To Mr. John Curtis Clyde of New York City, with the season's compliments.MOUNT HUNGER, VERMONT, January 6th, 1898."And you 've had such lovely flowers come for you, five boxes of them, Rose, and piles of invitations. I 'm sure you 're engaged up to Ash Wednesday.""Come, Chatterbox," said her father, smiling at her volubility, "Rose has just time to dress for dinner; you know Aunt Carrie and Uncle Jo are coming to-night.""Oh, I forgot all about them; you 'll have to hurry, Rose. Wilkins, bring up the flowers. Come on," Hazel ran up the broad flight of stairs, carpeted with velvety crimson, to the first landing, from which, through a lofty arch in the hall, Rose caught a glimpse of softly lighted rooms, the walls enriched with engravings and etchings, with here and there a landscape or marine in watercolors. Rose drew a long breath. This, then, was what Chi meant when he said "Hazel was rich as Croesus.""But, Hazel, my trunk has n't come," said Rose, as she followed her hostess into the spacious bedroom, which was separated from Hazel's only by a dressing-room."It 'll be here in a few minutes; papa has a special man, who always delivers them almost as soon as we get here."Sure enough, the trunk came in time; and Rose, as she unpacked, finding evidences of the loving mother-care in every fold, cried within her heart, looking about at the exquisite appointments of her room and dressing-room:"Martie, Martie, what would all this be without you!--Oh, I know now, what dear old Chi meant when he said Hazel was poor where we are rich--only a housekeeper to see to all Hazel's things--""Rose, what flowers are you going to wear?" called Hazel from her room."I have n't had time to look," Rose called back, surveying her white serge with great satisfaction in the pier-glass."Do look, then, and see who they 're from.""Oh, Hazel, do come and see. How kind everybody has been! Here are cards from Mrs. Heath and Doctor Heath, and your Aunt Carrie, and Mr. Sherrill, and Mrs. Fenlick, and even that Mr. Grayson who was up at our house to tea a year ago!""They are lovely. Whose are you going to wear?""I 'll make up a bunch of one or two from each, that will show my appreciation of all their favors."Hazel looked slightly crestfallen. "I hoped you 'd wear Jack's--they 're the loveliest with white--" she lifted the white lilacs--"and they 're so rare just now. I heard Aunt Carrie say that one of the girls had put off her wedding for six weeks, just because she couldn't have white lilacs for it.""They 'll last with care three days surely, and I can wear them to-morrow evening," replied Rose, bending to inhale their delicate fragrance."So you can, for papa is going to give a dinner for you to-morrow night, and afterwards, he has promised to take you to a dance at Mrs. Pearsell's. I can't go, you know, for I 'm not grown up; but you can tell me all about it. We 're going to have lots of fun this week, for school does not begin for several days. Come."Together they went down to the drawing-room, and Wilkins announced that dinner was served.After it was over he sought Minna-Lu in her own domains, and gave vent to his long pent emotions."Minna-Lu," he whispered, mysteriously, "dere 's an out an' out angel ben hubberin' 'bout de table--""Fo' de Lawd!" Minna-Lu turned upon him fiercely, for she was superstitious to the very marrow. "Wa' fo' yo' come hyar, skeerin' de bref out a mah bones wif yo' sp'r'ts! Yo' go long home wha' yo' b'long."But Wilkins was not to be repulsed in this manner. "Nebber see sech ha'r, an' jes' lillum-white--""Oh, go 'long! Lillum-white ha'r," interrupted Minna-Lu, with scathing sarcasm. "Huccome yo' know de angels hab lillum-white ha'r?""Huccome I know?--'Case I see de shine, jes' lake yo' see in de dror'n-room.""De shine ob lillum-white ha'r in de dror'n-room! 'Pears lake yo' head struck ile--""Yo' hol' yo' tongue, Minna-Lu," retorted Wilkins, irritated at the continued evidence of disbelief on the part of his coadjutor. "Jes' yo' hide back ob de dumb-waitah to-morrah ebenin' when de dessert comes on, an' see fo' yo'se'f!" He departed in high dudgeon, and Minna-Lu gurgled long and low to herself, but, in her turn, was interrupted by the sound of tripping steps on the basement flight.Minna-Lu hastily put her fat hands up to her turban to see if it were on straight, and smoothed her apron, muttering:"Clar to goodness, ef it ain't jes' mah luck to hab little Missus come into dis yere hen-roost?" she rapidly surveyed her immaculate kitchen with anxious eye."Minna-Lu, this is my friend, Miss Rose; the one who did up those lovely preserves, and here are some new-laid eggs and some cheeses that Miss Maria-Ann Simmons--you know I told you all about her and the hens--has sent papa."Minna-Lu gazed at Rose in open admiration. The faithful colored retainer had her thorny side and her blossom one.Rose put out her hand, and Minna-Lu took it in both hers. "I 'se mighty glad yo' come, Miss Rose, dere ain't no strawberry-blossom nor no rose-blossom can hol' a can'le to yo' own honey se'f. Dese yere cheeses is prime." She examined one with the nose of a connoisseur. "Jes' fill de bill wif de salad-chips to-morrah." She stemmed her fists on her hips, and her mellow, contented gurgle caused Rose and Hazel to laugh, too."What is it, Minna-Lu?" said Hazel, reading the signs of the times."Dat Wilkins done tol' me to git back ob de dumb-waitah, to-morrah ebenin' to see Missy Rose, but I 'se gwine to ask rale straight to jes' see her 'fo' de comp'ny come.""Of course you may. Come up to my room about seven, and we 'll be ready.""Fo' sho'," said Minna-Lu, with beaming face."Good-night," said Rose, beaming, too, for she found the black faces and ways irresistibly amusing."De Lawd bress yo' lily face, Missy Rose."When the two girls were alone, at last, in Hazel's room, there was no thought of bed for an hour. There were numberless questions on Hazel's part concerning all the dear Mount Hunger people, and speechless astonishment on Rose's at the number of invitations that were waiting for her. They chatted all the time they were undressing, calling back and forth to each other as one thing or another suggested itself. Finally, Hazel made her appearance in Rose's room. She went up to her, put her arms about her neck, and, looking up with eyes full of loving trust, said:"Rose-pose, won't you come into my room and say 'Our Father' with me as Mother Blossom used to do on Mount Hunger? You can't think how I miss it.""Why, Hazel darling, of course I will--then I shan't feel homesick missing that precious Martie."She followed Hazel into her room, and after she was in bed, Rose knelt by her side, and together they said, "Our Father." Then Rose bent over to receive Hazel's loving kiss and whispered, "Oh, Rose, I 'm so happy to have you here," and whispered back, "And I 'm so happy to be with you, Hazel--good-night.""Good-night."Rose went back to her room. At last she was alone. She drew one of the easy-chairs up before the wood-fire that was dying down, put her bare feet on the warm fender, and, for a while, dreamed waking dreams. It was all so strange. The cathedral clock on the mantel chimed twelve. They were all asleep in the farmhouse on the Mountain--it was time for her to be. She rose, tiptoed softly into the dressing-room, took from the bowl the spray of white lilacs she had worn with the other flowers that evening, shook off the water, and drew the stem through a buttonhole in the yoke of her simple night-dress. She tiptoed back again into her room, looked up at the dainty, canopied bed, then laid herself down within it, and, almost immediately, fell asleep--with her hand resting on the white fragrance that lay upon her heart.XXIIIBEHOLD HOW GREAT A MATTER A LITTLE FIRE KINDLETHIt was so delightful! The weeks were passing all too quickly, and the letters to Mount Hunger waxed eloquent in praise of everybody's kindness.Jack had come on to lead a cotillion with Rose at Aunt Carrie's. It was a weighty affair--the selecting of the flowers for her. White violets they