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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3175a3f --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #65135 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/65135) diff --git a/old/65135-0.txt b/old/65135-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c951653..0000000 --- a/old/65135-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3875 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Jean Craig in New York, by Kay Lyttleton - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Jean Craig in New York - -Author: Kay Lyttleton - -Release Date: April 22, 2021 [eBook #65135] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Stephen Hutcheson and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JEAN CRAIG IN NEW YORK *** - - - - -FALCON BOOKS - -_Jean Craig In New York_ - -BY KAY LYTTLETON - -When lovely Jean Craig moved with her family to Woodhow farm in -Connecticut, she thought she was giving up her art lessons forever. And -then suddenly the opportunity came to go to New York to study, and she -went to live with her cousin Beth in the suburbs of New York. These -months were an exciting interlude in her life. She loved seeing her old -friends again, going to parties, and meeting new people, among them -Aldo Thomas, an artist from Italy. - -_Jean Craig in New York_ tells of Jean’s adventures in the city, -but it is also the story of the Craigs who meet life’s adventures with -gaiety and courage. - - -Other FALCON BOOKS for Girls: - - JEAN CRAIG GROWS UP - JEAN CRAIG FINDS ROMANCE - PATTY AND JO, DETECTIVES - - - - -[Illustration: There sat a robust, middle-aged newcomer.] - - - - - _JEAN CRAIG - IN NEW YORK_ - - by KAY LYTTLETON - - [Illustration: FALCON BOOKS] - - THE WORLD PUBLISHING COMPANY - - CLEVELAND AND NEW YORK - - - - - Falcon Books - _are published by_ THE WORLD PUBLISHING COMPANY - _2231 West 110th Street · Cleveland 2 · Ohio_ - - W 2 - - COPYRIGHT 1948 BY THE WORLD PUBLISHING COMPANY - - MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - - - - -Contents - - - 1. Jean Finds a Stranger 9 - - 2. New York Cousins 23 - - 3. Exhibit A 38 - - 4. Christmas at the Ellis Place 52 - - 5. New York Dreams Come True 61 - - 6. Leaving Home 75 - - 7. Aldo from Italy 82 - - 8. Jean Meets a Contessa 94 - - 9. Letters from Home 109 - - 10. At the Art Academy 122 - - 11. The Sculptured Head 136 - - 12. From Out of the West 148 - - 13. Spring Picnic 158 - - 14. Billie’s Crisis 172 - - 15. Fire! 190 - - 16. Future Plans 205 - - - - -JEAN CRAIG IN NEW YORK - - -1. Jean Finds a Stranger - - -It was just five days before Christmas when a pink express card arrived -in the noon mail. The Craigs knew there must be something unusual -in the mail, for Mr. Ricketts, the rural free delivery carrier, had -lingered at the end of the drive. - -Jean, the oldest of the four children, slipped into a coat and stadium -boots and ran down the drive to see what he wanted. - -“There’s something for you folks at the express office, I guess. If -it’s anything heavy I suggest you go down and get it today. Looks like -we’d have some snow before nightfall.” He waited while Jean glanced at -the card. “Know what it is?” - -“Why, no, I don’t believe I do,” she answered. “We’ve gotten all our -Christmas packages. Maybe they’re books for Dad.” - -“Like enough,” said Mr. Ricketts. “I didn’t know. I always feel a -little bit interested, you know.” - -“Yes, I know,” laughed Jean, as he started his truck. She hurried back -to the house, her head down against the wind. The front door banged as -Kit, fifteen and two years younger than Jean, let her in, her hands -floury from baking. - -“For Pete’s sake, why do you stand talking all day to that old gossip? -Any mail from the West?” - -The previous spring, the Craig family had moved to Elmhurst, -Connecticut, because of Mr. Craig’s health. Due to a war injury, he -had required a complete rest. At the suggestion of his cousin Rebecca, -the family had left Long Island to live on a farm. Rural living was -far different from anything Jean, Kit, thirteen-year-old Doris, and -eleven-year-old Tommy were used to, but they grew to love it more and -more as they made new friends and discovered the never-ending surprises -that the country held for them. - -As told in _Jean Craig Grows Up_, the family met their landlord, -Ralph McRae, a young good-looking boy of twenty-four, from Saskatoon, -Saskatchewan, who was immediately attracted to Jean. When he returned -to his western ranch, he took Buzzy Hancock, his cousin and Kit’s best -friend, back with him. Now, Jean was finding it hard to wait for the -summer to come when Ralph and Buzzy would return. - -With a letter from Ralph in her hand, Jean answered Kit’s questions -hurriedly. “Mr. Ricketts only wanted to know about an express package, -whether it was heavy or light, where it came from, and if we expected -it.” She piled the rest of the mail on the dining room table. “There is -no mail from Saskatoon for you, Kit, only for me.” - -“Oh, I thought maybe Buzzy might have written to me. The mug, he -promised to send me a silver fox skin for Christmas, if he could find -one. I’m going to give up waiting for it. With Christmas five days -away, he surely would have sent it by now.” - -Kit’s face was perfectly serious. Buzzy had asked her before he left -Elmhurst what she would like best, and she had told him. The others -laughed at her, but she held firmly to the idea that if it were -possible, Buzzy would get it for her. - -Jean was engrossed in a five-page letter from Ralph and had paid no -attention to Kit’s remarks. She finished reading the letter, full of -Christmas wishes and regret for having to be away from her, especially -during the holiday season, and opened another from one of the students -at the Academy back in New York. The previous winter, Jean had studied -art there and had been sorry to give it up. - -“Peg Moffat is taking up impressionism.” Jean turned back to the first -page of the letter she had been reading. “She says she never fully -realized before that art is only the highest form of expressing your -ideals to the world at large.” - -“Tell her she’s all wrong.” Kit looked up from her seed catalogues. -“Becky told me the other day she believes schools were first invented -for the relief of distressed parents just to give them a breathing -spell, and not for kids at all.” - -“Still, if Peg’s hit a new trail of interest, it will make her think -she’s really working. Things have come to her so easily, she doesn’t -appreciate them. Perhaps she can express herself now.” - -“Express herself? For gosh sakes, Jeannie, tell her to come up here, -and we’ll let her express herself all over the place. Gee! Just smell -my mince pies this minute. Isn’t cooking an expression of individual -art too?” And Kit made a beeline for the oven in time to rescue four -mince pies. - -“Who’s going to drive down after the package?” asked Mrs. Craig from -the doorway. “I want to send an order for groceries too and you’ll want -to be back before dark.” - -“I’m terribly sorry, Mom,” called Kit from the kitchen, “but Lucy and -some of the girls are coming over and I promised them I’d go after -evergreen and Princess pine. We’re getting it for wreaths and stars to -decorate the church.” - -“Tommy and I’ll go. I love the drive.” Jean handed Peg’s letter over -to Kit to read, and gave just a bit of a sigh. Nobody could possibly -have sustained any inward melancholy at Woodhow. There was too much -to be done every minute of the day. Still, Peg’s letter did bring -back vividly memories of last winter at the Art Academy. Perhaps the -students did take themselves and their aims too seriously, yet it had -all been wonderful and interesting. Even in the peaceful countryside, -Jean missed the companionship of girls her own age, with the same -tastes and interests as herself. - -She called to Tommy, who was down in the basement making a model -airplane, and told him to come with her to the express office. He came -upstairs under protest, his face smeared with dirt. - -“Gosh, Tommy, you look a sight. If you’re going to come with me, you’ll -have to wash first. Look at your hands.” - -“Gee, whiz,” he grumbled, “what’s the use in washing all the time. A -guy only gets dirty again, anyway.” But he leisurely went upstairs and -came down again after what seemed to Jean an unnecessarily long time. - -“What took you so long, anyway? Hurry up. I don’t want to be driving -after dark.” - -“OK, OK, I’m coming.” And the two went out the back door to the garage. - -It was only a drive of seven miles to Nantic, but the children never -tired of the ride. It was so still and dreamlike with the early winter -silence on the land. At the mill house, Lucy Peckham waved to them. -Along the riverside meadows they saw the two little Peckham boys -driving sheep with Shep, their black and white dog, barking madly at -the foot of a tall hickory tree. - -“Look, Tommy, see those red berries in that thicket overhanging the -rail fence? Will you get out and pick me some?” Jean stopped the car -and Tommy jumped out. A car passed going the other way while Jean was -waiting, and she recognized the driver as the stationmaster’s son. - -“Somebody is coming home for Christmas, I guess,” she remarked to Tommy -when he came back. - -Jean drove on with her chin up, cheeks rosy and eyes alert. When they -drove up in front of the express office, Tommy didn’t want to wait in -the car, so they walked up the steps of the office together. Just as -they opened the door, they caught the voice of Mr. Briggs, the agent, -not pleasant and sociable as it usually was, but sharp and high-pitched. - -“Well, you can’t loaf around here, son, I tell you that right now. The -minute I spied you hiding behind that stack of ties down the track, -I knew you’d run away from some place, and I’m going to find out all -about you and let your family know you’re caught.” - -“I ain’t got any family,” came back a boy’s voice hopefully. “I’m my -own boss and can go where I please.” - -“Did you hear that, Jean?” exclaimed Mr. Briggs, turning around at the -opening of the door. “Just size him up, will you. He says he’s his own -boss, and he’s no bigger than a pint of cider. Where did you come from?” - -“Off a freight train.” - -Mr. Briggs leaned his hands on his knees and bent down to get his face -on a level with the boy’s. - -“Isn’t he slick, though? Can’t get a bit of real information out of -him except that he liked the looks of Nantic and dropped off the slow -freight when she was shunting back and forth up yonder. What’s your -name?” - -“Jack. Jack Davis.” He didn’t look at Mr. Briggs, but off at the -hills, windswept and bare except for their patches of green pines. -There was a curious expression in his eyes, Jean thought, not -loneliness, but a dumb fatalism. As Becky might have said, it was as if -he had known nothing but trouble and didn’t expect anything better. - -“How old are you?” - -“’Bout nine or ten.” - -“What made you drop off that freight here?” - -Jack was silent and seemed embarrassed. Tommy, who had been eyeing him -curiously, responded instantly. - -“Because you like it best, isn’t that why?” he suggested eagerly. -Jack’s face brightened up at that. - -“I liked the looks of the hills, but when I saw all them mills, I--I -thought I’d get some work maybe.” - -“You’re too little,” Mr. Briggs cut in. “I’m going to hand you right -over to the proper authorities, and you’ll land up in the State Home -for Boys if you haven’t got any folks of your own.” - -Jack met the shrewd gray eyes doubtfully. His own filled with tears -that rose slowly and dropped on his worn short coat. He put his hand up -to his shirt collar and held on to it tightly as if he would have kept -back the ache there, and Jean’s heart could stand it no longer. - -“I think he belongs up at Woodhow, please, Mr. Briggs,” she said -quickly. “I know Mother and Dad will take him up there if he hasn’t any -place to go, and we’ll look after him. I’m sure of it. He can drive -back with us.” - -“But you don’t know where he came from nor anything about him, Jean. I -tell you he’s just a little tramp. You can see that, or he wouldn’t be -hitching on to freight trains. That’s no way to do if you’re decent -God-fearing folks, riding freights and dodging trainmen.” - -“Let me take him home with me now, anyway,” pleaded Jean. “We can find -out about him, later. It’s Christmas Friday, remember, Mr. Briggs.” - -There was no resisting the appeal that underlay her words, and Mr. -Briggs relented gracefully, although he maintained the county school -was the proper receptacle for all such human rubbish. - -Jean laughed at him happily, as he stood with his feet wide apart, his -hands thrust into his coat pockets. - -“It’s your own affair, Jean,” he returned dubiously. “I wouldn’t stand -in your way so long as you see fit to take him along. But he’s just -human rubbish. Want to go, Jack?” - -And Jack rose, wiping his eyes with his coat sleeve, and glared -resentfully back at Mr. Briggs. He took the smaller package, Tommy the -other, and the three left the office. - -“Guess we can all squeeze into the front seat,” Jean said. “We’re going -down to the store, and then home.” - - - - -2. New York Cousins - - -Doris caught the sound of the squeaking snow under the tires of the car -as it came up the drive about four o’clock. It was nearly dark. She -was standing in the living room lighting the Christmas candles in the -windows, and she ran to the front door. - -“Hi,” called Jean when she saw Doris in the doorway, “we’re back.” - -Tommy jumped out of the car at the back door and took Jack by the hand, -giving it a reassuring squeeze. He was shivering, but Tommy pulled -him into the kitchen where Kit was getting supper. Over in a corner -lay the pile of evergreens and pine that she and the other girls had -gathered that afternoon. - -“Look, Kit,” Tommy cried, quite as if Jack had been some wonderful -gift instead of a dusty, tired, limp little derelict of fate and -circumstance. “This is Jack and he’s come to stay with us. Where’s Mom?” - -One quick look at Jack’s face checked all mirthfulness in Kit. There -were times when it was better to say nothing. She was always intuitive, -quick to catch moods in others and understand. This case needed her -mother. Jack was fairly blue from the cold, and there was a pinched, -hungry look around his mouth and nose that made Kit leave her currant -biscuits. - -“Upstairs with Dad. Beat it up there fast and call her, Tommy.” She -smiled at Jack, a radiant, comradely smile that endeared Kit to all she -met. “We’re so glad you’ve come home,” she said, drawing him over to -the stove. “You sit up on that stool and get warm.” She slipped into -the pantry and dipped out a mug of rich, creamy milk, then cut a wide -slice of warm gingerbread. “There now. See how that tastes. You know, -it’s the funniest thing how wishes come true. I was just longing for -somebody to sample my cake and tell me if it was good. Is it?” - -Jack drank nearly the whole glass of milk before he spoke, looking over -the rim at her with very sleepy eyes. - -“It’s awful good,” he said. “I ain’t had anything to eat since -yesterday morning.” - -“Oh, dear,” cried Kit. This was beyond her. She turned with relief at -Mrs. Craig’s quick light step in the hall. - -“Yes, dear, I know. Jeannie told me.” She went straight over to the -stool. And she did just the one right thing. That was the marvel of -Mrs. Craig, she always seemed to know naturally what a person needed -most and gave it to them. She took Jack in her arms, his head on her -shoulder, patting him while he began to cry chokingly. - -“Never mind, child, now,” she told him. “You’re home.” She lifted him -to her lap and started to untie his worn sodden shoes. “Tommy, get your -slippers, dear, and a pair of wool socks. Warm the milk, Kit, it’s -better that way. And you cuddle down on the couch by the living room -fire, Jack, and rest.” - -Mrs. Craig had gone into the living room and found a gray woolen -blanket in the wall closet off the little side hall. From the chest of -drawers she took some of Tommy’s outgrown winter underwear. Supper was -nearly ready, but Jack was to have a warm bath and be clad in clean -fresh clothing. Tucking him under one wing, as Kit said, she left the -kitchen, and Jean told the rest how she had rescued him from Mr. -Briggs’s righteous indignation and charitable intentions. - -“Got a good face and looks you square in the eye,” said Doris. “I’d -take a chance on him any day, and he can help around the place a lot, -splitting kindlings and shifting stall bedding and what not. He and -Tommy seem to be good friends already.” - -The telephone bell rang and Jean answered. Rambling up through the -hills from Norwich was the party line, two lone wires stretching from -telephone pole to telephone pole. Its tingling call was a welcome -sound. This time it was Rebecca at the other end. After her marriage -to Judge Ellis, they had taken the long-deferred wedding trip up to -Boston, visiting relatives there, and returning in time for a splendid -old-fashioned Thanksgiving celebration at the Ellis home. Maple Grove, -Becky’s former home, was closed for the winter but Matt, the hired -man, decided to stay on there indefinitely and work the farm on shares -for Miss Becky, as he still called her. - -“And like enough,” Becky said comfortably, when she heard of his -intentions, “he’s going to marry somebody himself. I wouldn’t put it -past him a bit. I wish he’d choose Cindy Anson. There she is living -alone down in that little bit of a house, running a home bakery when -she’s born to fuss over a man. I told Matt when I left, if I were he -I’d buy all my pies and cake from Cindy, and then when I drove by -Cindy’s I just dropped a passing word about how badly I felt at leaving -such a fine man as Matt to shift for himself up at the house, so she -said she’d keep an eye on him.” - -Over the telephone now came her voice, vibrant and cheery, and Jean -answered the call. - -“Hello, yes, this is Jean. Mother’s right in the living room. Who? -Oh, wait till I tell the kids.” She turned her head, her brown eyes -sparkling. “New York cousins over at the Judge’s. Who did you say they -are, Becky? Yes? Beth and Elliott Newell. I’ll tell Dad right away. -Tomorrow morning early? That’s swell. ’Bye.” - -Before the others could stop her, she was on her way upstairs. The -largest, sunniest room had been given over to her father. The months of -relaxation and rest up in the hills had worked wonders in Mr. Craig’s -health. As old Dr. Gallup was apt to say when Kit rebelled at the -slowness of recovery, “Can’t expect to do everything in a minute. Even -the Lord took six days to fix things the way he liked them.” - -Instead of spending two-thirds of his time in bed or on the couch now, -he would sit up for hours and could walk around the wide porch, or even -along the garden paths before the cold weather set in. But there still -swept over him without warning the great fatigue and weakness, the -dizziness and exhaustion which had followed as one of the lesser ills -in his nervous breakdown. - -He sat before the open fire now, reading from one of his favorite news -magazines, with Miss Tilly purring on his knees. Tommy had found Miss -Tilly one day late in October, loafing along the barren stretch of road -going over to Gayhead school. She was a yellow kitten with white nose -and paws. Tommy, forever adopting stray animals, had tucked her up in -his arms and taken her home. Becky had looked at the yellow kitten with -instant recognition. - -“That’s a Scarborough kitten. Sally Scarborough’s raised yellow kittens -with white paws ever since I can remember.” - -“Had I better take it back?” asked Tommy anxiously. - -“Land, no, child. It’s a barn-cat. You can tell that, it’s so -frisky. Ain’t got a bit of repose or common sense. Like enough Mrs. -Scarborough’d be real glad if it had a good home. Give it a name, and -feed it well, and it’ll slick right up.” - -So Miss Tilly had remained, but not out in the barn. Somehow she had -found her way up to Mr. Craig’s room and its peace must have appealed -to her, for she would stay there for hours, dozing with half-closed -jade-green eyes and incurved paws. - -“Dad!” Jean exclaimed, entering the quiet room like an autumn flurry of -wind. “What do you think? Becky just phoned, and she wants me to tell -you two New York cousins are there. Beth and Elliott Newell. Do you -remember them?” - -“Of course,” smiled Mr. Craig. “It must be little Cousin Beth and her -boy. I used to visit at her old home when I was a little boy. She -wanted to be an artist, I know.” - -“Oh, Dad, an artist? And did she study and succeed?” - -“I think so. I remember she lived abroad for some time and married -there. Her maiden name was Lowell, Beth Lowell.” - -“Did she marry an artist too?” Jean leaned forward from her low chair -facing him, her eyes bright with romance, but Mr. Craig laughed. - -“No, indeed, she married a schoolmate from New York. He went after her, -for I suppose he tired of waiting for Beth’s career to come true. They -had a very happy life together and I think Beth misses him very much -since he died about two years ago. Listen a minute.” - -Up from the lower part of the house floated strains of music. Surely -there had never issued such music from a mouth organ. The tune was a -mournful blues that had a haunting melody. - -“It must be Jack,” Jean said, smiling mischievously up at her father, -for he had not yet met Jack. She ran out to the head of the stairs. - -“Can Jack come up, Mom?” - -Up he came, fresh from a tubbing, wearing a shirt and a pair of -overalls that belonged to Tommy. His straight blond hair fairly -glistened from its recent brushing and his face shone, but it was -Jack’s eyes that won him friends at the start. Mixed in color they -were, like a moss agate, with long dark lashes, and just now they were -filled with contentment. - -“They wanted me to play for them downstairs,” he said gravely, stopping -beside Mr. Craig’s chair. “I can play lots of tunes. My mother gave me -this last Christmas.” - -This was the first time he had mentioned his mother and Jean followed -up the clue gently. - -“Where, Jack?” - -He looked down at the floor, shifting his weight from one foot to -the other. “Over in Providence. She got sick and they took her to the -hospital and she never came back.” - -“Not at all?” - -He shook his head. “Then afterwards--” much was comprised in that one -word and Jack’s tone, “afterwards we started off together, my Dad and -me. He said he’d try and get a job on some farm with me, but nobody -wanted him this time of year, and with me too. And he said one morning -he wished he didn’t have me bothering around. When I woke up on the -freight yesterday morning, he wasn’t there. Guess he must have dropped -off. Maybe he can get a job now.” - -So it slipped out, Jack’s personal history, and the father and -daughter wondered at his sturdy acceptance of life’s discipline. Only -nine, but already he faced the world as his own master, fearless and -optimistic. All through that first evening he sat in the kitchen on -the high stool, playing tunes he had learned from his father. Tommy was -entranced and begged him to teach him how to play. - -After supper the girls and Tommy drew up their chairs around the dining -room table as usual. Here every night the three younger ones prepared -their lessons for the next day. Jean generally read or sat with her -father awhile, but tonight she answered Peg Moffat’s letter. It was -read over twice, the letter that blended in so curiously with the -coming of the cousins from New York. - -Ever since Jean could remember she had drawn pictures. No one guessed -how she loved the paintings in New York’s art galleries. They had -seemed so real to her, the face of a Millet peasant lad crossing a -stubble field at dawn; a Breton girl knitting as she walked homeward -behind some straying sheep; one of Frans Hals’ Flemish boys, his chin -pressed close to his violin, his deep eyes looking at you from under -the brim of his hat. - -Once she had read of Albrecht Dürer, painting his masterpieces while he -starved. How the people whispered after his death that he had used his -heart’s blood to mix with his wonderful pigments. Of course it was only -a story, but Jean remembered it. When she saw a picture that seemed to -hold one and speak its message of beauty, she would say to herself, -“There is Dürer’s secret.” - -And some day, if she ever could put on canvas the dreams that came to -her, she meant to use the same secret. - -“I do think Socrates was an old bore,” said Kit, yawning and stretching -her arms, after a struggle with her homework. “Always mixing in and -contradicting everybody and starting something. No wonder his wife was -cranky.” - -“He died beautifully,” Doris replied. “Something about a sunset and all -his friends around him.” - -“If you’ve finished your homework, why don’t you go to bed?” Jean told -them. She finished her letter alone. It was not easy to write it. Peg -wanted her to come down for the spring term. She could board with her -if she liked. Expenses were very light. - -Any expense would be heavy if piled on the monthly budget of Woodhow. -Jean knew that. So she wrote back with a heartache behind the plucky -refusal, and stepped out on the moonlit porch for a minute. It was -clear and cold after the light snowfall. The stars were very faint. -From the river came the sound of the waterfall. - -“You stand steady, Jean Craig,” she said, between her teeth. “Don’t you -dare be a quitter. You’ve got to see this winter straight through.” - - - - -3. Exhibit A - - -After her marriage to Judge Ellis, Becky had taken Ella Lou, her big -collie dog, from Maple Grove over to the large white house behind its -towering elms. - -“I’ve had that dog for ten years and never saw another one like her -for intelligence,” she would say, her head held a little bit high, her -glasses halfway down her nose. “I told the Judge if he wanted me he’d -have to take Ella Lou too.” - -So it was Ella Lou’s familiar black nose that poked around the door -the following morning when the New York cousins came over to get -acquainted. - -Jean never forgot her introduction to Beth Newell. She was about -forty-seven then, with her son Elliott fully five inches taller than -herself, but she looked about twenty-seven. Her feathery brown hair, -her wide gray eyes, and quick, sweet laughter, endeared her to Jean -right away. - -Elliott was about fifteen, not one single bit like his mother, but -broad-shouldered and blond and sturdy. It was so much fun, Kit said, to -watch him take care of his mother. - -“Where’s your high school out here?” he asked. “I’m at prep school -specializing in math.” - -“And how any son of mine can adore mathematics is beyond me,” Beth -laughed. “I suppose it’s reaction. Do you like math, Jean?” She put her -arm around the slender figure nearest her. - -“I should say not,” Jean answered immediately, and then all at once, -out popped her heart’s desire before she could check the words. -Anybody’s heart’s desire would pop out with Beth’s eyes coaxing it. -“I--I want to be an artist.” - -“Keep on wishing and working then, dear, and as Becky says, if it is to -be it will be.” - -While the others talked of New England farms, these two sat together on -the couch, Jean listening eagerly and wistfully while her cousin told -of her own girlhood aims and how she carried them out. - -“We didn’t have much money, so I knew I had to win out for myself. -There were two boys to help bring up, and Mother was not well, but I -used to sketch every spare moment I could, and I read everything on -art I could find, even articles from old magazines in the attic. But -most of all I sketched anything and everything, studying form and -composition. When I was eighteen, I taught school for two terms in the -country. Dad had said if I earned the money myself, I could go abroad, -and how I worked to get that first nest egg.” - -“How much did you get a week?” - -“Twelve dollars, but my board was only three and a half in the country, -and I saved all I could. Of course, at that time, it was cheaper to -go abroad--and easier, too. I wouldn’t recommend your trying to go to -Europe right now, but there are plenty of good schools and teachers -in this country. If you really do want work and kind of hunt a groove -you’re fitted for, you’ll always find something to do.” - -Jean was leaning forward, her chin propped on her hands. “Yes, I know,” -she said. “Do go on, please.” - -“Ellen Brainerd, the teacher I studied under in Boston at one time, was -one of New England’s marvelous spinsters with the far vision and cash -enough to make a few of her dreams come true. Every year she used to -take a group of art students to Europe, and with her encouragement I -went the third year, helping her with a few of the younger ones, and -paying part of my tuition that way. And oh,” Beth’s eyes were sparkling -as she recalled her student days, “we set up our easels in the fountain -square in Barcelona and hunted Dante types in Florence. We trailed -through Flanders and Holland and lived for a time in Paris.” - -“And you painted all those places?” exclaimed Jean. “I’ve wanted so -much to go.” - -“Well, I tried to,” Beth looked ruefully into the open fire. “Yes, I -tried to paint like all the old masters and new masters, from Rembrandt -to Degas. I did everything except try to develop a technique of my own.” - -“But isn’t it important to study the techniques of the masters?” - -“Yes, of course it is, but it was long after I came back home that I -realized this. After David came over and stopped my career by marrying -me I came back home. We lived out near New Rochelle and I began -painting things of everyday life just as I saw them, the things I -loved. It was our old apple tree out by the well, steeped in full May -bloom, that brought me my first prize.” - -“Gee, after Paris and all the rest!” - -“Yes. And the next year they accepted our red barn in a snowstorm. I -painted it from our kitchen window. Another was a water color of our -Jersey calves standing knee deep in the brook in June. That is the kind -of picture I have succeeded with. I think because, as I say, they are -part of the home life and scenes I love best and so I have put a part -of myself into them.” - -Dürer’s heart’s blood, Jean thought to herself. “You’ve helped me so -much, Beth,” she said aloud. “I was just longing to go back to the art -school right now, and throw up everything here that I ought to do.” - -“Keep on sketching every spare moment you can. Learn form and color and -composition. Things are only beautiful according to the measure of our -own minds. I’d like you to come to New York and study there. You could -stay with me and share my studio when you weren’t in classes.” - -“I’d love to come when Mother can spare me.” Jean’s eyes sparkled at -this prospect. - -“Well, do so, my dear,” Becky’s hands were laid on her shoulders from -behind. “It’s a poor family that can’t support one genius.” She laughed -in her full-hearted, joyous way. “Now, listen, all of you. I’ve come to -invite you to have Christmas dinner with us.” - -“But, Becky,” began Mrs. Craig, “there are so many of us--” - -“Not half enough to fill the big old house. Some day after all the -children are married and there are plenty of grandchildren, then we -can talk about there being too many, though I doubt it. There’s always -as much house room as there is heart room, if you only think so. Bring -along the little one too.” She smiled over her shoulder at Jack, -sitting in his favorite corner in the kitchen working industriously on -one of Tommy’s model airplanes, and he gave a funny little one-sided -grin back in shy return. “Billie’s going away to school after New -Year’s, did I tell you?” - -“Oh, golly,” cried Doris, so abruptly that everyone laughed at her. -“Doesn’t it seem as if boys get all of the adventures of life just -naturally.” Billie was the Judge’s grandson and Doris’s pal. He was -two years older than Doris but they liked the same things and had been -great friends ever since Doris first found his secret hide-out. - -“He’s had adventures enough, but he does need the friendship of boys -his own age. I don’t want him to be tied down with a couple of old -folks like the Judge and myself. You’re never young but once. Besides, -I always did want to go to these college football games and have a boy -of mine in the huddle.” - -“Gol--lee!” Doris exclaimed after the front door had closed on the -last glimpse of Ella Lou’s plumed tail going out to the car. “Doesn’t -it seem as if Becky leaves behind her a big sort of glow? She can say -more nice things in a few minutes than anybody I ever heard. Except -about Billie’s going away. I wonder why he didn’t come down and tell me -himself.” - -“Well, you know, Doris,” Kit remarked, “you haven’t a mortgage on -Billie.” - -“Oh, I don’t care if he goes away. It isn’t that,” Doris answered -easily. “I wouldn’t like a boy that couldn’t hold his own with the -other guys. Jean, did you realize the full significance of Becky’s -invitation? No baking or cooking. No working our fingers to the bone -for dinner on Christmas Day. I think she’s simply wonderful.” - -Jean laughed and slipped up the back stairs to her own room. She felt -around in her desk until she found her folio of sketches. The dining -room was deserted excepting for Doris watering the rows of geraniums in -the bay window, so Jean sat down to look over her old art work. Doris -went upstairs to see her father, and Kit appeared with a frown on her -face, puzzling over a knitting book. - -“I hate the last days before Christmas,” she said savagely. “What on -earth can we concoct at this last minute for Beth? I think I’ll knit -her a pair of white cable-stitch gloves. If I can’t finish them in time -I’ll give her one with the promise of the other. What can I give to -Judge Ellis?” - -“Something useful,” Jean answered. - -“I can’t bear useful things for Christmas presents. Abby Tucker says -she never gets any winter clothes till Christmas and then all the -family unload useful things on her. I’m going to send her a bottle -of perfume in a green leather case. I’ve had it for months and never -touched it and she’ll adore it. I wish I could think of something for -Billie too, something he’s never had and always wanted.” - -“He’s going away,” Jean mused. “Why don’t you fix up a book of -snapshots taken all around here. We took some marvelous ones this -summer.” - -“A boy wouldn’t like that.” - -“He will when he’s homesick.” Jean opened her folio and began turning -over her art school studies, mostly conventionalized designs from -her beginnings in textile design. After her talk with Beth they only -dissatisfied her. Suddenly she glanced up at the figure across the -table, Kit with rumpled short curls, her bangs in disarray, and an -utterly relaxed posture, elbows on the table, her feet sprawled in -front of her. Jean’s pencil began to move over the back of her drawing -pad. She was pleased to see how easy it was to catch Kit’s expression. -It wasn’t so hard, the ruffled hair, the half-averted face. Kit’s face -was such an odd mixture of whimsicality and determination. The rough -sketch grew and all at once Kit glanced up and caught on to what was -going on. - -“Oh, it’s me, isn’t it, Jean? I wish you’d conventionalized me and -embellished me. I’d like to look glamorous and sophisticated. That’s -lovely, specially with the nose screwed up that way and my forehead -wrinkled. I like that, it’s so subtle. Anyone getting one good look at -the helpless frenzy in that downcast gaze--” - -“Oh, Kit, be good,” laughed Jean. She held the sketch away from her -critically. “Looks just like you.” - -“OK, hang it up as ‘Exhibit A.’ I don’t mind. There’s a look of genius -to it at that.” - -“Naturally, I had to include that too,” replied Jean teasingly. Just -then Mrs. Craig came into the room. - -“Mom, look what my sister has done to me,” Kit cried tragically. Jean -said nothing, only the color rose slowly in her cheeks as her mother -stood looking at it. - -“It’s the first since I left school,” she said, half-ashamed of the -effort and all it implied. - -“Finish it up, dear, and let me have it.” - -“Oh, would you really like it, Mom?” - -“Love it,” answered her mother promptly. “And don’t give up hope. -Perhaps we may be able to squeeze in the spring term after all.” - - - - -4. Christmas at the Ellis Place - - -It took two trips in the car to transport the Christmas guests and -gifts from Woodhow over to the Ellis place. It was one of the few -pretentious houses in Elmhurst. For seven generations it had been -in the Ellis family. The old house sat far back from the road with -a double drive curving like a big U around it. Huge elms stood -protectingly before it, and behind lay a succession of buildings from -the old forge, no longer used, to the smokehouse. One barn stood across -the road and another at the top of the lane. - -Doris and Tommy were the first to run up the steps and into the center -hall, almost bumping into Billie as he ran to meet them. Behind him -came Mrs. Ellis in a soft gray suit. Her white blouse was fastened at -the throat with a cameo pin. “Come right in, all of you,” she called -happily. “Do stop jumping up and down, Tommy, you make me nervous. -Merry Christmas.” - -Up the long colonial staircase she led the way into the big guest room. -Down in the library, Beth was playing softly on the big square piano, -_Oh Little Town of Bethlehem_. The air was filled with the scent -of pine and hemlock, and enticing odors of things cooking stole up the -back stairs. - -Doris and Billie retreated to a corner with the latter’s book supply, -with Tommy and Jack peering over Billie’s shoulder to get a look too. -It was hard to realize that this was really Billie, the Huckleberry -Finn of the summer before. All of the old self-consciousness and -shy abstraction had gone. Even the easy comradely manner in which he -leaned over the Judge’s chair showed the good understanding and sure -confidence between the two. - -“Yes, he does show up real proud,” Becky agreed warmly with Mrs. Craig -when they were all downstairs before the glowing fire. “Of course, -we’re going to miss him when he goes away to school, but he’s getting -along splendidly. I want him to go where he’ll associate with plenty of -other boys. He’s lived alone with the ants and bees and rabbits long -enough.” - -As the others went in to dinner Jean lingered behind a minute to glance -about the pleasant room. The fire crackled down in the deep old rock -hearth. In each of the windows a white candle was burning brightly. -Festoons of ground pine and evergreen draped the mantelpiece. Jean -gazed out at the somber, frost-touched garden. There wasn’t one bit of -peace in her heart, even while she fairly ached with the longing to be -like the others. - -“You’re a coward, Jean Craig, a deliberate coward,” she told herself. -“You don’t like the country one bit. You love the city where -everybody’s doing something, and it’s just a rat race for all. You’re -longing for everything you can’t have, and you’re afraid to face the -winter up here. You might just as well tell yourself the truth. You -hate to be poor.” - -There came a burst of laughter from the dining room and Kit calling to -her to hurry up. It appeared that Doris, the tender-hearted, had said -pathetically when Mrs. Gorham, the housekeeper, brought in the great -roast turkey, “Poor old General Putnam!” - -“That isn’t the General,” Billie called from his place. “The General -ran away yesterday. First off, he lit up in the apple trees. Then as -soon as he saw Ben was high enough, off he flopped and made for the -corncrib. Just as he caught up with him there, he chose the wagon sheds -and perched on the rafters, and when he’d almost got hold of his tail -feathers, if he didn’t try the barn and all his flock after him, mind -you. So he thought he’d let him roost till dark, and when he stole in -after supper, the old codger had gone, bag and baggage. He’ll come back -as soon as he knows our minds aren’t set on wishbones.” - -“Then who is this?” asked Kit, quite as if it were some personage who -rested in state on the big willow platter. - -“That is some unnamed patriot who died for his country’s good,” said -the Judge solemnly. “Who says white meat and who says dark?” - -“For pity’s sake, child, what are you crying about?” exclaimed Becky -after dinner while they were all sitting around the table talking -leisurely. - -Jack sobbed sleepily, “I--I don’t know.” - -“He’s lonely for his own family,” Doris spoke up. - -“I ain’t neither,” groaned Jack, “it’s too much mince pie.” - -So under Becky’s directions, Billie took him up to his room, and -administered “good hot water and soda.” - -“Too bad, ’cause he missed seeing all the things taken off the tree,” -said Becky, laying aside Jack’s presents for him, a long warm knit -muffler from herself, a fine knife from the Judge with a pocket chain -on it, a package of Billie’s books that he had had as a child, and ice -skates from the Craigs. After much figuring over the balance left from -their Christmas money they had gone together on the skates for him, -knowing he would have more fun and exercise out of them than anything, -and he needed something to bring back the sparkle to his eyes and the -color to his cheeks. - -“Put them all up on the bed beside him, and he’ll find them in the -morning,” Billie suggested. “If you’ll let him stay, Mrs. Craig, I’ll -bring him over.” - -Tommy was the most excited over his Christmas presents. Kit and Jean -had given him a hockey stick and puck to use on the river when it was -frozen over, his mother and father a ping pong set that he was bursting -to set up in the basement, a model airplane kit from Doris, and a pair -of argyle socks and Norwegian sweater from the Judge and Becky. But -Billie had given him his most coveted present, his own tame crow, Moki. -“Where’d you get the name from, Billie?” he asked. - -Billie stroked the smooth glossy back of the crow fondly. “I found -him one day over in the pine woods on the hill. He was just a little -thing then. The nest was in a dead pine, and somebody’d shot it all to -pieces. The rest of the family had gone, but I found him fluttering -around on the ground, scared to death with a broken wing. Ben helped me -fix it, and he told me to call him Moki. You know he’s read everything, -and he can talk some Indian, Pequod mostly, he says. He isn’t sure but -what there may be some Pequod in him way back, he can talk it so well, -and Moki means ‘watch out’ in Pequod. I call him that because I used to -put him on my shoulder and he’d go anywhere with me through the woods, -and call out when he thought I was in danger.” - -“How do you know what he thought?” - -“After you get acquainted with him, you’ll know what he thinks too,” -answered Billie. - -Always living in a little world of make-believe all her own, Doris -received mostly fairy tales and what Kit called “princess stories.” -Saved from the old home at Sandy Cove, her mother and father gave her -two glass lamps for her bureau and Jean had made the shades herself, -out of starched white dotted swiss. Becky had knit each of the girls -soft angora socks and mittens in matching pastels, and Beth gave them -old silver spoons that had been part of their great great-grandmother -Peabody’s wedding silver. - -“When you come to New York,” she told Jean, “I’ll show you many of her -things.” - -Jean nodded, remembering her longing to go away earlier in the evening. -But the look in her father’s face made her realize more than anything -that had happened in the long months of trial in the country, how -worthwhile was the sacrifice that had brought him back into his home -country for healing and happiness. - - - - -5. New York Dreams Come True - - -Christmas week had already passed when the surprise came. As Kit said -the charm of the unexpected was always catching you unaware when you -lived on the edge of nowhere. - -Beth and Elliott had departed two days after Christmas for New York. -Somehow even Tommy could not get really acquainted with this new boy -cousin. Billie, once won, was a friend forever, but Elliott was a -smiling, confident boy, quiet and resourceful, with little to say. - -By this time, Jean had settled down contentedly to the winter regime. -She was giving Doris piano lessons, and taking over more of the -household duties with Kit back at school. School had been one of -the problems to be solved that first year. Doris and Tommy went to -the District schoolhouse at the crossroads, a one-story, red frame -building. Doris had despised it thoroughly until she heard that her -father had gone there