with the days of her -motherhood. - -Even being sick was fine in those days, for she brought you little -things in bowls with big spoons in them, and you ate till you wanted -more--a sign that you would not die. And so you lay in the soft of the -pillows, with the patchwork coverlet that Mother made with her own -hands. There was the white silk triangle from her wedding-gown, and a -blue one from a sash that was her Sunday best, long ago, when she was a -little girl. There was a soft-gray piece from a dress of Grandmother's, -and a bright-pink one that was once Lizbeth's, and a striped one, blue -and yellow, that was once Father's necktie in the gay plumage of his -youth. - -As you lay there, sick and drowsy, the bridal triangle turned to snow, -cold and white and pure, and you heard sleighbells and saw the Christmas -cards with the little church in the corner, its steeple icy, but its -windows warm and red with the Christmas glow. That was the white -triangle. But the blue one, next, was sky, and when you saw it you -thought of birds and stars and May; and if it so happened that your eyes -turned to the gray piece that was Grandmother's, and the sky that was -blue darkened and the rain fell, you had only to look at the pink piece -that was Lizbeth's, or the blue and yellow that was Father's, to find -the flowers and the sun again. Then the colors blended. Dandelions -jingled, sleigh-bells and violets blossomed in the snow, and you -slept--the sleep that makes little boys well. - -The bees and the wind were humming in the cherry-trees, for it was May. -You were all alone, you and Mother, in the garden, where the white -petals were falling, silently, like snow-flakes, and the birds were -singing in the morning glow. - -Your feet scampered down the paths. Your curls bobbed among the budding -shrubs and vines. You leaped. You laughed. You sang. In your wide -eyes blue of the great sky, green of the grasses. On your flushed cheeks -sunshine and breeze. In your beating heart childhood and spring--a -childhood too big, a spring too wonderful, for the smallness of one -little, brimming boy. - -"Look, Mother! See me jump." - -"My!" she said. - -"And see me almost stand on my head." - -"Wonderful!" - -"I know what I'll be when I grow to be a man, Mother." - -"What will you be?" - -"A circus-rider." - -"Gracious!" said she. - -"On a big, white horse, Mother." - -"Dear me!" - -"And we'll jump 'way over the moon, Mother." - -"The moon?" - -"Yes, the moon. See!" - -Then you jumped over the rake-handle. You were practising for the moon, -you said. - -"But maybe I _won't_ be a circus-rider, Mother, after all." - -"Maybe not," said she. - -"Maybe I'll be President, like George Washington. Father said I could. -Could I, Mother?" - -"Yes--you might--some day." - -"But the Jones boy couldn't, Mother." - -"Why couldn't the Jones boy?" - -"Because he swears and tells lies. _I_ don't. And George Washington -didn't, Mother. I guess I won't be a circus-rider, after all." - -"Oh, I'm glad of that, dear." - -"No, I guess I'll keep right on, Mother--as long as I've started--and -just be President." - -"Oh, that will be fine," said she. She was sewing in the arbor, her lap -filled with linen, her work-basket at her feet. - -"Mother." - -"Yes." - -"I think I'd like to sing a song now." - -Straight and proper you stood in the little path, your heels together, -your hands at your side, and so you sang to her the song of the little -duck: - - "'Quack, quack,' said the Duck, - 'Quack, quack.' - 'Quack, quack,' said--" - - -You stopped. - -"Try it a little lower, dear." - - "'Quack, quack,' said--" - - -"No, that's _too_ low," you said. You tried again and started right -that time and sang it through, the song of the little duck who - - "'... wouldn't be a girl, - With only a curl, - I wouldn't be a girl, would you?'" - - -"Oh, it's beautiful," Mother said. - -"Now it's your turn, Mother, to tell a story." - -"A story?" - -"Yes. About the violets." - -"The violets?" she said, poising her needle, musingly. "The blue, blue -violets--" - -"As blue as the sky, Mother," you said, softly, for it is always in the -hush of the garden that the stories grow. - -"As blue as the sky," she said. "Ah, yes. Well, once there wasn't a -violet in the whole world." - -"Nor a single star," you said, awesomely, helping her. And as you sat -there listening the world grew wider and wider--for when you are a -little boy the world is always just as wide as your eyes. - -"Not a violet or a single star in the whole world," Mother went on. -"And what do you think? They just