must be, and white violets were about as rare as white raspberries. Jack gave the florist his own address."I 'll see them, myself, before I send them up; for I won't trust anyone's eyes but my own," he said to himself as he hurried home to dress for dinner with a friend. "I wish I had n't promised Grayson to meet him at the Club before seven. I 'm afraid they won't come in time." He looked at his watch. "I 'm going to make them a test--and see what she 'll do. She 's so friendly and frank and all that, I can't find out even whether she 's beginning to care."Jack's absorption in the theme was such that he put his latch-key in wrong-side up, and, in consequence, wrestled with the lock till he had worked himself into a fever of impatience; finally he touched the button before he discovered the trouble."Any packages come for me, Jason?" he inquired of the butler, whose dignified manner of locomotion had been rudely shaken by Jack's unceasing pressure on the electric-bell."Yes, Mr. John. Just taken a box up to the rooms."Jack looked relieved, and sprang upstairs two steps at a time. He opened the box. There they were in all their exquisite freshness. "Like her," he thought, touching his lips to them; then, suddenly straightening himself, he felt the blood surge into his face."I like Dord's way of putting up his flowers, no tags, nor fol-de-rols. Jason," he said, as he ran down stairs again, "I shall be back in an hour; tell Thomas to have everything laid out--I 'm in a hurry. And have a messenger-boy here when I come back, and don't forget to order the carriage for quarter of eight, sharp.""Yes, Mr. John.""Messenger-boy come?" he inquired as Jason opened the door on his return."Yes, sir, waiting in the hall."Jack raced up stairs. There was the precious box on his dressing-table. He hastily took a visiting card, and, writing on it the sentiment that was uppermost in his heart, slipped it into the envelope, gave it, together with the box, to the waiting boy, and bade him hand it to the man, Wilkins, with the request that it be sent up at once to the lady to whom it was addressed. Then he made ready for dinner.An hour later, Rose was dressing for the dance, and Hazel was watching her, chatting volubly all the while."That's the loveliest dress, Rose, I heard Aunt Carrie say, you couldn't buy such, nowadays.""It was Martie's wedding-dress. An uncle of her mother's, who was a sea-captain, brought it from India. But if I wear it many more times, it will be known throughout the length of New York. This is my sixth time.""I should n't care if it were the hundredth; it's just lovely. Besides, Jack has n't seen it, you know."Rose laughed. "Oh, yes, he has--on Martie; that night of the tea on the porch.""Oh, well, that's different. What flowers are you going to wear?""I thought I wouldn't wear any, just for a change." Rose's face was veiled by the shining hair, which she was brushing, preparatory to coiling it high on her head; otherwise, Hazel would have seen the clear flush that warmed even the roots of the soft waves at the nape of her neck. Just then there was a knock. The maid opened the door, and Wilkins' voice was distinctly audible:--"Jes' come fo' Miss Rose; dey wuz to come up right smart, so de boy say.""Oh, more flowers. Who from?" cried Hazel, eagerly, while Wilkins strained his ears to catch the reply."From Mr. Sherrill," said Rose, opening the little envelope.What she read on the card caused the blood to mount higher and higher, till temples and forehead flushed pink, then as suddenly to recede."May I open them, Rose, and won't you wear some if they 're from Jack?""Yes," said Rose, simply. The two girls leaned over the box as Hazel took off the wrapper--then the cover--then the inner tissue papers--then--[image]"The two girls leaned over the box as Hazel took off the wrapper"Suddenly a shriek of laughter, followed by another, penetrated to Wilkins, who was lingering on the stairs; he came softly back again. Peal after peal of wild merriment issued from Rose's room. Within, Rose in her petticoat and bodice had flung herself on the bed in an ecstasy of mirth, and Hazel was rolling over on the rug as was the wont of Budd and Cherry in the old days on Mount Hunger. The maid looked from one to the other, and, no longer able to keep from joining in the merriment, although she did not know the cause, left the room, only to find Wilkins with perturbed face just outside the door."'Pears lake dere wor sumfin' queah 'bout dat ye re box--" he began; but the maid only shook with laughter and laid her finger on her lips, motioning him into the back hall."Did you ever?" cried Hazel, when she recovered her breath."No, I never," said Rose, wiping away the tears, for she had laughed till she cried. "Let's take another look."They bent over the box, and took out its contents; then went off again into fits of seemingly inextinguishable laughter; for, neatly folded beneath the tissue paper, lay four sets of Jack's new light-weight, white silk pajamas, which he had purchased that afternoon, in order to take back to Cambridge with him. On the card, which Rose still held in her hand, was written, "Wear these for my sake.""What will you say to him, Rose?" said Hazel, sitting up on the rug with her hands clasped about her knees."I don't know," said Rose, proceeding to dress. "I can'twearthem, that's certain." And again the absurdity of the situation presented itself to her. "And I can't apologize for not wearing them. Neither can I take it for granted that he was going to send me flowers, and explain that he sent me these instead.""How awfully careless," said Hazel, interrupting her; "he must have had something on his mind not to take the pains to look, even."Rose flushed. "It will be best to let the matter drop, and say nothing about it," she replied in a cool, toploftical tone that amazed, as well as mystified, her little hostess."Why, Rose, I think Jack ought to know about it. I 'll tell him, if you don't want to.""Thank you, Hazel, but I don't need your good offices in this matter."Hazel rose from the rug, and going over to Rose, laid both hands on her shoulders and looked straight up into her eyes."Now, Rose Blossom, please don't speak to me in that way. You 're so queer! First you 're nice about Jack, and then you 're horrid; and when you 're that way, you are n't nice tomea bit--and I don't like it, and I don't blame Jack for not liking it either," she added emphatically. "I remember papa said a year ago that Jack was 'all heart' for a good many girls, old and young--but I can tell you what, he won't have any for you, if you whiff round so."Hazel in her earnestness gave Rose a little shake. Rose smiled, and, bending her head, kissed her, saying, "F. and F. and you know, Hazel.""Oh, I know all about 'forgiving and forgetting,' but I don't like it just the same. He's my cousin and the dearest fellow in the world, and I don't like to have him treated so.""How about his treating me?" said Rose, pointing to the innocent box of underwear, "forgetting even to look; or not caring enough, to see if I had the right package?""Oh, that's different--perhaps the florist made a mistake.""The florist!" Rose laughed merrily. "I never knew that gentlemen's underwear and roses grew on the same bush.