in his boyhood, and she had found his old desk -with his initials carved on it. - -Kit was in high school, and the nearest one was over the hills six -miles away. Every morning, she caught the school bus at the end of the -drive. Mrs. Craig would often stand out on the wide porch in the early -morning and watch the three go off. - -“I think they’re wonderfully plucky,” she said one morning to Jean. “If -they had been country girls, born and bred, it would be different, but -stepping right out of Long Island shore life into these hills, you -have all managed splendidly.” - -“We’d have been a fine lot of quitters if we hadn’t,” Jean answered. “I -think it’s been much harder for you than for us, Mom.” - -And then the oddest, most unexpected thing had happened, something that -strengthened the bond between them and made Jean’s way easier. Her -mother had turned and had met Jean’s glance with a telltale flush on -her cheeks and a certain whimsical glint in her eyes. - -“Jean, do you never suspect me?” she had asked, half laughingly. “I -know just exactly what a struggle you have gone through, and how you -miss all that lies back in New York. I do too. If we could just divide -up the time, and live part of the year here and the other part back at -the Cove. I wouldn’t dare tell Becky that I had ever regretted, but -there are days when the silence and the loneliness up here seem to -crush so strongly in on one.” - -“Oh, Mom! I never knew you felt like that.” Jean leaned her head -against her shoulder. “I’ve been horribly selfish, just thinking of -myself. But now that Dad’s getting strong again, you can go away, can’t -you, for a little visit anyway?” - -“Not without him,” Mrs. Craig said decidedly. “Perhaps by next summer -we can, I don’t know. I don’t want to suggest it until he feels the -need of a change too. But I’ve been thinking about you, Jean, and I -want you to go to school in New York for a little while anyway. Beth -and I had a talk together before she left, and I felt proud of you, -when I heard her speak of your work. She says the greatest worry on her -mind is that Elliott has no definite ambition, no aim. He has always -had everything that they could give him, and she begins now to realize -it was all wrong.” - -“But, Mother, how can I go and leave you?” - -“I want you to, Jean. You have been a great help to me. Don’t think I -haven’t noticed everything you have done to save me worry, because I -have.” - -“Well, you had Dad to care for--” - -“I know, and he’s so much better now that I haven’t any dread left.” - -Peg Moffat wrote after receiving her Christmas box from Jean. Jean had -gathered pine cones, ground pine, sprays of red berries, and little -winter ferns. It was one of several she had sent to friends in the city -for whom she felt she could not afford expensive presents. - -Peg had caught the real spirit of it, and had written back urgently. -“You must run down if only for a few days, Jean. I put the pines and -other greens around the studio for decorations at Christmas and they -just talk at me about you all the time. Never mind about new clothes. -Come along.” - -It was these same new clothes that secretly worried Jean all the same, -but with some new ribbon for two of her formals, her brown wool suit -cleaned, and a new feather for her hat, she felt she could make the -trip if it were only possible. - -It was the letter that arrived the following day that really caused a -stir in the family. Beth wrote to Jean that there was a special course -beginning the following week at the Academy in textile designing. It -was only a two-months’ course so it wouldn’t be very expensive and Jean -could stay with her, eliminating the problem of board. “I really think -if you can possibly be spared from home at this time, it would be a -wise thing for you to enroll in the course. It is in the field you’re -interested in and you will learn both valuable and practical things -from it. Please write me immediately and say you’ll come.” - -When Jean showed the letter to her mother, her answer was swift and -decisive. “An opportunity such as this cannot be ignored. Of course you -will go.” - -The winter sunshine had barely clambered to the crests of the hills the -following morning when Becky drove up with Ella Lou. - -“Thought I’d get an early start so I could sit awhile with you,” she -called breezily. “The Judge had to go to court at Putnam. Real sad -case, too. Some of our neighborhood boys in trouble. I told him not to -dare send them up to any State homes or reformatories, but to put them -on probation and make their families pay the fines.” - -Kit was just putting on her stadium boots. “Oh, what is it, Becky?” she -called from the kitchen. “What’s the news?” - -“Well, I guess it’s pretty exciting for the poor mothers.” Mrs. Ellis -put her feet up on the stool. “There’s been considerable things stolen -lately, just odds and ends of harness and bicycle supplies from the -store, and three hams from Miss Bugbee’s cellar, and so on; a little -here and a little there, hardly no more’n a real smart magpie could -make away with. But the men set out to catch whoever it might be, and -if they didn’t land three of our own boys. It makes every mother in -town shiver.” - -“None that we know, are there?” asked Doris, with wide eyes. - -“I guess not, unless maybe Abby Tucker’s brother Martin. There his -poor mother scrimped and saved for weeks to buy him a bicycle out of -her butter-and-egg money, and it just landed him in mischief. Off he -kited, first here and then there with the two Lonergan boys, and they -had a camp up toward Cynthy Allan’s place, where they played they were -cave robbers or something. I had the Judge up and promise he’d let them -off on probation. There isn’t one of them over fifteen, and Elmhurst -can’t afford to let her boys go to prison. And I shall drive over this -afternoon and give their mothers some good advice.” - -“Why not the fathers too?” asked Jean. “Seems as if mothers get all the -blame when boys go wrong.” - -“No, it isn’t that exactly. I knew the two fathers when they were -youngsters too. Fred Lonergan was as nice and obliging a lad as ever -you did see, but he always liked cider too well, and that made him lax. -I used to tell him when he couldn’t get it any other way, he’d squeeze -the dried winter apples hanging still on the wild trees. He’ll have to -pay the money damage, but the real sorrow of the heart will fall on -Emily, his wife. She used to be our minister’s daughter, and she knows -what’s right. And the Tucker boy never did have any sense or his father -before him, but his mother’s the best quilter we’ve got. If I’d been -in her shoes I’d have put Philemon Tucker right straight out of the -house just as soon as he began to squander and hang around the grocery -store swapping stories with men just like him. It’s her house from her -father, and I shall put her right up to making Philemon walk a chalk -line after this, and do his duty as a father.” - -“Oh, you’re a glorious peacemaker,” exclaimed Mrs. Craig. “Hurry, -children, you’ll be late for school.” She hurriedly put the last -touches to three hearty lunches, and followed them out to the front -porch and watched them out of sight. - -“Lovely morning,” said Becky, fervently. “The ice on the trees makes -the country look like fairyland.” - -“And here I’ve been shivering ever since I got out of bed,” Jean cried, -laughingly. “It seemed so bleak and cheerless. You find something -beautiful in everything, Becky.” - -“Well, happiness is a sort of habit, I guess, Jeannie. Come tell me, -now, how you are fixed about going away? That’s why I came down.” - -“You mean--” - -“I mean in clothes. Don’t mind my speaking right out, because I know -that Beth will want to take you places, and you must look right. And -don’t you say one word against it, Margaret,” as Mrs. Craig started -to speak. “The child must have her chance. Makes me think, Jean, of -my first silk dress. Nobody knew how much I wanted one, and I was -about fourteen, skinny and overgrown, with pigtails down my back. A -well-to-do aunt in Boston sent a silk dress to my little sister Susan -who died. I can see it now, just as plain as can be, a sort of dark -bottle-green with a little spray of violets here and there. Susan was -sort of pining anyway, and green made her look too pale, so the dress -was set aside for me. Mother said she’d let the hem down and face it -when she had time. But there was a picnic and my heart hungered for -that silk dress to wear. I managed somehow to squeeze into it, and slip -away with the other girls before Mother noticed me.” - -“But did it fit you?” asked Jean. - -“Fit me?” Becky laughed. “Fit me like an acorn cap would a bullfrog. I -let the hem down as far as I could, but didn’t stop to hem it or face -it, and there it hung, six inches below my petticoat, with the sun -shining through as nice as could be. My Sunday School teacher took me -to one side and said severely, ‘Rebecca Craig, does your mother know -that you’ve let that hem down without fixing it properly?’ Well, it did -take away my hankering for a silk dress. Now, run along upstairs and -get out all your wardrobe so we can look it over.” - -Jean obeyed for somehow Becky swept away objections before her airily. -And the wardrobe was at a low ebb. - -Becky dragged her chair over beside the couch now, and took inventory -of the pile of clothing Jean laid there. - -“You’ll want a good knockabout sport coat like the other girls are -wearing. Then a couple of new sweaters and skirts for school. Now, what -about date dresses?” - -Here Jean felt quite proud as she laid out her assortment. She and Kit -had always gone out a good deal at the Cove, and she had a number of -well-chosen, expensive dresses. - -“They look all right to me, but I guess Beth will know what to do to -them, with a touch here and there. Well, if I were you, I’d just bundle -all I wanted to take along in the way of pretty things into the trunk -and let Beth tell you what to do with them. I’ll give you the money to -buy the other things you’ll need in New York. Their stores have more -selection than what we’ve got around here. Good heavens, child, you’ll -squeeze the breath out of me,” as Jean gave her a hug of thanks. “I -must be going along.” - - - - -6. Leaving Home - - -Thursday of that week was set for Jean’s departure. This gave very -little time for preparations, and Kit plunged into them with a zest and -vigor that made Jean laugh. - -“Well, so little ever happens up here we just have to make the most of -goings and comings,” said Kit exuberantly. “And besides, I’m rather -fond of you, in an offhand sort of way.” - -“Of course, we’re all glad for you,” Doris put in seriously. “It’s an -opportunity, Mom says, and I suppose we’ll all get one in time.” - -Jean glanced up as they sat around the last evening, planning and -talking. Out in the side hall stood her trunk, packed, locked, and -strapped, ready for the early trip in the morning. Tommy was trying his -best to nurse a frost-bitten chicken back to life out by the kitchen -stove, where Jack was mending Doris’s skates. Kit and Doris were freely -giving her advice. - -“Enjoy yourself all you can, but think of us left at home and don’t -stay too long,” advised Doris. - -“Yes, and learn all about designing things for people. Personally I -don’t want to make things for people,” Kit said emphatically. “I want -to soar alone. I’m going with Sally to live on the top of a mountain. -But, gosh, I do envy you, Jean, after all. You must write and tell us -every single thing that happens, for we’ll love to hear it all. Don’t -be afraid it won’t be interesting. I wish you’d even keep a diary. -Buzzy told me once that his grandmother did, every day from the time -she was fourteen, and they had a perfectly awful time getting rid of -them when she died. Imagine burning barrels full of diaries.” - -Tommy came out of the kitchen to tell them to be quiet. “I’ve just this -minute got that chicken to sleep. They’re such light sleepers, but I -think it will get well. It only had its poor toes frostbitten. Jack -found it on the ground this morning, crowded off the perch. Chickens -look so civilized, and they’re not. They’re regular savages.” - -There flashed across Jean’s mind a picture of the evenings ahead -without the home circle, without the familiar living room, and the -other room upstairs where at this time her mother would be brushing out -her soft hair, and listening to some choice bit of reading Mr. Craig -had run across during the day and saved for her. - -“I just wish I had a chance to go West like Sally,” Kit said suddenly. -“When I’m old enough, I’m going to take up a homestead claim and live -on it with a wonderful horse and some dogs, wolf dogs. I wish Sally’d -wait till we were both old enough, and had finished school. She could -be a forest ranger and I’d raise--” - -“Ginseng,” Jean suggested mischievously. “Dopey. It takes far more -courage than that just to stick it out on one of these old barren -farms, all run-down and fairly begging for somebody to take them in -hand. What do you want to hunt a western claim for? Besides, I don’t -think there are any left anymore.” - -“Space,” Kit answered with feeling. “I don’t want to see my neighbors’ -chimney pots sticking up all around me through the trees. I want to -gaze off at a hundred hilltops, and not see somebody’s scarecrow -waggling empty sleeves at me. Sally and I have the spirits of eagles.” - -“Isn’t that nice,” said Doris pleasantly. “It’ll make such a good place -to spend our vacations, kids. While Sally and Kit are out soaring, we -can fish and ride and have really swell times.” - -“Cut it out,” Jean whispered, as Kit’s ire started to rise. “It’s -getting late, really, and I have to get up while it is still night, you -know. Good night all.” - -The start next morning was made at seven, before the sun was up. The -tears were wet on Jean’s cheeks as she climbed into the seat beside -Kit, and turned to wave goodbye to the group on the porch. She had not -realized before what this first trip away from home meant. - -“Write us everything,” called Doris, waving both hands to her. - -“Come back soon,” yelled Tommy. - -But her mother went back into the house in silence, away from the -living room into the study where Jean had kept her own bookcase, desk, -and a few choice pictures. A few old paintbrushes lay beside Jean’s -worn pigskin gloves on the table. Mrs. Craig picked up both, laid her -cheek against the gloves and closed her eyes. The years were racing -by so fast, so fast, she thought, and mothers must be wide-eyed and -generous and fearless, when the children suddenly begin to top heads -with one, and feel impatient to be out on their own. - -Ready to try it alone, she thought. If it had been Kit now, she would -not have felt this curious little pang. Kit was self-sufficient and -full of buoyancy that was bound to carry her over obstacles, but -Jean was sensitive and dependent on her environment for spur and -stimulation. She heard a step behind her and turned eagerly as Mr. -Craig came into the room, looking for her. He saw the brushes and the -gloves in her hand, and the look in her eyes uplifted to his own. Very -gently he folded his arms around her, his cheek pressed close to her -brown hair. - -“She’s only seventeen,” whispered Mrs. Craig. - -“Eighteen in April,” he answered, “and dear, she isn’t trusting to her -own strength for the flight. Don’t you know this quiet little girl of -ours is mounted on Pegasus, and riding him handily in her upward trend?” - -But there was no winged horse or genius in view to Jean’s blurred sight -as she watched the road unroll before her, and looking back, saw only -the curling smoke from Woodhow’s white chimneys. - - - - -7. Aldo from Italy - - -“This is truly beautiful,” Jean said, in breathless admiration, as -she laid aside her coat and hat, and stood in the big living room -in Hastings. The beautiful home not far from New York had been a -revelation to her. Overlooking the Hudson River, the view, although -totally different, reminded her a little of her former home at Sandy -Cove. - -The center hall had a blazing fire in the big old rock fireplace, and -Victoria, a prize-winning Angora, opened her wide blue eyes at the -newcomer but did not stir. In the living room was another open fire. -Influence of an artist’s hand was quite evident in the details of the -room. There were flowering plants at the windows, and fresh roses on -the table in gracefully studied arrangements. - -“You know, or maybe you don’t know,” said Beth, “that we have one hobby -here, raising flowers, and especially roses. We exhibit every year, -and you’ll grow to know them and love the special varieties just as I -do. You have no idea, Jean, of the thrill when you find a new bloom -different from all the rest.” - -“I wouldn’t be surprised to find out anything new and wonderful about -this place.” Jean laughed, leaning back in the deep-seated chair. Like -the rest of the room’s furniture it was slipcovered in chintz, deep -cream, cross-barred in dull green, with splashy pink roses scattered -here and there. Two large white Polar rugs lay on the polished floor. - -“If those were not members of the Peabody family, old and venerated, -they never would be allowed to bask before my fire,” Beth said. “But -way back there was an Abner Peabody who sailed the northern seas, and -used to bring back trophies and bestow them on members of his family as -future heirlooms. Consequently, we fall over these bears in the dark, -and bless Abner’s precious memory.” - -After she was thoroughly warmed up and had drunk a cup of scalding tea, -Jean found her way up to the room that was to be hers during her visit. -It was the sunniest kind of a retreat in daffodil yellow and rich -brown. The furniture was all in warm, deep-toned ivory, and there were -springlike bouquets of daffodils everywhere. - -“Gee, I think this is just darling,” Jean gasped, standing in the -middle of the floor and gazing around happily. “It’s just as if spring -were already here.” - -“I put a drawing board here for you too,” Beth told her. “Of course -you’ll use my studio any time you like, but it’s handy to have a corner -all your own at odd times. I forgot to mention it before, but we’re -going to have a guest for the weekend. A boy whose parents I knew in -Sorrento years ago. His name is Aldo Thomas. His father was an American -sculptor who married an Italian Contessa. Aldo is also studying art -here in New York this winter and lives with his aunt. He has inherited -his father’s artistic talent so I know you will find much in common. -And I also think you’ll do each other a world of good.” - -“How?” - -“Well, you’re thoroughly an American girl, Jean, and Aldo is half -Italian. You’ll understand what I mean when you see him. He is -high-strung and temperamental, and you are so steady-nerved and -well-balanced.” - -Jean thought over this last when she was alone, and smiled to herself. -Why on earth did one have to give outward signs of temperament, -she wondered, before people believed one had sensitive feelings or -responsive emotions? Must she wear her heart on her sleeve for a sort -of personal barometer? Peg Moffat was high-strung and temperamental -too. So was Kit. They both indulged now and then in mental fireworks, -but nobody took them seriously, or considered it a mark of genius. She -felt just a shade of half-amused tolerance toward this Aldo person who -was to get any balance or poise out of her own nature. - -“If Beth knew for one minute,” she told the face in the oval mirror of -the dressing table, “what kind of a person you really are, she’d never -trust you to balance anybody’s temperament.” - -But the following day brought a trim car to the door, and out stepped -Aldo. And Jean, coming down the wide center staircase, saw Beth before -the fire with a tall, thin figure, whose clothes seemed to hang on him -carelessly as if he wore them as a concession to convention. - -“This is my cousin Jean,” said Mrs. Newell in her pleasant way. Aldo -extended his hand diffidently. “I want you two to be very good friends.” - -“But I know, surely, we shall be,” Aldo said easily. And at the sound -of his voice Jean’s prejudices melted. He had very dark eyes with lids -that drooped slightly at the outer corners. His thin face emphasized -his prominent cheekbones and his skin was fair in spite of his Italian -heritage. - -“Now, you won’t be treated one bit as guests,” Beth told them. “You -must come and go as you like, and have the freedom of the house. I -keep my own study hours and like to be alone then. Do as you like and -be happy. Run along, both of you.” - -“She is wonderful, isn’t she?” Aldo said as they walked out to the -cliff above the river. “She makes me feel always as if I were a ship -waiting with loose sails, and all at once--a breeze--and I am on my way -again. You have not been to Sorrento, have you? You can see the little -fisher boats from our terraces. It is all so beautiful, but now the -villa is quite shabby and parts of it are gone. It was bombed during -the war and there are no materials to rebuild it. But it is still -beautiful.” - -Jean was strangely charmed by him. He was so different from anyone -she had ever known. None of the boys she knew would have talked so -poetically, even if they had known the right words and phrases to use. -That would be sissy stuff. - -“I wonder if you ever knew Peg Moffat. She’s a Long Island girl from -the Cove where I used to live, and she lived abroad every year until -the war came, for two or three months with her mother. She is an -artist.” - -“I don’t know her,” Aldo shook his head doubtfully. “You see over -there, while we entertained a great deal, I was away at school in Milan -or Rome and scarcely met anyone excepting in the summertime, and then -we went to my aunt’s villa up on Lake Maggiore. Ah, but that is the -most beautiful spot of all. There is one island there called Isola -Bella. I wish I could carry it right over here with me and set it down -for you to see. It is all terraces and splendid old statuary, and when -you see it at sunrise it is like a jewel, it glows so with color.” - -Jean stood looking down at the river, listening. There was always a -lingering love in her heart for the beauty and romance of Europe, and -especially of Italy. “I’d love to go there,” she said, with a little -sigh. - -“And that is what I was always saying when I was there, and my father -told me of this country. I wanted to see it so. He would tell me of -the great gray hills that climb to the north, and the craggy broken -shoreline up through Maine, and the little handful of amethyst isles -that lie all along it. He was born in New Hampshire, at Portsmouth. -We are going up to see the house some day, but I know just what it -looks like. It stands close down by the water’s edge in the old part -of the town, and there is a big rambling garden with flagged walks. -His grandfather was a shipbuilder and sent his ships out all over the -world. And he had just one daughter. There was an artist who came up -from the south in one of his ships, and he was taken very ill. So they -took him in as a guest, and the daughter cared for him. And when he was -well, what do you think?” - -“They married.” - -“But more than that,” he said warmly. “He carved the most wonderful -figureheads for my great grandfather’s ships. All over the world they -were famous. His son was my father.” - -It was indescribable, the tone in which he said the last. It told more -than anything else how much he admired this sculptor father of his. -That night Jean wrote to Ralph. - - Dearest Ralph, - - I know you’ll want to know all about my trip. Beth met me - at Grand Central Station and we drove out here to Hastings. - Honestly, Ralph, when I saw the house, I had to blink my eyes. - It looks as if it belonged right out on the North Shore at the - Cove. The lawn sweeps down at the back to the cliffs where you - can look right down at the Hudson. And inside the house it is - summertime even now. They have flowers everywhere you look, - because they raise their own. Beth says she’ll give me slips - from her rosebushes and I can start a sunken rose garden. - - A most interesting artist friend of Beth’s has come out to - spend the weekend here. His name is Aldo Thomas--the Aldo - because his mother is an Italian countess and the Thomas - because his father is an American sculptor. He has been telling - me all about Italy and his father’s statues. - - Monday I begin my course at the Academy and I am so excited, - although it seems as though I have forgotten all I have - learned. I have to keep reminding myself that all of this is - really happening to me. I woke up this morning completely - bewildered for I thought I was still back in Elmhurst. - - I hope to see Peg Moffat while I am here. Of course I shall - probably see her at school, but I won’t have much opportunity - to really talk to her there. She has a studio in Greenwich - Village that I am simply dying to see. - - Even with all these new things to do and see and learn I still - miss you terribly. And June seems such a long way off. I wish - it were tomorrow that you were coming back so that you could - enjoy this with me. But since that is impossible I shall write - you everything that happens while I’m here. - - All my love, - Jeannie - - - - -8. Jean Meets a Contessa - - -“I’ve just had a telephone call from your aunt, the Contessa,” Beth -said to Aldo at breakfast Saturday morning. “She sends an invitation -to us for this afternoon, a private view of paintings and sculpture at -Henri Morel’s studio. She knew him in Italy and France, and he leaves -for the west coast on Monday. There will be a small reception and tea, -nothing too formal, Jean, so dress well, hold up your chin and turn out -your toes, and behave with credit to your chaperon. It is your debut.” - -Aldo looked at her quite seriously, but Jean caught the flutter of fun -in her eyes, and knew it would not be as ceremonious as it sounded. -When she was ready that afternoon she slipped into Beth’s own bedroom, -at the south end of the house. Here were three rooms, all so different, -and each showing a distinct phase of character. One was her winter -studio. This was a large sunny room, paneled in soft-toned pine, with a -wood-brown rug on the floor, and all the treasures accumulated abroad -during her years there of study and travel. In this room Jean used to -find the girl Beth, who had ventured forth after the laurels of genius, -and found success awaiting her with love back in Hastings. - -The second room was a private sitting room, comfortable furniture, -and window boxes filled with blooming hyacinths. Here were framed -photographs of family and friends, a portrait of Elliott over the desk, -his class colors on the wall, and intimate snapshots he had sent her. -This was the mother’s and wife’s room. And the last was her bedroom. -Here Jean found her dressing. All in black, with a bunch of violets -pinned to her waist. She turned and looked at Jean critically. - -“I only had this new green suit,” said Jean. “I thought with a sort of -feminine blouse it would look all right.” - -The blouse was white handkerchief linen with folded-back cuffs that -were edged with Irish crochet lace. Above it Jean’s eager face framed -in brown hair, her brown eyes, small imperative chin with its deep -cleft, and look of interest that Kit called “questioning curiosity,” -all seemed accentuated. - -“It’s just right, dear,” said Beth. “Go get a yellow jonquil to wear.” - -There was a clean smell of fresh snow in the air as they drove along -the highway to New York that afternoon. Once Aldo called out in -surprise. A pair of sparrows teetered on a fence rail, bickering with -each other. - -“Ah, there they are,” he cried. “And in Italy now there would be no -snow. My father told me of the sparrows here. He said they were such -quarrelsome and saucy birds that he really didn’t like them when he -lived here. But now, not seeing them, he misses their chirping.” - -“How queer it is,” Jean said, “I mean the way one remembers and loves -all the little things about one’s own country.” - -“Not so much all the country. Just the spot of earth you spring from. -He loves New England.” - -“And I love Long Island. I was born there, not at the Cove, but farther -down the coast near Montauk Point, and the smell of salt water and the -marshes always stirs me. I love the long green rolling stretches, and -the little low hills in the background like you see in paintings of -the Channel Islands and some of the ones along the Scotch coast. Just -a few straggly scrub pines, you know, and the willows and wild cherry -trees and beach plums.” - -“Somewhere I’ve read about that--the earth’s hold upon her people. I’m -afraid I only respond to New York’s rolling country, too. I’ve been so -homesick abroad just to look at a crooked apple tree in bloom that I -didn’t know what to do. Where were you born, Aldo?” - -“At the Villa Marina. Ah, but you should see it.” Aldo’s dark eyes -glowed with pride. “It is dull terra cotta color, and then dull green -too, the mold of ages, I think, like the under side of an olive leaf, -and flowers everywhere, and poplars in long avenues. My father laughs -at our love for it, and says it is just a moldy old ruin, but every -summer we used to spend there. Some day perhaps you could come to see -us, Jean. Would they lend her to us for a while, do you think, Mrs. -Newell?” - -“I should love to. Isn’t it fun dreaming of impossible things like -this?” - -“Sometimes they turn out to be very possible,” Beth returned, -whimsically. “Hopes to me are so tangible. We just set ahead of us the -big hope, and the very thought gives us incentive and endeavor and -punch. Plan from now on, Jean, for one spring in Italy. Then, maybe, -some spring you’ll find yourself there.” - -They arrived just a little late at the Morel studio. Jean had expected -it to be more of the usual workshop, where canvases heaped against the -walls seemed to have collected the dust of ages, and a broom would have -been a desecration. Here, you ascended in an elevator, from an entrance -hall that Beth declared always made her think of an Egyptian tomb. - -When they reached the ninth floor, they found themselves in the long -foyer of the Morel studio. Jean had rather a confused idea of what -followed. There was the meeting with Morel himself, stoop-shouldered -and thin, with his vivid foreign face, half-closed eyes, and sparse -gray hair. Near him stood Madame Morel, with a wealth of auburn hair -and big dark eyes. Aldo said to Jean just before they were separated, -“He loves to paint red hair, and Aunt Signa says she has the most -wonderful hair you ever saw.” - -Beth had been taken possession of by a stout smiling young man with -horn-rimmed glasses and was already the center of a little group. Jean -heard his name, and recognized it as that of a famous illustrator. Aldo -introduced her to a tall girl in brown whom he had met in Italy, and -then somehow, Jean could not have told how it happened, they drifted -apart. Not but what she was glad of a breathing spell, just a chance -to get her bearings. Morel was showing some recent canvases, still -unframed, at the end of the studio, and everyone seemed to gravitate -that way. - -Jean found a quiet corner just as someone handed her fragrant tea in -a little red and gold cup, and she was free to look around her. A -beautiful woman had just arrived. She was tall and past first youth, -but Jean leaned forward expectantly. This must be the Contessa. Her -gown seemed as indefinite and elusive in detail as a cloud. It was -dull blue violet in color, with a gleam of gold here and there as she -moved slowly toward Morel’s group. Under a wide-brimmed felt hat, the -same shade of blue violet, Jean saw the lifted face, with tired lovely -eyes, and close waves of pale golden hair. And this was not all. If -only Doris could have seen her, thought Jean. She had wanted a princess -from real life, or a countess, anything that was tangibly romantic and -noble, and here was the very pattern of a princess, even to a splendid -white Russian wolfhound that followed her with docile eyes and drooping -long nose. - -“My dear, would you mind coaxing that absent-minded girl at the tea -table to part with some lemon for my tea? And the Roquefort sandwiches -are excellent too.” - -Jean turned at the sound of the new voice beside her. There on the same -settee sat a robust, middle-aged latecomer. Her black coat was worn and -frayed, her hat altogether too youthful with its pink and purple roses -veiled in net. Jean saw, too, that there was a button missing from -her dress, and her collar was pinned at a slightly crooked angle. But -the collar was real lace and the pin was of old pearls and amethysts. -It was her face that charmed. Framed in an indistinct mass of fluffy -hair, mixed gray and blonde, with a turned-up, winning mouth, and -delightfully expressive eyes, it was impossible not to feel immediately -interested and acquainted. - -Before long, Jean found herself indulging in all sorts of confidences. -They seemed united by a common feeling of, not isolation exactly, but -newness to this circle. - -“I enjoy it so much more sitting over here and looking on,” Jean said. -“Beth, my cousin, knows everyone, of course, but it is like a painting. -You close one eye, and get the group effect. And I must remember -everything to write home to the girls and Tommy.” - -“Tell me about them. Who are they that you love them so?” asked her new -friend. “I, too, like the bird’s-eye view best. I told Morel I did not -come to see anything but his pictures, and now I am ready for tea and -talk.” - -So Jean told all about Woodhow and the family there and before she knew -it, she had disclosed too, her own hopes and ambitions, and perhaps a -glimpse of what it might mean to the others at home, if she, the first -to leave, could only make good. And her companion told her, in return, -of how sure one must be that the career decided upon was what one -really wanted before one gives up all to it. - -“Over in France, and in Italy, too, but mostly in France,” she said, “I -have found girls like you who before the war were living on little but -hopes, wasting their time and what money could be spared them from some -home over here, following false hopes, and sometimes starving. It is -but a will-o’-the-wisp, this success in art, a sort of pitiful madness -that takes possession of our brains and hearts and makes us forget the -commonplace things in life that lie before us.” - -“But how can you tell for sure?” asked Jean, leaning forward anxiously. - -“Who can answer that? I have only pitied the ones who could not see -that they had no genius. Ah, my dear, when you meet real genius, then -you know the difference instantly. It is like the real gems and the -paste. There is consecration and no thought of gain. The work is done -irresistibly, spontaneously, because they cannot help it. They do not -think of so-called success, it is only the fulfillment of their own -visions that they love. You like to draw and paint, you say, and you -have studied some in New York. What then?” - -Jean pushed back her hair impulsively. - -“Do you know, I think you are a little bit wrong. You won’t mind my -saying that, will you, please? It is only this. Suppose we are not -geniuses, we who see pictures in our minds and long to paint them. I -think that is the gift too, quite as much as the other, as the power to -execute. Think how many go through life with eyes blind to all beauty -and color! Surely it must be something to have the power of seeing it -all, and of knowing what you want to paint. My cousin Becky back home -says it’s better to aim at the stars and hit the fence post, than to -aim at the fence post and hit the ground.” - -“Ah, so, and one of your English poets says too, ‘A man’s aim should -outreach his grasp, or what’s a heaven for?’ Maybe, you are quite -right. The vision is the gift.” She turned and laid her hand on Jean’s -shoulder, her eyes beaming with enjoyment of their talk. “I shall -remember you, Brown Eyes.” - -And just at this point Beth and Aldo came toward them, the former -smiling at Jean. “Don’t you think you’ve monopolized the Contessa -long enough?” she asked. Jean could not answer. The Contessa? This -whimsical, oddly-dressed woman who had sat and talked with her over -their tea in the friendliest sort of way, all the time that Jean had -thought the Contessa was the tall lady in the ethereal dress with the -Russian wolfhound at her heels. - -“But this is delightful,” exclaimed the Contessa, happily. “We have met -incognito. I thought she was some demure little art student who knew no -one here, and she has been so kind to me, who also seemed lonely. Come -now, we will meet with the celebrities.” - -With her arm around Jean’s waist, she led her over to the group around -Morel, and told them in her charming way of how they had discovered -each other. - -“And she has taught me a lesson that you, Morel, with all your art, -do not know, I am sure. It is not the execution that is the crown of -ambition and aspiration, it is the vision itself. For the vision is -divine inspiration, but the execution is the groping of the human -hand.” - -“Oh, but I never could say it so beautifully,” exclaimed Jean, -pink-cheeked and embarrassed, as Morel laid his hand over hers. - -“Nevertheless,” he said, gently, “success to thy fingertips, -Mademoiselle.” - - - - -9. Letters from Home - - -Jean confessed her mistake to Beth after they had returned home. -There were just a few minutes to spare before bedtime, after wishing -Aldo good night, and she sat on a little stool before the fire in the -sitting room. - -“I hadn’t the least idea she was the Contessa. You know that tall woman -with the wolfhound, Beth--” - -Mrs. Newell laughed softly. “That was Betty Goodwin. Betty loves to -dress up. She plays little parts for herself all the time. I think -today she was an Austrian princess perhaps. The next time she will be a -tailor-made English girl. Betty indulges her whims, and she has just -had her portrait done by Morel as a sort of dream maiden, I believe. I -caught a glimpse of it on exhibition last week. Looks as little like -Betty as I do. Jean, paint if you must, but paint the thing as you see -it, and do choose apple trees and red barns rather than dream maidens -who aren’t real.” - -“I don’t know what I shall paint,” Jean answered with a little quick -sigh. “She rather frightened me, I mean the Contessa. I don’t think she -has much use for my kind of art. She thinks only real geniuses should -paint.” - -“Nonsense. Paint all you like. It will train you in form and color and -that you can apply later to your designing. You’re seventeen, aren’t -you, Jean?” - -Jean nodded. “Eighteen in April.” - -“You seem younger than that. If I could, I’d swamp you in paint and -study for the next two years. By that time you would have either found -out that you were tired to death of it, and wanted real life, or you -would be doing something worthwhile in the art line. But in any event -you would have no regrets. I mean you could live the rest of your life -contentedly, without feeling there was something you had missed. It was -odd your meeting the Contessa as you did. She likes you very much. Now -run along and good night, dear.” - -When Jean reached her own room, she found a surprise. On the desk lay -a letter from home that Mathilda had laid there. Mathilda was Beth’s -standby, as she said. She was tall and spare and middle-aged, with a -broad serene face, and sandy-red hair worn parted in the middle. It was -just like her, Jean thought, to lay the letter from home where it would -catch her eye and make her happy before she went to sleep. - -One joy of a letter from home was that it turned out to be several as -soon as you got it out of the envelope. The one on top was from her -mother, written just before the mail truck came up the hill. - - Dear Princess, - - You have been much on my mind, but I haven’t time for a long - letter, since Mr. Ricketts may chug up over the hill any - minute, and he won’t wait. I am ever so glad for you that you - have had this opportunity to study again. Dad is really quite - himself these days, and Becky has lent me Mrs. Gorham, so the - work has been very easy for me, even without you. - - Becky says it looks like an early spring this year, although - how she can tell when it is still so bleak and barren is - beyond me. The roads are still piled with snow and the river - is frozen over. The girls, Tommy, and Jack have been skating - almost every day. - - Have you everything you need? Let me know otherwise. You - know, I can always find some way out. Write often to us, my - dear. I feel very near you these days in love and thought. - Your character is developing so fast and I want to watch so - carefully. There is always a curious bond between the firstborn - and a mother, to the mother especially, for you taught me - motherhood, my darling. Some day you will understand what I - mean, when you look down into the face of your own. I must - stop, for I am getting altogether homesick for you. - - Tenderly, - Mother. - -Jean sat for a few minutes after reading this, without unfolding the -other letters. Mothers were wonderful persons, she thought. Their -loving arms stretched so far over one, and gave forth a love and -protectiveness such as nothing else in the world could do. - -The next was from Doris, quite like her too. Brief and beautifully -penned on her very own pink notepaper. - - Dear Jeannie, - - I do hope you are having a wonderful time. Have you met any - glamorous people yet? If you have, I hope you write us all - about them. I want to know everything. - - School is very uninteresting just now and it is cold walking to - school. But I do have that one teacher that I’m crazy about, - you know, Miss Simmons. She wears such nice clothes and her - voice is so beautiful. I can’t bear people with loud voices. - When I see her in the morning, it just wipes out all the cold - walk and everything that’s gone wrong. - - I wish I could have gone away to school like you and Billie, or - at least I wish Billie was back home. Kit says it’s time to go - to bed. - - Your loving sister, - Doris. - -“Oh, Doris, you crazy kid,” Jean laughed to herself. The letter was -entirely typical of Doris and her vagaries. - -Tommy’s letter was hurried. - - Dear Jean, - - We miss you awfully. Jack got hurt yesterday. His foot was - jammed when a tree fell on it. He is better now because I - helped to take care of his foot. He wasn’t hurt badly. - - We go skating every day for the river is frozen over. Jack and - I and some of the other boys have been playing hockey with my - new puck that you gave me for Christmas. - - Mrs. Gorham made caramel filling today the way you do and it - all ran out in the oven. She said the funniest thing. “Thunder - and lightning.” Just like that. And when I laughed, she told - me not to because she ought not to say such things, but when - cooking went wrong, she just lost her head completely. Isn’t - that funny? Bring me home a puppy. I’d love it. - - Love, - Tommy. - -The letter from her father was gay and cheerful and full of advice. He -did sound better, just as her mother had said. - - Jeannie dear, - - Although we all miss you, we seem to be getting along pretty - well. With Mrs. Gorham to help, your mother does not have too - much to do. - - The Judge dropped in last evening for a visit. He says that - Billie is getting along splendidly at school. He has many new - friends and seems to like the work. Becky and the Judge, of - course, miss him as we do you, my dear. - - I am in the middle of an interesting new book on world - economics. I wish you were here so that I could read parts - of it to you. Even though your art work is very important, - it is equally valuable to be well-informed on the affairs of - the world in which you live. I hope you will keep this bit of - advice in mind, for in order to be fully successful, you must - keep abreast of the times and not be so completely engrossed in - your work, that you fail to recognize what goes on around you. - - But I didn’t mean to start preaching. You shall learn all this - as you study and grow older, I am sure. I expect to see great - changes in you when you return. But do not change too much so - that we won’t know you. We love you as you are, darling. - - With all my love, - Dad. - -Jean was quite moved by this letter, for her father was making her -responsible for her own future. It made her feel quite different -somehow, as though she was entrusted with the power to make or break -her own career. - -Last of all was Kit’s letter, two sheets of penciled