took little bits of the blue sky and -sprinkled them all over the green world, and they were the first -violets." - -"And the stars, Mother?" - -"Why, don't you see? The stars are the little holes they left in the -blue sky, with the light of heaven shining through." - -"Oh!" you said, softly. "Oh, Mother!" - -And then, in the hush of the garden, you looked at her, and lo! her eyes -were blue like the violets, and bright like the stars, for the light of -heaven was shining through. - -She was the most wonderful person in the whole world--who never did -anything wrong, who knew everything, even who God was, watching, night -and day, over little boys. Even the hairs of your head were numbered, -she told you, and not a little bird died but He knew. - -"And did He know when Cock Robin died, Mother?" - -"Yes. He knew." - -"And when I hurt my finger, Mother? Did He know then?" - -"Yes, He knows everything." - -"And was He sorry, Mother, when I hurt my finger?" - -"Very sorry, dear." - -"Then why did He _let_ me hurt my finger--why?" - -For a moment she did not speak. - -"Dearie," she said at last, "I don't know. There are many things that -nobody knows but God." - -Hushed and wondering you sat in Mother's lap, for His eye was upon you. -Somewhere up in the sky, above the clouds, you knew He was sitting, on a -great, bright throne, with a gold crown upon His head and a sceptre in -His hand--King of Kings and Lord of All. Down below Him on the green -earth little birds were falling, little boys were hurting their fingers -and crying in their Mothers' arms, and He saw them all, every one, -little birds and little boys, but did not help them. You crept closer to -Mother's bosom, flinging your arms about her neck. - -"Don't let Him get me, Mother!" - -"Why, darling, He loves you." - -"Oh no, Mother--not like you do; not like you." - -The bees and the wind were in the apple trees, for it was May. You were -all alone, you and Mother, in the garden, where the white petals were -falling, like snowflakes, silently. In the swing Grandfather built for -you, you sat swaying, to and fro, in the shadows; and the shadows -swayed, to and fro, in the gale; and to and fro your thoughts swayed in -your dreaming. - -The wind sang in the apple-boughs, the flowering branches filled and -bent, and all about you were the tossing, shimmering grasses, and all -above you birds singing and flitting in the sky. And so you swayed, to -and fro, till you were a sailor, in a blue suit, sailing the blue sea. - -The wind sang in the rigging. The white sails filled and bent. Your -ship scudded through the tossing, shimmering foam. Gulls screamed and -circled in the sky, ... and so you sailed and sailed with the sea-breeze -in your curls... - -The ship anchored. - -The swing stopped. - -You were only a little boy. - -"Mother," you said, softly, for your voice was drowsy with your dream. - -She did not hear you. She sat there in the arbor-seat, smiling at you, -her hands idle, her sewing slipping from her knees. You did not know it -then, but you do now--that to see the most beautiful woman in the whole -world you must be her little boy. - -There in her garden, in her lap, with her arms around you and her cheeks -between your hands, you gazed, wondering, into the blue fondness of her -eyes. You saw her lips, forever smiling at you, forever seeking your -own. You heard her voice, sweet with love-words-- - -"My dearest." - -"Yes." - -"My darling." - -"Yes." - -"My own dear little boy." - -And then her arms crushing you to her breast; and then her lips; and -then her voice again-- - -"Once in this very garden, in this very seat, Mother sat dreaming of -you." - -"Of me, Mother?" - -"Of you. Here in the garden, with that very bush there red with -blossoms, and the birds singing in these very trees. She dreamed that -you were a little baby--a little baby, warm and soft in her arms--and -while the wind sang to the flowers Mother sang you a lullaby, and you -stretched out your hands to her and smiled; and then--ah, darling!" - -"But it was a _dream_, Mother." - -"It was only a dream--yes--but it came true. It came true on a night in -June--the First of June, it was--" - -"_My_ birthday, Mother!" - -"Your birthday, dear." - -"Oh, Mother," you said, breathlessly--"what a beautiful dream!" - - - - - THE END - - - - - * * * * * * * * - - - - - *A FEW OF - GROSSET & DUNLAP'S - Great Books at Little Prices* - - NEW, CLEVER, ENTERTAINING. - - -GRET: The Story of a Pagan. By Beatrice Mantle. Illustrated by C. M. -Relyea. - -The wild free life of an Oregon lumber camp furnishes