--There 's Wilkins, and I 'm not ready.""De coachman say it's a pow'f ul col' night, an' Miss Rose bettah take some mo' wraps.""Thank you, Wilkins," Hazel flew into the dressing-room for a long fur cloak of her mother's which she had used to wear to the dancing-classes. She wrapped it about Rose, who stooped suddenly and kissed her again, whispering, "Hazel, you 've all spoiled me, that's what's the matter,--but I 'll be good to Jack, for your sake as well as for my own.""Now you 're what Doctor Heath calls papa, the most splendid fellow in the world. There now--I won't crush your gown--" A kiss--"Good-night. You look like an angel!"Mr. Clyde thought so, too, as he watched her coming downstairs. She slipped off the cloak as she stood beneath the soft, but brilliant hall lights. "Do I look all right?" she asked earnestly, for she had fallen into the habit, before going anywhere with him or Hazel, of asking for their criticism."I should say so--but where are the flowers? I miss them.""I thought I wouldn't wear any to-night, just for a change.""A woman's whim, Rose. But I can't say that you need them--Now, what's to pay?" he said to himself, as he helped her into the carriage. "I saw Jack at Dord's this afternoon, and, evidently, something was in the wind. I hope it has n't been taken out of his sails.""Sumfin' mighty queah 'bout dat yere box," murmured Wilkins to himself, as he closed the door, "but Miss Rose doan' need no flow's. Nebber see sech h--Fo' de good Lawd! Wha' fo' yo' hyar? Yo' Minna-Lu,--skeerin' mah day-lights out o' mah, shoolin' 'roun' b'hin' dat por' chair,--jes' lake bug'lahs."Minna-Lu gurgled. "Yo' jes' straight, Wilkins; nebber see sech ha'r. Huccome I 'se hyar? Jes' to see dat lillum-white angel--""Yo' go 'long, wha' yo' b'long," growled Wilkins, not yet having recovered from his fright. And Minna-Lu went, with the radiant vision still before her round, black eyes.Jack felt a queer tightening about his lower jaw, and one heart-throb, apparently in his throat, as he entered Aunt Carrie's reception-room. Then, as with one glance he swept Rose from the crown of her head to the hem of her dress, a hot, rushing wave of indignant feeling mastered him--he knew he had staked his all (so a man at twenty-two is apt to think) and lost. He braced himself, mentally and physically. He was n't going to show the white-feather--not he.But Rose--Rose was mystifying, captivating, cordial, merry, and altogether charming. She knocked out all Jack's calculations as to life, love, women, girls in general, and one girl in particular, at one fell swoop. He was brought, necessarily, into unstable equilibrium, so far as his feelings were concerned--his head he was obliged to keep level on account of the various figures. Several other heads were variously askew, and would have been turned, likewise, for good and all, had the wearer of her mother's India-mull wedding-dress been possessed of a fortune.Rose developed social powers that evening that furnished food for conversation for Aunt Carrie and Mr. Clyde, who watched her with pride and pleasure. She was evidently enjoying herself thoroughly, and her enjoyment proved contagious."After all," said Jack as, between figures, he found opportunity for a whispered word or two; "this is n't half so fine a dance as the one in the barn, last September.""Why, that's just what I was thinking, myself, that very minute!""You were?""Yes."The brown eyes and the blue ones met with such evidence of a perfect understanding, that Jack failed to see Maude Seaton, who had approached him for the purpose of taking him out in the four-in-hand."Oh, I beg your pardon," said Jack, starting to his feet, "it's the 'four-in-hand.'""Yes, and I think you 'll have to be put into the traces again," she said, with a meaning smile."Not I," retorted Jack, merrily, "I kicked over them nearly a year ago.""So I heard," replied Miss Seaton, sweetly; and Jack wondered what she meant.When Jack found himself again beside Rose, he decided that, flowers or no flowers, he would ask for an explanation. But his first attempt was met with such a bewilderingly merry smile, and such confident assurance that explanations were not in order, that it proved a successful failure.When, at last, in the early morning hours he was seated before the open fire in his bedroom, pulling away reflectively at his pipe, he had time to think it over. He came to the conclusion that it was trivial in him to have staked his all on her wearing those flowers, for she certainly--certainly had led him to think that she was anything but indifferent to him."That look now," mused Jack. "I don't believe that a girl like Rose Blossom would look that way if she didn't mean it--if she did n't care. No other girl could look that way." He reached for his watch on the dressing-case. "I shall get good two hours' sleep before that early train.--What's that?" He noticed for the first time, that on the bed lay a familiar-looking box in a brown paper wrapper. In a trice he had broken the string, whisked off the cover, scattered the tissue paper right and left.--There lay the violets, white, and sweet, and almost as fresh as when he gave them his virgin kiss nearly twelve hours before.Jack sat down stupefied on the bed.What had he given her, anyway? He thought intensely for a full minute."Great Scott! the pajamas!" And then Jack Sherrill rolled over on the bed, ignoring the damage to dress suit and violets, and, burying his face in the pillow, gave vent to a smothered yell.There was a merry exchange of notes between Cambridge and New York during the next two weeks, and Rose had promised to wear any flowers--and only his--he might send her for the ball at Mrs. Fenlick's the middle of February, and for which Jack was coming on. It would occur during the last week of Rose's visit, and Jack thought that possibly--possibly,--well, he could n't define just what "possibly;" but it proved to be an infinitely absorbing one, and Jack felt it was "now or never" with him.Mrs. Heath had claimed Rose as her guest for the last three weeks, and the days were filled with pleasures. On the Saturday before the ball, and a week before Rose was to return to Mount Hunger, two seats in a box at the opera had been sent in to Mrs. Heath from a friend."Look at these, Rose!" Mrs. Heath exclaimed, showing her the note. "Just exactly what you were wishing to hear, and we thought we could not arrange it for next week. That opera has been changed for to-day's matinée, and now you can hear both Lohengrin and Siegfried."Rose clapped her hands. "I 've just longed to hear Lohengrin; Mrs. Ford and her son have played so much of it to me. I think it's perfectly beautiful.""I 'm so sorry I can't go, dear; but I made a positive engagement for this afternoon and it must not be broken. But I 'll send round for Cousin Anna May. She does n't care much for the opera, but she will chaperone you. She 's not much of a talker either, so you can enjoy the music in peace. People chatter so abominably there."From the moment the orchestra sounded the first notes of that pathetic and thrillingly appealing fore-word of the overture, Rose was lost to the world about her. She was glad of the darkness, glad no one could see or notice her intense absorption in the opening scene. Even when the lights were turned on between the acts, and the subdued murmur in the house rose to a confusing babble, she was living in the story of Elsa and her lover Knight. Elderly Cousin Anna May, seeing this, let her alone, thinking to herself:--"One has to be young to be so enthusiastic over this wornout theme."The curtain fell; the house was brilliant with lights; confusion of talk, confusion of merry chat and laughter were all about Rose; but she sat unheeding, wondering if the element of evil would be turned into a factor of good. Her heart was aching with the intensity of feeling for the two lovers. Suddenly, a few words behind her arrested her attention. She sat with her back to the speakers--two girls in the next box, who had annoyed her more than once by their ceaseless, whispering gabble."I told Maude I did n't believe it.""What did she say?""She said it was gospel truth.""Do tell me what it was, I won't tell.""Sure?""Not a soul.""Promise?""Why, of course. They say he 's got oceans of money.""Piles--. He 's got his mother's fortune and will have his father's. Besides, his Uncle Gray is a bachelor, and so Jack will have that, too. Maude says he 's the best catch in New York.""I heard Sam say he was in an awfully fast set in college; but Sam likes him awfully well. Have you seen him?""Oh, yes, lots. Maude let me see him one night before dinner at Newport. I used to see him playing polo at the grounds. I think he 's fascinating--just like Lohengrin.""But what was it? Hurry up, do.""You 'll never