scribbling, -crowded together on both sides. - - Hi, Jean, - - I’m writing this the last thing at night when my brain is - getting calm. Any old time the poet starts singing carelessly - of the joys and beauties of the country in the wintertime, I - hope he lands on this waste spot during a January blizzard. - He’d change his mind in a hurry. - - If you get your hands on any of the current fashion magazines, - be sure to send them home to us. Even if we can’t indulge, - we can dream, can’t we? I’m getting awfully tired of skirts - and sweaters. It’s high time I was allowed to burst forth in - something really stunning that would knock everybody cold. - - I have a new friend, a dog. Jack says he’s just a stray, but - he isn’t. He’s a shepherd dog, and very intelligent. I’ve - named him Mac. He fights with Tommy, which is strange for that - brother of ours usually has a way with animals. I guess he’s - just a one-man dog, for he likes me alone. - - I miss you in the evenings an awful lot. Doris goes around in a - sort of moon ring of romance nowadays, so it’s no fun talking - to her, and Tommy spends most of his time fooling around with - those blasted airplanes of his. His attitude toward Jack is - really wonderful, it’s almost fatherly. Did you ever wish we - had another boy in the family? I do now and then. I’d like one - about sixteen, just between us two, that I could be pals with. - Tommy’s too little. Buzzy comes the nearest to being a big - brother that I’ve ever had. That guy really had a marvelous - sense of fairness, Jean, do you realize that? I hope being out - West hasn’t changed him too much. I liked him the way he was. - I am impatient for his return. Do you feel the same way about - Ralph? - - Well, my dear artistic close relative and beloved sister, it is - almost ten, so it’s time for Kathleen to turn into her lonely - cot. Give my love to Beth, and write to me personally. We can’t - bear your inclusive family letters. - - Yours, - Kit. - -If it hadn’t been so late, Jean felt she could have sat down then and -there, and answered every one of them. They took her straight back to -Woodhow and all the daily round of fun there. In the morning she read -parts of them to Aldo. - -“Ah, but you are lucky,” Aldo said quietly when she had finished. “I am -just myself, and it’s so monotonous. I wish I could meet your family -and know them all.” - -“They are a wonderful family, although I rather envy you in a way. -Sometimes it seems as if one loses individuality in a large family.” - -“You shouldn’t feel that way,” replied Aldo. “Why, look, here you are -in New York about to start studying again. Isn’t that proof enough that -there is room for individuality even in a big family?” - -Jean thought of this later when she was getting ready for the next day -at school and decided that Aldo was probably right. “I’ll work so hard -these next two months, that the family will be convinced that the time -was well spent. I’ll make them proud of me, or at least I’ll try.” - - - - -10. At the Art Academy - - -The next morning Jean took the commuter’s train into New York and found -her way to the Art Academy. The first person she ran into after she had -enrolled was Peg Moffat. - -“Gosh, it’s good to see you again, Jean. I was so excited when you -wrote to say you were coming back. How long will you be here?” - -“Just a couple of months, Peg. I’m taking that special course in -textile designing.” - -It was now nearly a year since Jean had been a student at the art -school. She had gone into the work enthusiastically when they had lived -at the Cove on Long Island, making the trip back and forth every day. -It thrilled her to be back again for it represented so much to her, all -the aims and ambitions of a year before. - -As they walked upstairs to Jean’s classroom, some of the girls -recognized her and called out. Jean waved her hand to them, but did -not stop. She was too busy looking at the sketches along the walls, -listening to the familiar sounds through open doors, Pop Higgins’ deep -laugh, Miss Weston’s clear voice calling to one of the girls, Pierre -the Frenchman, standing with his arm resting on a boy’s shoulders, -pointing out to him mistakes in underlay of shadows. Even the familiar -smell of turpentine and paint made her unbearably happy to be there. - -Margaret Weston was the girls’ favorite instructor. The daughter of -an artist herself, she had been born in Florence, Italy, and brought -up there, later living in London and then Boston. Jean remembered how -delightful her talks with the girls had been when she had described her -father’s intimate circle of friends back in Italy. It had seemed so -interesting to link the past and present with one who could remember, -as a little girl, visits to all the art shrines. Jean had always been a -favorite with her. The quiet, imaginative girl had appealed to Margaret -Weston perhaps because she had the gift of visualizing the past and its -great dreamers. She took both her hands now in a firm clasp, smiling -down at her. - -“Back again, Jean?” - -“Only for this special course, Miss Weston,” Jean smiled a little -wistfully. “I wish it were for longer. It seems awfully good to be here -and see you all.” - -“Have you done any work at all in the country?” - -Had she done any work? A swift memory of the real work of Woodhow swept -over Jean, and she could have laughed. - -“Not much.” She shook her head. “I sort of lost my way for a while, -there was so much else that had to be done, but I’m going to study now.” - -So for two months, Jean could make believe that she was back as a -“regular.” Every morning she went to class, getting inspiration and -courage even from the teamwork. Later that first month, she was -surprised to see Aldo waiting for her at the main entrance. - -“I’ve come to take you away. It is not good to bury yourself completely -in your work. It is time that you thought of something besides paint -and warp and woof.” - -Jean suddenly remembered the words of her father’s first letter to her. -How he had warned her of forgetting everything but her work. “Where are -we going?” she asked. - -“I have tickets to the latest Broadway play. It’s a musical and very -good, from all I hear and have read about it. But first we are going to -lunch at the Waldorf.” - -Jean never forgot that afternoon with Aldo. She forgot the art school -completely while she listened to the gay tunes and witty dialogue -coming from the stage. When she returned to Elmhurst, she often -remembered that day and it made it easier for her to work at home at -everyday chores. - -Later, while they were having dinner in a small Italian restaurant that -Aldo frequented often, she told him of her work. How her designs were -progressing and how she was learning to weave and how wonderful it was -to see her own designs come to life in the threads of the material on -her loom. - -In return, Aldo told her of his own work. He was now working in clay -and hoped to do some real sculpture before he was through. “I want to -work in marbles, the way my father does,” he said simply. In those few -words his own ambitions were exposed. - -They parted at Grand Central, Jean to go back to Beth’s in Hastings and -Aldo to take the subway uptown to his aunt’s apartment. - -A few days later, Jean went home with Peg Moffat to spend the weekend -with her in her Greenwich Village studio. “Yet you can hardly call it -a studio now, since Mom came and took possession,” Peg said. “We girls -had it all nice and messy, and she keeps it in order, I tell you.” - -“Somebody was needed to keep it in order,” Mrs. Moffat put in. They -were all sitting around the table after dinner that evening. - -“Eloise and Janet and I kept house,” Peg put in significantly. “And, -really, talk about temperament! We had no regular meals at all, and -Eloise says if you show her crackers and pimento cheese again for a -year, she’ll simply die in her tracks. Mom has fed us up beautifully -since she came back from Miami. Real substantial food.” - -“Yes and they didn’t think they needed me at all, Jean. Somehow a -mother doesn’t go with studio equipment, but this one does, and now -everyone in the block comes down to visit us. They all need mothering -now.” - -Jean found the studio delightfully attractive. The ceiling was beamed -in dark oak, and a wide fireplace with a crackling wood fire made -Jean almost feel as if she were back home. There were wide shelves -lined with books on painting all around the room. At the windows hung -shrimp-colored draperies that could be pulled across on transverse rods -to shut out the night. A small spinet piano took up one corner of the -room and now Peg walked over to it and sat down to play. In the middle -of a Mozart sonata, Jean sighed heavily. - -Peg stopped playing, turned around, and asked, “What is it? Tired?” - -Jean’s lashes were wet with unshed tears. - -“I was wishing Mother were here too,” she answered. “She loves all this -so--just as I do. It’s awfully lonesome up there sometimes without any -of this. I love the hills and the freedom, but, oh, it is so lonely. -Why, I even love to hear the horns of the cabs blowing impatiently and -the sound of the busses releasing their air brakes.” - -Jean slept late the next morning, late for her at least. It was nearly -ten when Mrs. Moffat came into the large room to pull back the curtains -and say that breakfast was nearly ready. - -“Did you close the big house at the Cove?” Jean asked while they were -dressing. - -“Rented it furnished. With Brock away at college and me sharing this -studio with Eloise and Janet, Mother thought she’d let it go, and stay -with me when she came back from Florida. She’s over at Aunt Win’s while -I’m at classes. They’ve got an apartment overlooking Central Park -because Uncle Frank can’t bear commuting in the winter. We’ll go over -there tomorrow afternoon. Aunt Win’s up to her eyebrows in hospital -work.” - -“Know something, Peg?” Jean said suddenly, “I do believe that’s what -ails Elmhurst. Nobody up there is doing anything different this winter -from what they have every winter for the last fifty years. Down here -there’s always something new and interesting going on.” - -“Sure, but is that good? After a while you expect something new all the -time, and you can’t settle down to any one thing steadily. Coming, -Mom, right away.” - -“Good morning, lazy things,” said Mrs. Moffat as she poured the coffee. -“I’ve had my breakfast. I’ve got two appointments this morning and must -rush.” - -“Mother always mortgages tomorrow. I’ll bet anything she’s got -appointments lined up for a month ahead. What’s on for today?” - -“Dentist and shopping with your Aunt Win. I’m going to have lunch with -her, so you girls will be alone. There are seats for a recital at -Carnegie Hall if you’d enjoy it. I think Jean would. It’s a Chamber -Music group. Peg only likes orchestral concerts, but if you go to this, -you might drop in later at Signa’s. It’s not far, you know, Peg, and -not a bit out of your way. Aunt Win and I will join you there.” - -“Isn’t she the dearest, bustling Mother?” Peg said placidly, when they -were alone. “Sometimes I feel ages older than she is. She has as much -fun dashing around to everything as if New York were a steady sideshow. -Do you want to go?” - -“I’d love to,” Jean answered frankly. “Who’s Signa?” - -“A girl Aunt Win’s interested in. She plays the violin. Jean Craig, do -you realize the world is just jammed full of people who can do things, -I mean unusual things like painting and playing and singing, better -than the average person, and yet there are only a few of them who are -really great. It’s such a tragedy because they all keep on working -and hoping and thinking they’re going to be great. Aunt Win has about -a dozen tucked under her wing that she encourages, and I think it’s -perfectly deadly.” - -Peg planted both elbows on the table and held her cup of coffee in the -air. - -“Because they won’t be great geniuses, you mean?” - -“Sure. They’re just half-way. All they’ve got is the longing, the urge -forward.” - -“But it’s something to have the aims and the ambitions, don’t you -think?” - -“Maybe so,” Peg said briskly. “Maybe I can’t see them myself, and it’s -just a waste of time keeping me at the Academy. I’m not a genius, and -I’ll never paint great pictures, but I am going to be an illustrator, -and while I’m learning I can imagine myself all the geniuses that ever -lived. We were told, not long ago, to paint a typical city scene. Most -of the class went in for the regulation things, Washington Arch and -Grant’s Tomb, Madison Square and the opera crowd at the Met. Do you -know what I did?” She pushed back her hair from her eager face, and -smiled. “I went down on the East Side and you know how they’re always -digging up the streets here after the gas mains or something that’s -gone wrong? Well, I found some workmen resting, sitting on the edge -of the trench eating lunch in the sunlight, and some kids playing in -the dirt as if it were sand. Golly, it was wonderful, Jean, the color -and composition and I managed to get it all in lovely splashes. I just -called it _Noon_. Does it sound good?” - -“Splendid,” said Jean. - -Peg nodded happily. “Miss Weston said it was the best thing I had done, -the best in the class. You can find beauty anywhere if you look for it.” - -“Oh, gee, it’s good to be down talking to you again,” Jean exclaimed. -“It spurs me along so to be where others are working and thinking.” - -“Think so?” Peg turned her head with her funny quizzical smile. “You -ought to hear Pop Higgins talk on that. He runs away to a little shack -somewhere up on the Hudson when he wants to paint. He says Emerson and -Thoreau were right when they wrote about the still places where you -rest and invite your soul. Let’s get dressed. It’s after eleven already -and if we want to do any shopping before that concert we ought to be -going.” - - - - -11. The Sculptured Head - - -That evening a few of Peg’s artist friends came in to talk shop, and -Jean found her old-time favorite teacher, Pop Higgins, among them. He -was about seventy, but erect and quick of step as any of the boys, with -iron-gray hair, close-cut and curly, and keen brown eyes. He was really -splendid looking, Jean thought. - -“You know, Jeannie,” he began, slipping comfortably down a trifle in -his chair, “you’re looking fine. I think your studies here have done -something to you. How is it going?” - -“It’s going beautifully, but much too fast. I’ll have to be going home -soon, I’m afraid. There are only a few weeks left in the course.” - -“That’s all right. Anything that tempers character while you’re young -is good for the whole system. I was born out west in Kansas, when the -West was still pretty wild. I used to ride cattle for my father when I -was only about ten. And, Lord above, those nights on the plains taught -my heart the song of life. I wouldn’t take back one single hour of -them.” - -“Did you paint then?” - -He laughed, a deep, hearty laugh that made Mrs. Moffat smile at them. -“Never touched a brush until after I was thirty. I loved color and -could see it. I knew that shadows were purple or blue, and I used to -squint one eye to get the tint of the earth after we’d plowed, dull -rusty-red like old wounds, it was. First sketch I ever drew was one of -my sister Polly. She stood on the edge of a gully hunting some stray -turkeys. I’ve got the painting I made later from that sketch. It was -exhibited, too, called _Sundown_.” - -“Oh, I’ve seen it,” Jean said. “The land is all in deep blues and -hyacinth tones and the sky is amber and the queerest green, and her -skirt is just a dash of red.” - -“The red that shows under an oriole’s wing when he flies. She was -seventeen then. About your age, isn’t it, Jeannie?” - -He glanced at her sideways. Jean nodded. - -“I thought so, although she looked younger.” - -“I--I hope she didn’t die,” said Jean anxiously. - -“Die? Bless your heart,” he laughed again. “She’s living up in -Colebrook. Went back over the same route her mother had traveled, and -married in the old home town. Pioneer people live to be pretty old.” - -“It must have been wonderful,” Jean said. “Mother’s from the West too, -only way out West, from California. Her brother has the big ranch there -where she was born, but she never knew any hardships at all. Everything -was comfortable and there was always plenty of money, she says, and it -never seemed like the real West to us, when she’d tell of it.” - -“Oh, but it is, the real West of the last sixty years, as it has grown -up to success and prosperity. If I keep you here talking any longer -to an old fellow like myself, the boys won’t be responsible for their -actions. You’re a novelty, you know. Bruce is glaring at me.” - -He rose leisurely and went over beside Mrs. Moffat’s chair, and Bruce -Pearson hurried to take his place. - -“I thought he’d keep you talking here all night. And you sat there -drinking it all in as if you liked it.” - -“I did,” said Jean flatly. “I loved it. I haven’t been here at all. -I’ve been way out on a Kansas prairie.” - -“Stuff,” said Bruce calmly. “Say, got any good dogs up at your place?” - -“No. Kit wrote me she picked up a stray shepherd dog, but I haven’t -seen him yet. Why?” Jean looked at him with sudden curiosity. - -“Nothing, only you remember when you were moving from the Cove, Tommy -sold me his Cocker pup?” - -“Yes, I remember.” - -“We’ve got some swell puppies. I was wondering whether you’d take one -home to Tommy from me if I brought it in.” - -“I’d love to. Tommy had his twelfth birthday the other day and I -couldn’t think of anything to get him so I just sent a birthday -telegram. The puppy will make a perfect belated gift,” said Jean, her -face aglow. It was just like Bruce to think of that, and how Tommy -would love it. “I think we’ll name him Bruce, if you don’t mind.” - -Bruce didn’t mind in the least. In fact, he felt it would be a sign of -remembrance, he said. And he would bring in the puppy as soon as Jean -was ready to go home. - -“But you needn’t hurry her,” Peg warned, coming to sit with them. “She -hasn’t been here long, and I’m hoping if I can just stretch it along -rather unconsciously, she’ll stay right through the term, the way she -should.” - -Jean felt almost guilty, as her own heart echoed the wish. How she -would study, if only it could happen. - -On the following Saturday afternoon, Jean left Beth to go browsing -through the galleries of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She had little -time left in New York, and wanted to revisit some of her favorites -before she had to go back to Elmhurst. - -Beth drove her up to the station and waved to her as she boarded the -local. “Call me before you leave, and I’ll pick you up,” she called as -the train started to move. Jean nodded, walked back into the car, and -found a seat. - -After settling herself comfortably, she opened her bag, and found a -letter from Ralph that had been in the day’s mail. She had not had time -to read it before she left. She opened it now and read. - - Jeannie darling, - - Your last letter sounded so enthusiastic about your work, that - I know you must be having a marvelous time. It’s too bad you - can’t stay there longer. - - But who’s this Aldo guy that’s been squiring you thither and - yon, all over New York? You needn’t be so nice to him just - because he’s a friend of your cousin Beth’s. Too bad that I’m - not there to look after things. You better not go falling for - him with all his foreign airs and old-world charm. I know - that type of smooth operator, for I saw a bunch of them when I - served with the army overseas. - - You’ll say I’m jealous. Well, what if I am? After all, I saw - you first. - - Write me, my darling, immediately and say these fears of mine - are completely unfounded. I’ll be waiting anxiously for your - sweet words of comfort and encouragement. If I don’t receive - them, I’ll hop the next train and see for myself what the score - is. - - Buzzy and I are working hard as usual and life goes on in - its unaltered and unalterable course. We will probably leave - here in April, instead of waiting until June. I want to be in - Elmhurst in the spring with you. - - Dearest love, - Ralph. - -Jean was greatly amused by his letter and laughed to herself over the -“villainous character” who was taking her away from Ralph. Of course -Aldo had been very nice to her, taking her to lunch and all that. But -he was only a good friend. - -She spent a pleasant afternoon wandering through the art galleries of -the museum. She revisited many of her old favorites--paintings she had -stood before many times when the family had lived on Long Island. Then -she found a special exhibition of paintings by modern American artists. - -Jean spent a long time looking at these. Some of the artists’ names -were familiar to her, others were new. In one corner of the gallery -she came upon the sculptured head of a woman. Her face looked old -and the lines in it were the lines of extreme hardship and pain. The -forehead was high, the nose long and sharp, but the mouth was quite -different. It was smiling, “in spite of everything,” Jean thought to -herself. Although everything else about the head characterized utter -disillusionment, the mouth looked gay and carefree. - -A step behind her made Jean turn suddenly and there stood Aldo. - -“Like it?” he asked briefly. - -“Why, yes--no--I don’t know.” Jean hesitated, confused. “It’s so -strange. I can’t reconcile the mouth to the rest of the head--” - -“I’ll tell you about her, then maybe you’ll understand. She is an old -Italian woman. Her husband and three sons were killed in the first -World War, but undaunted, she raised her youngest son alone, although -she was very poor and it was hard. Her son married and had two sons of -his own. He became a successful lawyer. Then the second war came. Her -home was demolished, her son’s entire family was killed, and yet, in -spite of everything she has been through, she manages to smile that -way, the smile of a young girl. I think it’s the best thing my father -ever did.” - -“Your father? I didn’t know--I mean--I never looked at the nameplate.” - -“Yes. You see, I brought it with me when I came. Then, when I heard -they were having this exhibition here, I entered it in his name. I -think he’ll be pleased when he hears. He never exhibited anything in -this country.” - -The two stood and gazed at the head awhile in silence. It was Aldo who -spoke first. “Look, are you doing anything now, could we go somewhere -and have supper?” - -“I think I could. If you’ll wait until I call Beth, so she won’t worry.” - -They went back to the small Italian restaurant where Aldo had taken -Jean before. It was almost empty when they walked in for it was still -quite early. After they had eaten, Aldo said suddenly, “I’m going back -to Italy next week.” - -“Oh, I’m sorry you’re going so soon,” replied Jean. “But we wouldn’t -have seen much more of each other anyway, I’m going home too.” - -“Perhaps we will meet again someday, in Italy. Then I will show you all -the beautiful places I love that I have told you about.” - -“Perhaps,” said Jean doubtfully. It seemed so far away, like having a -star for a goal and she was bound to hit the fence post. - - - - -12. From Out of the West - - -All too soon, the course was over for Jean and now she was going home. -It was hard for her to say goodbye to her friends at school, especially -Peg Moffat. She would always be indebted to Beth for giving her this -opportunity. They had many long talks about art and Beth offered to -criticize Jean’s work if she would send it to her. - -Jean had had a letter from Ralph just before she left New York and he -said he was leaving then for Elmhurst. He and Buzzy had decided to -return earlier than they had previously planned so they could be at -Woodhow in time to celebrate Jean’s eighteenth birthday. He would -arrive about the same time she did. That was almost the only reason -she could think of for returning home and leaving the glamor and -breathlessness of New York behind her, although she had to admit to -herself she missed her family. It was the day before her birthday when -she arrived. - -Jean looked around eagerly as she jumped to the platform, wondering -which of the family would drive down to meet her, but instead of Kit or -her mother, Ralph stepped up to her with outstretched arms. All the way -from Saskatoon, she thought, and just the same as he was a year before. -Kit said later, in describing him, “He doesn’t look as if he could be -the hero, but he’d always be the hero’s best friend, like Mercutio was -to Romeo.” But Jean felt differently. This was the one she had waited -for all those months to come back to her. Her exciting stay in New -York, the course at the art school, all faded into insignificance by -comparison with her feeling about Ralph. - -Mr. Briggs waved a welcome as he trundled the express truck past them -down the platform. “Looks a bit like rain. Good for the planters,” he -called. - -Ralph took Jean by the hand and led her over to the car. They drove up -the long curved hill from the station and Jean lifted her head to it -all, the long overlapping hill range that unfolded as they came to the -first stretch of level road, the rich green of the pines gracing their -slopes, and most of all the beautiful haze of young green that lay like -a veil over the land from the first bursting leaf buds. - -“Oh, it’s swell to be home,” she exclaimed. “Over at Beth’s the land -seems so level, and I guess I really like the hills.” - -“What on earth have you got in the basket, Jean?” - -Jean had forgotten all about the puppy. Bruce had kept his word and -met her at the train with a sleepy, diminutive cocker pup all curled -up comfortably in a basket. He had started to show signs of personal -interest, scratching and whining as soon as Jean had set the basket -down at her feet in the car. - -“It’s for Tommy. Bruce Pearson sent it up to him to remember Jiggers -by.” - -“Jiggers?” - -“It’s the dog Tommy had back at the Cove. He sold him to Bruce, a -neighbor of ours, before we moved away. Now, Bruce is sending one of -the pups back for Tommy.” - -“How nice. I hear he and his friend Jack have been pleading for a -puppy. This will be a pleasant surprise. The girls were sorry they -couldn’t drive down,” Ralph said. “They were having some sort of Easter -doings at school. Buzzy and I arrived two days ago and I asked for -the privilege of coming down. Your mother’s up at the Judge’s today. -Billie’s pretty sick, I think.” - -“Billie?” cried Jean. “Not Billie?” - -Even to think of Billie’s being ill was absurd. It was like saying -a raindrop had the measles. He had never been sick all the years he -had lived up there, bare-headed in the winter, free as the birds and -animals he loved. All the way home she felt subdued. - -“He came back from school Monday for Easter vacation and they are -afraid of pneumonia. I don’t understand how he could have gotten it, -but I’m sure if anybody could pull him through it would be Mrs. Ellis,” -said Ralph. - -But even with the best nursing and care, things looked bad for Billie. -It was supper time before Mrs. Craig returned. The reunion between -mother and daughter was indeed a happy one. “I can’t tell you how I -feel to have you back again, darling.” - -“And it’s wonderful to be back. I missed you all so.” - -Doris was indignant and stunned at the blow that had fallen on her -friend, Billie. She sputtered, “The idea that Billie should have to be -sick during vacation. How long will he be in bed, Mother?” - -“I don’t know, dear,” Mrs. Craig said. “He’s strong and husky, but it -will be some time, I’m afraid, before he’ll be well again. Dr. Gallup -came right over.” - -“That’s good,” Kit put in. “He’ll get him well in no time. I don’t -think there ever was a doctor so set on making people well. I’d rather -see him come in the door, no matter what was wrong with me, sit down -and tell me I had just a little distemper, open his black case, and mix -me up that everlasting mess that tastes like cinnamon and sugar, than -have a whole line of city specialists tapping me.” - -Doris and Tommy clung closely to Jean, taking her and Ralph around the -place to show her all the new chicks, orphans and otherwise. Woodhow -really was showing signs of full return this year for the care and love -spent on its rehabilitation. The fruit trees, after Buzzy’s pruning and -fertilizing, and general treatment that made them look like swaddled -babies, were blossoming profusely, and on the south slope of the field -along the river, rows and rows of young peach trees had been set out. -The garden too, had come in for its share of attention. Doris loved -flowers, and had worked there more diligently than she usually could be -coaxed to on any sort of real labor. She had cleared away the old dead -plants first, and with Tommy’s help had plowed up the central plot, -taking care to save all the perennials. - -“You know what I wish, Mom,” said Doris, standing with earth-stained -fingers in the midst of the tangle of old vines and bushes. “I wish we -could lay out paths and put stones down on them, flat stones, I mean, -like flags. And have flower beds with borders. Could we, do you think?” - -Her earnestness made Mrs. Craig smile, but she agreed to the plan, and -Becky helped out with slips from her flower store, so that the prospect -for a garden was very good. And later Buzzy Hancock came up with Sally -to advise and help too. The year out West had turned the country boy -into a stalwart, independent individual whom even Sally regarded with -some respect. He was taller than before, broad-shouldered, and sure of -himself. - -“I think Ralph has done wonders for him,” Sally said. “Mother thinks -so too. He talks so enthusiastically about the West that she doesn’t -seem to mind going out there any more, after seeing what it’s made of -Buzzy. And Ralph says we’ll always keep the home here so that when we -want to come back, we can. I think he likes Elmhurst. He says it never -seems like home way out West. You need to walk on the earth where your -fathers and grandfathers have trod, and even to breathe the same air. -Mom says the only place she hates to leave behind is our little family -burial plot over in the woods.” - -Although the Craig family had planned a birthday party and Kit had -baked a beautiful cake, it was at Jean’s own request that they decided -not to have the party since Billie was sick. Instead they had a family -picnic dinner in the back yard. Of course, Ralph and Buzzy were there. - -Jean was thrilled with all her lovely gifts, especially with the rough -turquoise that Ralph had brought from Saskatoon. When he gave it to -her, he said, “I knew you would like to design your own setting for -this stone.” Jean was very pleased with his thoughtfulness. - -Even Jack had a present for her, a picture that he had made by -collecting leaves and flowers from the woods and glueing them to a -piece of plywood. Tommy had helped him to make the birchwood frame, and -Jean was touched by their efforts to make her birthday such a happy -one. - - - - -13. Spring Picnic - - -In the days following Easter, while Mrs. Craig was over at the Ellis -place helping care for Billie who was still very sick, the girls and -Tommy managed the house alone. When Tommy came in from the barn one -morning, he found Jean getting breakfast in the kitchen. “Seen anything -of Jack?” he asked. “I haven’t seen him this morning, and he was going -to help me and Ralph plow. I’ll bet a cookie he’s taken to his heels. -He’s been acting funny for several days ever since that peddler went -along here.” - -“Oh, not really, Tommy,” said Jean anxiously. She had overlooked Jack -completely in the excitement of Billie’s illness. “What could happen to -him?” - -“Nothing special,” answered Tommy dryly, “maybe he was tired of staying -here and working all the time.” - -“You can’t expect a little kid only nine to work very hard, can you?” - -“No--o. But he’s got to do something. He keeps asking me when -somebody’s going down to Nantic. Looks suspicious to me!” - -“Nantic? Do you suppose--” Jean stopped short. Tommy failed to notice -her hesitancy, but went on outdoors. Perhaps the boy was wondering if -he could get any trace of his father down at Nantic, she thought. There -was a great deal of her mother’s nature in Jean’s sympathy and swift, -sure understanding of another’s need. She kept an eye out for Jack all -day, but the afternoon passed and supper was on the table without any -sign of their Christmas waif. And finally, when Ralph came in from the -barn with Tommy, he said he was pretty sure Jack had run away. - -“Do you think it’s because he didn’t want to stay with us while Mother -was away?” asked Doris. - -“No, I don’t,” Tommy put in. “I think he’s just born restless and he -had to take to the road when the call came to him.” - -But Jean felt the responsibility of Jack’s loss, and set a lamp burning -all night in the living room window as a sign to light his way back -home. It was such a long walk down to Nantic, and when he got there, -Mr. Briggs would be sure to see him, and make trouble for him. And -perhaps he had just wandered out into the hills on a regular hike and -had gotten lost. - -But neither the next day, nor the day after, did any news come to them -of Jack. Mr. Briggs was sure he hadn’t been around the station or the -freight trains. Saturday Kit and Doris drove around through the wood -roads, looking for some sign of him, and Jean telephoned to all the -points she could think of, giving a description of him, and asking them -to send the wanderer back if they found him. But the days passed, and -it looked as if Jack had really gone. - -One afternoon Jean and Ralph were sitting on the back steps when Buzzy -and Kit hailed them from the hill. Kit was wearing a pair of slacks and -a red blouse hanging outside of them. On her head she had jammed one of -Tommy’s caps, and on the side she had stuck a quail’s feather. - -“Hi,” called Kit, “we’ve been for a hike, clear over to the village. -Mother phoned she needed some things from the drugstore, so we thought -we’d walk over and get them. Billie’s just the same. He doesn’t know -a soul, and all he talks about is making his math exams. I think it’s -perfectly shameful to take a boy like that who loves reading and nature -and natural things, and grind him down to regular stuff.” - -She flopped down on the grass in front of them with Buzzy at her -side. “I love a good long hike,” Kit went on. “Especially when I feel -bothered or indignant. We’ve kept up the hiking club ever since the -roads opened up, Jean. It’s more fun than anything out here. I never -realized there was so much to know about just woods and fields until -Sally taught me where to hunt for things. Do you like to hike, Ralph?” - -“I don’t know. Not too long. I think I’d rather ride.” - -“Me, too,” Doris said flatly. She had been working in the garden and -had come up when she heard Kit and Buzzy’s voices. “I don’t see a -bit of fun dragging around like Kit does, through the woods and over -swamps, climbing hills, and always wanting to get to the top of the -next one.” - -“Oh, but I love to,” Kit replied. “Maybe I’ll be a mountain climber -yet. Kids, you don’t grasp that there is something strange and -interesting in my own special temperament. The longing to attain, -the--the insatiable desire to seize adventure and follow her fleeing -footsteps, the longing to tap the stars on their foreheads and let them -know I’m here.” - -Ralph laughed at her. “Well, even if I don’t share such desires with -you, Kit, how about all of us going for a picnic one of these days. It -seems to me that the ground isn’t too wet for one, and it would do us -all good to stop worrying about Billie since there is nothing we can do -to hasten his recovery. Do you agree, Buzzy?” - -“That’s a swell idea, Ralph,” he replied, chewing on a blade of grass. -“Why not make it tomorrow. I’ll ask Mom to pack us up some food.” - -“No, leave that to us, Buzzy,” Jean interrupted. “We’ve got some -steaks in the house that are just asking to be broiled outdoors over -a charcoal fire. With those and some fruit and coffee, we should have -enough. Let’s plan to leave here around five and make an evening of it.” - -“What good times a large family can have,” Ralph said as he slipped his -arm through Jean’s on a walk through the garden later. “Sometimes I -wish I had been lucky enough to have had brothers and sisters. You feel -so odd when you are all the family yourself.” - -The next evening Kit, Buzzy, Jean, and Ralph hiked down the river to -a small beach that seemed to all of them ideal for a picnic. It was -Buzzy who had suggested the spot. He said he and the other boys used to -go there a lot in the summer to fish and swim. While the boys built the -fire, Kit and Jean walked on down the river a little way. - -Not far off, the girls found some violets and picked some to take home. -Looking across the river, Jean saw an old house nestled among the -trees. “Who lives there, do you know, Kit? I never saw it before.” - -“It’s Cynthy Allen’s place. People say she’s queer, but I don’t think -so. She’s real old, over seventy. But she thinks she is only about -seventeen, and she’s always doing flighty things. She’s lived out in -the woods ever since she ran away from her family years ago. Once she -started to make doughnuts and they found her hanging them on nails all -over the kitchen. So people have been afraid of her ever since. Isn’t -that silly?” - -“Let’s go over to see her some day. Want to?” - -“Sure. I’ll bet she gets lonely there, all by herself. Say, we’d better -start back. That fire ought to be started by now.” - -And it was. The boys were lying lazily on their backs in front of it -when Kit and Jean came up. “Hey, you lazy guys, why aren’t you cooking -the steaks instead of lying there doing nothing?” Kit called. - -“We’re waiting for you to do it,” retorted Buzzy. “It’s women’s work to -do the cooking. Besides, you have to wait until the wood’s burned down -to coals before you can start broiling.” - -“We’ve got news for you,” put in Ralph, “we did put in the potatoes to -bake. So you see, you’ve jumped to conclusions as usual, Kit, and we -weren’t as lazy as you thought.” - -“I’m so hungry from that trek down the hillside, I could eat those -steaks raw,” said Jean. “Shall I put them on now? When did you start -the potatoes?” - -“Quite a while ago. They should be done soon. Here, I’ll test them.” -Ralph groaned as he struggled to his feet. “This is the life for me. -Flat on my back beside a nice warm fire.” - -Going back up the hill after the picnic was much harder, they found, -than it had been to go down. “Why did you let me eat so much,” mourned -Buzzy. “I’ll never make it to the top.” - -“Come on, I’ll race you,” cried Kit, and pulling him along she began to -run. Laughing and shouting, they soon were out of earshot and Jean and -Ralph walked leisurely on behind. - -“Nothing could make me run after a supper like that,” Ralph commented. -The moon had risen and it shone down on Jean’s hair making it look -silvery in the pale light. Ralph kissed her lightly. “You’re awfully -sweet, Jeannie. Do you know that? I wish I could make you mine forever.” - -“Maybe it could be arranged sometime,” Jean said lightly. - -“Won’t you be serious?” - -“No. I can’t be now. I’m too young. Besides they need me at home.” - -Ralph felt slightly discouraged by her answer, but he knew she was -right. True, she was young, but he was young, too. And he would wait -for her until she was ready, he thought to himself. He could tell by -the radiant look in her face that she, too, was in love. - -Before she went upstairs to bed that night, Jean went out in the -kitchen to make sure the back door was locked. She glanced out of the -window and caught her breath. Dodging out of sight behind a pile of -wood that was waiting to be split, was a familiar figure. Without -waiting to call anyone, she slipped quietly around the house and there, -sure enough, backed up against the woodshed, was Jack. - -“Oh, Jack,” Jean exclaimed happily. “Come here this minute. Nobody’s -going to hurt you, don’t you know that? Aren’t you hungry?” - -Jack nodded mutely. He didn’t look one bit ashamed, just eager and glad -to be back home. Jean put her arm around him, patting him as her mother -would have done, and leading him to the kitchen. - -After he had finished a huge sandwich, several glasses of milk, and a -piece of cake, the truth finally came out. “I went hunting my dad down -around Norwich,” he said. - -“Did you find him?” cried Jean. - -Jack nodded happily. - -“Braced him up too. He says he won’t drink any more ’cause it’ll -disgrace me. He’s gone to work up there in the lockshop steady. He -wanted me to stay with him, but as soon as I got him braced up, I came -back here. You didn’t get my letter, did you? I left it stuck in the -clock.” - -Stuck in the clock? Jean looked up at the old eight-day Seth Thomas on -the kitchen shelf that Kit had bought from old Mr. Weaver as a joke. It -was made of black walnut, with green vines painted on it and morning -glories rambling in wreaths around its borders. She opened the little -glass door and felt inside. Sure enough, tucked far back was Jack’s -farewell letter, put carefully where nobody would ever think of finding -it. It was written laboriously in pencil, and Jean read it to herself. - - Dere folks, - - I hered from a pedlar my dad is sick up in norwich. goodbye - and thanks i am coming back sumday. - - yurs with luv, - Jack. - -Jack looked at her with his old confident smile. - -“See?” he said. “I told you I was coming back.” - -“And you’re going to stay too,” replied Jean thankfully. “I’m so glad -you weren’t lost forever, Jack. Now you’d better run along to bed.” - - - - -14. Billie’s Crisis - - -Billie failed to rally from the pneumonia as soon as everyone had -hoped. Doris was restless and uneasy over her pal’s plight. She -would saddle Princess and ride over on her twice a day to see what -the bulletins were, and sometimes sit out in the garden watching the -windows of the room where Becky kept vigil. She almost resented the -joyous activity of the bees and birds in their spring delirium when she -thought of Billie, lying there fighting pneumonia. - -Jean never forgot the final night. She had a phone call from her mother -about nine, to leave Mrs. Gorham in charge and come to her. - -“I’d like you to be here, dear. It’s the crisis, and we can’t be sure -what may happen. Billie’s in a heavy sleep now, and the old doctor says -we can just wait. Becky is with him.” - -Jean took off her coat when she arrived, and went in where old Dr. -Gallup sat. It always seemed foolish to call him old, although he was -over sixty. His hair was gray and straggled boyishly as some football -hero’s, his eyes were brown and bright, and his smile something so much -better than medicine that one just naturally revived at the sight of -him, Becky said. He sat now by the table, looking out of the window, -one hand tapping the edge, the other deep in his pocket. One could not -have said what his thoughts were as he sat looking out into the shadowy -spring night. - -“Hello, Jeannie,” he said cheerily. “Going to keep me company, are -you? Did you come up alone?” - -“Kit drove me over. Doctor, Billie is all right, isn’t he?” - -“We hope so,” answered the old doctor. “But what is it to be all right? -If the boy’s race is run, it has been a good one, and he goes out -fearlessly, and if not, then he is all right too, and we hope to hold -him with us. But when this time comes and it’s the last sleep before -dawn, there’s nothing to do but watch and wait.” - -“But do you think--” - -Jean hesitated. She could not help feeling he must know what the hope -was. - -“He’s got a fine fighting chance,” said the doctor. “Now, I’m going in -with Mrs. Ellis, and you comfort the Judge and brace him up. He’s in -the study there.” - -It was dark in the study. Jean opened the door gently and looked in. -The old Judge sat in his deep, old leather chair by the desk, and his -head was bent forward. She did not say a word, but tiptoed over and -knelt beside him, her cheek against his sleeve. And the Judge laid his -arm around her shoulders in silence, patting her absent-mindedly. So -they sat until out of the windows the garden took on a lighter aspect, -and there came the faint twittering of birds wakening in their nests. - -Jean, watching the beautiful miracle of the dawn, marveled. The dew -lent a silvery radiance to every blade of grass, every leaf and twig. -There was an unearthly, mystic beauty to the whole landscape and the -garden. - -And just then the old doctor put his head in the door and sang out -cheerily, “It’s all right. Billie’s