the setting for -this strong original story. Gret is the daughter of the camp and is -utterly content with the wild life--until love comes. A fine book, -unmarred by convention. - - -OLD CHESTER TALES. By Margaret Deland. Illustrated by Howard Pyle. - -A vivid yet delicate portrayal of characters in an old New England town. - -Dr. Lavendar's fine, kindly wisdom is brought to bear upon the lives of -all, permeating the whole volume like the pungent odor of pine, -healthful and life giving. "Old Chester Tales" will surely be among the -books that abide. - - -THE MEMOIRS OF A BABY. By Josephine Daskam. Illustrated by F. Y. Cory. - -The dawning intelligence of the baby was grappled with by its great -aunt, an elderly maiden, whose book knowledge of babies was something at -which even the infant himself winked. A delicious bit of humor. - - -REBECCA MARY. By Annie Hamilton Donnell. Illustrated by Elizabeth -Shippen Green. - -The heart tragedies of this little girl with no one near to share them, -are told with a delicate art, a keen appreciation of the needs of the -childish heart and a humorous knowledge of the workings of the childish -mind. - - -THE FLY ON THE WHEEL. By Katherine Cecil Thurston. Frontispiece by -Harrison Fisher. - -An Irish story of real power, perfect in development and showing a true -conception of the spirited Hibernian character as displayed in the -tragic as well as the tender phases of life. - - -THE MAN FROM BRODNEY'S. By George Barr McCutcheon. Illustrated by -Harrison Fisher. - -An island in the South Sea is the setting for this entertaining tale, -and an all-conquering hero and a beautiful princess figure in a most -complicated plot. One of Mr. McCutcheon's best books. - - -TOLD BY UNCLE REMUS. By Joel Chandler Harris. Illustrated by A. B. -Frost, J. M. Conde and Frank Verbeck. - -Again Uncle Remus enters the fields of childhood, and leads another -little boy to that non-locatable land called "Brer Rabbit's Laughing -Place," and again the quaint animals spring into active life and play -their parts, for the edification of a small but appreciative audience. - - -THE CLIMBER. By E. F. Benson. With frontispiece. - -An unsparing analysis of an ambitious woman's soul--a woman who believed -that in social supremacy she would find happiness, and who finds instead -the utter despair of one who has chosen the things that pass away. - - -LYNCH'S DAUGHTER. By Leonard Merrick. Illustrated by Geo. Brehm. - -A story of to-day, telling how a rich girl acquires ideals of beautiful -and simple living, and of men and love, quite apart from the teachings -of her father, "Old Man Lynch" of Wall St. True to life, clever in -treatment. - - - - *GROSSET & DUNLAP'S - DRAMATIZED NOVELS* - - A Few that are Making Theatrical History - - -MARY JANE'S PA. By Norman Way. Illustrated with scenes from the play. - -Delightful, irresponsible "Mary Jane's Pa" awakes one morning to find -himself famous, and, genius being ill adapted to domestic joys, he -wanders from home to work out his own unique destiny. One of the most -humorous bits of recent fiction. - - -CHERUB DEVINE. By Sewell Ford. - -"Cherub," a good hearted but not over refined young man is brought in -touch with the aristocracy. Of sprightly wit, he is sometimes a -merciless analyst, but he proves in the end that manhood counts for more -than ancient lineage by winning the love of the fairest girl in the -flock. - - -A WOMAN'S WAY. By Charles Somerville. Illustrated with scenes from the -play. - -A story in which a woman's wit and self-sacrificing love save her -husband from the toils of an adventuress, and change an apparently -tragic situation into one of delicious comedy. - - -THE CLIMAX. By George C. Jenks. - -With ambition luring her on, a young choir soprano leaves the little -village where she was born and the limited audience of St. Jude's to -train for the opera in New York. She leaves love behind her and meets -love more ardent but not more sincere in her new environment. How she -works, how she studies, how she suffers, are vividly portrayed. - - -A FOOL THERE WAS. By Porter Emerson Browne. Illustrated by Edmund -Magrath and W. W. Fawcett. - -A relentless portrayal of the career of a man who comes under the -influence of a beautiful but evil woman; how she lures him on and on, -how he struggles, falls and rises, only to fall again into her net, make -a story of unflinching realism. - - -THE SQUAW MAN. By Julie Opp Faversham and Edwin Milton Royle. -Illustrated with scenes from the play. - -A glowing story, rapid in action, bright in dialogue with a