tell?""Never."The voice was slightly lowered--confused with the munching of Huyler's; and Rose, with hypersensitive hearing, could distinguish only a word or two, or a detached sentence."I don't think that's so awful. Sam does that, too, and he 's just as nice a brother as I want.""Oh, I don't know anything about that; but I know it's true, for Maude said so." In the increasing confusion of talk in the house, the voices were suddenly raised, and Rose caught every word."I 'll ask Sam--" began the other, dropping her opera glass and stooping to pick it up."If you do, Minna Grayson, I 'll never speak to you again.""Oh, I forgot--" laughed the other. "Tell us some more, it's awfully exciting.""I won't either," said the other, in a huffy tone. Evidently, they were school-girls in for the matinée."Oh,do; whatdidMaude say?""She said, 'No,'" chuckled the other triumphantly."But think of his money!'"She said she did n't mind; she 's got money enough of her own, anyway, if she does skimp me on allowance ever since grandmamma died.""I heard Sara say last Christmas when I was home for vacation, that he was perfectly devoted to that new girl the Clydes have taken up.""Yes. Maude says it's one of his fads. She gives him six months more to get over it.""Everybody says she is a perfect beauty. Sam says that Mrs. Fenlick says she is the most beautiful creature off of a canvas she has ever seen.""Oh, Maude says Mrs. Fenlick raves over everything new. She, the girl, I mean, made a dead set at him a year ago when he happened to meet her up in the mountains. You know they had a riding-party last August. But now they say she seems to be setting her cap for Hazel's father--he has a million or two more than Jack, and she 's as poor as a church-mouse.""I did n't know that,--poor?""Yes, awfully. Why, Maude says she's seen her selling berries for a living somewhere up in the mountains--oh, way back in them. People call them the Lost Nation, they 're so far back; and Maude says she wore patched shoes and an old calico dress--Sh!--Now we 're going to have that bridal march, is n't it dandy? It ought to be a part of the marriage ceremony, Maude says. I 'm so glad it's coming;--Tum, tum, ty tum--tum, tum, ty tum--here 's just one more candied violet--tum, tum, ty tum, tum, ty tum, ty ty tum, ty tum--Oh, look! Is n't Elsa just lovely--"A burst of applause greeted the beautiful prima donna. Upon Rose's ears it fell like the thunder of a cataract, like the crash and roll of an avalanche. She stared at the exquisite scene before her with strained eyes. The music went on with all the troublous-sweet under-tones of love, and longing, and forever-parting. Not once did Rose stir until the curtain fell, then she turned to her companion:--"Can we get out soon, Mrs. May? The air is a little close here.""Certainly, my dear;" but to herself she said, "How intense she is. I 'm thankful I never was so strung up over music."XXIV"OLD PUT""Where 's Rose?" said the Doctor as he came in that Saturday evening, and heard no welcoming voice from the library or the stairs."She came home from the opera with a frightful headache and has gone to bed. She said she did n't want any dinner, but I have insisted upon her having some toast and tea," replied his wife."Humph!" growled the Doctor; "Our wild rose can't stand such hot-house atmosphere. When does the Fenlicks' ball come off?""Next Wednesday; it will be a superb affair. Rose showed me her card the other day, and if you will believe me, it's full, although Jack Sherrill gets the lion's share.""How do you think things are coming on there, wifie?""Why, he's devoted to her whenever he can be; you know what Mrs. Pearsell told us about last summer, but--""But what?" said the Doctor, a little impatiently. "Generally, wifie, you can see prospective wedding-cake if two young people so much as look twice at each other."Mrs. Heath laughed and nodded. "Yes, I know; but in just this case, I don't know. You can't tell anything by her--and I fear, hubbie, that Jack Sherrill is n't quite good enough for her.""Not quite good enough for her!" The Doctor almost shouted in his earnestness. "Jack Sherrill not quite good enough for--""Sh--sh, dear!" His wife held up her hand in warning. "Someone might hear.""Let 'em hear, then," growled the Doctor. "I say Rose is n't a bit too good for him.--Look here, wifie,--" he drew her towards him and down upon the arm of his easy-chair, "Jack's all right every time--do you understand?All right!""Ye-es," admitted his wife rather reluctantly. "I know he 's a great favorite of yours. But Mrs. Grayson says he 's in a very fast set at Harvard--"Now look here, wifie, don't you let those women with their eternal hunger for gossip say anything to you about Jack. I tell you there is n't another fellow I know, who, placed as he is, can set up so many white stones to mark his short life's pathway as John Sherrill's only son. For heaven's sake, give him the credit for them. I know what I saw on Mount Hunger a year ago, and I know and believe what I see.""Well, I only hope he won't flirt with her--" began Mrs. Heath. Her husband interrupted her:"Flirt with her!" The Doctor chuckled. "I'll warrant Jack won't do any flirting with her--it 'll be the other way round sooner than that! Just say good-night to Rose for me when you go up stairs, and tell her if she is n't down bright and early Sunday morning, I 'll prescribe for her."But there was no need for the Doctor's prescription; for Rose was down for breakfast, and although white cheeks and heavy eyes caused the Doctor to draw his eyebrows together in a straight line over the bridge of his nose, nothing was said of there being any need for a prescription. But after breakfast he drew her into the library and placed her in an easy-chair before the blazing fire."There now," he said in his own kindliest tones, "sit there and dream while wifie makes ready for church, and after that you shall go with me for an official drive. The air will do you good. I can't send such white roses"--he patted her cheek--"back to Mount Hunger; what would mother say?"To his amazement Rose buried her face in both hands; a half-suppressed sob startled him."Why, Rose-pose! What's the matter, little girl? Headachey--nerves unstrung--too much opera? Here, come into the office where we shan't be disturbed, and tell me all about it."But Rose shook her head, lifted it from her hands, and smiled through the welling tears."I 'm a perfect goose, but--but--I believe I 'm getting just a little bit homesick for Mount Hunger, and I 'm not going to stay for Mrs. Fenlick's ball. I know mother needs me at home--I can just feel it in her letters, and I know I want--I want her.""Don't blame you a bit, Rose,--but is n't this rather sudden? Any previous attacks?""No--and I know it seems dreadfully ungrateful to you and dear Mrs. Heath to say so, and it is n't that--I 'd love to be with just you two; but it's this dreadful feeling comes over me, and I know I ought to go.""And go you shall, Rose," said the Doctor, emphatically, but oh! so kindly and understandingly. "Go back to all the dear ones there--and when you come again, don't give us the tail-end of your visit, will you?""Indeed, I won't," answered Rose, earnestly, "and if it were only you and Mrs. Heath, I 'd love to stay, but--but--""No need to say anything more, Rose, wifie and I understand it perfectly--" ("I wish the dickens I did!" was his thought)--"Tell wifie when she comes down, and meanwhile I 'll send round for the brougham and we 'll take a little drive in the Park before office hours."Rose patted his hand, and her silence spoke for her."Here 's a pretty kettle of fish!" said the Doctor to himself as he went to the telephone. "I wish I could get to the bottom of it."And thus it came about that a cool, dignified note, not expressive of any particular regret, was mailed to Cambridge on Sunday afternoon, and a long letter to Mount Hunger telling them to be sure to meet her on Tuesday at Barton's, and filled with wildly enthusiastic expressions of delight in