awake.” - -Jean called Kit later to tell her the good news and Kit drove over -shortly. “That’s a relief,” Kit exclaimed. “I hardly slept a wink all -night, I was so worried. You don’t look as if you slept.” - -“I didn’t and I’m practically dead on my feet. But I’m so glad that -Billie is going to pull through.” - -Now that Billie’s recovery was assured everybody’s spirits seemed to -become lighter. After two weeks of almost daily showers there had come -a spell of close warm weather that dried up the fields and woods, and -left them, so Becky said, dry as tinder and twice as dangerous. - -Kit and Doris were preparing the garden for planting. - -“Oh, dear!” Kit leaned back against the side of the barn and looked -lazily off at the widening valley before her. “I’m so afraid that Dad -will get too interested in chicken raising and crops and soils and -things, so that we’ll stay on here forever. Somehow I didn’t mind it -half as much all through the winter, but now that spring is here, it’s -just simply awful to have to pitch in and work from the rising of the -sun until it goes down. I want to be a lady of leisure.” - -Overhead the great fleecy, white clouds sailed up from the south in -a squadron of splendor. A new family of bluebirds lately hatched was -calling hungrily from a nest in the old cherry tree nearby, and being -scolded lustily by a catbird for lack of patience. There was a delicate -haze lingering still over the woods and distant fields. The new foliage -was out, but hardly enough to make any difference in the landscape’s -coloring. - -“How’s Billie?” asked Doris suddenly. “I’ll be awfully glad when he’s -out again.” - -“They’ve got him on the porch bundled up like a mummy. He’s so topply -that you can push him over with one finger and Becky treats him as -if she had him wadded up in pink cotton. I think if they just stopped -treating him like a half-sick person, and just let him do as he pleased -he’d get well twice as fast.” - -Doris had been gazing up at the sky dreamily. All at once she said, -“What a funny cloud that is over there, Kit.” - -It hung over a big patch of woods toward the village, a low motionless, -pearl-colored cloud, very peculiar looking, and very suspicious, and -the odd part about it was that it seemed balanced on a base of cloud, -like a huge mushroom or a waterspout in shape. - -“What on earth is that?” exclaimed Kit, springing to her feet. “That’s -never a cloud, and it’s right over the old Ames place. Do you suppose -they’re out burning brush with the woods so dry?” - -“There’s nobody home today. Don’t you know it’s Saturday, and Astrid -said they were all going to the auction at Woodchuck Hill?” - -Kit did not wait to hear any more. She sped to the house like a young -deer and, with eyes quite as startled, she burst into the kitchen and -called up the stairs. - -“Mother, do you see that smoke over the Ames’s woods?” - -“Smoke,” echoed Mrs. Craig’s voice. “Why, no, dear, I haven’t noticed -any. Wait a minute, and I’ll see.” - -But Kit was by nature a joyous alarmist. She loved a new thrill, and -in the daily monotony that smothered one in Elmhurst anything that -promised an adventure came as a heaven-sent relief. She flew up the -stairs, stopping to call to Jean who was in her room. Her father and -mother were standing at the open window when she entered their room, -and Mr. Craig had his field glasses. - -“It is a fire, isn’t it, Dad?” Kit asked eagerly, and even as she -spoke there came the long, shrill blast of alarm on the Peckham mill -whistle. There was no fire department of any kind for fourteen miles -around. Nothing seemed to unite the little outlying communities of -the hill country so much as the fire peril, but on this Saturday it -happened that nearly all the available men had leisurely jaunted over -to the Woodchuck Hill auction. This was one of the characteristics of -Elmhurst, shunting its daily tasks when any diversion offered. - -“Oh, listen,” exclaimed Doris who had followed Kit from the barn. -“There’s the alarm bell ringing up at the church, too. It must be a big -one.” - -Even as she spoke the telephone bell rang downstairs, while Tommy -called from the front garden. “Awful big fire just broke out between -here and Ames’s. I’m going over with the mill boys to help fight it.” - -“Be careful, son,” called Mr. Craig. - -“Can I go too, Tommy?” cried Jack eagerly. “I won’t be in the way, -honest, I won’t.” - -“Naw, you’d better stay here. You might get hurt and I won’t be able to -take care of you. Besides you should be here to milk the cow in case I -don’t get back on time.” Tommy started off up the road with a shovel -over one shoulder and a heavy mop over the other. Jean was at the -telephone. It was Judge Ellis calling. - -“He’s worried about Becky, Mother,” Jean called up the stairs. “Cynthy -Allen wanted her to come over to her place today to get some carpet -rags, and Becky drove over there about an hour ago. He says her place -lies right in the path of the fire. Mrs. Gorham has gone away for the -day to the auction with Ben, and the Judge will have to stay with -Billie. He’s terribly anxious.” - -“Oh, Dad,” exclaimed Kit, “couldn’t I please, please, go over and stay -with Billie, and let the Judge come up to the fire, if he wants to. I’m -sure he’s just dying to. Not but what I’m sure Becky can take care of -herself. May I? Oh, you dear. Tell him I’m coming, Jean.” - -Jean had left the telephone and was putting on her coat. “Mother,” she -asked, “do you mind if Doris and I just walk up the wood road a little -way? We won’t go near the fighting line where the men are at all, and -I’d love to see it. Besides I thought perhaps we might work our way -around through that big back wood lot to Cynthy’s place and see if -Becky is there. Then, we could drive back with them.” - -“Why, yes, Jean, I think it’s safe for you both to go. Don’t you, Tom?” - -Mr. Craig smiled at Jean’s flushed, excited face. It was so seldom that -she lost her presence of mind and really became excited. “I don’t -think it will hurt them a bit,” he said. - -Doris grabbed her coat and the two girls started up the hill road for -about three-quarters of a mile. The church bell over at the Plains kept -ringing steadily. At the top of the hill they came to the old wood -road that formed a short cut over to the old Ames place. Here where -the trees met overhead in an arcade the road was heavy with black mud, -and they had to keep to the side up near the old rock walls. As they -advanced farther there came a sound of driving wheels, and all at once -Hedda’s mother appeared in her car. She sat hunched over the wheel, a -man’s old felt hat jammed down over her heavy, blonde hair, and an old -overcoat with the collar upturned, thrown about her. Leaning forward -with eager eyes, she seemed to be thoroughly enthusiastic over this new -excitement in Elmhurst. - -“Looks like it’s going to be some fire, girls,” she said as she -stopped the car momentarily to speak to them. “I’m giving the alarm -along the road.” And off she went. - -“Isn’t that something?” declared Jean. “And to think that she runs a -ninety-acre farm with the help of Hedda, thirteen years old, and two -hired men. She gets right out into the fields with them and manages -everything herself.” - -A farm truck coming the opposite way held Mr. Rudemeir and his son -August. An array of mops, axes, and shovels hung out over the rear of -the truck. Mr. Rudemeir was smoking his clay pipe placidly, and merely -waved one hand at the girls in salutation, but August called, “It has -broken out on the other side of the road, farther down.” - -“It must be going toward the Allan place, then,” said Jean anxiously. -She hesitated. The smoke was thickening in the air, but they penetrated -farther into the woods. Up on the hill to one side, she saw the Ames -place, half obscured already by the blue haze. It lay directly in the -path of the fire, unless the wind happened to change, and if it should -change it would surely catch Doris and herself if they tried to reach -Cynthy’s house down near the river bank. Still she felt that she must -take the chance. There was an old road used by the lumber men, and she -knew every step of the way. - -“Come on,” she said to Doris. “I’m sure we can make it.” - -They turned now from the main road into an old overgrown byway. Along -its sides rambled ground pine, and wintergreen grew thickly in the -shade of the old oaks. Jean took the lead, hurrying on ahead. When they -came out on the river road, the little gray house was in sight, and -sure enough Becky’s car was out in front. - -Jean didn’t even stop to rap at the door. It stood wide open, and the -girls went through the door into the kitchen. It was empty. - -“Becky,” called Jean loudly. “Becky, are you here?” - -From somewhere upstairs there came an answer. - -“For pity’s sakes, child!” exclaimed Becky, appearing at the top of -the stairs with her arms full of carpet rags. “What are you doing down -here? Cynthy and I are just sorting out some things she wanted to take -over to my place.” - -“Haven’t you seen the smoke? All the woods are on fire up around the -Ames place. The Judge was worried, and telephoned for us to warn you.” - -“Land!” laughed Mrs. Ellis. “Won’t he ever learn that I’m big enough -and old enough to take care of myself. I never saw an Elmhurst fire yet -that put me in any danger.” - -She stepped out of the doorway, pushed her glasses up on her forehead -and sniffed the air. - -“’Tis kind of smoky, ain’t it,” she said. “And the wind’s beginning to -shift.” She looked up over the rise of the hill in front of the house. -Above it poured great belching masses of lurid smoke. Even as she -looked, the huge winglike mass veered and swayed in the sky like vast -shapes of strange animals. Jean caught her breath as she gazed. - -Becky started out to the car with Doris. “Jean, you go and get Cynthy -quick as you can!” she called. - -Jean ran to the house and met Cynthy groping her way nervously -downstairs. She was old and frail and her scrawny hands clutching the -banister were knotted and the veins were large. - -“What on earth is it?” she faltered. “Land, I ain’t had such a set-to -with my heart in years. Is the fire coming this way? Where’s Becky?” - -“She says for you to come right away. Please, please hurry up, Miss -Allan.” - -But Cynthy sat down in a forlorn heap on the step, rocking her arms, -and crying, piteously. - -“Oh, I never, never can leave them, my poor, precious darlings. Can’t -you get them for me? There’s General Washington and Ethan Allen, Betsey -Ross and Pocahontas, and there’s three new kittens in my yarn basket in -the old garret over the ell.” - -Jean surmised that she meant her pet cats, dearer to her probably than -any human being in the world. Supporting her gently, she got her out -of the house, promising her she would find the cats. For the next five -minutes, just at the most crucial moment, she hunted for the cats, -and finally succeeded in coaxing all of them into meal bags. Every -scurrying breeze brought down fluttering wisps of half-burned leaves -from the burning woods. The shouts of the men could be plainly heard -calling to each other as they worked to keep the fire back from the -valuable timber along the river front. - -“I think we’ve just about time to get by before the fire breaks -through,” said Mrs. Ellis calmly. Jean was on the back seat, one arm -supporting old Cynthy, her other hand pacifying the rebellious captives -in the bags. - -Not a word was said as Becky turned the car toward home, but they had -not gone far before the wind changed suddenly. The full force of the -smoke from the fire-swept area poured over them suffocatingly. Cynthy -half-rose to her feet in terror, Jean’s arm around her waist trying to -hold her down as she screamed. - -“For land’s sakes, Cynthy, keep your head,” called Mrs. Ellis. “If it’s -the Lord’s will that we should all go up in a chariot of fire, don’t -squeal out like a stuck pig. Hold her close, Jean. I’m going to drive -into the river.” - - - - -15. Fire! - - -At the bend of the road the land sloped suddenly straight for the river -brink. A quarter of a mile below was the dam, above Mr. Rudemeir’s red -sawmill. Little River widened at this point, and swept in curves around -a little island. There were no buildings on it, only broad low lush -meadows that provided a home for muskrats and waterfowl. Late in the -fall fat otters could be seen circling around the still waters, and -wild geese and ducks made it a port of call in their flights north and -south. - -As Becky started to drive the car into the water, Jean asked just one -question. - -“Do you know how deep it is here?” - -“No, it varies in spots,” answered Becky cheerfully. Her chin was -up, her firm lips set in an unswerving smile. She was holding the -steering wheel tightly. To Jean she had never seemed more resourceful -or fearless. “There’s some pretty deep holes, here and there, but we’ll -trust that we don’t hit them.” - -Becky edged the car along slowly and inch by inch they moved across the -river. Out in midstream, the car stalled once and for a minute or two, -danger seemed imminent. By a stroke of luck, the car started again and -Becky gave a quick look over her shoulder. - -Jean was hanging on grimly to the cats and Cynthy. It was hard saying -which of the two was proving the more difficult to manage. The car -lurched perilously, but Becky held steady, and suddenly they felt the -rise of the shore line again. Overhead, there had flown a vanguard of -frightened birds, flying ahead of the smothering clouds of smoke that -poured now in blinding masses down from the burning woods. The faint -cries and calls of the men working along the back fire line reached the -little group on the far shore. - -As the car jolted up the bank, Doris glanced back over her shoulder at -the way they had come. Cynthy gave one look too, and covered her face -with her hands. The flames had swept straight down over her little -home, and she cried out in anguish. - -“Pity’s sakes, Cynthy, praise God that the two of us aren’t burning up -this minute with those old shingles and rafters,” cried Mrs. Ellis, -joyfully. - -“Oh, and Miss Allan, not one of the cats got wet even,” Doris -exclaimed, laughing almost hysterically. “You should be thankful for -that.” - -The flames had reached the opposite shore, but while the smoke billowed -across, Little River left them high and dry in the safety zone. - -“I guess we’d better be making for home as quick as we can,” said -Becky. Except for a little pallor around her lips, and an extra -brightness to her eyes, no one could have told that she had just fought -a winning battle with death. She stepped on the starter and headed -toward home. - -The Judge was watching anxiously, pacing up and down the long porch -with Billie sitting in his chair bolstered up with pillows beside him. -He had telephoned repeatedly down to Woodhow, but they were all quite -as anxious now as himself. It was Billie who first caught sight of the -car and its occupants. - -Kit had gone out to the kitchen to start lunch going. She had refused -to believe that any harm could come to Becky or anyone under her care, -and at the sound of Billie’s voice, she glanced from the window and -caught sight of Jean’s coat. - -“Land alive, don’t hug me to death, all of you,” exclaimed Becky. -“Jean, you go and telephone your mother right away and relieve her -anxiety. Like enough, she thinks we’re all burned to cinders by this -time, and tell her she’d better have plenty of coffee and sandwiches -made up to send over to the men in the woods. All us women will have -our night’s work cut out for us.” - -It was the Craigs’ first experience with a country forest fire. All -through the afternoon fresh relays of men kept arriving from the nearby -villages, and outlying farms, ready to relieve those who had been -working through the morning. - -There was but little sleep for any members of the family that night. -Jean never forgot the thrill of watching the fire from the upstairs -windows, and when she wasn’t preparing food with the others, she spent -most of the time up there until daybreak. There was a fascination in -seeing that battle from afar, and realizing how the little puny efforts -of a handful of men could hold in check such a devastating force. Only -country dwellers could appreciate the peril of having all one owned -in the world, all that was dear and precious, and comprised the word -“home,” swept away in the path of the flames. - -“Poor old Cynthy,” said Jean. “I’m so glad she has her cats. I shall -never forget her face when she looked back. Just think of losing all -the little keepsakes of a lifetime.” - -It was nearly five o’clock when Tommy returned. Even though he was only -twelve, he had certainly done a man-sized job that day. He was grimy -and smoky, but exuberant. - -“By golly, we’ve got her under control,” he cried. “Got some milk and -doughnuts for a guy? Who do you suppose worked better than anybody? -Gave us all pointers on how to manage a fire. He says this is just a -little fire compared with the ones he has up home. He says he’s seen a -forest fire twenty miles wide, sweeping over the mountains.” - -“Who do you mean, Tommy?” asked Jean. “For gosh sakes, quit elaborating -and come to the point.” - -“Who do you suppose I mean?” asked Tommy reproachfully. “Buzzy -Hancock’s cousin, your Ralph McRae from Saskatoon.” - -Jean blushed prettily, as she always did when Ralph’s name was -mentioned. She hadn’t spent as much time with Ralph since his arrival -as she had wanted to owing to Billie’s illness. Still, oddly enough, -even Tommy’s high praise of him made her feel shyly happy. - -The fire burned fitfully for three days, breaking out unexpectedly in -new spots and keeping everyone excited and busy. The old Ames barn went -up in smoke, and Mr. Rudemeir’s sawmill caught fire three times. - -“Whew!” he said, jubilantly, “I guess I sat out on that roof all night -long, slapping sparks with a wet mop, but it didn’t get ahead of me.” - -Lucy Peckham and Kit ran a sort of pony express, riding horseback from -house to house, carrying food and coffee over to the men who were -scattered nearly four miles around the fire-swept area. Ralph and Sally -ran their own rescue work at the north end of town. Buzzy had been put -on the mail truck with Mr. Rickett’s eldest boy, while the former gave -his services on the volunteer fire corps. The end of the third day -Jean was driving back from Nantic after a load of groceries when she -noticed Ralph turning on to the main road ahead of her. She stopped the -car beside him and asked him to get in. - -“The fire’s all out,” he said. “We have left some of the boys on guard -yet, in case it may be smouldering in the underbrush. I have just been -telling Rudemeir and the other men, if they’d learn to pile their brush -the way we do up home, they would be able to control these little fires -in no time. You girls must be awfully tired out. You did splendid work.” - -“Kit and Lucy did, you mean,” answered Jean. “All I did was to help -cook.” She laughed. “I never dreamed that men and boys could eat so -many doughnuts and cupcakes. Becky says she sent over twenty-two loaves -of gingerbread, not counting all the other stuff. Was anyone hurt, at -all?” - -“You mean eating too much?” asked Ralph teasingly. Then more seriously, -he added, “A few of the men were burnt a little bit, but nothing to -speak of. How beautiful your springtime is down here in New England. It -makes me want to take off my coat and go to work right here, reclaiming -some of these old worked-out acres, and making them show the good that -still lies in them if they are plowed deep enough.” - -Jean sighed quickly. “Do you really think one could ever make any money -here?” she asked. “Sometimes I get awfully discouraged, Ralph. Of -course, we didn’t come up here with the idea of being farmers. It was -Dad’s health that brought us, but once we were here, we couldn’t help -but see the chance of making Woodhow pay our way a little. Becky has -told us we’re in awfully good luck to even get our vegetables and fruit -out of it this last year, and it isn’t the past year I’m thinking of. -It’s the next year, and the next one and the next. One of the most -appalling things about Elmhurst is, that you get absolutely contented -up here, and you go around singing blissfully. Old Pop Higgins who -taught our art class down in New York always said that contentment was -fatal to progress, and I believe it. Dad is really a brilliant man, and -he’s getting his full strength back. And while I have a full sense of -gratitude toward the healing powers of these old green hills, still I -have a horror of Dad stagnating here.” - -Ralph turned his head to watch her face. “Has he said anything himself -about wanting to go back to his work?” he asked. - -“Not yet. I suppose that is what we really must wait for. His own -confidence returning. You see, what I’m afraid of is this. Dad was born -and brought up right here, and the granite of these old hills is in his -system. He loves every square foot of land around here. Just supposing -he should be contented to settle down, like old Judge Ellis, and turn -into a sort of Connecticut country squire.” - -“There are worse things than that in the world,” Ralph replied. “Too -many of our best men forget the land that gave them birth, and pour the -full strength of their powers and capabilities into the city market. -You speak of Judge Ellis. Look at what that old man’s mind has done for -his home community. He has literally brought modern improvements into -Elmhurst. He has represented her up at Hartford off and on for years, -when he was not sitting in judgment here.” - -“You mean, that you think Dad ought not to go back?” asked Jean, almost -resentfully. “That just because he happened to have been born here, he -owes it to Elmhurst to stay here now, and give it the best he has?” - -Ralph laughed good-naturedly. “We’re getting into rather deep water, -Jeannie,” he answered. “I can see that you don’t like the country, -and I do. I love it down east here where all of my family came from -originally, and I’m very fond of the West.” - -“Oh, I’m sure I’d like that too,” broke in Jean eagerly. “Mother’s -from the West, California, and I’d love to go out there. I would love -the scope and freedom. What bothers me here are all those rock walls, -for instance.” She pointed at the old one along the road, uneven, half -tumbling down, and overgrown with gray moss--the standing symbol of the -infinite patience and labor of a bygone generation. “Just think of all -the people who spent their lives carrying those stones, and cutting up -all this beautiful land into these little shut-in pastures.” - -“Yes, but those rocks represent the clearing of fields for tillage. If -they hadn’t dug them out of the ground, they wouldn’t have had any -cause for Thanksgiving dinners. I’m extremely proud of my New England -blood, and I want to tell you right now, if it wasn’t for the New -England blood that went out to conquer the West, where would the West -be today?” - -“That’s OK,” said Jean, a little crossly, “but if they had pioneered a -little bit right around here, there wouldn’t be so many run-down farms. -What I would like to do, now that Dad is getting well, is make Woodhow -our playground in summertime, and go back home in the winter.” - -“Home,” he repeated, curiously. - -“Yes, we were all born down in New York,” answered Jean, looking -south over the country landscape as though she could see Manhattan’s -panoramic skyline rising like a mirage of beckoning promises. “I’m -afraid that is home to me.” - -Ralph was quiet while Jean was lost in her memories of her wonderful -visit with Beth in New York. Suddenly she turned to Ralph. - -“I’m very confused,” she said. “I really don’t know what I want. The -only thing I am sure of is that I like you better than any boy I’ve -ever met.” Jean hesitated a little over this admission. “When I’m here -I long to be in New York, and when I was in New York I missed everybody -and everything in the country very much.” - -“You’re still very young, Jean, but with your level head I’m sure -you’ll be able to make a decision soon. I, for one, am willing to -wait,” said Ralph. - - - - -16. Future Plans - - -“It always seems to me,” said Becky, the first time she drove down with -Billie to spend the day, “as if Maytime is a sort of fulfilled promise -to us, after the winter and spring. When I was a girl, spring up here -behaved itself. It was sweet and balmy and gentle, and now it’s turned -into an uncertain young tomboy. The weather doesn’t really begin to -settle until the middle of May, but when it does--” She drew in a deep -breath and smiled. “Just look around you at the beauty it gives us.” - -She sat out on the tree seat in the garden that sloped from the south -side of the house. The terraces were a riot of spring bloom; tall gold -and purple flags grew side by side with dainty columbine and narcissus. -Along the stone walls white and purple lilacs flung their delicious -perfume to every passing breeze. The old apple trees that straggled -in uneven rows up through the hill pasture behind the barn had been -transformed into gorgeous splashy masses of pink bloom against the -tender green of young foliage. - -“What’s Jean doing over there in the orchard?” Kit rose from her knees, -her fingers grimy with the soil, her face flushed and warm from her -labors, and answered her own question. “Why, she’s painting.” - -Jean was out of their hearing. Frowning slightly, with compressed -lips, she bent over her work. She was sitting on the ground, her knees -supporting her drawing board. The week before she had sent off five -studies to Beth, and two of her very best ones down to Mr. Higgins. -Answers had come back from both, full of criticism, but with plenty -of encouragement, too. Mrs. Craig had read the two letters and given -her eldest the quick impulsive embrace which ever since her childhood -had been to Jean her highest reward of merit. But it was from her -father, perhaps, that she derived the greatest happiness. He laid one -arm around her shoulders, smiling at her with a certain whimsical -speculation in his keen eyes. - -“Well, my dear, if you will persist in developing such talent, we -can’t afford to hide this light under a bushel. You should have more -training.” - -“But when?” interrupted Jean. “It isn’t that I want to know for my own -pleasure, but you don’t know how fearfully precious these last years -in my teens seem to me. There’s such a terrible lot of things to learn -before I can really say I’ve finished.” - -“And one of the first things you have to learn is just that you never -stop learning. That you never really start to learn until you know your -own limitations. Somewhere over there lies New York,” he said, looking -down the valley. “Often through the past year, I have stood looking in -that direction. I’ve got a job back there waiting--” - -Jean interrupted, her face alight with gladness. “Oh, Dad, Dad, you do -want to go back. You don’t know how afraid I’ve been that you’d take -root up here and stay forever. I know it’s perfectly splendid, and it -has been a place of refuge for us all, but now that you are getting to -be just like your old self--” - -Her father’s hand checked her. - -“Steady there,” he warned. “Not quite so fast. I am still a little bit -uncertain when I try to speed up. We’ve got to be patient a little -while longer.” - -Jean pressed his hand in hers and understood. If it had been hard for -them to be patient, it had been doubly so for him, groping his way back -slowly, the past year, on the upgrade to health. - -Jean was thinking of their talk as she sat out in the orchard today, -trying to catch some of the fleeting beauty of its blossom-laden trees. - -“How are you getting along, dear?” asked a well-known voice behind her. - -“I don’t know, Dad,” said Jean, leaning back with her head on one side, -looking for all the world like a meditative brown thrush. “I can’t seem -to get that queer silver-gray effect. You take a day like this, just -before a rain, and it seems to underlie everything. I’ve tried dark -green and gray and sienna, and it doesn’t do a bit of good.” - -“Mix a little Chinese black with every color you use,” said her father, -closing one eye to look at her painting. “It’s the old master’s trick. -You’ll find it in the Flemish school, and the Veronese. It gives you -the atmospheric gray quality in everything. Here come Ralph and Sally.” - -Sally waved her hand, but joined Kit, Doris and Billie in the lower -garden at their grubbing for cutworms. - -“If you put plenty of salt in the water when you sprinkle those, it’ll -help a lot,” she told them. - -“Oh, we’ve salted them. We each took a bag of salt and went out -sprinkling one night, and then it rained, and I honestly believe it was -a tonic to the cutworm colony. The only thing to do, is go after them -and annihilate them.” - -Ralph nodded to the group on the terrace, but went on up to the -orchard. Kit watched him with speculative eyes and spoke in her usual -impulsive fashion. - -“Do you suppose he’s come here with the idea of taking Jean away? -Because if he has any such notions at all, I’d like to tell him she’s -not for him. If he thinks for one moment he’s going to throw her across -his saddle and carry her off to Saskatoon, he’s very much mistaken.” - -Sally glanced up at the figures in the orchard, before she answered in -her slow, deliberate fashion. “I’m sure I don’t know, but Ralph said he -was coming back here every spring, so he can’t expect to take her away -this year.” - -Ralph threw himself down in the grass beside Jean. She smiled at him, -then bent over her board, absently touching in some shadows on the -trunks of the trees. Her thoughts had wandered from the old orchard, as -they did so often these days. It was the future that seemed more real -to her, with its hopes and ambitions, than the present. - -“Oh, Jean,” called Kit, “Becky’s going now.” - -Ralph rose and caught her hand as she started to leave. “I hope your -ambitions carry you far, Jean,” he said earnestly. “Sally, Buzzy, Mrs. -Hancock and I are leaving for Saskatoon Monday morning and I’ll hardly -get over again since Buzzy and I are doing all the packing and crating, -but you’ll see me again next spring, won’t you?” - -Jean looked up at him startled. - -“Why, I didn’t know you were going so soon. Of course, I’ll see you -when you come back,” she said with a heavy heart. Heavier than she -would have wanted Ralph to see. - -“I’ll come,” Ralph promised, and he stood where she left him, under the -blossoming apple trees, watching her as she joined her family circle. -Ralph had deliberately planned this abrupt goodbye. With his usual -thoughtfulness he did not want to influence Jean’s thinking. - -As Jean walked back across the path to the lower terrace, her thoughts -were sad. Perhaps she would never see him again, perhaps she would -decide never to marry and to continue her art career, yet if she could -have known, many changes would take place in the next year that are -told in _Jean Craig Finds Romance_. - -She shook off these unhappy thoughts and came up to the others smiling -and saying to Becky, “You’ll be over again to see us soon, won’t you?” - -Becky gave her an understanding smile that seemed to say, “I’m always -here and you belong here too.” - - - - -Transcriber’s Note: - -Punctuation has been standardised. Hyphenation has been retained as it -appears in the original publication. The following change was made: - - Page 112 - it still so bleak _changed to_ - is still so bleak - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JEAN CRAIG IN NEW YORK *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Jean Craig in New York</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Kay Lyttleton</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: April 22, 2021 [eBook #65135]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Stephen Hutcheson and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JEAN CRAIG IN NEW YORK ***</div> - -<hr class="divider" /> -<h1><cite>Jean Craig In New York</cite></h1> -<hr class="divider2" /> - -<div class="x-ebookmaker-drop figcenter" id="cover2"> - <img src="images/cover2.jpg" width="500" height="766" alt="Cover" /> -</div> - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop divider" /> -<p class="center">FALCON - <img class="vertical-align" src="images/colophon-bw.png" width="80" height="75" alt="" /> - BOOKS</p> - -<p class="center p120"><cite>Jean Craig In New York</cite></p> - -<p class="center">BY KAY LYTTLETON</p> - -<p class="noi">When lovely Jean Craig moved with her -family to Woodhow farm in Connecticut, -she thought she was giving up her art lessons -forever. And then suddenly the opportunity -came to go to New York to -study, and she went to live with her cousin -Beth in the suburbs of New York. These -months were an exciting interlude in her -life. She loved seeing her old friends -again, going to parties, and meeting new -people, among them Aldo Thomas, an -artist from Italy.</p> - -<p><cite>Jean Craig in New York</cite> tells of Jean’s -adventures in the city, but it is also the -story of the Craigs who meet life’s adventures -with gaiety and courage.</p> - -<p class="center mt3">Other FALCON BOOKS for Girls:</p> - -<p class="center">JEAN CRAIG GROWS UP<br /> -JEAN CRAIG FINDS ROMANCE<br /> -PATTY AND JO, DETECTIVES</p> -</div> - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop divider" /> -<div class="figcenter" id="illus002"> - <img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="500" height="644" alt="" /> - <div class="caption"> - There sat a robust, middle-aged newcomer. - </div> -</div> -</div> - - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop divider2" /> -<p class="center p180"><cite>JEAN CRAIG<br /> -IN NEW YORK</cite></p> - -<p class="center p120">by KAY LYTTLETON</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="colophon"> - <img src="images/colophon-bw.png" width="80" height="75" alt="Falcon Books Colophon" /> -</div> - -<p class="center">THE WORLD PUBLISHING COMPANY<br /> -<small>CLEVELAND AND NEW YORK</small></p> -</div> - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop divider2" /> -<p class="center">Falcon Books<br /> -<i>are published by</i> THE WORLD PUBLISHING COMPANY<br /> -<i>2231 West 110th Street · Cleveland 2 · Ohio</i></p> - -<p class="center mt3">W 2</p> - -<p class="center">COPYRIGHT 1948 BY THE WORLD PUBLISHING COMPANY</p> - -<p class="center">MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</p> -</div> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop divider2" /> -<h2 id="Contents">Contents</h2> -</div> - -<table summary="Contents"> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">1.</td> -<td class="tdl">Jean Finds a Stranger</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#i">9</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">2.</td> -<td class="tdl">New York Cousins</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#ii">23</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">3.</td> -<td class="tdl">Exhibit A</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#iii">38</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">4.</td> -<td class="tdl">Christmas at the Ellis Place</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#iv">52</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">5.</td> -<td class="tdl">New York Dreams Come True</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#v">61</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">6.</td> -<td class="tdl">Leaving Home</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#vi">75</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">7.</td> -<td class="tdl">Aldo from Italy</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#vii">82</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">8.</td> -<td class="tdl">Jean Meets a Contessa</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#viii">94</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">9.</td> -<td class="tdl">Letters from Home</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#ix">109</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">10.</td> -<td class="tdl">At the Art Academy</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#x">122</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">11.</td> -<td class="tdl">The Sculptured Head</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xi">136</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">12.</td> -<td class="tdl">From Out of the West</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xii">148</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">13.</td> -<td class="tdl">Spring Picnic</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xiii">158</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">14.</td> -<td class="tdl">Billie’s Crisis</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xiv">172</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">15.</td> -<td class="tdl">Fire!</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xv">190</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">16.</td> -<td class="tdl">Future Plans</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xvi">205</a></td> -</tr> -</table> - - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop divider" /> -<p class="center p180">JEAN CRAIG IN NEW YORK</p> -</div> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider2 x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>9</span> -<h2 id="i">1. Jean Finds a Stranger</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">It</span> was just -five days before Christmas when a -pink express card arrived in the noon mail. -The Craigs knew there must be something unusual -in the mail, for Mr. Ricketts, the rural -free delivery carrier, had lingered at the end -of the drive.</p> - -<p>Jean, the oldest of the four children, slipped -into a coat and stadium boots and ran down the -drive to see what he wanted.</p> - -<p>“There’s something for you folks at the express -office, I guess. If it’s anything heavy I -suggest you go down and get it today. Looks -like we’d have some snow before nightfall.”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>10</span> -He waited while Jean glanced at the card. -“Know what it is?”</p> - -<p>“Why, no, I don’t believe I do,” she answered. -“We’ve gotten all our Christmas -packages. Maybe they’re books for Dad.”</p> - -<p>“Like enough,” said Mr. Ricketts. “I -didn’t know. I always feel a little bit interested, -you know.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know,” laughed Jean, as he started -his truck. She hurried back to the house, her -head down against the wind. The front door -banged as Kit, fifteen and two years younger -than Jean, let her in, her hands floury from -baking.</p> - -<p>“For Pete’s sake, why do you stand talking -all day to that old gossip? Any mail from the -West?”</p> - -<p>The previous spring, the Craig family had -moved to Elmhurst, Connecticut, because of -Mr. Craig’s health. Due to a war injury, -he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>11</span> -had required a complete rest. At the suggestion -of his cousin Rebecca, the family had left -Long Island to live on a farm. Rural living -was far different from anything Jean, Kit, -thirteen-year-old Doris, and eleven-year-old -Tommy were used to, but they grew to love -it more and more as they made new friends and -discovered the never-ending surprises that the -country held for them.</p> - -<p>As told in <cite>Jean Craig Grows Up</cite>, the family -met their landlord, Ralph McRae, a young -good-looking boy of twenty-four, from Saskatoon, -Saskatchewan, who was immediately -attracted to Jean. When he returned to his -western ranch, he took Buzzy Hancock, his -cousin and Kit’s best friend, back with him. -Now, Jean was finding it hard to wait for the -summer to come when Ralph and Buzzy -would return.</p> - -<p>With a letter from Ralph in her hand, -Jean<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>12</span> -answered Kit’s questions hurriedly. “Mr. -Ricketts only wanted to know about an express -package, whether it was heavy or light, -where it came from, and if we expected it.” -She piled the rest of the mail on the dining -room table. “There is no mail from Saskatoon -for you, Kit, only for me.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I thought maybe Buzzy might have -written to me. The mug, he promised to send -me a silver fox skin for Christmas, if he could -find one. I’m going to give up waiting for it. -With Christmas five days away, he surely -would have sent it by now.”</p> - -<p>Kit’s face was perfectly serious. Buzzy had -asked her before he left Elmhurst what she -would like best, and she had told him. The -others laughed at her, but she held firmly to -the idea that if it were possible, Buzzy would -get it for her.</p> - -<p>Jean was engrossed in a five-page -letter<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>13</span> -from Ralph and had paid no attention to Kit’s -remarks. She finished reading the letter, full -of Christmas wishes and regret for having to -be away from her, especially during the holiday -season, and opened another from one of -the students at the Academy back in New -York. The previous winter, Jean had studied -art there and had been sorry to give it up.</p> - -<p>“Peg Moffat is taking up impressionism.” -Jean turned back to the first page of the letter -she had been reading. “She says she never fully -realized before that art is only the highest -form of expressing your ideals to the world at -large.”</p> - -<p>“Tell her she’s all wrong.” Kit looked up -from her seed catalogues. “Becky told me the -other day she believes schools were first invented -for the relief of distressed parents just -to give them a breathing spell, and not for kids -at all.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>14</span>“Still, -if Peg’s hit a new trail of interest, it -will make her think she’s really working. -Things have come to her so easily, she doesn’t -appreciate them. Perhaps she can express herself -now.”</p> - -<p>“Express herself? For gosh sakes, Jeannie, -tell her to come up here, and we’ll let her express -herself all over the place. Gee! Just smell -my mince pies this minute. Isn’t cooking an expression -of individual art too?” And Kit made -a beeline for the oven in time to rescue four -mince pies.</p> - -<p>“Who’s going to drive down after the package?” -asked Mrs. Craig from the doorway. “I -want to send an order for groceries too and -you’ll want to be back before dark.”</p> - -<p>“I’m terribly sorry, Mom,” called Kit -from the kitchen, “but Lucy and some of the -girls are coming over and I promised them I’d -go after evergreen and Princess pine. We’re -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>15</span>getting -it for wreaths and stars to decorate the -church.”</p> - -<p>“Tommy and I’ll go. I love the drive.” Jean -handed Peg’s letter over to Kit to read, and -gave just a bit of a sigh. Nobody could possibly -have sustained any inward melancholy at -Woodhow. There was too much to be done -every minute of the day. Still, Peg’s letter did -bring back vividly memories of last winter -at the Art Academy. Perhaps the students did -take themselves and their aims too seriously, -yet it had all been wonderful and interesting. -Even in the peaceful countryside, Jean missed -the companionship of girls her own age, with -the same tastes and interests as herself.</p> - -<p>She called to Tommy, who was down in the -basement making a model airplane, and told -him to come with her to the express office. He -came upstairs under protest, his face smeared -with dirt.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>16</span> -“Gosh, Tommy, you look a sight. If you’re -going to come with me, you’ll have to wash -first. Look at your hands.”</p> - -<p>“Gee, whiz,” he grumbled, “what’s the -use in washing all the time. A guy only gets -dirty again, anyway.” But he leisurely went -upstairs and came down again after what -seemed to Jean an unnecessarily long time.</p> - -<p>“What took you so long, anyway? Hurry -up. I don’t want to be driving after dark.”</p> - -<p>“OK, OK, I’m coming.” And the two went -out the back door to the garage.</p> - -<p>It was only a drive of seven miles to Nantic, -but the children never tired of the ride. It was -so still and dreamlike with the early winter silence -on the land. At the mill house, Lucy -Peckham waved to them. Along the riverside -meadows they saw the two little Peckham boys -driving sheep with Shep, their black and white -dog, barking madly at the foot of a tall hickory -tree.