fine -courageous hero and a beautiful English heroine. - - -THE GIRL IN WAITING. By Archibald Eyre. Illustrated with scenes from -the play. - -A droll little comedy of misunderstandings, told with a light touch, a -venturesome spirit and an eye for human oddities. - - -THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL. By Baroness Orczy. Illustrated with scenes from -the play. - -A realistic story of the days of the French Revolution, abounding in -dramatic incident, with a young English soldier of fortune, daring, -mysterious as the hero. - - - - *TITLES SELECTED FROM - GROSSET & DUNLAP'S LIST* - - REALISTIC, ENGAGING PICTURES OF LIFE - - -THE GARDEN OF FATE. By Roy Norton. Illustrated by Joseph Clement Coll. - -The colorful romance of an American girl in Morocco, and of a beautiful -garden, whose beauty and traditions of strange subtle happenings were -closed to the world by a Sultan's seal. - - -THE MAN HIGHER UP. By Henry Russell Miller. Full page vignette -illustrations by M. Leone Bracker. - -The story of a tenement waif who rose by his own ingenuity to the office -of mayor of his native city. His experiences while "climbing," make a -most interesting example of the possibilities of human nature to rise -above circumstances. - - -THE KEY TO YESTERDAY. By Charles Neville Buck. Illustrated by R. -Schabelitz. - -Robert Saxon, a prominent artist, has an accident, while in Paris, which -obliterates his memory, and the only clue he has to his former life is a -rusty key. What door in Paris will it unlock? He must know that before -he woos the girl he loves. - - -THE DANGER TRAIL. By James Oliver Curwood. Illustrated by Charles -Livingston Bull. - -The danger trail is over the snow-smothered North. A young Chicago -engineer, who is building a road through the Hudson Bay region, is -involved in mystery, and is led into ambush by a young woman. - - -THE GAY LORD WARING. By Houghton Townley. Illustrated by Will Grefe. - -A story of the smart hunting set in England. A gay young lord wins in -love against his selfish and cowardly brother and apparently against -fate itself. - - -BY INHERITANCE. By Octave Thanet. Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty. -Elaborate wrapper in colors. - -A wealthy New England spinster with the most elaborate plans for the -education of the negro goes to visit her nephew in Arkansas, where she -learns the needs of the colored race first hand and begins to lose her -theories. - - - *KATE DOUGLAS WIGGINS - STORIES OF PURE DELIGHT* - - Full of originality and humor, kindliness and cheer - - -THE OLD PEABODY PEW. Large Octavo. Decorative text pages, printed in -two colors. Illustrations by Alice Barber Stephens. - -One of the prettiest romances that has ever come from this author's pen -is made to bloom on Christmas Eve in the sweet freshness of an old New -England meeting house. - - -PENELOPE'S PROGRESS. Attractive cover design in colors. - -Scotland is the background for the merry doings of three very clever and -original American girls. Their adventures in adjusting themselves to -the Scot and his land are full of humor. - - -PENELOPE'S IRISH EXPERIENCES. Uniform in style with "Penelope's -Progress." - -The trio of clever girls who rambled over Scotland cross the border to -the Emerald Isle, and again they sharpen their wits against new -conditions, and revel in the land of laughter and wit. - - -REBECCA OF SUNNYBROOK FARM. - -One of the most beautiful studies of childhood--Rebecca's artistic, -unusual and quaintly charming qualities stand cut midst a circle of -austere New Englanders. The stage version is making a phenomenal -dramatic record. - - -NEW CHRONICLES OF REBECCA. With illustrations by F. C. Yohn. - -Some more quaintly amusing chronicles that carry Rebecca through various -stages to her eighteenth birthday. - - -ROSE O' THE RIVER. With illustrations by George Wright. - -The simple story of Rose, a country girl and Stephen a sturdy young -farmer. The girl's fancy for a city man interrupts their love and -merges the story into an emotional strain where the reader follows the -events with rapt attention. - - - - GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE MORNING GLOW *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43862 - -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. Special rules, set forth in the -General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and -distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works to protect the -Project Gutenberg(tm) concept and trademark. 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