anticipation of the home-coming. And on Tuesday afternoon, as the train sped onwards, following the curves of the frozen Connecticut, and the snow-covered mountains on the Vermont side began to crowd its banks, Rose felt a lightening of the heart and an uplifting of spirits.The bitterness and shame and shock she had experienced, in consequence of that one little bite of the fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, seemed to diminish with every mile that increased the distance between her and the frothing whirlpool of the great city's gayeties. All the way up, until the mountains loomed in sight, there had been hot, indignant protest in her thoughts. At first, indeed, it had been hatred."I hate it all--hate it,hateit!" she found herself saying over and over again after the good-byes had been said at the station, and Hazel and Mr. Clyde and Doctor Heath had supplied her with flowers and magazines for the long day's journey. It was all she could think or feel at the time; but soon the little pronoun changed, and the thought grew more bitter:"I hate him! How could he--how dared he do as he did! Because I am poor, I suppose. Oh! I wish I could make him pay for it. I wish I could make him love me really and truly, and then justscornhim! But what a fool I am--as if hecouldlove after what I heard--oh, why did I hear it! I wish I may never see his face again, and I wish I 'd stayed at home where I belong--I hate him!"--And so on "da capo" hour after hour, and the incessant chugetty-chug-chug of the express furnished the rhythmic, basal tone for the bitter motive.It was long after lunch time, and the train of thought had not changed, when Rose's eye fell upon the dainty basket Martin had placed in the rack."This is a pretty state of mind to go home to Martie in!" she said to herself, rising and taking down the basket. "I have n't eaten a good meal since last Saturday at lunch, and I 'm--why, I believe I 'm hungry!"She opened the basket, and loving evidence of Minna-Lu's admiration tempted her to pick a little here and there--a stuffed olive or two, a roast quail, a delicate celery sandwich, a quince tart, a bunch of Hamburg grapes. Soon Rose was feasting on all the good things, and her harsh thoughts began to soften. How kind they all were! Andtheytruly loved her--and what had they not done for her comfort and pleasure! Rose, setting her pretty teeth deep into a third quince tart, looked out of the window and almost exclaimed aloud at the sight. The vanguard of the Green Mountains closed in the upper end of the river-valley along which they were speeding. It was home that was behind all that! The thought still further softened her.What? Carry her bitterness and disappointed pride back into that dear, peaceful home? Not she! "They shall never know--never!" she said to herself--"I 'm not Molly Stark for nothing, and there are others in the world beside Jack Sherrill." And so she continued to speak cold comfort to herself for the next four hours until the brakeman called "Barton's River!"There beyond the platform was the old apple-green pung!--and yes! father and March and Budd and dear old Chi anxiously scanning the coaches.Home at last! and such a home-coming! How busy the tongues were for a week afterwards! How wildly gay was Rose, who kept them laughing over the many queer doings of the metropolis, over Wilkins and Minna-Lu and Martin and Mrs. Scott! And how lovingly she spoke of Hazel's charming hospitality and of Mr. Clyde's thoughtfulness for her pleasure, although, as she mentioned his name, a wave of color mounted to the roots of her hair at the ugly thought that would intrude. Chi listened with all his ears, enjoying it with the rest; but once upstairs in his room over the shed, he would sit down on the side of his bed to ponder a little the gay doings of his Rose-pose among the "high-flyers," and then turn in with a sigh and a muttered:"'T ain't Rose-pose. I knew how 't would be.--There 's a screw loose somewhere; but she's handsome!--handsome as a picture, 'n' I 'd give a dollar to know if she 's cut that other one out.""Valentines seem kind of scarce this year," he remarked rather grimly, a few days after her arrival, as late in the afternoon, he returned from Barton's with little mail and no boxes of flowers. "It's the sixteenth day of February, but it might be Fast Day for all that handful of mail would show for it!" He placed the package on Mrs. Blossom's work-table at which Rose was sitting busy with some sewing. They were alone in the room.Rose laughed merrily. "Goodness, Chi! you want us to have more than our share. We had a perfect deluge last year when Hazel was here; you know it makes a difference without her. You said yourself that there was a good deal of bulk, but it was pretty light weight--don't you remember?"Chi elevated one bushy eyebrow. "I ain't forgot; but I don't know about it's bein' anyDeluge--it appeared to me it was a Shadrach, Meshach, 'n' Abednego kind of a business--" He gave the back log a kick that sent the sparks up the chimney in a grand pyrotechnic show. "Seems as if I could see those posies, now, a-shrivellin' in the fireplace. Never thought you treated those innocent things quite on the square, Rose-pose!"Rose's head was bent low over her work. Chi went on, bracing himself to the self-imposed task of enlightening her:--"I don't want to meddle, Rose, in anybody's business, but it ain't set well with me ever since--the way you treated those roses; 'n', after all, we 're both members of the Nobody's Business But Our Own Society, 'n' if anybody 's goin' to meddle, perhaps I 'm the one. I 've thought a good many times you would n't have been quite so harsh with 'em, if you had n't overlooked this in your flare-up--" He drew out of his breast pocket a card--Jack 's--with the verse on the back. "Read that, 'n' see if you ain't dropped a stitch somewhere that you can pick up in time." He handed her the card.Rose looked up surprised, but with burning cheeks. She took the card, read the verse, turned it over on the name side, and rose from her chair. Every particle of color had left her face. She went over to the fireplace, and, bending, dropped the little piece of pasteboard upon the glowing back-log."The sentiment belongs with the roses, Chi; don't let's have any more Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego business--I 'm tired of it." She spoke indifferently; then, resuming her seat, called out in a cheery voice:"Martie, won't you come here a minute, and see if I have put on this gore right?""I 'll come, dear."Chi, nonplussed, irritated, repulsed, set his teeth hard and abruptly left the room.Outside in the shed he clenched his fist and shook it vigorously at the closed door of the long-room: "--By George Washin'ton!" he muttered, "I 'll make you pay up for that, Rose Blossom. You can't come any of your high-flyers' games on me-- Just you put that in your pipe and smoke it! Thunderation! what gets into women and girls, sometimes?" He seized the milk-pails from the shelf and hurried to the barn nearly running down Cherry in his wrathful excitement."Look out there, Cherry! You 're always getting round under foot!" he said, harshly, and stumbled on, regaining his balance, only to be met by Budd in the barn."Just clear out now, Budd! I ain't goin' to stand your foolin'. Let alone of that stanchion," he roared. "Always worryin' the cow if she looks once at you sideways. Getup, there--" His right boot helped the amazed cow forwards into the stall, and the milk drummed into the pail as if the poor creature were being milked by a dummy-engine with more pressure of steam on than it could well stand.Budd flew into the woodshed and found Cherry still standing, in a half-dazed condition, where Chi had left her. They compared notes immediately to the detriment and defamation of Chi's character. Then they carried their budget of woe to their mother."Chi is worried, children; you must n't mind if he is a little cross now and then. He feels dreadfully about the prospect of this war, as