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>17</span> -“Look, Tommy, see those red berries in that -thicket overhanging the rail fence? Will you -get out and pick me some?” Jean stopped the -car and Tommy jumped out. A car passed going -the other way while Jean was waiting, and -she recognized the driver as the stationmaster’s -son.</p> - -<p>“Somebody is coming home for Christmas, -I guess,” she remarked to Tommy when he -came back.</p> - -<p>Jean drove on with her chin up, cheeks rosy -and eyes alert. When they drove up in front of -the express office, Tommy didn’t want to wait -in the car, so they walked up the steps of the -office together. Just as they opened the door, -they caught the voice of Mr. Briggs, the agent, -not pleasant and sociable as it usually was, but -sharp and high-pitched.</p> - -<p>“Well, you can’t loaf around here, son, I -tell you that right now. The minute I spied -you hiding behind that stack of ties down the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>18</span> -track, I knew you’d run away from some place, -and I’m going to find out all about you and let -your family know you’re caught.”</p> - -<p>“I ain’t got any family,” came back a boy’s -voice hopefully. “I’m my own boss and can go -where I please.”</p> - -<p>“Did you hear that, Jean?” exclaimed Mr. -Briggs, turning around at the opening of the -door. “Just size him up, will you. He says he’s -his own boss, and he’s no bigger than a pint of -cider. Where did you come from?”</p> - -<p>“Off a freight train.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Briggs leaned his hands on his knees -and bent down to get his face on a level with -the boy’s.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t he slick, though? Can’t get a bit of -real information out of him except that he -liked the looks of Nantic and dropped off -the slow freight when she was shunting back -and forth up yonder. What’s your name?”</p> - -<p>“Jack. Jack Davis.” He didn’t look at Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>19</span> -Briggs, but off at the hills, windswept and -bare except for their patches of green pines. -There was a curious expression in his eyes, Jean -thought, not loneliness, but a dumb fatalism. -As Becky might have said, it was as if he had -known nothing but trouble and didn’t expect -anything better.</p> - -<p>“How old are you?”</p> - -<p>“’Bout nine or ten.”</p> - -<p>“What made you drop off that freight -here?”</p> - -<p>Jack was silent and seemed embarrassed. -Tommy, who had been eyeing him curiously, -responded instantly.</p> - -<p>“Because you like it best, isn’t that why?” -he suggested eagerly. Jack’s face brightened -up at that.</p> - -<p>“I liked the looks of the hills, but when I -saw all them mills, I—I thought I’d get some -work maybe.”</p> - -<p>“You’re too little,” Mr. Briggs cut in. “I’m<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>20</span> -going to hand you right over to the proper authorities, -and you’ll land up in the State Home -for Boys if you haven’t got any folks of your -own.”</p> - -<p>Jack met the shrewd gray eyes doubtfully. -His own filled with tears that rose slowly and -dropped on his worn short coat. He put his -hand up to his shirt collar and held on to it -tightly as if he would have kept back the ache -there, and Jean’s heart could stand it no longer.</p> - -<p>“I think he belongs up at Woodhow, please, -Mr. Briggs,” she said quickly. “I know -Mother and Dad will take him up there if he -hasn’t any place to go, and we’ll look after -him. I’m sure of it. He can drive back with -us.”</p> - -<p>“But you don’t know where he came from -nor anything about him, Jean. I tell you he’s -just a little tramp. You can see that, or he -wouldn’t be hitching on to freight trains.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>21</span> -That’s no way to do if you’re decent God-fearing -folks, riding freights and dodging trainmen.”</p> - -<p>“Let me take him home with me now, anyway,” -pleaded Jean. “We can find out about -him, later. It’s Christmas Friday, remember, -Mr. Briggs.”</p> - -<p>There was no resisting the appeal that underlay -her words, and Mr. Briggs relented -gracefully, although he maintained the county -school was the proper receptacle for all such -human rubbish.</p> - -<p>Jean laughed at him happily, as he stood -with his feet wide apart, his hands thrust into -his coat pockets.</p> - -<p>“It’s your own affair, Jean,” he returned -dubiously. “I wouldn’t stand in your way so -long as you see fit to take him along. But he’s -just human rubbish. Want to go, Jack?”</p> - -<p>And Jack rose, wiping his eyes with his coat<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>22</span> -sleeve, and glared resentfully back at Mr. -Briggs. He took the smaller package, Tommy -the other, and the three left the office.</p> - -<p>“Guess we can all squeeze into the front -seat,” Jean said. “We’re going down to the -store, and then home.”</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>23</span> -<h2 id="ii">2. New York Cousins</h2> -</div> - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">Doris</span> caught the sound of the squeaking snow -under the tires of the car as it came up the -drive about four o’clock. It was nearly dark. -She was standing in the living room lighting -the Christmas candles in the windows, and she -ran to the front door.</p> - -<p>“Hi,” called Jean when she saw Doris in -the doorway, “we’re back.”</p> - -<p>Tommy jumped out of the car at the back -door and took Jack by the hand, giving it a reassuring -squeeze. He was shivering, but -Tommy pulled him into the kitchen where Kit -was getting supper. Over in a corner lay the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>24</span> -pile of evergreens and pine that she and the -other girls had gathered that afternoon.</p> - -<p>“Look, Kit,” Tommy cried, quite as if Jack -had been some wonderful gift instead of a -dusty, tired, limp little derelict of fate and -circumstance. “This is Jack and he’s come to -stay with us. Where’s Mom?”</p> - -<p>One quick look at Jack’s face checked all -mirthfulness in Kit. There were times when it -was better to say nothing. She was always intuitive, -quick to catch moods in others and understand. -This case needed her mother. Jack -was fairly blue from the cold, and there was a -pinched, hungry look around his mouth and -nose that made Kit leave her currant biscuits.</p> - -<p>“Upstairs with Dad. Beat it up there fast -and call her, Tommy.” She smiled at Jack, a -radiant, comradely smile that endeared Kit to -all she met. “We’re so glad you’ve come -home,” she said, drawing him over to the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>25</span> -stove. “You sit up on that stool and get warm.” -She slipped into the pantry and dipped out a -mug of rich, creamy milk, then cut a wide -slice of warm gingerbread. “There now. See -how that tastes. You know, it’s the funniest -thing how wishes come true. I was just longing -for somebody to sample my cake and tell -me if it was good. Is it?”</p> - -<p>Jack drank nearly the whole glass of milk -before he spoke, looking over the rim at her -with very sleepy eyes.</p> - -<p>“It’s awful good,” he said. “I ain’t had anything -to eat since yesterday morning.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, dear,” cried Kit. This was beyond her. -She turned with relief at Mrs. Craig’s quick -light step in the hall.</p> - -<p>“Yes, dear, I know. Jeannie told me.” She -went straight over to the stool. And she did -just the one right thing. That was the marvel -of Mrs. Craig, she always seemed to know naturally<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>26</span> -what a person needed most and gave it -to them. She took Jack in her arms, his head -on her shoulder, patting him while he began to -cry chokingly.</p> - -<p>“Never mind, child, now,” she told him. -“You’re home.” She lifted him to her lap and -started to untie his worn sodden shoes. -“Tommy, get your slippers, dear, and a pair -of wool socks. Warm the milk, Kit, it’s better -that way. And you cuddle down on the couch -by the living room fire, Jack, and rest.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Craig had gone into the living room -and found a gray woolen blanket in the wall -closet off the little side hall. From the chest -of drawers she took some of Tommy’s outgrown -winter underwear. Supper was nearly -ready, but Jack was to have a warm bath and -be clad in clean fresh clothing. Tucking him -under one wing, as Kit said, she left the -kitchen, and Jean told the rest how she had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>27</span> -rescued him from Mr. Briggs’s righteous indignation -and charitable intentions.</p> - -<p>“Got a good face and looks you square in the -eye,” said Doris. “I’d take a chance on him any -day, and he can help around the place a lot, -splitting kindlings and shifting stall bedding -and what not. He and Tommy seem to be good -friends already.”</p> - -<p>The telephone bell rang and Jean answered. -Rambling up through the hills from Norwich -was the party line, two lone wires stretching -from telephone pole to telephone pole. Its -tingling call was a welcome sound. This time -it was Rebecca at the other end. After her marriage -to Judge Ellis, they had taken the long-deferred -wedding trip up to Boston, visiting -relatives there, and returning in time for a -splendid old-fashioned Thanksgiving celebration -at the Ellis home. Maple Grove, Becky’s -former home, was closed for the winter but<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>28</span> -Matt, the hired man, decided to stay on there -indefinitely and work the farm on shares for -Miss Becky, as he still called her.</p> - -<p>“And like enough,” Becky said comfortably, -when she heard of his intentions, “he’s -going to marry somebody himself. I wouldn’t -put it past him a bit. I wish he’d choose Cindy -Anson. There she is living alone down in that -little bit of a house, running a home bakery -when she’s born to fuss over a man. I told Matt -when I left, if I were he I’d buy all my pies -and cake from Cindy, and then when I drove -by Cindy’s I just dropped a passing word -about how badly I felt at leaving such a fine -man as Matt to shift for himself up at the -house, so she said she’d keep an eye on him.”</p> - -<p>Over the telephone now came her voice, -vibrant and cheery, and Jean answered the -call.</p> - -<p>“Hello, yes, this is Jean. Mother’s right in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>29</span> -the living room. Who? Oh, wait till I tell the -kids.” She turned her head, her brown eyes -sparkling. “New York cousins over at the -Judge’s. Who did you say they are, Becky? -Yes? Beth and Elliott Newell. I’ll tell Dad -right away. Tomorrow morning early? That’s -swell. ’Bye.”</p> - -<p>Before the others could stop her, she was on -her way upstairs. The largest, sunniest room -had been given over to her father. The months -of relaxation and rest up in the hills had -worked wonders in Mr. Craig’s health. As old -Dr. Gallup was apt to say when Kit rebelled -at the slowness of recovery, “Can’t expect to -do everything in a minute. Even the Lord took -six days to fix things the way he liked them.”</p> - -<p>Instead of spending two-thirds of his time -in bed or on the couch now, he would sit up for -hours and could walk around the wide porch, -or even along the garden paths before the cold<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>30</span> -weather set in. But there still swept over him -without warning the great fatigue and weakness, -the dizziness and exhaustion which had -followed as one of the lesser ills in his nervous -breakdown.</p> - -<p>He sat before the open fire now, reading -from one of his favorite news magazines, with -Miss Tilly purring on his knees. Tommy had -found Miss Tilly one day late in October, loafing -along the barren stretch of road going over -to Gayhead school. She was a yellow kitten -with white nose and paws. Tommy, forever -adopting stray animals, had tucked her up in -his arms and taken her home. Becky had -looked at the yellow kitten with instant recognition.</p> - -<p>“That’s a Scarborough kitten. Sally Scarborough’s -raised yellow kittens with white -paws ever since I can remember.”</p> - -<p>“Had I better take it back?” asked Tommy -anxiously.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>31</span> -“Land, no, child. It’s a barn-cat. You can -tell that, it’s so frisky. Ain’t got a bit of repose -or common sense. Like enough Mrs. Scarborough’d -be real glad if it had a good home. -Give it a name, and feed it well, and it’ll slick -right up.”</p> - -<p>So Miss Tilly had remained, but not out in -the barn. Somehow she had found her way up -to Mr. Craig’s room and its peace must have -appealed to her, for she would stay there for -hours, dozing with half-closed jade-green -eyes and incurved paws.</p> - -<p>“Dad!” Jean exclaimed, entering the quiet -room like an autumn flurry of wind. “What do -you think? Becky just phoned, and she wants -me to tell you two New York cousins are there. -Beth and Elliott Newell. Do you remember -them?”</p> - -<p>“Of course,” smiled Mr. Craig. “It must -be little Cousin Beth and her boy. I used to -visit at her old home when I was a little boy.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>32</span> -She wanted to be an artist, I know.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Dad, an artist? And did she study and -succeed?”</p> - -<p>“I think so. I remember she lived abroad for -some time and married there. Her maiden -name was Lowell, Beth Lowell.”</p> - -<p>“Did she marry an artist too?” Jean leaned -forward from her low chair facing him, her -eyes bright with romance, but Mr. Craig -laughed.</p> - -<p>“No, indeed, she married a schoolmate -from New York. He went after her, for I suppose -he tired of waiting for Beth’s career to -come true. They had a very happy life together -and I think Beth misses him very much since -he died about two years ago. Listen a minute.”</p> - -<p>Up from the lower part of the house floated -strains of music. Surely there had never issued -such music from a mouth organ. The tune was -a mournful blues that had a haunting melody.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>33</span> -“It must be Jack,” Jean said, smiling mischievously -up at her father, for he had not yet -met Jack. She ran out to the head of the stairs.</p> - -<p>“Can Jack come up, Mom?”</p> - -<p>Up he came, fresh from a tubbing, wearing -a shirt and a pair of overalls that belonged to -Tommy. His straight blond hair fairly glistened -from its recent brushing and his face -shone, but it was Jack’s eyes that won him -friends at the start. Mixed in color they were, -like a moss agate, with long dark lashes, and -just now they were filled with contentment.</p> - -<p>“They wanted me to play for them downstairs,” -he said gravely, stopping beside Mr. -Craig’s chair. “I can play lots of tunes. My -mother gave me this last Christmas.”</p> - -<p>This was the first time he had mentioned his -mother and Jean followed up the clue gently.</p> - -<p>“Where, Jack?”</p> - -<p>He looked down at the floor, shifting his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>34</span> -weight from one foot to the other. “Over in -Providence. She got sick and they took her to -the hospital and she never came back.”</p> - -<p>“Not at all?”</p> - -<p>He shook his head. “Then afterwards—” -much was comprised in that one word and -Jack’s tone, “afterwards we started off together, -my Dad and me. He said he’d try and -get a job on some farm with me, but nobody -wanted him this time of year, and with me too. -And he said one morning he wished he didn’t -have me bothering around. When I woke up -on the freight yesterday morning, he wasn’t -there. Guess he must have dropped off. Maybe -he can get a job now.”</p> - -<p>So it slipped out, Jack’s personal history, -and the father and daughter wondered at his -sturdy acceptance of life’s discipline. Only -nine, but already he faced the world as his own -master, fearless and optimistic. All through<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>35</span> -that first evening he sat in the kitchen on the -high stool, playing tunes he had learned from -his father. Tommy was entranced and begged -him to teach him how to play.</p> - -<p>After supper the girls and Tommy drew up -their chairs around the dining room table as -usual. Here every night the three younger ones -prepared their lessons for the next day. Jean -generally read or sat with her father awhile, -but tonight she answered Peg Moffat’s letter. -It was read over twice, the letter that blended -in so curiously with the coming of the cousins -from New York.</p> - -<p>Ever since Jean could remember she had -drawn pictures. No one guessed how she loved -the paintings in New York’s art galleries. -They had seemed so real to her, the face of a -Millet peasant lad crossing a stubble field at -dawn; a Breton girl knitting as she walked -homeward behind some straying sheep; one of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>36</span> -Frans Hals’ Flemish boys, his chin pressed -close to his violin, his deep eyes looking at you -from under the brim of his hat.</p> - -<p>Once she had read of Albrecht Dürer, -painting his masterpieces while he starved. -How the people whispered after his death -that he had used his heart’s blood to mix with -his wonderful pigments. Of course it was only -a story, but Jean remembered it. When she -saw a picture that seemed to hold one and speak -its message of beauty, she would say to herself, -“There is Dürer’s secret.”</p> - -<p>And some day, if she ever could put on canvas -the dreams that came to her, she meant to -use the same secret.</p> - -<p>“I do think Socrates was an old bore,” said -Kit, yawning and stretching her arms, after -a struggle with her homework. “Always mixing -in and contradicting everybody and starting -something. No wonder his wife was -cranky.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>37</span> -“He died beautifully,” Doris replied. -“Something about a sunset and all his friends -around him.”</p> - -<p>“If you’ve finished your homework, why -don’t you go to bed?” Jean told them. She -finished her letter alone. It was not easy to -write it. Peg wanted her to come down for the -spring term. She could board with her if she -liked. Expenses were very light.</p> - -<p>Any expense would be heavy if piled on the -monthly budget of Woodhow. Jean knew that. -So she wrote back with a heartache behind the -plucky refusal, and stepped out on the moonlit -porch for a minute. It was clear and cold -after the light snowfall. The stars were very -faint. From the river came the sound of the -waterfall.</p> - -<p>“You stand steady, Jean Craig,” she said, -between her teeth. “Don’t you dare be a quitter. -You’ve got to see this winter straight -through.”</p> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>38</span> -</div> - -<h2 id="iii">3. Exhibit A</h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">After</span> her marriage to Judge Ellis, Becky had -taken Ella Lou, her big collie dog, from Maple -Grove over to the large white house behind -its towering elms.</p> - -<p>“I’ve had that dog for ten years and never -saw another one like her for intelligence,” she -would say, her head held a little bit high, her -glasses halfway down her nose. “I told the -Judge if he wanted me he’d have to take Ella -Lou too.”</p> - -<p>So it was Ella Lou’s familiar black nose -that poked around the door the following -morning when the New York cousins came -over to get acquainted.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>39</span> -Jean never forgot her introduction to Beth -Newell. She was about forty-seven then, with -her son Elliott fully five inches taller than herself, -but she looked about twenty-seven. Her -feathery brown hair, her wide gray eyes, and -quick, sweet laughter, endeared her to Jean -right away.</p> - -<p>Elliott was about fifteen, not one single bit -like his mother, but broad-shouldered and -blond and sturdy. It was so much fun, Kit said, -to watch him take care of his mother.</p> - -<p>“Where’s your high school out here?” he -asked. “I’m at prep school specializing in -math.”</p> - -<p>“And how any son of mine can adore mathematics -is beyond me,” Beth laughed. “I suppose -it’s reaction. Do you like math, Jean?” -She put her arm around the slender figure -nearest her.</p> - -<p>“I should say not,” Jean answered immediately, -and then all at once, out popped her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>40</span> -heart’s desire before she could check the -words. Anybody’s heart’s desire would pop out -with Beth’s eyes coaxing it. “I—I want to be -an artist.”</p> - -<p>“Keep on wishing and working then, dear, -and as Becky says, if it is to be it will be.”</p> - -<p>While the others talked of New England -farms, these two sat together on the couch, -Jean listening eagerly and wistfully while her -cousin told of her own girlhood aims and how -she carried them out.</p> - -<p>“We didn’t have much money, so I knew I -had to win out for myself. There were two -boys to help bring up, and Mother was not -well, but I used to sketch every spare moment -I could, and I read everything on art I could -find, even articles from old magazines in the -attic. But most of all I sketched anything and -everything, studying form and composition. -When I was eighteen, I taught school for two<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>41</span> -terms in the country. Dad had said if I earned -the money myself, I could go abroad, and how -I worked to get that first nest egg.”</p> - -<p>“How much did you get a week?”</p> - -<p>“Twelve dollars, but my board was only -three and a half in the country, and I saved all -I could. Of course, at that time, it was cheaper -to go abroad—and easier, too. I wouldn’t -recommend your trying to go to Europe right -now, but there are plenty of good schools and -teachers in this country. If you really do want -work and kind of hunt a groove you’re fitted -for, you’ll always find something to do.”</p> - -<p>Jean was leaning forward, her chin propped -on her hands. “Yes, I know,” she said. “Do go -on, please.”</p> - -<p>“Ellen Brainerd, the teacher I studied -under in Boston at one time, was one of New -England’s marvelous spinsters with the far vision -and cash enough to make a few of her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>42</span> -dreams come true. Every year she used to take -a group of art students to Europe, and with -her encouragement I went the third year, -helping her with a few of the younger ones, -and paying part of my tuition that way. And -oh,” Beth’s eyes were sparkling as she recalled -her student days, “we set up our easels in the -fountain square in Barcelona and hunted -Dante types in Florence. We trailed through -Flanders and Holland and lived for a time in -Paris.”</p> - -<p>“And you painted all those places?” exclaimed -Jean. “I’ve wanted so much to go.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I tried to,” Beth looked ruefully -into the open fire. “Yes, I tried to paint like -all the old masters and new masters, from -Rembrandt to Degas. I did everything except -try to develop a technique of my own.”</p> - -<p>“But isn’t it important to study the techniques -of the masters?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>43</span> -“Yes, of course it is, but it was long after I -came back home that I realized this. After -David came over and stopped my career by -marrying me I came back home. We lived out -near New Rochelle and I began painting -things of everyday life just as I saw them, the -things I loved. It was our old apple tree out by -the well, steeped in full May bloom, that -brought me my first prize.”</p> - -<p>“Gee, after Paris and all the rest!”</p> - -<p>“Yes. And the next year they accepted our -red barn in a snowstorm. I painted it from our -kitchen window. Another was a water color of -our Jersey calves standing knee deep in the -brook in June. That is the kind of picture I -have succeeded with. I think because, as I say, -they are part of the home life and scenes I -love best and so I have put a part of myself into -them.”</p> - -<p>Dürer’s heart’s blood, Jean thought to herself.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>44</span> -“You’ve helped me so much, Beth,” she -said aloud. “I was just longing to go back to -the art school right now, and throw up everything -here that I ought to do.”</p> - -<p>“Keep on sketching every spare moment -you can. Learn form and color and composition. -Things are only beautiful according to -the measure of our own minds. I’d like you to -come to New York and study there. You could -stay with me and share my studio when you -weren’t in classes.”</p> - -<p>“I’d love to come when Mother can spare -me.” Jean’s eyes sparkled at this prospect.</p> - -<p>“Well, do so, my dear,” Becky’s hands were -laid on her shoulders from behind. “It’s a -poor family that can’t support one genius.” -She laughed in her full-hearted, joyous way. -“Now, listen, all of you. I’ve come to invite -you to have Christmas dinner with us.”</p> - -<p>“But, Becky,” began Mrs. Craig, “there -are so many of us—”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>45</span> -“Not half enough to fill the big old house. -Some day after all the children are married -and there are plenty of grandchildren, then we -can talk about there being too many, though I -doubt it. There’s always as much house room -as there is heart room, if you only think so. -Bring along the little one too.” She smiled over -her shoulder at Jack, sitting in his favorite -corner in the kitchen working industriously on -one of Tommy’s model airplanes, and he gave -a funny little one-sided grin back in shy return. -“Billie’s going away to school after New -Year’s, did I tell you?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, golly,” cried Doris, so abruptly that -everyone laughed at her. “Doesn’t it seem as -if boys get all of the adventures of life just -naturally.” Billie was the Judge’s grandson -and Doris’s pal. He was two years older than -Doris but they liked the same things and had -been great friends ever since Doris first found -his secret hide-out.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>46</span> -“He’s had adventures enough, but he does -need the friendship of boys his own age. I -don’t want him to be tied down with a couple -of old folks like the Judge and myself. You’re -never young but once. Besides, I always did -want to go to these college football games and -have a boy of mine in the huddle.”</p> - -<p>“Gol—lee!” Doris exclaimed after the -front door had closed on the last glimpse of -Ella Lou’s plumed tail going out to the car. -“Doesn’t it seem as if Becky leaves behind her -a big sort of glow? She can say more nice -things in a few minutes than anybody I ever -heard. Except about Billie’s going away. I -wonder why he didn’t come down and tell me -himself.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you know, Doris,” Kit remarked, -“you haven’t a mortgage on Billie.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t care if he goes away. It isn’t -that,” Doris answered easily. “I wouldn’t like<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>47</span> -a boy that couldn’t hold his own with the other -guys. Jean, did you realize the full significance -of Becky’s invitation? No baking or cooking. -No working our fingers to the bone for dinner -on Christmas Day. I think she’s simply wonderful.”</p> - -<p>Jean laughed and slipped up the back stairs -to her own room. She felt around in her desk -until she found her folio of sketches. The dining -room was deserted excepting for Doris -watering the rows of geraniums in the bay -window, so Jean sat down to look over her old -art work. Doris went upstairs to see her father, -and Kit appeared with a frown on her face, -puzzling over a knitting book.</p> - -<p>“I hate the last days before Christmas,” she -said savagely. “What on earth can we concoct -at this last minute for Beth? I think I’ll knit -her a pair of white cable-stitch gloves. If I -can’t finish them in time I’ll give her one with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>48</span> -the promise of the other. What can I give to -Judge Ellis?”</p> - -<p>“Something useful,” Jean answered.</p> - -<p>“I can’t bear useful things for Christmas -presents. Abby Tucker says she never gets any -winter clothes till Christmas and then all the -family unload useful things on her. I’m going -to send her a bottle of perfume in a green -leather case. I’ve had it for months and never -touched it and she’ll adore it. I wish I could -think of something for Billie too, something -he’s never had and always wanted.”</p> - -<p>“He’s going away,” Jean mused. “Why -don’t you fix up a book of snapshots taken all -around here. We took some marvelous ones -this summer.”</p> - -<p>“A boy wouldn’t like that.”</p> - -<p>“He will when he’s homesick.” Jean -opened her folio and began turning over her -art school studies, mostly conventionalized designs<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>49</span> -from her beginnings in textile design. -After her talk with Beth they only dissatisfied -her. Suddenly she glanced up at the figure -across the table, Kit with rumpled short curls, -her bangs in disarray, and an utterly relaxed -posture, elbows on the table, her feet sprawled -in front of her. Jean’s pencil began to move -over the back of her drawing pad. She was -pleased to see how easy it was to catch Kit’s -expression. It wasn’t so hard, the ruffled hair, -the half-averted face. Kit’s face was such an -odd mixture of whimsicality and determination. -The rough sketch grew and all at once -Kit glanced up and caught on to what was going -on.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s me, isn’t it, Jean? I wish you’d -conventionalized me and embellished me. I’d -like to look glamorous and sophisticated. -That’s lovely, specially with the nose screwed -up that way and my forehead wrinkled. I like<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>50</span> -that, it’s so subtle. Anyone getting one good -look at the helpless frenzy in that downcast -gaze—”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Kit, be good,” laughed Jean. She held -the sketch away from her critically. “Looks -just like you.”</p> - -<p>“OK, hang it up as ‘Exhibit A.’ I don’t -mind. There’s a look of genius to it at that.”</p> - -<p>“Naturally, I had to include that too,” replied -Jean teasingly. Just then Mrs. Craig -came into the room.</p> - -<p>“Mom, look what my sister has done to -me,” Kit cried tragically. Jean said nothing, -only the color rose slowly in her cheeks as her -mother stood looking at it.</p> - -<p>“It’s the first since I left school,” she said, -half-ashamed of the effort and all it implied.</p> - -<p>“Finish it up, dear, and let me have it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, would you really like it, Mom?”</p> - -<p>“Love it,” answered her mother promptly.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>51</span> -“And don’t give up hope. Perhaps we may be -able to squeeze in the spring term after all.”</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>52</span> -</div> - -<h2 id="iv">4. Christmas at the Ellis Place</h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">It</span> took two trips in the car to transport the -Christmas guests and gifts from Woodhow -over to the Ellis place. It was one of the few -pretentious houses in Elmhurst. For seven generations -it had been in the Ellis family. The -old house sat far back from the road with a -double drive curving like a big U around it. -Huge elms stood protectingly before it, and -behind lay a succession of buildings from the -old forge, no longer used, to the smokehouse. -One barn stood across the road and another at -the top of the lane.</p> - -<p>Doris and Tommy were the first to run up<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>53</span> -the steps and into the center hall, almost -bumping into Billie as he ran to meet them. -Behind him came Mrs. Ellis in a soft gray -suit. Her white blouse was fastened at the -throat with a cameo pin. “Come right in, all -of you,” she called happily. “Do stop jumping -up and down, Tommy, you make me nervous. -Merry Christmas.”</p> - -<p>Up the long colonial staircase she led the -way into the big guest room. Down in the library, -Beth was playing softly on the big -square piano, <em>Oh Little Town of Bethlehem</em>. -The air was filled with the scent of pine and -hemlock, and enticing odors of things cooking -stole up the back stairs.</p> - -<p>Doris and Billie retreated to a corner with -the latter’s book supply, with Tommy and -Jack peering over Billie’s shoulder to get a -look too. It was hard to realize that this was -really Billie, the Huckleberry Finn of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>54</span> -summer before. All of the old self-consciousness -and shy abstraction had gone. Even the -easy comradely manner in which he leaned -over the Judge’s chair showed the good understanding -and sure confidence between the two.</p> - -<p>“Yes, he does show up real proud,” Becky -agreed warmly with Mrs. Craig when they -were all downstairs before the glowing fire. -“Of course, we’re going to miss him when he -goes away to school, but he’s getting along -splendidly. I want him to go where he’ll associate -with plenty of other boys. He’s lived -alone with the ants and bees and rabbits long -enough.”</p> - -<p>As the others went in to dinner Jean lingered -behind a minute to glance about the -pleasant room. The fire crackled down in the -deep old rock hearth. In each of the windows -a white candle was burning brightly. Festoons -of ground pine and evergreen draped the mantelpiece.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>55</span> -Jean gazed out at the somber, frost-touched -garden. There wasn’t one bit of peace -in her heart, even while she fairly ached with -the longing to be like the others.</p> - -<p>“You’re a coward, Jean Craig, a deliberate -coward,” she told herself. “You don’t like the -country one bit. You love the city where everybody’s -doing something, and it’s just a rat race -for all. You’re longing for everything you -can’t have, and you’re afraid to face the winter -up here. You might just as well tell yourself -the truth. You hate to be poor.”</p> - -<p>There came a burst of laughter from the -dining room and Kit calling to her to hurry -up. It appeared that Doris, the tender-hearted, -had said pathetically when Mrs. Gorham, the -housekeeper, brought in the great roast turkey, -“Poor old General Putnam!”</p> - -<p>“That isn’t the General,” Billie called from -his place. “The General ran away yesterday.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>56</span> -First off, he lit up in the apple trees. Then as -soon as he saw Ben was high enough, off he -flopped and made for the corncrib. Just as he -caught up with him there, he chose the wagon -sheds and perched on the rafters, and when -he’d almost got hold of his tail feathers, if he -didn’t try the barn and all his flock after him, -mind you. So he thought he’d let him roost till -dark, and when he stole in after supper, the old -codger had gone, bag and baggage. He’ll come -back as soon as he knows our minds aren’t set -on wishbones.”</p> - -<p>“Then who is this?” asked Kit, quite as if it -were some personage who rested in state on the -big willow platter.</p> - -<p>“That is some unnamed patriot who died -for his country’s good,” said the Judge solemnly. -“Who says white meat and who says -dark?”</p> - -<p>“For pity’s sake, child, what are you crying<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>57</span> -about?” exclaimed Becky after dinner while -they were all sitting around the table talking -leisurely.</p> - -<p>Jack sobbed sleepily, “I—I don’t know.”</p> - -<p>“He’s lonely for his own family,” Doris -spoke up.</p> - -<p>“I ain’t neither,” groaned Jack, “it’s too -much mince pie.”</p> - -<p>So under Becky’s directions, Billie took -him up to his room, and administered “good -hot water and soda.”</p> - -<p>“Too bad, ’cause he missed seeing all the -things taken off the tree,” said Becky, laying -aside Jack’s presents for him, a long warm -knit muffler from herself, a fine knife from -the Judge with a pocket chain on it, a package -of Billie’s books that he had had as a child, and -ice skates from the Craigs. After much figuring -over the balance left from their Christmas -money they had gone together on the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>58</span> -skates for him, knowing he would have more -fun and exercise out of them than anything, -and he needed something to bring back the -sparkle to his eyes and the color to his cheeks.</p> - -<p>“Put them all up on the bed beside him, and -he’ll find them in the morning,” Billie suggested. -“If you’ll let him stay, Mrs. Craig, I’ll -bring him over.”</p> - -<p>Tommy was the most excited over his -Christmas presents. Kit and Jean had given -him a hockey stick and puck to use on the river -when it was frozen over, his mother and father -a ping pong set that he was bursting to set up -in the basement, a model airplane kit from -Doris, and a pair of argyle socks and Norwegian -sweater from the Judge and Becky. But -Billie had given him his most coveted present, -his own tame crow, Moki. “Where’d you get -the name from, Billie?” he asked.</p> - -<p>Billie stroked the smooth glossy back of the -crow fondly. “I found him one day over in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>59</span> -pine woods on the hill. He was just a little -thing then. The nest was in a dead pine, and -somebody’d shot it all to pieces. The rest of -the family had gone, but I found him fluttering -around on the ground, scared to death with -a broken wing. Ben helped me fix it, and he -told me to call him Moki. You know he’s read -everything, and he can talk some Indian, Pequod -mostly, he says. He isn’t sure but what -there may be some Pequod in him way back, he -can talk it so well, and Moki means ‘watch out’ -in Pequod. I call him that because I used to put -him on my shoulder and he’d go anywhere -with me through the woods, and call out when -he thought I was in danger.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know what he thought?”</p> - -<p>“After you get acquainted with him, you’ll -know what he thinks too,” answered Billie.</p> - -<p>Always living in a little world of make-believe -all her own, Doris received mostly fairy -tales and what Kit called “princess stories.”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>60</span> -Saved from the old home at Sandy Cove, her -mother and father gave her two glass lamps -for her bureau and Jean had made the shades -herself, out of starched white dotted swiss. -Becky had knit each of the girls soft angora -socks and mittens in matching pastels, and -Beth gave them old silver spoons that had been -part of their great great-grandmother Peabody’s -wedding silver.</p> - -<p>“When you come to New York,” she told -Jean, “I’ll show you many of her things.”</p> - -<p>Jean nodded, remembering her longing to -go away earlier in the evening. But the look in -her father’s face made her realize more than -anything that had happened in the long -months of trial in the country, how worthwhile -was the sacrifice that had brought him -back into his home country for healing and -happiness.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>61</span> -</div> - -<h2 id="v">5. New York Dreams -Come True</h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">Christmas</span> week had already passed when the -surprise came. As Kit said the charm of the -unexpected was always catching you unaware -when you lived on the edge of nowhere.</p> - -<p>Beth and Elliott had departed two days -after Christmas for New York. Somehow even -Tommy could not get really acquainted with -this new boy cousin. Billie, once won, was a -friend forever, but Elliott was a smiling, confident -boy, quiet and resourceful, with little to -say.</p> - -<p>By this time, Jean had settled down contentedly -to the winter regime. She was giving<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>62</span> -Doris piano lessons, and taking over more of -the household duties with Kit back at school. -School had been one of the problems to be -solved that first year. Doris and Tommy went -to the District schoolhouse at the crossroads, -a one-story, red frame building. Doris had despised -it thoroughly until she heard that her -father had gone there in his boyhood, and she -had found his old desk with his initials carved -on it.</p> - -<p>Kit was in high school, and the nearest one -was over the hills six miles away. Every -morning, she caught the school bus at the end -of the drive. Mrs. Craig would often stand out -on the wide porch in the early morning and -watch the three go off.</p> - -<p>“I think they’re wonderfully plucky,” she -said one morning to Jean. “If they had been -country girls, born and bred, it would be different, -but stepping right out of Long Island<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>63</span> -shore life into these hills, you have all managed -splendidly.”</p> - -<p>“We’d have been a fine lot of quitters if we -hadn’t,” Jean answered. “I think it’s been -much harder for you than for us, Mom.”</p> - -<p>And then the oddest, most unexpected thing -had happened, something that strengthened -the bond between them and made Jean’s way -easier. Her mother had turned and had met -Jean’s glance with a telltale flush on her -cheeks and a certain whimsical glint in her -eyes.</p> - -<p>“Jean, do you never suspect me?” she had -asked, half laughingly. “I know just exactly -what a struggle you have gone through, and -how you miss all that lies back in New York. -I do too. If we could just divide up the time, -and live part of the year here and the other part -back at the Cove. I wouldn’t dare tell Becky -that I had ever regretted, but there are days<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>64</span> -when the silence and the loneliness up here -seem to crush so strongly in on one.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mom! I never knew you felt like -that.” Jean leaned her head against her shoulder. -“I’ve been horribly selfish, just thinking -of myself. But now that Dad’s getting strong -again, you can go away, can’t you, for a little -visit anyway?”</p> - -<p>“Not without him,” Mrs. Craig said decidedly. -“Perhaps by next summer we can, I -don’t know. I don’t want to suggest it until he -feels the need of a change too. But I’ve been -thinking about you, Jean, and I want you to go -to school in New York for a little while anyway. -Beth and I had a talk together before she -left, and I felt proud of you, when I heard her -speak of your work. She says the greatest -worry on her mind is that Elliott has no definite -ambition, no aim. He has always had -everything that they could give him, and she -begins now to realize it was all wrong.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>65</span> -“But, Mother, how can I go and leave -you?”</p> - -<p>“I want you to, Jean. You have been a great -help to me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed -everything you have done to save me worry, -because I have.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you had Dad to care for—”</p> - -<p>“I know, and he’s so much better now that -I haven’t any dread left.”</p> - -<p>Peg Moffat wrote after receiving her -Christmas box from Jean. Jean had gathered -pine cones, ground pine, sprays of red berries, -and little winter ferns. It was one of several -she had sent to friends in the city for whom -she felt she could not afford expensive presents.</p> - -<p>Peg had caught the real spirit of it, and had -written back urgently. “You must run down -if only for a few days, Jean. I put the pines and -other greens around the studio for decorations -at Christmas and they just talk at me about you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>66</span> -all the time. Never mind about new clothes. -Come along.”</p> - -<p>It was these same new clothes that secretly -worried Jean all the same, but with some new -ribbon for two of her formals, her brown wool -suit cleaned, and a new feather for her hat, she -felt she could make the trip if it were only possible.</p> - -<p>It was the letter that arrived the following -day that really caused a stir in the family. Beth -wrote to Jean that there was a special course -beginning the following week at the Academy -in textile designing. It was only a two-months’ -course so it wouldn’t be very expensive and -Jean could stay with her, eliminating the -problem of board. “I really think if you can -possibly be spared from home at this time, it -would be a wise thing for you to enroll in the -course. It is in the field you’re interested in -and you will learn both valuable and practical<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>67</span> -things from it. Please write me immediately -and say you’ll come.”</p> - -<p>When Jean showed the letter to her mother, -her answer was swift and decisive. “An opportunity -such as this cannot be ignored. Of -course you will go.”</p> - -<p>The winter sunshine had barely clambered -to the crests of the hills the following morning -when Becky drove up with Ella Lou.</p> - -<p>“Thought I’d get an early start so I could -sit awhile with you,” she called breezily. “The -Judge had to go to court at Putnam. Real sad -case, too. Some of our neighborhood boys in -trouble. I told him not to dare send them up to -any State homes or reformatories, but to put -them on probation and make their families -pay the fines.”</p> - -<p>Kit was just putting on her stadium boots. -“Oh, what is it, Becky?” she called from the -kitchen. “What’s the news?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>68</span> -“Well, I guess it’s pretty exciting for the -poor mothers.” Mrs. Ellis put her feet up on -the stool. “There’s been considerable things -stolen lately, just odds and ends of harness and -bicycle supplies from the store, and three hams -from Miss Bugbee’s cellar, and so on; a little -here and a little there, hardly no more’n a real -smart magpie could make away with. But the -men set out to catch whoever it might be, and -if they didn’t land three of our own boys. It -makes every mother in town shiver.”</p> - -<p>“None that we know, are there?” asked -Doris, with wide eyes.</p> - -<p>“I guess not, unless maybe Abby Tucker’s -brother Martin. There his poor mother -scrimped and saved for weeks to buy him a bicycle -out of her butter-and-egg money, and it -just landed him in mischief. Off he kited, -first here and then there with the two Lonergan -boys, and they had a camp up toward Cynthy<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>69</span> -Allan’s place, where they played they were -cave robbers or something. I had the Judge up -and promise he’d let them off on probation. -There isn’t one of them over fifteen, and Elmhurst -can’t afford to let her boys go to prison. -And I shall drive over this afternoon and give -their mothers some good advice.”</p> - -<p>“Why not the fathers too?” asked Jean. -“Seems as if mothers get all the blame when -boys go wrong.”</p> - -<p>“No, it isn’t that exactly. I knew the two -fathers when they were youngsters too. Fred -Lonergan was as nice and obliging a lad as -ever you did see, but he always liked cider too -well, and that made him lax. I used to tell him -when he couldn’t get it any other way, he’d -squeeze the dried winter apples hanging still -on the wild trees. He’ll have to pay the money -damage, but the real sorrow of the heart will -fall on Emily, his wife. She used to be our<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>70</span> -minister’s daughter, and she knows what’s -right. And the Tucker boy never did have any -sense or his father before him, but his mother’s -the best quilter we’ve got. If I’d been in her -shoes I’d have put Philemon Tucker right -straight out of the house just as soon as he -began to squander and hang around the grocery -store swapping stories with men just like -him. It’s her house from her father, and I -shall put her right up to making Philemon -walk a chalk line after this, and do his duty as -a father.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you’re a glorious peacemaker,” exclaimed -Mrs. Craig. “Hurry, children, you’ll -be late for school.” She hurriedly put the last -touches to three hearty lunches, and followed -them out to the front porch and watched them -out of sight.</p> - -<p>“Lovely morning,” said Becky, fervently. -“The ice on the trees makes the country look -like fairyland.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>71</span> -“And here I’ve been shivering ever since I -got out of bed,” Jean cried, laughingly. “It -seemed so bleak and cheerless. You find something -beautiful in everything, Becky.”</p> - -<p>“Well, happiness is a sort of habit, I guess, -Jeannie. Come tell me, now, how you are fixed -about going away? That’s why I came down.”</p> - -<p>“You mean—”</p> - -<p>“I mean in clothes. Don’t mind my speaking -right out, because I know that Beth will want -to take you places, and you must look right. -And don’t you say one word against it, Margaret,” -as Mrs. Craig started to speak. “The -child must have her chance. Makes me think, -Jean, of my first silk dress. Nobody knew how -much I wanted one, and I was about fourteen, -skinny and overgrown, with pigtails down my -back. A well-to-do aunt in Boston sent a silk -dress to my little sister Susan who died. I can -see it now, just as plain as can be, a sort of dark -bottle-green with a little spray of violets here<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>72</span> -and there. Susan was sort of pining anyway, -and green made her look too pale, so the dress -was set aside for me. Mother said she’d let the -hem down and face it when she had time. But -there was a picnic and my heart hungered for -that silk dress to wear. I managed somehow to -squeeze into it, and slip away with the other -girls before Mother noticed me.”</p> - -<p>“But did it fit you?” asked Jean.</p> - -<p>“Fit me?” Becky laughed. “Fit me like an -acorn cap would a bullfrog. I let the hem down -as far as I could, but didn’t stop to hem it or -face it, and there it hung, six inches below my -petticoat, with the sun shining through as nice -as could be. My Sunday School teacher took me -to one side and said severely, ‘Rebecca Craig, -does your mother know that you’ve let that -hem down without fixing it properly?’ Well, it -did take away my hankering for a silk dress. -Now, run along upstairs and get out all your -wardrobe so we can look it over.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>73</span> -Jean obeyed for somehow Becky swept -away objections before her airily. And the -wardrobe was at a low ebb.</p> - -<p>Becky dragged her chair over beside the -couch now, and took inventory of the pile of -clothing Jean laid there.</p> - -<p>“You’ll want a good knockabout sport coat -like the other girls are wearing. Then a couple -of new sweaters and skirts for school. Now, -what about date dresses?”</p> - -<p>Here Jean felt quite proud as she laid out -her assortment. She and Kit had always gone -out a good deal at the Cove, and she had a number -of well-chosen, expensive dresses.</p> - -<p>“They look all right to me, but I guess Beth -will know what to do to them, with a touch -here and there. Well, if I were you, I’d just -bundle all I wanted to take along in the way of -pretty things into the trunk and let Beth tell -you what to do with them. I’ll give you the -money to buy the other things you’ll need in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>74</span> -New York. Their stores have more selection -than what we’ve got around here. Good heavens, -child, you’ll squeeze the breath out of -me,” as Jean gave her a hug of thanks. “I -must be going along.”</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>75</span> -</div> - -<h2 id="vi">6. Leaving Home</h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">Thursday</span> of that week was set for Jean’s departure. -This gave very little time for preparations, -and Kit plunged into them with a -zest and vigor that made Jean laugh.</p> - -<p>“Well, so little ever happens up here we -just have to make the most of goings and comings,” -said Kit exuberantly. “And besides, I’m -rather fond of you, in an offhand sort of way.”</p> - -<p>“Of course, we’re all glad for you,” Doris -put in seriously. “It’s an opportunity, Mom -says, and I suppose we’ll all get one in time.”</p> - -<p>Jean glanced up as they sat around the last -evening, planning and talking. Out in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>76</span> -side hall stood her trunk, packed, locked, and -strapped, ready for the early trip in the morning. -Tommy was trying his best to nurse a -frost-bitten chicken back to life out by the -kitchen stove, where Jack was mending -Doris’s skates. Kit and Doris were freely giving -her advice.</p> - -<p>“Enjoy yourself all you can, but think of us -left at home and don’t stay too long,” advised -Doris.</p> - -<p>“Yes, and learn all about designing things -for people. Personally I don’t want to make -things for people,” Kit said emphatically. “I -want to soar alone. I’m going with Sally to live -on the top of a mountain. But, gosh, I do envy -you, Jean, after all. You must write and tell -us every single thing that happens, for we’ll -love to hear it all. Don’t be afraid it won’t be -interesting. I wish you’d even keep a diary. -Buzzy told me once that his grandmother did,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>77</span> -every day from the time she was fourteen, and -they had a perfectly awful time getting rid of -them when she died. Imagine burning barrels -full of diaries.”</p> - -<p>Tommy came out of the kitchen to tell them -to be quiet. “I’ve just this minute got that -chicken to sleep. They’re such light sleepers, -but I think it will get well. It only had its poor -toes frostbitten. Jack found it on the ground -this morning, crowded off the perch. Chickens -look so civilized, and they’re not. They’re -regular savages.”</p> - -<p>There flashed across Jean’s mind a picture -of the evenings ahead without the home circle, -without the familiar living room, and the -other room upstairs where at this time her -mother would be brushing out her soft hair, -and listening to some choice bit of reading Mr. -Craig had run across during the day and saved -for her.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>78</span> -“I just wish I had a chance to go West like -Sally,” Kit said suddenly. “When I’m old -enough, I’m going to take up a homestead -claim and live on it with a wonderful horse -and some dogs, wolf dogs. I wish Sally’d wait -till we were both old enough, and had finished -school. She could be a forest ranger and I’d -raise—”</p> - -<p>“Ginseng,” Jean suggested mischievously. -“Dopey. It takes far more courage than that -just to stick it out on one of these old barren -farms, all run-down and fairly begging for -somebody to take them in hand. What do you -want to hunt a western claim for? Besides, I -don’t think there are any left anymore.”</p> - -<p>“Space,” Kit answered with feeling. “I -don’t want to see my neighbors’ chimney pots -sticking up all around me through the trees. -I want to gaze off at a hundred hilltops, and -not see somebody’s scarecrow waggling empty<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>79</span> -sleeves at me. Sally and I have the spirits of -eagles.”</p> - -<p>“Isn’t that nice,” said Doris pleasantly. -“It’ll make such a good place to spend our vacations, -kids. While Sally and Kit are out soaring, -we can fish and ride and have really swell -times.”</p> - -<p>“Cut it out,” Jean whispered, as Kit’s ire -started to rise. “It’s getting late, really, and I -have to get up while it is still night, you know. -Good night all.”</p> - -<p>The start next morning was made at seven, -before the sun was up. The tears were wet on -Jean’s cheeks as she climbed into the seat beside -Kit, and turned to wave goodbye to the -group on the porch. She had not realized before -what this first trip away from home -meant.</p> - -<p>“Write us everything,” called Doris, waving -both hands to her.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>80</span> -“Come back soon,” yelled Tommy.</p> - -<p>But her mother went back into the house -in silence, away from the living room into the -study where Jean had kept her own bookcase, -desk, and a few choice pictures. A few old -paintbrushes lay beside Jean’s worn pigskin -gloves on the table. Mrs. Craig picked up both, -laid her cheek against the gloves and closed her -eyes. The years were racing by so fast, so fast, -she thought, and mothers must be wide-eyed -and generous and fearless, when the children -suddenly begin to top heads with one, and feel -impatient to be out on their own.</p> - -<p>Ready to try it alone, she thought. If it had -been Kit now, she would not have felt this -curious little pang. Kit was self-sufficient and -full of buoyancy that was bound to carry her -over obstacles, but Jean was sensitive and dependent -on her environment for spur and stimulation. -She heard a step behind her and turned<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>81</span> -eagerly as Mr. Craig came into the room, looking -for her. He saw the brushes and the gloves -in her hand, and the look in her eyes uplifted -to his own. Very gently he folded his arms -around her, his cheek pressed close to her -brown hair.</p> - -<p>“She’s only seventeen,” whispered Mrs. -Craig.</p> - -<p>“Eighteen in April,” he answered, “and -dear, she isn’t trusting to her own strength for -the flight. Don’t you know this quiet little girl -of ours is mounted on Pegasus, and riding him -handily in her upward trend?”</p> - -<p>But there was no winged horse or genius in -view to Jean’s blurred sight as she watched the -road unroll before her, and looking back, saw -only the curling smoke from Woodhow’s -white chimneys.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>82</span> -</div> - -<h2 id="vii">7. Aldo from Italy</h2> - -<p class="noi">“<span class="smcap">This</span> is truly beautiful,” Jean said, in breathless -admiration, as she laid aside her coat and -hat, and stood in the big living room in Hastings. -The beautiful home not far from New -York had been a revelation to her. Overlooking -the Hudson River, the view, although totally -different, reminded her a little of her -former home at Sandy Cove.</p> - -<p>The center hall had a blazing fire in the big -old rock fireplace, and Victoria, a prize-winning -Angora, opened her wide blue eyes at the -newcomer but did not stir. In the living room -was another open fire. Influence of an artist’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>83</span> -hand was quite evident in the details of the -room. There were flowering plants at the windows, -and fresh roses on the table in gracefully -studied arrangements.</p> - -<p>“You know, or maybe you don’t know,” -said Beth, “that we have one hobby here, raising -flowers, and especially roses. We exhibit -every year, and you’ll grow to know them and -love the special varieties just as I do. You have -no idea, Jean, of the thrill when you find a new -bloom different from all the rest.”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t be surprised to find out anything -new and wonderful about this place.” -Jean laughed, leaning back in the deep-seated -chair. Like the rest of the room’s furniture it -was slipcovered in chintz, deep cream, cross-barred -in dull green, with splashy pink roses -scattered here and there. Two large white -Polar rugs lay on the polished floor.</p> - -<p>“If those were not members of the Peabody<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>84</span> -family, old and venerated, they never would -be allowed to bask before my fire,” Beth said. -“But way back there was an Abner Peabody -who sailed the northern seas, and used to bring -back trophies and bestow them on members of -his family as future heirlooms. Consequently, -we fall over these bears in the dark, and bless -Abner’s precious memory.”</p> - -<p>After she was thoroughly warmed up and -had drunk a cup of scalding tea, Jean found -her way up to the room that was to be hers during -her visit. It was the sunniest kind of a retreat -in daffodil yellow and rich brown. The -furniture was all in warm, deep-toned ivory, -and there were springlike bouquets of daffodils -everywhere.</p> - -<p>“Gee, I think this is just darling,” Jean -gasped, standing in the middle of the floor and -gazing around happily. “It’s just as if spring -were already here.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>85</span> -“I put a drawing board here for you too,” -Beth told her. “Of course you’ll use my studio -any time you like, but it’s handy to have a corner -all your own at odd times. I forgot to mention -it before, but we’re going to have a guest -for the weekend. A boy whose parents I knew -in Sorrento years ago. His name is Aldo -Thomas. His father was an American sculptor -who married an Italian Contessa. Aldo is also -studying art here in New York this winter and -lives with his aunt. He has inherited his father’s -artistic talent so I know you will find -much in common. And I also think you’ll do -each other a world of good.”</p> - -<p>“How?”</p> - -<p>“Well, you’re thoroughly an American -girl, Jean, and Aldo is half Italian. You’ll understand -what I mean when you see him. He is -high-strung and temperamental, and you are -so steady-nerved and well-balanced.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>86</span> -Jean thought over this last when she was -alone, and smiled to herself. Why on earth did -one have to give outward signs of temperament, -she wondered, before people believed -one had sensitive feelings or responsive emotions? -Must she wear her heart on her sleeve -for a sort of personal barometer? Peg Moffat -was high-strung and temperamental too. So -was Kit. They both indulged now and then in -mental fireworks, but nobody took them seriously, -or considered it a mark of genius. She -felt just a shade of half-amused tolerance toward -this Aldo person who was to get any balance -or poise out of her own nature.</p> - -<p>“If Beth knew for one minute,” she told -the face in the oval mirror of the dressing -table, “what kind of a person you really are, -she’d never trust you to balance anybody’s temperament.”</p> - -<p>But the following day brought a trim car<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>87</span> -to the door, and out stepped Aldo. And Jean, -coming down the wide center staircase, saw -Beth before the fire with a tall, thin figure, -whose clothes seemed to hang on him carelessly -as if he wore them as a concession to convention.</p> - -<p>“This is my cousin Jean,” said Mrs. Newell -in her pleasant way. Aldo extended his hand -diffidently. “I want you two to be very good -friends.”</p> - -<p>“But I know, surely, we shall be,” Aldo -said easily. And at the sound of his voice Jean’s -prejudices melted. He had very dark eyes with -lids that drooped slightly at the outer corners. -His thin face emphasized his prominent -cheekbones and his skin was fair in spite of -his Italian heritage.</p> - -<p>“Now, you won’t be treated one bit as -guests,” Beth told them. “You must come and -go as you like, and have the freedom of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>88</span> -house. I keep my own study hours and like to -be alone then. Do as you like and be happy. -Run along, both of you.”</p> - -<p>“She is wonderful, isn’t she?” Aldo said -as they walked out to the cliff above the river. -“She makes me feel always as if I were a ship -waiting with loose sails, and all at once—a -breeze—and I am on my way again. You have -not been to Sorrento, have you? You can see -the little fisher boats from our terraces. It is -all so beautiful, but now the villa is quite -shabby and parts of it are gone. It was bombed -during the war and there are no materials to -rebuild it. But it is still beautiful.”</p> - -<p>Jean was strangely charmed by him. He -was so different from anyone she had ever -known. None of the boys she knew would have -talked so poetically, even if they had known -the right words and phrases to use. That would -be sissy stuff.</p> - -<p>“I wonder if you ever knew Peg Moffat.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>89</span> -She’s a Long Island girl from the Cove where -I used to live, and she lived abroad every year -until the war came, for two or three months -with her mother. She is an artist.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know her,” Aldo shook his head -doubtfully. “You see over there, while we entertained -a great deal, I was away at school in -Milan or Rome and scarcely met anyone excepting -in the summertime, and then we went -to my aunt’s villa up on Lake Maggiore. Ah, -but that is the most beautiful spot of all. There -is one island there called Isola Bella. I wish I -could carry it right over here with me and set -it down for you to see. It is all terraces and -splendid old statuary, and when you see it at -sunrise it is like a jewel, it glows so with color.”</p> - -<p>Jean stood looking down at the river, listening. -There was always a lingering love in her -heart for the beauty and romance of Europe, -and especially of Italy. “I’d love to go there,” -she said, with a little sigh.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>90</span> -“And that is what I was always saying when -I was there, and my father told me of this -country. I wanted to see it so. He would tell me -of the great gray hills that climb to the north, -and the craggy broken shoreline up through -Maine, and the little handful of amethyst isles -that lie all along it. He was born in New -Hampshire, at Portsmouth. We are going up -to see the house some day, but I know just what -it looks like. It stands close down by the water’s -edge in the old part of the town, and there is -a big rambling garden with flagged walks. His -grandfather was a shipbuilder and sent his -ships out all over the world. And he had just -one daughter. There was an artist who came up -from the south in one of his ships, and he was -taken very ill. So they took him in as a guest, -and the daughter cared for him. And when he -was well, what do you think?”</p> - -<p>“They married.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>91</span> -“But more than that,” he said warmly. “He -carved the most wonderful figureheads for my -great grandfather’s ships. All over the world -they were famous. His son was my father.”</p> - -<p>It was indescribable, the tone in which he -said the last. It told more than anything -else how much he admired this sculptor father -of his. That night Jean wrote to Ralph.</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="noi">Dearest Ralph,</p> - -<p>I know you’ll want to know all about my -trip. Beth met me at Grand Central Station -and we drove out here to Hastings. Honestly, -Ralph, when I saw the house, I had -to blink my eyes. It looks as if it belonged -right out on the North Shore at the Cove. -The lawn sweeps down at the back to the -cliffs where you can look right down at the -Hudson. And inside the house it is summertime -even now. They have flowers everywhere -you look, because they raise their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>92</span> -own. Beth says she’ll give me slips from -her rosebushes and I can start a sunken rose -garden.</p> - -<p>A most interesting artist friend of Beth’s -has come out to spend the weekend here. -His name is Aldo Thomas—the Aldo because -his mother is an Italian countess and -the Thomas because his father is an American -sculptor. He has been telling me all -about Italy and his father’s statues.</p> - -<p>Monday I begin my course at the Academy -and I am so excited, although it seems -as though I have forgotten all I have -learned. I have to keep reminding myself -that all of this is really happening to me. -I woke up this morning completely bewildered -for I thought I was still back in -Elmhurst.</p> - -<p>I hope to see Peg Moffat while I am -here. Of course I shall probably see her at<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>93</span> -school, but I won’t have much opportunity -to really talk to her there. She has a studio -in Greenwich Village that I am simply -dying to see.</p> - -<p>Even with all these new things to do and -see and learn I still miss you terribly. And -June seems such a long way off. I wish it -were tomorrow that you were coming back -so that you could enjoy this with me. But -since that is impossible I shall write you -everything that happens while I’m here.</p> - -<p class="right nmb">All my love,</p> -<p class="right2 nmt">Jeannie</p> -</blockquote> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>94</span> -</div> - -<h2 id="viii">8. Jean Meets a Contessa</h2> - -<p class="noi">“<span class="smcap">I’ve</span> just had a telephone call from your -aunt, the Contessa,” Beth said to Aldo at -breakfast Saturday morning. “She sends an -invitation to us for this afternoon, a private -view of paintings and sculpture at Henri -Morel’s studio. She knew him in Italy and -France, and he leaves for the west coast on -Monday. There will be a small reception and -tea, nothing too formal, Jean, so dress well, -hold up your chin and turn out your toes, and -behave with credit to your chaperon. It is -your debut.”</p> - -<p>Aldo looked at her quite seriously, but Jean -caught the flutter of fun in her eyes, and knew<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>95</span> -it would not be as ceremonious as it sounded. -When she was ready that afternoon she slipped -into Beth’s own bedroom, at the south end of -the house. Here were three rooms, all so different, -and each showing a distinct phase of -character. One was her winter studio. This -was a large sunny room, paneled in soft-toned -pine, with a wood-brown rug on the floor, and -all the treasures accumulated abroad during -her years there of study and travel. In this -room Jean used to find the girl Beth, who had -ventured forth after the laurels of genius, and -found success awaiting her with love back in -Hastings.</p> - -<p>The second room was a private sitting room, -comfortable furniture, and window boxes -filled with blooming hyacinths. Here were -framed photographs of family and friends, -a portrait of Elliott over the desk, his class -colors on the wall, and intimate snapshots he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>96</span> -had sent her. This was the mother’s and wife’s -room. And the last was her bedroom. Here -Jean found her dressing. All in black, with a -bunch of violets pinned to her waist. She -turned and looked at Jean critically.</p> - -<p>“I only had this new green suit,” said Jean. -“I thought with a sort of feminine blouse it -would look all right.”</p> - -<p>The blouse was white handkerchief linen -with folded-back cuffs that were edged with -Irish crochet lace. Above it Jean’s eager face -framed in brown hair, her brown eyes, small -imperative chin with its deep cleft, and look -of interest that Kit called “questioning curiosity,” -all seemed accentuated.</p> - -<p>“It’s just right, dear,” said Beth. “Go get -a yellow jonquil to wear.”</p> - -<p>There was a clean smell of fresh snow in -the air as they drove along the highway to -New York that afternoon. Once Aldo called<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>97</span> -out in surprise. A pair of sparrows teetered on -a fence rail, bickering with each other.</p> - -<p>“Ah, there they are,” he cried. “And in -Italy now there would be no snow. My father -told me of the sparrows here. He said they -were such quarrelsome and saucy birds that he -really didn’t like them when he lived here. -But now, not seeing them, he misses their -chirping.”</p> - -<p>“How queer it is,” Jean said, “I mean the -way one remembers and loves all the little -things about one’s own country.”</p> - -<p>“Not so much all the country. Just the spot -of earth you spring from. He loves New England.”</p> - -<p>“And I love Long Island. I was born there, -not at the Cove, but farther down the coast -near Montauk Point, and the smell of salt -water and the marshes always stirs me. I love -the long green rolling stretches, and the little<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>98</span> -low hills in the background like you see in -paintings of the Channel Islands and some of -the ones along the Scotch coast. Just a few -straggly scrub pines, you know, and the willows -and wild cherry trees and beach plums.”</p> - -<p>“Somewhere I’ve read about that—the -earth’s hold upon her people. I’m afraid I only -respond to New York’s rolling country, too. -I’ve been so homesick abroad just to look at a -crooked apple tree in bloom that I didn’t know -what to do. Where were you born, Aldo?”</p> - -<p>“At the Villa Marina. Ah, but you should -see it.” Aldo’s dark eyes glowed with pride. -“It is dull terra cotta color, and then dull green -too, the mold of ages, I think, like the under -side of an olive leaf, and flowers everywhere, -and poplars in long avenues. My father laughs -at our love for it, and says it is just a moldy -old ruin, but every summer we used to spend -there. Some day perhaps you could come to see<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>99</span> -us, Jean. Would they lend her to us for a while, -do you think, Mrs. Newell?”</p> - -<p>“I should love to. Isn’t it fun dreaming of -impossible things like this?”</p> - -<p>“Sometimes they turn out to be very possible,” -Beth returned, whimsically. “Hopes to -me are so tangible. We just set ahead of us the -big hope, and the very thought gives us incentive -and endeavor and punch. Plan from now -on, Jean, for one spring in Italy. Then, maybe, -some spring you’ll find yourself there.”</p> - -<p>They arrived just a little late at the Morel -studio. Jean had expected it to be more of -the usual workshop, where canvases heaped -against the walls seemed to have collected the -dust of ages, and a broom would have been a -desecration. Here, you ascended in an elevator, -from an entrance hall that Beth declared -always made her think of an Egyptian tomb.</p> - -<p>When they reached the ninth floor, they<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>100</span> -found themselves in the long foyer of the -Morel studio. Jean had rather a confused idea -of what followed. There was the meeting with -Morel himself, stoop-shouldered and thin, -with his vivid foreign face, half-closed eyes, -and sparse gray hair. Near him stood Madame -Morel, with a wealth of auburn hair and big -dark eyes. Aldo said to Jean just before they -were separated, “He loves to paint red hair, -and Aunt Signa says she has the most wonderful -hair you ever saw.”</p> - -<p>Beth had been taken possession of by a stout -smiling young man with horn-rimmed glasses -and was already the center of a little group. -Jean heard his name, and recognized it as that -of a famous illustrator. Aldo introduced her to -a tall girl in brown whom he had met in Italy, -and then somehow, Jean could not have told -how it happened, they drifted apart. Not but -what she was glad of a breathing spell, just<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>101</span> -a chance to get her bearings. Morel was showing -some recent canvases, still unframed, at -the end of the studio, and everyone seemed to -gravitate that way.</p> - -<p>Jean found a quiet corner just as someone -handed her fragrant tea in a little red and gold -cup, and she was free to look around her. A -beautiful woman had just arrived. She was tall -and past first youth, but Jean leaned forward -expectantly. This must be the Contessa. Her -gown seemed as indefinite and elusive in detail -as a cloud. It was dull blue violet in color, with -a gleam of gold here and there as she moved -slowly toward Morel’s group. Under a wide-brimmed -felt hat, the same shade of blue violet, -Jean saw the lifted face, with tired lovely -eyes, and close waves of pale golden hair. And -this was not all. If only Doris could have seen -her, thought Jean. She had wanted a princess -from real life, or a countess, anything that was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>102</span> -tangibly romantic and noble, and here was the -very pattern of a princess, even to a splendid -white Russian wolfhound that followed her -with docile eyes and drooping long nose.</p> - -<p>“My dear, would you mind coaxing that absent-minded -girl at the tea table to part with -some lemon for my tea? And the Roquefort -sandwiches are excellent too.”</p> - -<p>Jean turned at the sound of the new voice -beside her. There on the same settee sat a robust, -middle-aged latecomer. Her black coat -was worn and frayed, her hat altogether too -youthful with its pink and purple roses veiled -in net. Jean saw, too, that there was a button -missing from her dress, and her collar was -pinned at a slightly crooked angle. But the collar -was real lace and the pin was of old pearls -and amethysts. It was her face that charmed. -Framed in an indistinct mass of fluffy hair, -mixed gray and blonde, with a turned-up, winning<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>103</span> -mouth, and delightfully expressive eyes, -it was impossible not to feel immediately interested -and acquainted.</p> - -<p>Before long, Jean found herself indulging -in all sorts of confidences. They seemed united -by a common feeling of, not isolation exactly, -but newness to this circle.</p> - -<p>“I enjoy it so much more sitting over here -and looking on,” Jean said. “Beth, my cousin, -knows everyone, of course, but it is like a -painting. You close one eye, and get the group -effect. And I must remember everything to -write home to the girls and Tommy.”</p> - -<p>“Tell me about them. Who are they that -you love them so?” asked her new friend. “I, -too, like the bird’s-eye view best. I told Morel -I did not come to see anything but his pictures, -and now I am ready for tea and talk.”</p> - -<p>So Jean told all about Woodhow and the -family there and before she knew it, she had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>104</span> -disclosed too, her own hopes and ambitions, -and perhaps a glimpse of what it might mean -to the others at home, if she, the first to leave, -could only make good. And her companion -told her, in return, of how sure one must be -that the career decided upon was what one -really wanted before one gives up all to it.</p> - -<p>“Over in France, and in Italy, too, but -mostly in France,” she said, “I have found -girls like you who before the war were living -on little but hopes, wasting their time and -what money could be spared them from some -home over here, following false hopes, and -sometimes starving. It is but a will-o’-the-wisp, -this success in art, a sort of pitiful madness -that takes possession of our brains and -hearts and makes us forget the commonplace -things in life that lie before us.”</p> - -<p>“But how can you tell for sure?” asked -Jean, leaning forward anxiously.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>105</span> -“Who can answer that? I have only pitied -the ones who could not see that they had no -genius. Ah, my dear, when you meet real -genius, then you know the difference instantly. -It is like the real gems and the paste. There is -consecration and no thought of gain. The work -is done irresistibly, spontaneously, because -they cannot help it. They do not think of so-called -success, it is only the fulfillment of -their own visions that they love. You like to -draw and paint, you say, and you have studied -some in New York. What then?”</p> - -<p>Jean pushed back her hair impulsively.</p> - -<p>“Do you know, I think you are a little bit -wrong. You won’t mind my saying that, will -you, please? It is only this. Suppose we are not -geniuses, we who see pictures in our minds and -long to paint them. I think that is the gift too, -quite as much as the other, as the power to execute. -Think how many go through life with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>106</span> -eyes blind to all beauty and color! Surely it -must be something to have the power of seeing -it all, and of knowing what you want to paint. -My cousin Becky back home says it’s better to -aim at the stars and hit the fence post, than -to aim at the fence post and hit the ground.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, so, and one of your English poets says -too, ‘A man’s aim should outreach his grasp, -or what’s a heaven for?’ Maybe, you are quite -right. The vision is the gift.” She turned and -laid her hand on Jean’s shoulder, her eyes -beaming with enjoyment of their talk. “I shall -remember you, Brown Eyes.”</p> - -<p>And just at this point Beth and Aldo came -toward them, the former smiling at Jean. -“Don’t you think you’ve monopolized the -Contessa long enough?” she asked. Jean could -not answer. The Contessa? This whimsical, -oddly-dressed woman who had sat and talked -with her over their tea in the friendliest sort of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>107</span> -way, all the time that Jean had thought the -Contessa was the tall lady in the ethereal dress -with the Russian wolfhound at her heels.</p> - -<p>“But this is delightful,” exclaimed the -Contessa, happily. “We have met incognito. -I thought she was some demure little art student -who knew no one here, and she has been -so kind to me, who also seemed lonely. Come -now, we will meet with the celebrities.”</p> - -<p>With her arm around Jean’s waist, she led -her over to the group around Morel, and told -them in her charming way of how they had -discovered each other.</p> - -<p>“And she has taught me a lesson that you, -Morel, with all your art, do not know, I am -sure. It is not the execution that is the crown -of ambition and aspiration, it is the vision itself. -For the vision is divine inspiration, but -the execution is the groping of the human -hand.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>108</span> -“Oh, but I never could say it so beautifully,” -exclaimed Jean, pink-cheeked and embarrassed, -as Morel laid his hand over hers.</p> - -<p>“Nevertheless,” he said, gently, “success to -thy fingertips, Mademoiselle.”</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>109</span> -</div> - -<h2 id="ix">9. Letters from Home</h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">Jean</span> confessed her mistake to Beth after they -had returned home. There were just a few -minutes to spare before bedtime, after wishing -Aldo good night, and she sat on a little stool -before the fire in the sitting room.</p> - -<p>“I hadn’t the least idea she was the Contessa. -You know that tall woman with the -wolfhound, Beth—”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Newell laughed softly. “That was -Betty Goodwin. Betty loves to dress up. She -plays little parts for herself all the time. I -think today she was an Austrian princess perhaps. -The next time she will be a tailor-made -English girl. Betty indulges her whims, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>110</span> -she has just had her portrait done by Morel as -a sort of dream maiden, I believe. I caught a -glimpse of it on exhibition last week. Looks as -little like Betty as I do. Jean, paint if you must, -but paint the thing as you see it, and do choose -apple trees and red barns rather than dream -maidens who aren’t real.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what I shall paint,” Jean answered -with a little quick sigh. “She rather -frightened me, I mean the Contessa. I don’t -think she has much use for my kind of art. -She thinks only real geniuses should paint.”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense. Paint all you like. It will train -you in form and color and that you can apply -later to your designing. You’re seventeen, -aren’t you, Jean?”</p> - -<p>Jean nodded. “Eighteen in April.”</p> - -<p>“You seem younger than that. If I could, -I’d swamp you in paint and study for the next -two years. By that time you would have either -found out that you were tired to death of it,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>111</span> -and wanted real life, or you would be doing -something worthwhile in the art line. But in -any event you would have no regrets. I mean -you could live the rest of your life contentedly, -without feeling there was something you had -missed. It was odd your meeting the Contessa -as you did. She likes you very much. Now run -along and good night, dear.”</p> - -<p>When Jean reached her own room, she -found a surprise. On the desk lay a letter from -home that Mathilda had laid there. Mathilda -was Beth’s standby, as she said. She was tall -and spare and middle-aged, with a broad serene -face, and sandy-red hair worn parted in -the middle. It was just like her, Jean thought, -to lay the letter from home where it would -catch her eye and make her happy before she -went to sleep.</p> - -<p>One joy of a letter from home was that it -turned out to be several as soon as you got it -out of the envelope. The one on top was from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>112</span> -her mother, written just before the mail truck -came up the hill.</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="noi">Dear Princess,</p> - -<p>You have been much on my mind, but I -haven’t time for a long letter, since Mr. -Ricketts may chug up over the hill any -minute, and he won’t wait. I am ever so glad -for you that you have had this opportunity -to study again. Dad is really quite himself -these days, and Becky has lent me Mrs. Gorham, -so the work has been very easy for me, -even without you.</p> - -<p>Becky says it looks like an early spring -this year, although how she can tell when it -<a name="is" id="is"></a><ins title="Original has 'it'">is</ins> -still so bleak and barren is beyond me. The -roads are still piled with snow and the river -is frozen over. The girls, Tommy, and Jack -have been skating almost every day.</p> - -<p>Have you everything you need? Let me -know otherwise. You know, I can always -find some way out. Write often to us, my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>113</span> -dear. I feel very near you these days in love -and thought. Your character is developing -so fast and I want to watch so carefully. -There is always a curious bond between the -firstborn and a mother, to the mother especially, -for you taught me motherhood, -my darling. Some day you will understand -what I mean, when you look down into the -face of your own. I must stop, for I am getting -altogether homesick for you.</p> - -<p class="right nmb">Tenderly,</p> -<p class="right2 nmt">Mother.</p> -</blockquote> - -<p class="noi">Jean sat for a few minutes after reading this, -without unfolding the other letters. Mothers -were wonderful persons, she thought. Their -loving arms stretched so far over one, and gave -forth a love and protectiveness such as nothing -else in the world could do.</p> - -<p>The next was from Doris, quite like her -too. Brief and beautifully penned on her very -own pink notepaper.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="noi"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>114</span> -Dear Jeannie,</p> - -<p>I do hope you are having a wonderful -time. Have you met any glamorous people -yet? If you have, I hope you write us all -about them. I want to know everything.</p> - -<p>School is very uninteresting just now and -it is cold walking to school. But I do have -that one teacher that I’m crazy about, you -know, Miss Simmons. She wears such nice -clothes and her voice is so beautiful. I can’t -bear people with loud voices. When I see -her in the morning, it just wipes out all the -cold walk and everything that’s gone -wrong.</p> - -<p>I wish I could have gone away to school -like you and Billie, or at least I wish Billie -was back home. Kit says it’s time to go to -bed.</p> - -<p class="right nmb">Your loving sister,</p> -<p class="right2 nmt">Doris.</p> -</blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>115</span> -“Oh, Doris, you crazy kid,” Jean laughed -to herself. The letter was entirely typical of -Doris and her vagaries.</p> - -<p>Tommy’s letter was hurried.</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="noi">Dear Jean,</p> - -<p>We miss you awfully. Jack got hurt yesterday. -His foot was jammed when a tree -fell on it. He is better now because I helped -to take care of his foot. He wasn’t hurt -badly.</p> - -<p>We go skating every day for the river is -frozen over. Jack and I and some of the -other boys have been playing hockey with -my new puck that you gave me for Christmas.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Gorham made caramel filling today -the way you do and it all ran out in the oven. -She said the funniest thing. “Thunder and -lightning.” Just like that. And when I -laughed, she told me not to because she<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>116</span> -ought not to say such things, but when -cooking went wrong, she just lost her head -completely. Isn’t that funny? Bring me -home a puppy. I’d love it.</p> - -<p class="right nmb">Love,</p> -<p class="right2 nmt">Tommy.