we all do, and that's his way of showing it.""Well, if he's going to be so cross at us, I wish he 'd clear out an' go to war!" retorted Budd, smarting under the unjust treatment."I 'm only afraid he will if we have one," said Mrs. Blossom, sadly. "But, oh, I hope and pray we may be spared that!"But Budd continued to grumble, and Cherry to be suspiciously sniffy, until their father's return; and then at the supper table they listened greedily to all the talk of their elders, that had for its absorbing theme the prospective war.As the spring days lengthened, and the sun drew northward, the tiny cloud on the country's peaceful horizon grew larger and darker, until it cast its shadow throughout the length and breadth of the land, and men's faces grew stern and troubled and women prayed for peace.With the lengthening days Chi showed signs of increasing restlessness. "It ain't any use, Ben," he said, one soft evening in early May, as the family, with the exception of the younger children, sat on the porch discussing the latest news, "I 've got to go.""Oh, Chi!" broke from Mrs. Blossom and Rose. They cried out as if hurt. Mr. Blossom grasped Chi's right hand, and March wrung the other."I can't stand it," he went on; "we 've been sassed enough as a nation, 'n' some of us have got to teach those foreigners we ain't goin' to turn the other cheek just coz we're slapped on one. When I wasn't higher than Budd, my great-grandfather--you remember him, Ben, lived the other side of the Mountain--put his father's old Revolution'ry musket (the one, you know, Rose-pose, as I 've used in the N.B.B.O.O.) into my hands, 'n' says: 'Don't you stand no sass, Malachi Graham, from no foreigners.--Just shoot away, 'n' holler, "Hands off" every time, 'n' they 'll learn their lesson easy and early, 'n' respect you in the end.' And I ain't forgot it.""Chi," Mrs. Blossom's voice was tremulous, "you won't go till you 're asked, or needed, will you?""I ain't goin' to wait to be asked, Mis' Blossom; I 'd rather be on hand to be refused. That's my way. So I thought I 'd be gettin' down along this week--""This week!" Rose interrupted him with a cry and a half-sob. "Oh, Chi! dear old Chi!mustyou go? What if--what if--" Rose's voice broke, and Chi gulped down a big lump, but answered, cheerily:"Well, Rose-pose,what if? Ain't I Old Put? 'n' ain't you Molly Stark? 'n' ain't Lady-bird Barbara Frietchie?--There, just read that--" he handed a letter to March, who gave it back to him, saying, in a husky voice, that it was too dark to read."Well, then we 'll adjourn into the house, 'n' light up.--There now," he said, as he lighted the lamp and set it on the table beside March, "here's your letter, Markis, read ahead."March read with broken voice:
To Mr. John Curtis Clyde of New York City, with the season's compliments.
MOUNT HUNGER, VERMONT, January 6th, 1898.
"And you 've had such lovely flowers come for you, five boxes of them, Rose, and piles of invitations. I 'm sure you 're engaged up to Ash Wednesday."
"Come, Chatterbox," said her father, smiling at her volubility, "Rose has just time to dress for dinner; you know Aunt Carrie and Uncle Jo are coming to-night."
"Oh, I forgot all about them; you 'll have to hurry, Rose. Wilkins, bring up the flowers. Come on," Hazel ran up the broad flight of stairs, carpeted with velvety crimson, to the first landing, from which, through a lofty arch in the hall, Rose caught a glimpse of softly lighted rooms, the walls enriched with engravings and etchings, with here and there a landscape or marine in watercolors. Rose drew a long breath. This, then, was what Chi meant when he said "Hazel was rich as Croesus."
"But, Hazel, my trunk has n't come," said Rose, as she followed her hostess into the spacious bedroom, which was separated from Hazel's only by a dressing-room.
"It 'll be here in a few minutes; papa has a special man, who always delivers them almost as soon as we get here."
Sure enough, the trunk came in time; and Rose, as she unpacked, finding evidences of the loving mother-care in every fold, cried within her heart, looking about at the exquisite appointments of her room and dressing-room:
"Martie, Martie, what would all this be without you!--Oh, I know now, what dear old Chi meant when he said Hazel was poor where we are rich--only a housekeeper to see to all Hazel's things--"
"Rose, what flowers are you going to wear?" called Hazel from her room.
"I have n't had time to look," Rose called back, surveying her white serge with great satisfaction in the pier-glass.
"Do look, then, and see who they 're from."
"Oh, Hazel, do come and see. How kind everybody has been! Here are cards from Mrs. Heath and Doctor Heath, and your Aunt Carrie, and Mr. Sherrill, and Mrs. Fenlick, and even that Mr. Grayson who was up at our house to tea a year ago!"
"They are lovely. Whose are you going to wear?"
"I 'll make up a bunch of one or two from each, that will show my appreciation of all their favors."
Hazel looked slightly crestfallen. "I hoped you 'd wear Jack's--they 're the loveliest with white--" she lifted the white lilacs--"and they 're so rare just now. I heard Aunt Carrie say that one of the girls had put off her wedding for six weeks, just because she couldn't have white lilacs for it."
"They 'll last with care three days surely, and I can wear them to-morrow evening," replied Rose, bending to inhale their delicate fragrance.
"So you can, for papa is going to give a dinner for you to-morrow night, and afterwards, he has promised to take you to a dance at Mrs. Pearsell's. I can't go, you know, for I 'm not grown up; but you can tell me all about it. We 're going to have lots of fun this week, for school does not begin for several days. Come."
Together they went down to the drawing-room, and Wilkins announced that dinner was served.
After it was over he sought Minna-Lu in her own domains, and gave vent to his long pent emotions.
"Minna-Lu," he whispered, mysteriously, "dere 's an out an' out angel ben hubberin' 'bout de table--"
"Fo' de Lawd!" Minna-Lu turned upon him fiercely, for she was superstitious to the very marrow. "Wa' fo' yo' come hyar, skeerin' de bref out a mah bones wif yo' sp'r'ts! Yo' go long home wha' yo' b'long."
But Wilkins was not to be repulsed in this manner. "Nebber see sech ha'r, an' jes' lillum-white--"
"Oh, go 'long! Lillum-white ha'r," interrupted Minna-Lu, with scathing sarcasm. "Huccome yo' know de angels hab lillum-white ha'r?"
"Huccome I know?--'Case I see de shine, jes' lake yo' see in de dror'n-room."
"De shine ob lillum-white ha'r in de dror'n-room! 'Pears lake yo' head struck ile--"
"Yo' hol' yo' tongue, Minna-Lu," retorted Wilkins, irritated at the continued evidence of disbelief on the part of his coadjutor. "Jes' yo' hide back ob de dumb-waitah to-morrah ebenin' when de dessert comes on, an' see fo' yo'se'f!" He departed in high dudgeon, and Minna-Lu gurgled long and low to herself, but, in her turn, was interrupted by the sound of tripping steps on the basement flight.
Minna-Lu hastily put her fat hands up to her turban to see if it were on straight, and smoothed her apron, muttering:
"Clar to goodness, ef it ain't jes' mah luck to hab little Missus come into dis yere hen-roost?" she rapidly surveyed her immaculate kitchen with anxious eye.
"Minna-Lu, this is my friend, Miss Rose; the one who did up those lovely preserves, and here are some new-laid eggs and some cheeses that Miss Maria-Ann Simmons--you know I told you all about her and the hens--has sent papa."
Minna-Lu gazed at Rose in open admiration. The faithful colored retainer had her thorny side and her blossom one.
Rose put out her hand, and Minna-Lu took it in both hers. "I 'se mighty glad yo' come, Miss Rose, dere ain't no strawberry-blossom nor no rose-blossom can hol' a can'le to yo' own honey se'f. Dese yere cheeses is prime." She examined one with the nose of a connoisseur. "Jes' fill de bill wif de salad-chips to-morrah." She stemmed her fists on her hips, and her mellow, contented gurgle caused Rose and Hazel to laugh, too.