</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>The letter from her father was gay and -cheerful and full of advice. He did sound -better, just as her mother had said.</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="noi">Jeannie dear,</p> - -<p>Although we all miss you, we seem to -be getting along pretty well. With Mrs. -Gorham to help, your mother does not -have too much to do.</p> - -<p>The Judge dropped in last evening for a -visit. He says that Billie is getting along -splendidly at school. He has many new -friends and seems to like the work. Becky -and the Judge, of course, miss him as we -do you, my dear.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>117</span> -I am in the middle of an interesting new -book on world economics. I wish you were -here so that I could read parts of it to you. -Even though your art work is very important, -it is equally valuable to be well-informed -on the affairs of the world in -which you live. I hope you will keep this -bit of advice in mind, for in order to be -fully successful, you must keep abreast of -the times and not be so completely engrossed -in your work, that you fail to recognize -what goes on around you.</p> - -<p>But I didn’t mean to start preaching. -You shall learn all this as you study and -grow older, I am sure. I expect to see great -changes in you when you return. But do -not change too much so that we won’t know -you. We love you as you are, darling.</p> - -<p class="right nmb">With all my love,</p> -<p class="right2 nmt">Dad.</p> -</blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>118</span> -Jean was quite moved by this letter, for her -father was making her responsible for her -own future. It made her feel quite different -somehow, as though she was entrusted with -the power to make or break her own career.</p> - -<p>Last of all was Kit’s letter, two sheets of -penciled scribbling, crowded together on both -sides.</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="noi">Hi, Jean,</p> - -<p>I’m writing this the last thing at night -when my brain is getting calm. Any old -time the poet starts singing carelessly of -the joys and beauties of the country in the -wintertime, I hope he lands on this waste -spot during a January blizzard. He’d -change his mind in a hurry.</p> - -<p>If you get your hands on any of the current -fashion magazines, be sure to send -them home to us. Even if we can’t indulge, -we can dream, can’t we? I’m getting awfully -tired of skirts and sweaters. It’s high<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>119</span> -time I was allowed to burst forth in something -really stunning that would knock -everybody cold.</p> - -<p>I have a new friend, a dog. Jack says -he’s just a stray, but he isn’t. He’s a shepherd -dog, and very intelligent. I’ve named -him Mac. He fights with Tommy, which -is strange for that brother of ours usually -has a way with animals. I guess he’s just a -one-man dog, for he likes me alone.</p> - -<p>I miss you in the evenings an awful lot. -Doris goes around in a sort of moon ring of -romance nowadays, so it’s no fun talking to -her, and Tommy spends most of his time -fooling around with those blasted airplanes -of his. His attitude toward Jack is really -wonderful, it’s almost fatherly. Did you -ever wish we had another boy in the family? -I do now and then. I’d like one about -sixteen, just between us two, that I could be -pals with. Tommy’s too little. Buzzy comes<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>120</span> -the nearest to being a big brother that I’ve -ever had. That guy really had a marvelous -sense of fairness, Jean, do you realize that? -I hope being out West hasn’t changed him -too much. I liked him the way he was. I -am impatient for his return. Do you feel -the same way about Ralph?</p> - -<p>Well, my dear artistic close relative and -beloved sister, it is almost ten, so it’s time -for Kathleen to turn into her lonely cot. -Give my love to Beth, and write to me personally. -We can’t bear your inclusive family -letters.</p> - -<p class="right nmb">Yours,</p> -<p class="right2 nmt">Kit.</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>If it hadn’t been so late, Jean felt she could -have sat down then and there, and answered -every one of them. They took her straight -back to Woodhow and all the daily round of -fun there. In the morning she read parts of -them to Aldo.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>121</span> -“Ah, but you are lucky,” Aldo said quietly -when she had finished. “I am just myself, and -it’s so monotonous. I wish I could meet your -family and know them all.”</p> - -<p>“They are a wonderful family, although I -rather envy you in a way. Sometimes it seems -as if one loses individuality in a large -family.”</p> - -<p>“You shouldn’t feel that way,” replied -Aldo. “Why, look, here you are in New York -about to start studying again. Isn’t that proof -enough that there is room for individuality -even in a big family?”</p> - -<p>Jean thought of this later when she was -getting ready for the next day at school and -decided that Aldo was probably right. “I’ll -work so hard these next two months, that the -family will be convinced that the time was -well spent. I’ll make them proud of me, or -at least I’ll try.”</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>122</span> -</div> - -<h2 id="x">10. At the Art Academy</h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">The</span> next morning Jean took the commuter’s -train into New York and found her way to -the Art Academy. The first person she ran -into after she had enrolled was Peg Moffat.</p> - -<p>“Gosh, it’s good to see you again, Jean. I -was so excited when you wrote to say you were -coming back. How long will you be here?”</p> - -<p>“Just a couple of months, Peg. I’m taking -that special course in textile designing.”</p> - -<p>It was now nearly a year since Jean had -been a student at the art school. She had gone -into the work enthusiastically when they had -lived at the Cove on Long Island, making the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>123</span> -trip back and forth every day. It thrilled her -to be back again for it represented so much to -her, all the aims and ambitions of a year -before.</p> - -<p>As they walked upstairs to Jean’s classroom, -some of the girls recognized her and -called out. Jean waved her hand to them, but -did not stop. She was too busy looking at the -sketches along the walls, listening to the familiar -sounds through open doors, Pop Higgins’ -deep laugh, Miss Weston’s clear voice -calling to one of the girls, Pierre the Frenchman, -standing with his arm resting on a boy’s -shoulders, pointing out to him mistakes in -underlay of shadows. Even the familiar smell -of turpentine and paint made her unbearably -happy to be there.</p> - -<p>Margaret Weston was the girls’ favorite -instructor. The daughter of an artist herself, -she had been born in Florence, Italy, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>124</span> -brought up there, later living in London and -then Boston. Jean remembered how delightful -her talks with the girls had been when she -had described her father’s intimate circle of -friends back in Italy. It had seemed so interesting -to link the past and present with one -who could remember, as a little girl, visits to -all the art shrines. Jean had always been a favorite -with her. The quiet, imaginative girl -had appealed to Margaret Weston perhaps -because she had the gift of visualizing the -past and its great dreamers. She took both her -hands now in a firm clasp, smiling down at -her.</p> - -<p>“Back again, Jean?”</p> - -<p>“Only for this special course, Miss Weston,” -Jean smiled a little wistfully. “I wish -it were for longer. It seems awfully good to -be here and see you all.”</p> - -<p>“Have you done any work at all in the -country?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>125</span> -Had she done any work? A swift memory -of the real work of Woodhow swept over -Jean, and she could have laughed.</p> - -<p>“Not much.” She shook her head. “I sort -of lost my way for a while, there was so much -else that had to be done, but I’m going to -study now.”</p> - -<p>So for two months, Jean could make believe -that she was back as a “regular.” Every -morning she went to class, getting inspiration -and courage even from the teamwork. Later -that first month, she was surprised to see Aldo -waiting for her at the main entrance.</p> - -<p>“I’ve come to take you away. It is not good -to bury yourself completely in your work. It -is time that you thought of something besides -paint and warp and woof.”</p> - -<p>Jean suddenly remembered the words of -her father’s first letter to her. How he had -warned her of forgetting everything but her -work. “Where are we going?” she asked.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>126</span> -“I have tickets to the latest Broadway play. -It’s a musical and very good, from all I hear -and have read about it. But first we are going -to lunch at the Waldorf.”</p> - -<p>Jean never forgot that afternoon with -Aldo. She forgot the art school completely -while she listened to the gay tunes and witty -dialogue coming from the stage. When she -returned to Elmhurst, she often remembered -that day and it made it easier for her to work -at home at everyday chores.</p> - -<p>Later, while they were having dinner in a -small Italian restaurant that Aldo frequented -often, she told him of her work. How her designs -were progressing and how she was learning -to weave and how wonderful it was to see -her own designs come to life in the threads of -the material on her loom.</p> - -<p>In return, Aldo told her of his own work. -He was now working in clay and hoped to do<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>127</span> -some real sculpture before he was through. -“I want to work in marbles, the way my father -does,” he said simply. In those few words -his own ambitions were exposed.</p> - -<p>They parted at Grand Central, Jean to go -back to Beth’s in Hastings and Aldo to take -the subway uptown to his aunt’s apartment.</p> - -<p>A few days later, Jean went home with -Peg Moffat to spend the weekend with her in -her Greenwich Village studio. “Yet you can -hardly call it a studio now, since Mom came -and took possession,” Peg said. “We girls had -it all nice and messy, and she keeps it in order, -I tell you.”</p> - -<p>“Somebody was needed to keep it in order,” -Mrs. Moffat put in. They were all -sitting around the table after dinner that -evening.</p> - -<p>“Eloise and Janet and I kept house,” Peg -put in significantly. “And, really, talk about<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>128</span> -temperament! We had no regular meals at -all, and Eloise says if you show her crackers -and pimento cheese again for a year, she’ll -simply die in her tracks. Mom has fed us up -beautifully since she came back from Miami. -Real substantial food.”</p> - -<p>“Yes and they didn’t think they needed me -at all, Jean. Somehow a mother doesn’t go -with studio equipment, but this one does, and -now everyone in the block comes down to visit -us. They all need mothering now.”</p> - -<p>Jean found the studio delightfully attractive. -The ceiling was beamed in dark oak, and -a wide fireplace with a crackling wood fire -made Jean almost feel as if she were back -home. There were wide shelves lined with -books on painting all around the room. At the -windows hung shrimp-colored draperies that -could be pulled across on transverse rods to -shut out the night. A small spinet piano took<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>129</span> -up one corner of the room and now Peg walked -over to it and sat down to play. In the middle -of a Mozart sonata, Jean sighed heavily.</p> - -<p>Peg stopped playing, turned around, and -asked, “What is it? Tired?”</p> - -<p>Jean’s lashes were wet with unshed tears.</p> - -<p>“I was wishing Mother were here too,” -she answered. “She loves all this so—just as I -do. It’s awfully lonesome up there sometimes -without any of this. I love the hills and the -freedom, but, oh, it is so lonely. Why, I even -love to hear the horns of the cabs blowing impatiently -and the sound of the busses releasing -their air brakes.”</p> - -<p>Jean slept late the next morning, late for -her at least. It was nearly ten when Mrs. -Moffat came into the large room to pull back -the curtains and say that breakfast was nearly -ready.</p> - -<p>“Did you close the big house at the Cove?”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>130</span> -Jean asked while they were dressing.</p> - -<p>“Rented it furnished. With Brock away at -college and me sharing this studio with Eloise -and Janet, Mother thought she’d let it go, -and stay with me when she came back from -Florida. She’s over at Aunt Win’s while I’m -at classes. They’ve got an apartment overlooking -Central Park because Uncle Frank -can’t bear commuting in the winter. We’ll go -over there tomorrow afternoon. Aunt Win’s -up to her eyebrows in hospital work.”</p> - -<p>“Know something, Peg?” Jean said suddenly, -“I do believe that’s what ails Elmhurst. -Nobody up there is doing anything different -this winter from what they have every -winter for the last fifty years. Down here -there’s always something new and interesting -going on.”</p> - -<p>“Sure, but is that good? After a while you -expect something new all the time, and you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>131</span> -can’t settle down to any one thing steadily. -Coming, Mom, right away.”</p> - -<p>“Good morning, lazy things,” said Mrs. -Moffat as she poured the coffee. “I’ve had my -breakfast. I’ve got two appointments this -morning and must rush.”</p> - -<p>“Mother always mortgages tomorrow. I’ll -bet anything she’s got appointments lined up -for a month ahead. What’s on for today?”</p> - -<p>“Dentist and shopping with your Aunt -Win. I’m going to have lunch with her, so -you girls will be alone. There are seats for a -recital at Carnegie Hall if you’d enjoy it. I -think Jean would. It’s a Chamber Music -group. Peg only likes orchestral concerts, but -if you go to this, you might drop in later at -Signa’s. It’s not far, you know, Peg, and not -a bit out of your way. Aunt Win and I will -join you there.”</p> - -<p>“Isn’t she the dearest, bustling Mother?”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>132</span> -Peg said placidly, when they were alone. -“Sometimes I feel ages older than she is. She -has as much fun dashing around to everything -as if New York were a steady sideshow. Do -you want to go?”</p> - -<p>“I’d love to,” Jean answered frankly. -“Who’s Signa?”</p> - -<p>“A girl Aunt Win’s interested in. She plays -the violin. Jean Craig, do you realize the -world is just jammed full of people who can -do things, I mean unusual things like painting -and playing and singing, better than the average -person, and yet there are only a few of -them who are really great. It’s such a tragedy -because they all keep on working and hoping -and thinking they’re going to be great. Aunt -Win has about a dozen tucked under her wing -that she encourages, and I think it’s perfectly -deadly.”</p> - -<p>Peg planted both elbows on the table and -held her cup of coffee in the air.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>133</span> -“Because they won’t be great geniuses, you -mean?”</p> - -<p>“Sure. They’re just half-way. All they’ve -got is the longing, the urge forward.”</p> - -<p>“But it’s something to have the aims and -the ambitions, don’t you think?”</p> - -<p>“Maybe so,” Peg said briskly. “Maybe I -can’t see them myself, and it’s just a waste of -time keeping me at the Academy. I’m not a -genius, and I’ll never paint great pictures, but -I am going to be an illustrator, and while I’m -learning I can imagine myself all the geniuses -that ever lived. We were told, not long ago, -to paint a typical city scene. Most of the class -went in for the regulation things, Washington -Arch and Grant’s Tomb, Madison Square -and the opera crowd at the Met. Do you know -what I did?” She pushed back her hair from -her eager face, and smiled. “I went down on -the East Side and you know how they’re always -digging up the streets here after the gas<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>134</span> -mains or something that’s gone wrong? Well, -I found some workmen resting, sitting on the -edge of the trench eating lunch in the sunlight, -and some kids playing in the dirt as if -it were sand. Golly, it was wonderful, Jean, -the color and composition and I managed to -get it all in lovely splashes. I just called it -<em>Noon</em>. Does it sound good?”</p> - -<p>“Splendid,” said Jean.</p> - -<p>Peg nodded happily. “Miss Weston said it -was the best thing I had done, the best in the -class. You can find beauty anywhere if you -look for it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, gee, it’s good to be down talking to -you again,” Jean exclaimed. “It spurs me -along so to be where others are working and -thinking.”</p> - -<p>“Think so?” Peg turned her head with her -funny quizzical smile. “You ought to hear -Pop Higgins talk on that. He runs away to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>135</span> -a little shack somewhere up on the Hudson -when he wants to paint. He says Emerson and -Thoreau were right when they wrote about -the still places where you rest and invite your -soul. Let’s get dressed. It’s after eleven already -and if we want to do any shopping before -that concert we ought to be going.”</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>136</span> -</div> - -<h2 id="xi">11. The Sculptured Head</h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">That</span> evening a few of Peg’s artist friends -came in to talk shop, and Jean found her old-time -favorite teacher, Pop Higgins, among -them. He was about seventy, but erect and -quick of step as any of the boys, with iron-gray -hair, close-cut and curly, and keen -brown eyes. He was really splendid looking, -Jean thought.</p> - -<p>“You know, Jeannie,” he began, slipping -comfortably down a trifle in his chair, “you’re -looking fine. I think your studies here have -done something to you. How is it going?”</p> - -<p>“It’s going beautifully, but much too fast.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>137</span> -I’ll have to be going home soon, I’m afraid. -There are only a few weeks left in the -course.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right. Anything that tempers -character while you’re young is good for the -whole system. I was born out west in Kansas, -when the West was still pretty wild. I used to -ride cattle for my father when I was only -about ten. And, Lord above, those nights on -the plains taught my heart the song of life. I -wouldn’t take back one single hour of them.”</p> - -<p>“Did you paint then?”</p> - -<p>He laughed, a deep, hearty laugh that -made Mrs. Moffat smile at them. “Never -touched a brush until after I was thirty. I -loved color and could see it. I knew that shadows -were purple or blue, and I used to squint -one eye to get the tint of the earth after we’d -plowed, dull rusty-red like old wounds, it -was. First sketch I ever drew was one of my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>138</span> -sister Polly. She stood on the edge of a gully -hunting some stray turkeys. I’ve got the -painting I made later from that sketch. It was -exhibited, too, called <em>Sundown</em>.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’ve seen it,” Jean said. “The land is -all in deep blues and hyacinth tones and the -sky is amber and the queerest green, and her -skirt is just a dash of red.”</p> - -<p>“The red that shows under an oriole’s wing -when he flies. She was seventeen then. About -your age, isn’t it, Jeannie?”</p> - -<p>He glanced at her sideways. Jean nodded.</p> - -<p>“I thought so, although she looked -younger.”</p> - -<p>“I—I hope she didn’t die,” said Jean -anxiously.</p> - -<p>“Die? Bless your heart,” he laughed again. -“She’s living up in Colebrook. Went back -over the same route her mother had traveled, -and married in the old home town. Pioneer -people live to be pretty old.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>139</span> -“It must have been wonderful,” Jean said. -“Mother’s from the West too, only way out -West, from California. Her brother has the -big ranch there where she was born, but she -never knew any hardships at all. Everything -was comfortable and there was always plenty -of money, she says, and it never seemed like -the real West to us, when she’d tell of it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but it is, the real West of the last -sixty years, as it has grown up to success and -prosperity. If I keep you here talking any -longer to an old fellow like myself, the boys -won’t be responsible for their actions. You’re -a novelty, you know. Bruce is glaring at me.”</p> - -<p>He rose leisurely and went over beside -Mrs. Moffat’s chair, and Bruce Pearson hurried -to take his place.</p> - -<p>“I thought he’d keep you talking here all -night. And you sat there drinking it all in as -if you liked it.”</p> - -<p>“I did,” said Jean flatly. “I loved it. I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>140</span> -haven’t been here at all. I’ve been way out on -a Kansas prairie.”</p> - -<p>“Stuff,” said Bruce calmly. “Say, got any -good dogs up at your place?”</p> - -<p>“No. Kit wrote me she picked up a stray -shepherd dog, but I haven’t seen him yet. -Why?” Jean looked at him with sudden -curiosity.</p> - -<p>“Nothing, only you remember when you -were moving from the Cove, Tommy sold me -his Cocker pup?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I remember.”</p> - -<p>“We’ve got some swell puppies. I was wondering -whether you’d take one home to -Tommy from me if I brought it in.”</p> - -<p>“I’d love to. Tommy had his twelfth birthday -the other day and I couldn’t think of anything -to get him so I just sent a birthday telegram. -The puppy will make a perfect belated -gift,” said Jean, her face aglow. It was just -like Bruce to think of that, and how Tommy<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>141</span> -would love it. “I think we’ll name him Bruce, -if you don’t mind.”</p> - -<p>Bruce didn’t mind in the least. In fact, he -felt it would be a sign of remembrance, he -said. And he would bring in the puppy as soon -as Jean was ready to go home.</p> - -<p>“But you needn’t hurry her,” Peg warned, -coming to sit with them. “She hasn’t been -here long, and I’m hoping if I can just stretch -it along rather unconsciously, she’ll stay right -through the term, the way she should.”</p> - -<p>Jean felt almost guilty, as her own heart -echoed the wish. How she would study, if -only it could happen.</p> - -<p>On the following Saturday afternoon, Jean -left Beth to go browsing through the galleries -of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She had -little time left in New York, and wanted to -revisit some of her favorites before she had to -go back to Elmhurst.</p> - -<p>Beth drove her up to the station and waved<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>142</span> -to her as she boarded the local. “Call me before -you leave, and I’ll pick you up,” she -called as the train started to move. Jean nodded, -walked back into the car, and found a -seat.</p> - -<p>After settling herself comfortably, she -opened her bag, and found a letter from -Ralph that had been in the day’s mail. She -had not had time to read it before she left. -She opened it now and read.</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="noi">Jeannie darling,</p> - -<p>Your last letter sounded so enthusiastic -about your work, that I know you must be -having a marvelous time. It’s too bad you -can’t stay there longer.</p> - -<p>But who’s this Aldo guy that’s been -squiring you thither and yon, all over New -York? You needn’t be so nice to him just -because he’s a friend of your cousin Beth’s. -Too bad that I’m not there to look after -things. You better not go falling for him<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>143</span> -with all his foreign airs and old-world -charm. I know that type of smooth operator, -for I saw a bunch of them when I -served with the army overseas.</p> - -<p>You’ll say I’m jealous. Well, what if I -am? After all, I saw you first.</p> - -<p>Write me, my darling, immediately and -say these fears of mine are completely unfounded. -I’ll be waiting anxiously for your -sweet words of comfort and encouragement. -If I don’t receive them, I’ll hop the -next train and see for myself what the -score is.</p> - -<p>Buzzy and I are working hard as usual -and life goes on in its unaltered and unalterable -course. We will probably leave here -in April, instead of waiting until June. I -want to be in Elmhurst in the spring with -you.</p> - -<p class="right nmb">Dearest love,</p> -<p class="right2 nmt">Ralph.</p> -</blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>144</span> -Jean was greatly amused by his letter and -laughed to herself over the “villainous character” -who was taking her away from Ralph. -Of course Aldo had been very nice to her, -taking her to lunch and all that. But he was -only a good friend.</p> - -<p>She spent a pleasant afternoon wandering -through the art galleries of the museum. She -revisited many of her old favorites—paintings -she had stood before many times when -the family had lived on Long Island. Then -she found a special exhibition of paintings by -modern American artists.</p> - -<p>Jean spent a long time looking at these. -Some of the artists’ names were familiar to -her, others were new. In one corner of the -gallery she came upon the sculptured head of -a woman. Her face looked old and the lines in -it were the lines of extreme hardship and pain. -The forehead was high, the nose long and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>145</span> -sharp, but the mouth was quite different. It -was smiling, “in spite of everything,” Jean -thought to herself. Although everything else -about the head characterized utter disillusionment, -the mouth looked gay and carefree.</p> - -<p>A step behind her made Jean turn suddenly -and there stood Aldo.</p> - -<p>“Like it?” he asked briefly.</p> - -<p>“Why, yes—no—I don’t know.” Jean hesitated, -confused. “It’s so strange. I can’t reconcile -the mouth to the rest of the head—”</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you about her, then maybe you’ll -understand. She is an old Italian woman. Her -husband and three sons were killed in the first -World War, but undaunted, she raised her -youngest son alone, although she was very -poor and it was hard. Her son married and -had two sons of his own. He became a successful -lawyer. Then the second war came. Her -home was demolished, her son’s entire family<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>146</span> -was killed, and yet, in spite of everything she -has been through, she manages to smile that -way, the smile of a young girl. I think it’s the -best thing my father ever did.”</p> - -<p>“Your father? I didn’t know—I mean—I -never looked at the nameplate.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. You see, I brought it with me when -I came. Then, when I heard they were having -this exhibition here, I entered it in his name. -I think he’ll be pleased when he hears. He -never exhibited anything in this country.”</p> - -<p>The two stood and gazed at the head -awhile in silence. It was Aldo who spoke first. -“Look, are you doing anything now, could we -go somewhere and have supper?”</p> - -<p>“I think I could. If you’ll wait until I call -Beth, so she won’t worry.”</p> - -<p>They went back to the small Italian restaurant -where Aldo had taken Jean before. It -was almost empty when they walked in for it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>147</span> -was still quite early. After they had eaten, -Aldo said suddenly, “I’m going back to Italy -next week.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m sorry you’re going so soon,” replied -Jean. “But we wouldn’t have seen much -more of each other anyway, I’m going home -too.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps we will meet again someday, in -Italy. Then I will show you all the beautiful -places I love that I have told you about.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps,” said Jean doubtfully. It seemed -so far away, like having a star for a goal and -she was bound to hit the fence post.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>148</span> -</div> - -<h2 id="xii">12. From Out of the West</h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">All</span> too soon, the course was over for Jean -and now she was going home. It was hard for -her to say goodbye to her friends at school, -especially Peg Moffat. She would always be -indebted to Beth for giving her this opportunity. -They had many long talks about art -and Beth offered to criticize Jean’s work if -she would send it to her.</p> - -<p>Jean had had a letter from Ralph just before -she left New York and he said he was -leaving then for Elmhurst. He and Buzzy -had decided to return earlier than they had -previously planned so they could be at Woodhow<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>149</span> -in time to celebrate Jean’s eighteenth -birthday. He would arrive about the same -time she did. That was almost the only reason -she could think of for returning home and -leaving the glamor and breathlessness of New -York behind her, although she had to admit -to herself she missed her family. It was the -day before her birthday when she arrived.</p> - -<p>Jean looked around eagerly as she jumped -to the platform, wondering which of the -family would drive down to meet her, but instead -of Kit or her mother, Ralph stepped up -to her with outstretched arms. All the way -from Saskatoon, she thought, and just the -same as he was a year before. Kit said later, -in describing him, “He doesn’t look as if he -could be the hero, but he’d always be the hero’s -best friend, like Mercutio was to Romeo.” -But Jean felt differently. This was the -one she had waited for all those months to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>150</span> -come back to her. Her exciting stay in New -York, the course at the art school, all faded -into insignificance by comparison with her -feeling about Ralph.</p> - -<p>Mr. Briggs waved a welcome as he trundled -the express truck past them down the -platform. “Looks a bit like rain. Good for -the planters,” he called.</p> - -<p>Ralph took Jean by the hand and led her -over to the car. They drove up the long -curved hill from the station and Jean lifted -her head to it all, the long overlapping hill -range that unfolded as they came to the first -stretch of level road, the rich green of the -pines gracing their slopes, and most of all the -beautiful haze of young green that lay like a -veil over the land from the first bursting leaf -buds.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s swell to be home,” she exclaimed. -“Over at Beth’s the land seems so level, and I -guess I really like the hills.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>151</span> -“What on earth have you got in the basket, -Jean?”</p> - -<p>Jean had forgotten all about the puppy. -Bruce had kept his word and met her at the -train with a sleepy, diminutive cocker pup all -curled up comfortably in a basket. He had -started to show signs of personal interest, -scratching and whining as soon as Jean had -set the basket down at her feet in the car.</p> - -<p>“It’s for Tommy. Bruce Pearson sent it up -to him to remember Jiggers by.”</p> - -<p>“Jiggers?”</p> - -<p>“It’s the dog Tommy had back at the Cove. -He sold him to Bruce, a neighbor of ours, before -we moved away. Now, Bruce is sending -one of the pups back for Tommy.”</p> - -<p>“How nice. I hear he and his friend Jack -have been pleading for a puppy. This will be -a pleasant surprise. The girls were sorry they -couldn’t drive down,” Ralph said. “They -were having some sort of Easter doings at<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>152</span> -school. Buzzy and I arrived two days ago and -I asked for the privilege of coming down. -Your mother’s up at the Judge’s today. Billie’s -pretty sick, I think.”</p> - -<p>“Billie?” cried Jean. “Not Billie?”</p> - -<p>Even to think of Billie’s being ill was absurd. -It was like saying a raindrop had the -measles. He had never been sick all the years -he had lived up there, bare-headed in the -winter, free as the birds and animals he loved. -All the way home she felt subdued.</p> - -<p>“He came back from school Monday for -Easter vacation and they are afraid of pneumonia. -I don’t understand how he could have -gotten it, but I’m sure if anybody could pull -him through it would be Mrs. Ellis,” said -Ralph.</p> - -<p>But even with the best nursing and care, -things looked bad for Billie. It was supper -time before Mrs. Craig returned. The reunion -between mother and daughter was indeed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>153</span> -a happy one. “I can’t tell you how I feel -to have you back again, darling.”</p> - -<p>“And it’s wonderful to be back. I missed -you all so.”</p> - -<p>Doris was indignant and stunned at the -blow that had fallen on her friend, Billie. She -sputtered, “The idea that Billie should have -to be sick during vacation. How long will he -be in bed, Mother?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know, dear,” Mrs. Craig said. -“He’s strong and husky, but it will be some -time, I’m afraid, before he’ll be well again. -Dr. Gallup came right over.”</p> - -<p>“That’s good,” Kit put in. “He’ll get him -well in no time. I don’t think there ever was -a doctor so set on making people well. I’d -rather see him come in the door, no matter -what was wrong with me, sit down and tell -me I had just a little distemper, open his -black case, and mix me up that everlasting<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>154</span> -mess that tastes like cinnamon and sugar, than -have a whole line of city specialists tapping -me.”</p> - -<p>Doris and Tommy clung closely to Jean, -taking her and Ralph around the place to -show her all the new chicks, orphans and otherwise. -Woodhow really was showing signs -of full return this year for the care and love -spent on its rehabilitation. The fruit trees, -after Buzzy’s pruning and fertilizing, and -general treatment that made them look like -swaddled babies, were blossoming profusely, -and on the south slope of the field along the -river, rows and rows of young peach trees had -been set out. The garden too, had come in for -its share of attention. Doris loved flowers, and -had worked there more diligently than she -usually could be coaxed to on any sort of real -labor. She had cleared away the old dead -plants first, and with Tommy’s help had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>155</span> -plowed up the central plot, taking care to save -all the perennials.</p> - -<p>“You know what I wish, Mom,” said -Doris, standing with earth-stained fingers in -the midst of the tangle of old vines and -bushes. “I wish we could lay out paths and -put stones down on them, flat stones, I mean, -like flags. And have flower beds with borders. -Could we, do you think?”</p> - -<p>Her earnestness made Mrs. Craig smile, -but she agreed to the plan, and Becky helped -out with slips from her flower store, so that -the prospect for a garden was very good. And -later Buzzy Hancock came up with Sally to -advise and help too. The year out West had -turned the country boy into a stalwart, independent -individual whom even Sally regarded -with some respect. He was taller than before, -broad-shouldered, and sure of himself.</p> - -<p>“I think Ralph has done wonders for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>156</span> -him,” Sally said. “Mother thinks so too. He -talks so enthusiastically about the West that -she doesn’t seem to mind going out there any -more, after seeing what it’s made of Buzzy. -And Ralph says we’ll always keep the home -here so that when we want to come back, we -can. I think he likes Elmhurst. He says it -never seems like home way out West. You -need to walk on the earth where your fathers -and grandfathers have trod, and even to -breathe the same air. Mom says the only place -she hates to leave behind is our little family -burial plot over in the woods.”</p> - -<p>Although the Craig family had planned a -birthday party and Kit had baked a beautiful -cake, it was at Jean’s own request that they -decided not to have the party since Billie was -sick. Instead they had a family picnic dinner -in the back yard. Of course, Ralph and -Buzzy were there.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>157</span> -Jean was thrilled with all her lovely gifts, -especially with the rough turquoise that -Ralph had brought from Saskatoon. When -he gave it to her, he said, “I knew you would -like to design your own setting for this stone.” -Jean was very pleased with his thoughtfulness.</p> - -<p>Even Jack had a present for her, a picture -that he had made by collecting leaves and -flowers from the woods and glueing them to a -piece of plywood. Tommy had helped him to -make the birchwood frame, and Jean was -touched by their efforts to make her birthday -such a happy one.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>158</span> -</div> - -<h2 id="xiii">13. Spring Picnic</h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">In</span> the days following Easter, while Mrs. -Craig was over at the Ellis place helping care -for Billie who was still very sick, the girls and -Tommy managed the house alone. When -Tommy came in from the barn one morning, -he found Jean getting breakfast in the -kitchen. “Seen anything of Jack?” he asked. -“I haven’t seen him this morning, and he was -going to help me and Ralph plow. I’ll bet a -cookie he’s taken to his heels. He’s been acting -funny for several days ever since that peddler -went along here.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, not really, Tommy,” said Jean anxiously.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>159</span> -She had overlooked Jack completely -in the excitement of Billie’s illness. “What -could happen to him?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing special,” answered Tommy -dryly, “maybe he was tired of staying here -and working all the time.”</p> - -<p>“You can’t expect a little kid only nine to -work very hard, can you?”</p> - -<p>“No—o. But he’s got to do something. He -keeps asking me when somebody’s going -down to Nantic. Looks suspicious to me!”</p> - -<p>“Nantic? Do you suppose—” Jean stopped -short. Tommy failed to notice her hesitancy, -but went on outdoors. Perhaps the boy was -wondering if he could get any trace of his father -down at Nantic, she thought. There was -a great deal of her mother’s nature in Jean’s -sympathy and swift, sure understanding of -another’s need. She kept an eye out for Jack -all day, but the afternoon passed and supper<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>160</span> -was on the table without any sign of their -Christmas waif. And finally, when Ralph -came in from the barn with Tommy, he said -he was pretty sure Jack had run away.</p> - -<p>“Do you think it’s because he didn’t want -to stay with us while Mother was away?” -asked Doris.</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t,” Tommy put in. “I think he’s -just born restless and he had to take to the -road when the call came to him.”</p> - -<p>But Jean felt the responsibility of Jack’s -loss, and set a lamp burning all night in the -living room window as a sign to light his way -back home. It was such a long walk down to -Nantic, and when he got there, Mr. Briggs -would be sure to see him, and make trouble -for him. And perhaps he had just wandered -out into the hills on a regular hike and had -gotten lost.</p> - -<p>But neither the next day, nor the day after,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>161</span> -did any news come to them of Jack. Mr. -Briggs was sure he hadn’t been around the -station or the freight trains. Saturday Kit and -Doris drove around through the wood roads, -looking for some sign of him, and Jean telephoned -to all the points she could think of, -giving a description of him, and asking them -to send the wanderer back if they found him. -But the days passed, and it looked as if Jack -had really gone.</p> - -<p>One afternoon Jean and Ralph were sitting -on the back steps when Buzzy and Kit hailed -them from the hill. Kit was wearing a pair of -slacks and a red blouse hanging outside of -them. On her head she had jammed one of -Tommy’s caps, and on the side she had stuck -a quail’s feather.</p> - -<p>“Hi,” called Kit, “we’ve been for a hike, -clear over to the village. Mother phoned she -needed some things from the drugstore, so we<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>162</span> -thought we’d walk over and get them. Billie’s -just the same. He doesn’t know a soul, and all -he talks about is making his math exams. I -think it’s perfectly shameful to take a boy like -that who loves reading and nature and natural -things, and grind him down to regular stuff.”</p> - -<p>She flopped down on the grass in front of -them with Buzzy at her side. “I love a good -long hike,” Kit went on. “Especially when I -feel bothered or indignant. We’ve kept up the -hiking club ever since the roads opened up, -Jean. It’s more fun than anything out here. I -never realized there was so much to know -about just woods and fields until Sally taught -me where to hunt for things. Do you like to -hike, Ralph?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. Not too long. I think I’d -rather ride.”</p> - -<p>“Me, too,” Doris said flatly. She had been -working in the garden and had come up when -she heard Kit and Buzzy’s voices. “I don’t see<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>163</span> -a bit of fun dragging around like Kit does, -through the woods and over swamps, climbing -hills, and always wanting to get to the top -of the next one.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but I love to,” Kit replied. “Maybe -I’ll be a mountain climber yet. Kids, you don’t -grasp that there is something strange and interesting -in my own special temperament. -The longing to attain, the—the insatiable desire -to seize adventure and follow her fleeing -footsteps, the longing to tap the stars on their -foreheads and let them know I’m here.”</p> - -<p>Ralph laughed at her. “Well, even if I -don’t share such desires with you, Kit, how -about all of us going for a picnic one of these -days. It seems to me that the ground isn’t too -wet for one, and it would do us all good to -stop worrying about Billie since there is nothing -we can do to hasten his recovery. Do you -agree, Buzzy?”</p> - -<p>“That’s a swell idea, Ralph,” he replied,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>164</span> -chewing on a blade of grass. “Why not make -it tomorrow. I’ll ask Mom to pack us up some -food.”</p> - -<p>“No, leave that to us, Buzzy,” Jean interrupted. -“We’ve got some steaks in the house -that are just asking to be broiled outdoors over -a charcoal fire. With those and some fruit and -coffee, we should have enough. Let’s plan to -leave here around five and make an evening -of it.”</p> - -<p>“What good times a large family can -have,” Ralph said as he slipped his arm -through Jean’s on a walk through the garden -later. “Sometimes I wish I had been lucky -enough to have had brothers and sisters. You -feel so odd when you are all the family yourself.”</p> - -<p>The next evening Kit, Buzzy, Jean, and -Ralph hiked down the river to a small beach -that seemed to all of them ideal for a picnic.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>165</span> -It was Buzzy who had suggested the spot. He -said he and the other boys used to go there a -lot in the summer to fish and swim. While the -boys built the fire, Kit and Jean walked on -down the river a little way.</p> - -<p>Not far off, the girls found some violets -and picked some to take home. Looking across -the river, Jean saw an old house nestled -among the trees. “Who lives there, do you -know, Kit? I never saw it before.”</p> - -<p>“It’s Cynthy Allen’s place. People say she’s -queer, but I don’t think so. She’s real old, over -seventy. But she thinks she is only about seventeen, -and she’s always doing flighty things. -She’s lived out in the woods ever since she ran -away from her family years ago. Once she -started to make doughnuts and they found her -hanging them on nails all over the kitchen. So -people have been afraid of her ever since. -Isn’t that silly?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>166</span> -“Let’s go over to see her some day. Want -to?”</p> - -<p>“Sure. I’ll bet she gets lonely there, all by -herself. Say, we’d better start back. That fire -ought to be started by now.”</p> - -<p>And it was. The boys were lying lazily on -their backs in front of it when Kit and Jean -came up. “Hey, you lazy guys, why aren’t you -cooking the steaks instead of lying there doing -nothing?” Kit called.</p> - -<p>“We’re waiting for you to do it,” retorted -Buzzy. “It’s women’s work to do the cooking. -Besides, you have to wait until the wood’s -burned down to coals before you can start -broiling.”</p> - -<p>“We’ve got news for you,” put in Ralph, -“we did put in the potatoes to bake. So you -see, you’ve jumped to conclusions as usual, -Kit, and we weren’t as lazy as you thought.”</p> - -<p>“I’m so hungry from that trek down the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>167</span> -hillside, I could eat those steaks raw,” said -Jean. “Shall I put them on now? When did -you start the potatoes?”</p> - -<p>“Quite a while ago. They should be done -soon. Here, I’ll test them.” Ralph groaned as -he struggled to his feet. “This is the life for -me. Flat on my back beside a nice warm fire.”</p> - -<p>Going back up the hill after the picnic was -much harder, they found, than it had been to -go down. “Why did you let me eat so much,” -mourned Buzzy. “I’ll never make it to the -top.”</p> - -<p>“Come on, I’ll race you,” cried Kit, and -pulling him along she began to run. Laughing -and shouting, they soon were out of earshot -and Jean and Ralph walked leisurely on -behind.</p> - -<p>“Nothing could make me run after a supper -like that,” Ralph commented. The moon -had risen and it shone down on Jean’s hair<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>168</span> -making it look silvery in the pale light. Ralph -kissed her lightly. “You’re awfully sweet, -Jeannie. Do you know that? I wish I could -make you mine forever.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe it could be arranged sometime,” -Jean said lightly.</p> - -<p>“Won’t you be serious?”</p> - -<p>“No. I can’t be now. I’m too young. Besides -they need me at home.”</p> - -<p>Ralph felt slightly discouraged by her answer, -but he knew she was right. True, she -was young, but he was young, too. And he -would wait for her until she was ready, he -thought to himself. He could tell by the radiant -look in her face that she, too, was in love.</p> - -<p>Before she went upstairs to bed that night, -Jean went out in the kitchen to make sure the -back door was locked. She glanced out of the -window and caught her breath. Dodging out -of sight behind a pile of wood that was waiting<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>169</span> -to be split, was a familiar figure. Without -waiting to call anyone, she slipped quietly -around the house and there, sure enough, -backed up against the woodshed, was Jack.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Jack,” Jean exclaimed happily. -“Come here this minute. Nobody’s going to -hurt you, don’t you know that? Aren’t you -hungry?”</p> - -<p>Jack nodded mutely. He didn’t look one bit -ashamed, just eager and glad to be back home. -Jean put her arm around him, patting him -as her mother would have done, and leading -him to the kitchen.</p> - -<p>After he had finished a huge sandwich, -several glasses of milk, and a piece of cake, -the truth finally came out. “I went hunting -my dad down around Norwich,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Did you find him?” cried Jean.</p> - -<p>Jack nodded happily.</p> - -<p>“Braced him up too. He says he won’t<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>170</span> -drink any more ’cause it’ll disgrace me. He’s -gone to work up there in the lockshop steady. -He wanted me to stay with him, but as soon -as I got him braced up, I came back here. You -didn’t get my letter, did you? I left it stuck -in the clock.”</p> - -<p>Stuck in the clock? Jean looked up at the -old eight-day Seth Thomas on the kitchen -shelf that Kit had bought from old Mr. -Weaver as a joke. It was made of black walnut, -with green vines painted on it and morning -glories rambling in wreaths around its -borders. She opened the little glass door and -felt inside. Sure enough, tucked far back was -Jack’s farewell letter, put carefully where nobody -would ever think of finding it. It was -written laboriously in pencil, and Jean read -it to herself.</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="noi">Dere folks,</p> - -<p>I hered from a pedlar my dad is sick up<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>171</span> -in norwich. goodbye and thanks i am coming -back sumday.</p> - -<p class="right nmb">yurs with luv,</p> -<p class="right2 nmt">Jack.</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>Jack looked at her with his old confident -smile.</p> - -<p>“See?” he said. “I told you I was coming -back.”</p> - -<p>“And you’re going to stay too,” replied -Jean thankfully. “I’m so glad you weren’t -lost forever, Jack. Now you’d better run -along to bed.”</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>172</span> -</div> - -<h2 id="xiv">14. Billie’s Crisis</h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">Billie</span> failed to rally from the pneumonia -as soon as everyone had hoped. Doris was -restless and uneasy over her pal’s plight. She -would saddle Princess and ride over on her -twice a day to see what the bulletins were, -and sometimes sit out in the garden watching -the windows of the room where Becky kept -vigil. She almost resented the joyous activity -of the bees and birds in their spring delirium -when she thought of Billie, lying there fighting -pneumonia.</p> - -<p>Jean never forgot the final night. She had -a phone call from her mother about nine, to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>173</span> -leave Mrs. Gorham in charge and come to -her.</p> - -<p>“I’d like you to be here, dear. It’s the crisis, -and we can’t be sure what may happen. Billie’s -in a heavy sleep now, and the old doctor -says we can just wait. Becky is with him.”</p> - -<p>Jean took off her coat when she arrived, -and went in where old Dr. Gallup sat. It always -seemed foolish to call him old, although -he was over sixty. His hair was gray and -straggled boyishly as some football hero’s, his -eyes were brown and bright, and his smile -something so much better than medicine that -one just naturally revived at the sight of him, -Becky said. He sat now by the table, looking -out of the window, one hand tapping the -edge, the other deep in his pocket. One could -not have said what his thoughts were as he -sat looking out into the shadowy spring night.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Jeannie,” he said cheerily. “Going<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>174</span> -to keep me company, are you? Did you -come up alone?”</p> - -<p>“Kit drove me over. Doctor, Billie is all -right, isn’t he?”</p> - -<p>“We hope so,” answered the old doctor. -“But what is it to be all right? If the boy’s -race is run, it has been a good one, and he goes -out fearlessly, and if not, then he is all right -too, and we hope to hold him with us. But -when this time comes and it’s the last sleep -before dawn, there’s nothing to do but watch -and wait.”</p> - -<p>“But do you think—”</p> - -<p>Jean hesitated. She could not help feeling -he must know what the hope was.</p> - -<p>“He’s got a fine fighting chance,” said the -doctor. “Now, I’m going in with Mrs. Ellis, -and you comfort the Judge and brace him up. -He’s in the study there.”</p> - -<p>It was dark in the study. Jean opened the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>175</span> -door gently and looked in. The old Judge sat -in his deep, old leather chair by the desk, and -his head was bent forward. She did not say a -word, but tiptoed over and knelt beside him, -her cheek against his sleeve. And the Judge -laid his arm around her shoulders in silence, -patting her absent-mindedly. So they sat until -out of the windows the garden took on a -lighter aspect, and there came the faint twittering -of birds wakening in their nests.</p> - -<p>Jean, watching the beautiful miracle of -the dawn, marveled. The dew lent a silvery -radiance to every blade of grass, every leaf -and twig. There was an unearthly, mystic -beauty to the whole landscape and the garden.</p> - -<p>And just then the old doctor put his head -in the door and sang out cheerily, “It’s all -right. Billie’s awake.”</p> - -<p>Jean called Kit later to tell her the good -news and Kit drove over shortly. “That’s a relief,”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>176</span> -Kit exclaimed. “I hardly slept a wink -all night, I was so worried. You don’t look -as if you slept.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t and I’m practically dead on my -feet. But I’m so glad that Billie is going to -pull through.”</p> - -<p>Now that Billie’s recovery was assured -everybody’s spirits seemed to become lighter. -After two weeks of almost daily showers -there had come a spell of close warm weather -that dried up the fields and woods, and left -them, so Becky said, dry as tinder and twice -as dangerous.</p> - -<p>Kit and Doris were preparing the garden -for planting.</p> - -<p>“Oh, dear!” Kit leaned back against the -side of the barn and looked lazily off at the -widening valley before her. “I’m so afraid -that Dad will get too interested in chicken -raising and crops and soils and things, so that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>177</span> -we’ll stay on here forever. Somehow I didn’t -mind it half as much all through the winter, -but now that spring is here, it’s just simply -awful to have to pitch in and work from the -rising of the sun until it goes down. I want to -be a lady of leisure.”</p> - -<p>Overhead the great fleecy, white clouds -sailed up from the south in a squadron of -splendor. A new family of bluebirds lately -hatched was calling hungrily from a nest in -the old cherry tree nearby, and being scolded -lustily by a catbird for lack of patience. There -was a delicate haze lingering still over the -woods and distant fields. The new foliage was -out, but hardly enough to make any difference -in the landscape’s coloring.</p> - -<p>“How’s Billie?” asked Doris suddenly. -“I’ll be awfully glad when he’s out again.”</p> - -<p>“They’ve got him on the porch bundled up -like a mummy. He’s so topply that you can<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>178</span> -push him over with one finger and Becky -treats him as if she had him wadded up in -pink cotton. I think if they just stopped treating -him like a half-sick person, and just let -him do as he pleased he’d get well twice as -fast.”</p> - -<p>Doris had been gazing up at the sky dreamily. -All at once she said, “What a funny cloud -that is over there, Kit.”</p> - -<p>It hung over a big patch of woods toward -the village, a low motionless, pearl-colored -cloud, very peculiar looking, and very suspicious, -and the odd part about it was that it -seemed balanced on a base of cloud, like a -huge mushroom or a waterspout in shape.</p> - -<p>“What on earth is that?” exclaimed Kit, -springing to her feet. “That’s never a cloud, -and it’s right over the old Ames place. Do -you suppose they’re out burning brush with -the woods so dry?”</p> - -<p>“There’s nobody home today. Don’t you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>179</span> -know it’s Saturday, and Astrid said they were -all going to the auction at Woodchuck Hill?”</p> - -<p>Kit did not wait to hear any more. She sped -to the house like a young deer and, with eyes -quite as startled, she burst into the kitchen -and called up the stairs.</p> - -<p>“Mother, do you see that smoke over the -Ames’s woods?”</p> - -<p>“Smoke,” echoed Mrs. Craig’s voice. -“Why, no, dear, I haven’t noticed any. Wait -a minute, and I’ll see.”</p> - -<p>But Kit was by nature a joyous alarmist. -She loved a new thrill, and in the daily monotony -that smothered one in Elmhurst anything -that promised an adventure came as a -heaven-sent relief. She flew up the stairs, -stopping to call to Jean who was in her room. -Her father and mother were standing at the -open window when she entered their room, -and Mr. Craig had his field glasses.</p> - -<p>“It is a fire, isn’t it, Dad?” Kit asked eagerly,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>180</span> -and even as she spoke there came the -long, shrill blast of alarm on the Peckham -mill whistle. There was no fire department of -any kind for fourteen miles around. Nothing -seemed to unite the little outlying communities -of the hill country so much as the fire -peril, but on this Saturday it happened that -nearly all the available men had leisurely -jaunted over to the Woodchuck Hill auction. -This was one of the characteristics of Elmhurst, -shunting its daily tasks when any diversion -offered.</p> - -<p>“Oh, listen,” exclaimed Doris who had -followed Kit from the barn. “There’s the -alarm bell ringing up at the church, too. It -must be a big one.”</p> - -<p>Even as she spoke the telephone bell rang -downstairs, while Tommy called from the -front garden. “Awful big fire just broke out -between here and Ames’s. I’m going over -with the mill boys to help fight it.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>181</span> -“Be careful, son,” called Mr. Craig.</p> - -<p>“Can I go too, Tommy?” cried Jack eagerly. -“I won’t be in the way, honest, I won’t.”</p> - -<p>“Naw, you’d better stay here. You might -get hurt and I won’t be able to take care of -you. Besides you should be here to milk the -cow in case I don’t get back on time.” Tommy -started off up the road with a shovel over one -shoulder and a heavy mop over the other. -Jean was at the telephone. It was Judge Ellis -calling.</p> - -<p>“He’s worried about Becky, Mother,” -Jean called up the stairs. “Cynthy Allen -wanted her to come over to her place today to -get some carpet rags, and Becky drove over -there about an hour ago. He says her place -lies right in the path of the fire. Mrs. Gorham -has gone away for the day to the auction with -Ben, and the Judge will have to stay with -Billie. He’s terribly anxious.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Dad,” exclaimed Kit, “couldn’t I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>182</span> -please, please, go over and stay with Billie, -and let the Judge come up to the fire, if he -wants to. I’m sure he’s just dying to. Not but -what I’m sure Becky can take care of herself. -May I? Oh, you dear. Tell him I’m coming, -Jean.”</p> - -<p>Jean had left the telephone and was putting -on her coat. “Mother,” she asked, “do -you mind if Doris and I just walk up the wood -road a little way? We won’t go near the fighting -line where the men are at all, and I’d -love to see it. Besides I thought perhaps we -might work our way around through that big -back wood lot to Cynthy’s place and see if -Becky is there. Then, we could drive back -with them.”</p> - -<p>“Why, yes, Jean, I think it’s safe for you -both to go. Don’t you, Tom?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Craig smiled at Jean’s flushed, excited -face. It was so seldom that she lost her presence -of mind and really became excited. “I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>183</span> -don’t think it will hurt them a bit,” he said.</p> - -<p>Doris grabbed her coat and the two girls -started up the hill road for about three-quarters -of a mile. The church bell over at the -Plains kept ringing steadily. At the top of the -hill they came to the old wood road that -formed a short cut over to the old Ames place. -Here where the trees met overhead in an arcade -the road was heavy with black mud, and -they had to keep to the side up near the old -rock walls. As they advanced farther there -came a sound of driving wheels, and all at -once Hedda’s mother appeared in her car. She -sat hunched over the wheel, a man’s old felt -hat jammed down over her heavy, blonde -hair, and an old overcoat with the collar upturned, -thrown about her. Leaning forward -with eager eyes, she seemed to be thoroughly -enthusiastic over this new excitement in Elmhurst.</p> - -<p>“Looks like it’s going to be some fire,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>184</span> -girls,” she said as she stopped the car momentarily -to speak to them. “I’m giving the -alarm along the road.” And off she went.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t that something?” declared Jean. -“And to think that she runs a ninety-acre -farm with the help of Hedda, thirteen years -old, and two hired men. She gets right out -into the fields with them and manages everything -herself.”</p> - -<p>A farm truck coming the opposite way -held Mr. Rudemeir and his son August. An -array of mops, axes, and shovels hung out -over the rear of the truck. Mr. Rudemeir was -smoking his clay pipe placidly, and merely -waved one hand at the girls in salutation, but -August called, “It has broken out on the other -side of the road, farther down.”</p> - -<p>“It must be going toward the Allan place, -then,” said Jean anxiously. She hesitated. The -smoke was thickening in the air, but they penetrated -farther into the woods. Up on the hill<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>185</span> -to one side, she saw the Ames place, half obscured -already by the blue haze. It lay directly -in the path of the fire, unless the wind -happened to change, and if it should change -it would surely catch Doris and herself if -they tried to reach Cynthy’s house down near -the river bank. Still she felt that she must -take the chance. There was an old road used -by the lumber men, and she knew every step -of the way.</p> - -<p>“Come on,” she said to Doris. “I’m sure we -can make it.”</p> - -<p>They turned now from the main road into -an old overgrown byway. Along its sides rambled -ground pine, and wintergreen grew -thickly in the shade of the old oaks. Jean took -the lead, hurrying on ahead. When they came -out on the river road, the little gray house was -in sight, and sure enough Becky’s car was out -in front.</p> - -<p>Jean didn’t even stop to rap at the door. It<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>186</span> -stood wide open, and the girls went through -the door into the kitchen. It was empty.</p> - -<p>“Becky,” called Jean loudly. “Becky, are -you here?”</p> - -<p>From somewhere upstairs there came an -answer.</p> - -<p>“For pity’s sakes, child!” exclaimed Becky, -appearing at the top of the stairs with her arms -full of carpet rags. “What are you doing down -here? Cynthy and I are just sorting out some -things she wanted to take over to my place.”</p> - -<p>“Haven’t you seen the smoke? All the -woods are on fire up around the Ames place. -The Judge was worried, and telephoned for us -to warn you.”</p> - -<p>“Land!” laughed Mrs. Ellis. “Won’t he -ever learn that I’m big enough and old enough -to take care of myself. I never saw an Elmhurst -fire yet that put me in any danger.”</p> - -<p>She stepped out of the doorway, pushed her -glasses up on her forehead and sniffed the air.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>187</span> -“’Tis kind of smoky, ain’t it,” she said. -“And the wind’s beginning to shift.” She -looked up over the rise of the hill in front of -the house. Above it poured great belching -masses of lurid smoke. Even as she looked, the -huge winglike mass veered and swayed in the -sky like vast shapes of strange animals. Jean -caught her breath as she gazed.</p> - -<p>Becky started out to the car with Doris. -“Jean, you go and get Cynthy quick as you -can!” she called.</p> - -<p>Jean ran to the house and met Cynthy groping -her way nervously downstairs. She was old -and frail and her scrawny hands clutching the -banister were knotted and the veins were large.</p> - -<p>“What on earth is it?” she faltered. “Land, -I ain’t had such a set-to with my heart in years. -Is the fire coming this way? Where’s Becky?”</p> - -<p>“She says for you to come right away. -Please, please hurry up, Miss Allan.”</p> - -<p>But Cynthy sat down in a forlorn heap on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>188</span> -the step, rocking her arms, and crying, piteously.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I never, never can leave them, my -poor, precious darlings. Can’t you get them -for me? There’s General Washington and -Ethan Allen, Betsey Ross and Pocahontas, and -there’s three new kittens in my yarn basket in -the old garret over the ell.”</p> - -<p>Jean surmised that she meant her pet cats, -dearer to her probably than any human being -in the world. Supporting her gently, she got -her out of the house, promising her she would -find the cats. For the next five minutes, just -at the most crucial moment, she hunted for -the cats, and finally succeeded in coaxing all -of them into meal bags. Every scurrying -breeze brought down fluttering wisps of half-burned -leaves from the burning woods. The -shouts of the men could be plainly heard calling -to each other as they worked to keep the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189"></a>189</span> -fire back from the valuable timber along the -river front.</p> - -<p>“I think we’ve just about time to get by before -the fire breaks through,” said Mrs. Ellis -calmly. Jean was on the back seat, one arm supporting -old Cynthy, her other hand pacifying -the rebellious captives in the bags.</p> - -<p>Not a word was said as Becky turned the car -toward home, but they had not gone far before -the wind changed suddenly. The full force of -the smoke from the fire-swept area poured -over them suffocatingly. Cynthy half-rose to -her feet in terror, Jean’s arm around her waist -trying to hold her down as she screamed.</p> - -<p>“For land’s sakes, Cynthy, keep your head,” -called Mrs. Ellis. “If it’s the Lord’s will that -we should all go up in a chariot of fire, don’t -squeal out like a stuck pig. Hold her close, -Jean. I’m going to drive into the river.”</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a>190</span> -</div> - -<h2 id="xv">15. Fire!</h2> - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">At</span> the bend of the road the land sloped suddenly -straight for the river brink. A quarter -of a mile below was the dam, above Mr. Rudemeir’s -red sawmill. Little River widened at -this point, and swept in curves around a little -island. There were no buildings on it, only -broad low lush meadows that provided a home -for muskrats and waterfowl. Late in the fall -fat otters could be seen circling around the still -waters, and wild geese and ducks made it a -port of call in their flights north and south.</p> - -<p>As Becky started to drive the car into the -water, Jean asked just one question.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191"></a>191</span> -“Do you know how deep it is here?”</p> - -<p>“No, it varies in spots,” answered Becky -cheerfully. Her chin was up, her firm lips set -in an unswerving smile. She was holding the -steering wheel tightly. To Jean she had never -seemed more resourceful or fearless. “There’s -some pretty deep holes, here and there, but -we’ll trust that we don’t hit them.”</p> - -<p>Becky edged the car along slowly and inch -by inch they moved across the river. Out in -midstream, the car stalled once and for a -minute or two, danger seemed imminent. By -a stroke of luck, the car started again and -Becky gave a quick look over her shoulder.</p> - -<p>Jean was hanging on grimly to the cats and -Cynthy. It was hard saying which of the two -was proving the more difficult to manage. -The car lurched perilously, but Becky held -steady, and suddenly they felt the rise of the -shore line again. Overhead, there had flown a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192"></a>192</span> -vanguard of frightened birds, flying ahead of -the smothering clouds of smoke that poured -now in blinding masses down from the burning -woods. The faint cries and calls of the men -working along the back fire line reached the -little group on the far shore.</p> - -<p>As the car jolted up the bank, Doris glanced -back over her shoulder at the way they had -come. Cynthy gave one look too, and covered -her face with her hands. The flames had swept -straight down over her little home, and she -cried out in anguish.</p> - -<p>“Pity’s sakes, Cynthy, praise God that the -two of us aren’t burning up this minute with -those old shingles and rafters,” cried Mrs. -Ellis, joyfully.</p> - -<p>“Oh, and Miss Allan, not one of the cats -got wet even,” Doris exclaimed, laughing almost -hysterically. “You should be thankful -for that.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193"></a>193</span> -The flames had reached the opposite shore, -but while the smoke billowed across, Little -River left them high and dry in the safety -zone.</p> - -<p>“I guess we’d better be making for home as -quick as we can,” said Becky. Except for a -little pallor around her lips, and an extra -brightness to her eyes, no one could have told -that she had just fought a winning battle with -death. She stepped on the starter and headed -toward home.</p> - -<p>The Judge was watching anxiously, pacing -up and down the long porch with Billie sitting -in his chair bolstered up with pillows beside -him. He had telephoned repeatedly down to -Woodhow, but they were all quite as anxious -now as himself. It was Billie who first caught -sight of the car and its occupants.</p> - -<p>Kit had gone out to the kitchen to start -lunch going. She had refused to believe that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194"></a>194</span> -any harm could come to Becky or anyone under -her care, and at the sound of Billie’s voice, she -glanced from the window and caught sight of -Jean’s coat.</p> - -<p>“Land alive, don’t hug me to death, all of -you,” exclaimed Becky. “Jean, you go and -telephone your mother right away and relieve -her anxiety. Like enough, she thinks we’re all -burned to cinders by this time, and tell her -she’d better have plenty of coffee and sandwiches -made up to send over to the men in the -woods. All us women will have our night’s -work cut out for us.”</p> - -<p>It was the Craigs’ first experience with a -country forest fire. All through the afternoon -fresh relays of men kept arriving from the -nearby villages, and outlying farms, ready to -relieve those who had been working through -the morning.</p> - -<p>There was but little sleep for any members<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195"></a>195</span> -of the family that night. Jean never forgot the -thrill of watching the fire from the upstairs -windows, and when she wasn’t preparing -food with the others, she spent most of the -time up there until daybreak. There was a fascination -in seeing that battle from afar, and -realizing how the little puny efforts of a handful -of men could hold in check such a devastating -force. Only country dwellers could appreciate -the peril of having all one owned in -the world, all that was dear and precious, and -comprised the word “home,” swept away in -the path of the flames.</p> - -<p>“Poor old Cynthy,” said Jean. “I’m so glad -she has her cats. I shall never forget her face -when she looked back. Just think of losing all -the little keepsakes of a lifetime.”</p> - -<p>It was nearly five o’clock when Tommy returned. -Even though he was only twelve, he -had certainly done a man-sized job that day.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196"></a>196</span> -He was grimy and smoky, but exuberant.</p> - -<p>“By golly, we’ve got her under control,” he -cried. “Got some milk and doughnuts for a -guy? Who do you suppose worked better than -anybody? Gave us all pointers on how to manage -a fire. He says this is just a little fire compared -with the ones he has up home. He says -he’s seen a forest fire twenty miles wide, -sweeping over the mountains.”</p> - -<p>“Who do you mean, Tommy?” asked Jean. -“For gosh sakes, quit elaborating and come to -the point.”</p> - -<p>“Who do you suppose I mean?” asked -Tommy reproachfully. “Buzzy Hancock’s -cousin, your Ralph McRae from Saskatoon.”</p> - -<p>Jean blushed prettily, as she always did -when Ralph’s name was mentioned. She -hadn’t spent as much time with Ralph since -his arrival as she had wanted to owing to Billie’s -illness. Still, oddly enough, even Tommy’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197"></a>197</span> -high praise of him made her feel shyly -happy.</p> - -<p>The fire burned fitfully for three days, -breaking out unexpectedly in new spots and -keeping everyone excited and busy. The old -Ames barn went up in smoke, and Mr. Rudemeir’s -sawmill caught fire three times.</p> - -<p>“Whew!” he said, jubilantly, “I guess I -sat out on that roof all night long, slapping -sparks with a wet mop, but it didn’t get ahead -of me.”</p> - -<p>Lucy Peckham and Kit ran a sort of pony -express, riding horseback from house to house, -carrying food and coffee over to the men who -were scattered nearly four miles around the -fire-swept area. Ralph and Sally ran their own -rescue work at the north end of town. Buzzy -had been put on the mail truck with Mr. Rickett’s -eldest boy, while the former gave his services -on the volunteer fire corps. The end of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198"></a>198</span> -third day Jean was driving back from Nantic -after a load of groceries when she noticed -Ralph turning on to the main road ahead of -her. She stopped the car beside him and asked -him to get in.</p> - -<p>“The fire’s all out,” he said. “We have left -some of the boys on guard yet, in case it may be -smouldering in the underbrush. I have just -been telling Rudemeir and the other men, if -they’d learn to pile their brush the way we do -up home, they would be able to control these -little fires in no time. You girls must be awfully -tired out. You did splendid work.”</p> - -<p>“Kit and Lucy did, you mean,” answered -Jean. “All I did was to help cook.” She -laughed. “I never dreamed that men and boys -could eat so many doughnuts and cupcakes. -Becky says she sent over twenty-two loaves of -gingerbread, not counting all the other stuff. -Was anyone hurt, at all?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199"></a>199</span> -“You mean eating too much?” asked Ralph -teasingly. Then more seriously, he added, “A -few of the men were burnt a little bit, but -nothing to speak of. How beautiful your -springtime is down here in New England. It -makes me want to take off my coat and go to -work right here, reclaiming some of these old -worked-out acres, and making them show the -good that still lies in them if they are plowed -deep enough.”</p> - -<p>Jean sighed quickly. “Do you really think -one could ever make any money here?” she -asked. “Sometimes I get awfully discouraged, -Ralph. Of course, we didn’t come up here -with the idea of being farmers. It was Dad’s -health that brought us, but once we were here, -we couldn’t help but see the chance of making -Woodhow pay our way a little. Becky has told -us we’re in awfully good luck to even get our -vegetables and fruit out of it this last year, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200"></a>200</span> -it isn’t the past year I’m thinking of. It’s the -next year, and the next one and the next. One -of the most appalling things about Elmhurst -is, that you get absolutely contented up here, -and you go around singing blissfully. Old Pop -Higgins who taught our art class down in New -York always said that contentment was fatal -to progress, and I believe it. Dad is really a -brilliant man, and he’s getting his full strength -back. And while I have a full sense of gratitude -toward the healing powers of these old -green hills, still I have a horror of Dad stagnating -here.”</p> - -<p>Ralph turned his head to watch her face. -“Has he said anything himself about wanting -to go back to his work?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Not yet. I suppose that is what we really -must wait for. His own confidence returning. -You see, what I’m afraid of is this. Dad was -born and brought up right here, and the granite -of these old hills is in his system. He loves<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201"></a>201</span> -every square foot of land around here. Just -supposing he should be contented to settle -down, like old Judge Ellis, and turn into a sort -of Connecticut country squire.”</p> - -<p>“There are worse things than that in the -world,” Ralph replied. “Too many of our -best men forget the land that gave them birth, -and pour the full strength of their powers and -capabilities into the city market. You speak of -Judge Ellis. Look at what that old man’s mind -has done for his home community. He has -literally brought modern improvements into -Elmhurst. He has represented her up at Hartford -off and on for years, when he was not sitting -in judgment here.”</p> - -<p>“You mean, that you think Dad ought not -to go back?” asked Jean, almost resentfully. -“That just because he happened to have been -born here, he owes it to Elmhurst to stay here -now, and give it the best he has?”</p> - -<p>Ralph laughed good-naturedly. “We’re<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202"></a>202</span> -getting into rather deep water, Jeannie,” he -answered. “I can see that you don’t like the -country, and I do. I love it down east here -where all of my family came from originally, -and I’m very fond of the West.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m sure I’d like that too,” broke in -Jean eagerly. “Mother’s from the West, California, -and I’d love to go out there. I would -love the scope and freedom. What bothers me -here are all those rock walls, for instance.” She -pointed at the old one along the road, uneven, -half tumbling down, and overgrown with -gray moss—the standing symbol of the infinite -patience and labor of a bygone generation. -“Just think of all the people who spent -their lives carrying those stones, and cutting up -all this beautiful land into these little shut-in -pastures.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but those rocks represent the clearing -of fields for tillage. If they hadn’t dug them -out of the ground, they wouldn’t have had any<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a>203</span> -cause for Thanksgiving dinners. I’m extremely -proud of my New England blood, and -I want to tell you right now, if it wasn’t for -the New England blood that went out to conquer -the West, where would the West be today?”</p> - -<p>“That’s OK,” said Jean, a little crossly, -“but if they had pioneered a little bit right -around here, there wouldn’t be so many run-down -farms. What I would like to do, now -that Dad is getting well, is make Woodhow -our playground in summertime, and go back -home in the winter.”</p> - -<p>“Home,” he repeated, curiously.</p> - -<p>“Yes, we were all born down in New York,” -answered Jean, looking south over the country -landscape as though she could see Manhattan’s -panoramic skyline rising like a mirage of beckoning -promises. “I’m afraid that is home to -me.”</p> - -<p>Ralph was quiet while Jean was lost in her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204"></a>204</span> -memories of her wonderful visit with Beth in -New York. Suddenly she turned to Ralph.</p> - -<p>“I’m very confused,” she said. “I really -don’t know what I want. The only thing I am -sure of is that I like you better than any boy -I’ve ever met.” Jean hesitated a little over this -admission. “When I’m here I long to be in -New York, and when I was in New York I -missed everybody and everything in the country -very much.”</p> - -<p>“You’re still very young, Jean, but with -your level head I’m sure you’ll be able to make -a decision soon. I, for one, am willing to wait,” -said Ralph.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205"></a>205</span> -</div> - -<h2 id="xvi">16. Future Plans</h2> - -<p class="noi">“<span class="smcap">It</span> always seems to me,” said Becky, the -first time she drove down with Billie to spend -the day, “as if Maytime is a sort of fulfilled -promise to us, after the winter and spring. -When I was a girl, spring up here behaved itself. -It was sweet and balmy and gentle, and -now it’s turned into an uncertain young tomboy. -The weather doesn’t really begin to settle -until the middle of May, but when it does—” -She drew in a deep breath and smiled. “Just -look around you at the beauty it gives us.”</p> - -<p>She sat out on the tree seat in the garden -that sloped from the south side of the house.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206"></a>206</span> -The terraces were a riot of spring bloom; tall -gold and purple flags grew side by side with -dainty columbine and narcissus. Along the -stone walls white and purple lilacs flung their -delicious perfume to every passing breeze. The -old apple trees that straggled in uneven rows -up through the hill pasture behind the barn -had been transformed into gorgeous splashy -masses of pink bloom against the tender green -of young foliage.</p> - -<p>“What’s Jean doing over there in the orchard?” -Kit rose from her knees, her fingers -grimy with the soil, her face flushed and warm -from her labors, and answered her own question. -“Why, she’s painting.”</p> - -<p>Jean was out of their hearing. Frowning -slightly, with compressed lips, she bent over -her work. She was sitting on the ground, her -knees supporting her drawing board. The -week before she had sent off five studies to -Beth, and two of her very best ones down to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207"></a>207</span> -Mr. Higgins. Answers had come back from -both, full of criticism, but with plenty of encouragement, -too. Mrs. Craig had read the two -letters and given her eldest the quick impulsive -embrace which ever since her childhood had -been to Jean her highest reward of merit. But -it was from her father, perhaps, that she derived -the greatest happiness. He laid one arm -around her shoulders, smiling at her with a -certain whimsical speculation in his keen eyes.</p> - -<p>“Well, my dear, if you will persist in developing -such talent, we can’t afford to hide -this light under a bushel. You should have -more training.”</p> - -<p>“But when?” interrupted Jean. “It isn’t -that I want to know for my own pleasure, but -you don’t know how fearfully precious these -last years in my teens seem to me. There’s such -a terrible lot of things to learn before I can -really say I’ve finished.”</p> - -<p>“And one of the first things you have to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208"></a>208</span> -learn is just that you never stop learning. That -you never really start to learn until you know -your own limitations. Somewhere over there -lies New York,” he said, looking down the -valley. “Often through the past year, I have -stood looking in that direction. I’ve got a job -back there waiting—”</p> - -<p>Jean interrupted, her face alight with gladness. -“Oh, Dad, Dad, you do want to go back. -You don’t know how afraid I’ve been that -you’d take root up here and stay forever. I -know it’s perfectly splendid, and it has been a -place of refuge for us all, but now that you are -getting to be just like your old self—”</p> - -<p>Her father’s hand checked her.</p> - -<p>“Steady there,” he warned. “Not quite so -fast. I am still a little bit uncertain when I -try to speed up. We’ve got to be patient a little -while longer.”</p> - -<p>Jean pressed his hand in hers and understood.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209"></a>209</span> -If it had been hard for them to be patient, -it had been doubly so for him, groping -his way back slowly, the past year, on the upgrade -to health.</p> - -<p>Jean was thinking of their talk as she sat out -in the orchard today, trying to catch some of -the fleeting beauty of its blossom-laden trees.</p> - -<p>“How are you getting along, dear?” asked -a well-known voice behind her.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know, Dad,” said Jean, leaning -back with her head on one side, looking for all -the world like a meditative brown thrush. “I -can’t seem to get that queer silver-gray effect. -You take a day like this, just before a rain, and -it seems to underlie everything. I’ve tried dark -green and gray and sienna, and it doesn’t do a -bit of good.”</p> - -<p>“Mix a little Chinese black with every color -you use,” said her father, closing one eye to -look at her painting. “It’s the old master’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210"></a>210</span> -trick. You’ll find it in the Flemish school, and -the Veronese. It gives you the atmospheric -gray quality in everything. Here come Ralph -and Sally.”</p> - -<p>Sally waved her hand, but joined Kit, Doris -and Billie in the lower garden at their grubbing -for cutworms.</p> - -<p>“If you put plenty of salt in the water when -you sprinkle those, it’ll help a lot,” she told -them.</p> - -<p>“Oh, we’ve salted them. We each took a bag -of salt and went out sprinkling one night, and -then it rained, and I honestly believe it was a -tonic to the cutworm colony. The only thing -to do, is go after them and annihilate them.”</p> - -<p>Ralph nodded to the group on the terrace, -but went on up to the orchard. Kit watched -him with speculative eyes and spoke in her -usual impulsive fashion.</p> - -<p>“Do you suppose he’s come here with the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211"></a>211</span> -idea of taking Jean away? Because if he has -any such notions at all, I’d like to tell him she’s -not for him. If he thinks for one moment he’s -going to throw her across his saddle and carry -her off to Saskatoon, he’s very much mistaken.”</p> - -<p>Sally glanced up at the figures in the orchard, -before she answered in her slow, deliberate -fashion. “I’m sure I don’t know, but -Ralph said he was coming back here every -spring, so he can’t expect to take her away this -year.”</p> - -<p>Ralph threw himself down in the grass beside -Jean. She smiled at him, then bent over -her board, absently touching in some shadows -on the trunks of the trees. Her thoughts had -wandered from the old orchard, as they did so -often these days. It was the future that seemed -more real to her, with its hopes and ambitions, -than the present.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a>212</span> -“Oh, Jean,” called Kit, “Becky’s going -now.”</p> - -<p>Ralph rose and caught her hand as she -started to leave. “I hope your ambitions carry -you far, Jean,” he said earnestly. “Sally, -Buzzy, Mrs. Hancock and I are leaving for -Saskatoon Monday morning and I’ll hardly -get over again since Buzzy and I are doing all -the packing and crating, but you’ll see me -again next spring, won’t you?”</p> - -<p>Jean looked up at him startled.</p> - -<p>“Why, I didn’t know you were going so -soon. Of course, I’ll see you when you come -back,” she said with a heavy heart. Heavier -than she would have wanted Ralph to see.</p> - -<p>“I’ll come,” Ralph promised, and he stood -where she left him, under the blossoming apple -trees, watching her as she joined her -family circle. Ralph had deliberately planned -this abrupt goodbye. With his usual thoughtfulness<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213"></a>213</span> -he did not want to influence Jean’s -thinking.</p> - -<p>As Jean walked back across the path to the -lower terrace, her thoughts were sad. Perhaps -she would never see him again, perhaps she -would decide never to marry and to continue -her art career, yet if she could have known, -many changes would take place in the next -year that are told in <cite>Jean Craig Finds Romance</cite>.</p> - -<p>She shook off these unhappy thoughts and -came up to the others smiling and saying to -Becky, “You’ll be over again to see us soon, -won’t you?”</p> - -<p>Becky gave her an understanding smile that -seemed to say, “I’m always here and you belong -here too.”</p> - - -<div class="figcenter" id="endpaper"> - <img src="images/endpaper.jpg" width="800" height="573" alt="Endpaper" /> -</div> - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="tn"> -<p class="center">Transcriber’s Note:</p> - -<p class="noi">Punctuation has been standardised. Hyphenation has been retained -as it appears in the original publication. The following change was made:</p> - -<ul class="nobullet"> -<li>Page 112<br /> -it still so bleak <i>changed to</i><br /> -<a href="#is">is</a> still so bleak</li> -</ul> -</div> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JEAN CRAIG IN NEW YORK ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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