"What is it, Minna-Lu?" said Hazel, reading the signs of the times.
"Dat Wilkins done tol' me to git back ob de dumb-waitah, to-morrah ebenin' to see Missy Rose, but I 'se gwine to ask rale straight to jes' see her 'fo' de comp'ny come."
"Of course you may. Come up to my room about seven, and we 'll be ready."
"Fo' sho'," said Minna-Lu, with beaming face.
"Good-night," said Rose, beaming, too, for she found the black faces and ways irresistibly amusing.
"De Lawd bress yo' lily face, Missy Rose."
When the two girls were alone, at last, in Hazel's room, there was no thought of bed for an hour. There were numberless questions on Hazel's part concerning all the dear Mount Hunger people, and speechless astonishment on Rose's at the number of invitations that were waiting for her. They chatted all the time they were undressing, calling back and forth to each other as one thing or another suggested itself. Finally, Hazel made her appearance in Rose's room. She went up to her, put her arms about her neck, and, looking up with eyes full of loving trust, said:
"Rose-pose, won't you come into my room and say 'Our Father' with me as Mother Blossom used to do on Mount Hunger? You can't think how I miss it."
"Why, Hazel darling, of course I will--then I shan't feel homesick missing that precious Martie."
She followed Hazel into her room, and after she was in bed, Rose knelt by her side, and together they said, "Our Father." Then Rose bent over to receive Hazel's loving kiss and whispered, "Oh, Rose, I 'm so happy to have you here," and whispered back, "And I 'm so happy to be with you, Hazel--good-night."
"Good-night."
Rose went back to her room. At last she was alone. She drew one of the easy-chairs up before the wood-fire that was dying down, put her bare feet on the warm fender, and, for a while, dreamed waking dreams. It was all so strange. The cathedral clock on the mantel chimed twelve. They were all asleep in the farmhouse on the Mountain--it was time for her to be. She rose, tiptoed softly into the dressing-room, took from the bowl the spray of white lilacs she had worn with the other flowers that evening, shook off the water, and drew the stem through a buttonhole in the yoke of her simple night-dress. She tiptoed back again into her room, looked up at the dainty, canopied bed, then laid herself down within it, and, almost immediately, fell asleep--with her hand resting on the white fragrance that lay upon her heart.
XXIII
BEHOLD HOW GREAT A MATTER A LITTLE FIRE KINDLETH
It was so delightful! The weeks were passing all too quickly, and the letters to Mount Hunger waxed eloquent in praise of everybody's kindness.
Jack had come on to lead a cotillion with Rose at Aunt Carrie's. It was a weighty affair--the selecting of the flowers for her. White violets they must be, and white violets were about as rare as white raspberries. Jack gave the florist his own address.
"I 'll see them, myself, before I send them up; for I won't trust anyone's eyes but my own," he said to himself as he hurried home to dress for dinner with a friend. "I wish I had n't promised Grayson to meet him at the Club before seven. I 'm afraid they won't come in time." He looked at his watch. "I 'm going to make them a test--and see what she 'll do. She 's so friendly and frank and all that, I can't find out even whether she 's beginning to care."
Jack's absorption in the theme was such that he put his latch-key in wrong-side up, and, in consequence, wrestled with the lock till he had worked himself into a fever of impatience; finally he touched the button before he discovered the trouble.
"Any packages come for me, Jason?" he inquired of the butler, whose dignified manner of locomotion had been rudely shaken by Jack's unceasing pressure on the electric-bell.
"Yes, Mr. John. Just taken a box up to the rooms."
Jack looked relieved, and sprang upstairs two steps at a time. He opened the box. There they were in all their exquisite freshness. "Like her," he thought, touching his lips to them; then, suddenly straightening himself, he felt the blood surge into his face.
"I like Dord's way of putting up his flowers, no tags, nor fol-de-rols. Jason," he said, as he ran down stairs again, "I shall be back in an hour; tell Thomas to have everything laid out--I 'm in a hurry. And have a messenger-boy here when I come back, and don't forget to order the carriage for quarter of eight, sharp."
"Yes, Mr. John."
"Messenger-boy come?" he inquired as Jason opened the door on his return.
"Yes, sir, waiting in the hall."
Jack raced up stairs. There was the precious box on his dressing-table. He hastily took a visiting card, and, writing on it the sentiment that was uppermost in his heart, slipped it into the envelope, gave it, together with the box, to the waiting boy, and bade him hand it to the man, Wilkins, with the request that it be sent up at once to the lady to whom it was addressed. Then he made ready for dinner.
An hour later, Rose was dressing for the dance, and Hazel was watching her, chatting volubly all the while.
"That's the loveliest dress, Rose, I heard Aunt Carrie say, you couldn't buy such, nowadays."
"It was Martie's wedding-dress. An uncle of her mother's, who was a sea-captain, brought it from India. But if I wear it many more times, it will be known throughout the length of New York. This is my sixth time."
"I should n't care if it were the hundredth; it's just lovely. Besides, Jack has n't seen it, you know."
Rose laughed. "Oh, yes, he has--on Martie; that night of the tea on the porch."
"Oh, well, that's different. What flowers are you going to wear?"
"I thought I wouldn't wear any, just for a change." Rose's face was veiled by the shining hair, which she was brushing, preparatory to coiling it high on her head; otherwise, Hazel would have seen the clear flush that warmed even the roots of the soft waves at the nape of her neck. Just then there was a knock. The maid opened the door, and Wilkins' voice was distinctly audible:--
"Jes' come fo' Miss Rose; dey wuz to come up right smart, so de boy say."
"Oh, more flowers. Who from?" cried Hazel, eagerly, while Wilkins strained his ears to catch the reply.
"From Mr. Sherrill," said Rose, opening the little envelope.
What she read on the card caused the blood to mount higher and higher, till temples and forehead flushed pink, then as suddenly to recede.
"May I open them, Rose, and won't you wear some if they 're from Jack?"
"Yes," said Rose, simply. The two girls leaned over the box as Hazel took off the wrapper--then the cover--then the inner tissue papers--then--
[image]"The two girls leaned over the box as Hazel took off the wrapper"
[image]
[image]
"The two girls leaned over the box as Hazel took off the wrapper"
Suddenly a shriek of laughter, followed by another, penetrated to Wilkins, who was lingering on the stairs; he came softly back again. Peal after peal of wild merriment issued from Rose's room. Within, Rose in her petticoat and bodice had flung herself on the bed in an ecstasy of mirth, and Hazel was rolling over on the rug as was the wont of Budd and Cherry in the old days on Mount Hunger. The maid looked from one to the other, and, no longer able to keep from joining in the merriment, although she did not know the cause, left the room, only to find Wilkins with perturbed face just outside the door.
"'Pears lake dere wor sumfin' queah 'bout dat ye re box--" he began; but the maid only shook with laughter and laid her finger on her lips, motioning him into the back hall.
"Did you ever?" cried Hazel, when she recovered her breath.
"No, I never," said Rose, wiping away the tears, for she had laughed till she cried. "Let's take another look."
They bent over the box, and took out its contents; then went off again into fits of seemingly inextinguishable laughter; for, neatly folded beneath the tissue paper, lay four sets of Jack's new light-weight, white silk pajamas, which he had purchased that afternoon, in order to take back to Cambridge with him. On the card, which Rose still held in her hand, was written, "Wear these for my sake."
"What will you say to him, Rose?" said Hazel, sitting up on the rug with her hands clasped about her knees.
"I don't know," said Rose, proceeding to dress. "I can'twearthem, that's certain." And again the absurdity of the situation presented itself to her. "And I can't apologize for not wearing them. Neither can I take it for granted that he was going to send me flowers, and explain that he sent me these instead."
"How awfully careless," said Hazel, interrupting her; "he must have had something on his mind not to take the pains to look, even."
Rose flushed. "It will be best to let the matter drop, and say nothing about it," she replied in a cool, toploftical tone that amazed, as well as mystified, her little hostess.
"Why, Rose, I think Jack ought to know about it. I 'll tell him, if you don't want to."
"Thank you, Hazel, but I don't need your good offices in this matter."
Hazel rose from the rug, and going over to Rose, laid both hands on her shoulders and looked straight up into her eyes.
"Now, Rose Blossom, please don't speak to me in that way. You 're so queer! First you 're nice about Jack, and then you 're horrid; and when you 're that way, you are n't nice tomea bit--and I don't like it, and I don't blame Jack for not liking it either," she added emphatically. "I remember papa said a year ago that Jack was 'all heart' for a good many girls, old and young--but I can tell you what, he won't have any for you, if you whiff round so."
Hazel in her earnestness gave Rose a little shake. Rose smiled, and, bending her head, kissed her, saying, "F. and F. and you know, Hazel."
"Oh, I know all about 'forgiving and forgetting,' but I don't like it just the same. He's my cousin and the dearest fellow in the world, and I don't like to have him treated so."
"How about his treating me?" said Rose, pointing to the innocent box of underwear, "forgetting even to look; or not caring enough, to see if I had the right package?"
"Oh, that's different--perhaps the florist made a mistake."
"The florist!" Rose laughed merrily. "I never knew that gentlemen's underwear and roses grew on the same bush.--There 's Wilkins, and I 'm not ready."
"De coachman say it's a pow'f ul col' night, an' Miss Rose bettah take some mo' wraps."
"Thank you, Wilkins," Hazel flew into the dressing-room for a long fur cloak of her mother's which she had used to wear to the dancing-classes. She wrapped it about Rose, who stooped suddenly and kissed her again, whispering, "Hazel, you 've all spoiled me, that's what's the matter,--but I 'll be good to Jack, for your sake as well as for my own."
"Now you 're what Doctor Heath calls papa, the most splendid fellow in the world. There now--I won't crush your gown--" A kiss--"Good-night. You look like an angel!"
Mr. Clyde thought so, too, as he watched her coming downstairs. She slipped off the cloak as she stood beneath the soft, but brilliant hall lights. "Do I look all right?" she asked earnestly, for she had fallen into the habit, before going anywhere with him or Hazel, of asking for their criticism.
"I should say so--but where are the flowers? I miss them."
"I thought I wouldn't wear any to-night, just for a change."
"A woman's whim, Rose. But I can't say that you need them--Now, what's to pay?" he said to himself, as he helped her into the carriage. "I saw Jack at Dord's this afternoon, and, evidently, something was in the wind. I hope it has n't been taken out of his sails."
"Sumfin' mighty queah 'bout dat yere box," murmured Wilkins to himself, as he closed the door, "but Miss Rose doan' need no flow's. Nebber see sech h--Fo' de good Lawd! Wha' fo' yo' hyar? Yo' Minna-Lu,--skeerin' mah day-lights out o' mah, shoolin' 'roun' b'hin' dat por' chair,--jes' lake bug'lahs."
Minna-Lu gurgled. "Yo' jes' straight, Wilkins; nebber see sech ha'r. Huccome I 'se hyar? Jes' to see dat lillum-white angel--"
"Yo' go 'long, wha' yo' b'long," growled Wilkins, not yet having recovered from his fright. And Minna-Lu went, with the radiant vision still before her round, black eyes.
Jack felt a queer tightening about his lower jaw, and one heart-throb, apparently in his throat, as he entered Aunt Carrie's reception-room. Then, as with one glance he swept Rose from the crown of her head to the hem of her dress, a hot, rushing wave of indignant feeling mastered him--he knew he had staked his all (so a man at twenty-two is apt to think) and lost. He braced himself, mentally and physically. He was n't going to show the white-feather--not he.
But Rose--Rose was mystifying, captivating, cordial, merry, and altogether charming. She knocked out all Jack's calculations as to life, love, women, girls in general, and one girl in particular, at one fell swoop. He was brought, necessarily, into unstable equilibrium, so far as his feelings were concerned--his head he was obliged to keep level on account of the various figures. Several other heads were variously askew, and would have been turned, likewise, for good and all, had the wearer of her mother's India-mull wedding-dress been possessed of a fortune.
Rose developed social powers that evening that furnished food for conversation for Aunt Carrie and Mr. Clyde, who watched her with pride and pleasure. She was evidently enjoying herself thoroughly, and her enjoyment proved contagious.
"After all," said Jack as, between figures, he found opportunity for a whispered word or two; "this is n't half so fine a dance as the one in the barn, last September."
"Why, that's just what I was thinking, myself, that very minute!"
"You were?"
"Yes."
The brown eyes and the blue ones met with such evidence of a perfect understanding, that Jack failed to see Maude Seaton, who had approached him for the purpose of taking him out in the four-in-hand.
"Oh, I beg your pardon," said Jack, starting to his feet, "it's the 'four-in-hand.'"
"Yes, and I think you 'll have to be put into the traces again," she said, with a meaning smile.
"Not I," retorted Jack, merrily, "I kicked over them nearly a year ago."
"So I heard," replied Miss Seaton, sweetly; and Jack wondered what she meant.
When Jack found himself again beside Rose, he decided that, flowers or no flowers, he would ask for an explanation. But his first attempt was met with such a bewilderingly merry smile, and such confident assurance that explanations were not in order, that it proved a successful failure.
When, at last, in the early morning hours he was seated before the open fire in his bedroom, pulling away reflectively at his pipe, he had time to think it over. He came to the conclusion that it was trivial in him to have staked his all on her wearing those flowers, for she certainly--certainly had led him to think that she was anything but indifferent to him.
"That look now," mused Jack. "I don't believe that a girl like Rose Blossom would look that way if she didn't mean it--if she did n't care. No other girl could look that way." He reached for his watch on the dressing-case. "I shall get good two hours' sleep before that early train.--What's that?" He noticed for the first time, that on the bed lay a familiar-looking box in a brown paper wrapper. In a trice he had broken the string, whisked off the cover, scattered the tissue paper right and left.--There lay the violets, white, and sweet, and almost as fresh as when he gave them his virgin kiss nearly twelve hours before.
Jack sat down stupefied on the bed.What had he given her, anyway? He thought intensely for a full minute.
"Great Scott! the pajamas!" And then Jack Sherrill rolled over on the bed, ignoring the damage to dress suit and violets, and, burying his face in the pillow, gave vent to a smothered yell.
There was a merry exchange of notes between Cambridge and New York during the next two weeks, and Rose had promised to wear any flowers--and only his--he might send her for the ball at Mrs. Fenlick's the middle of February, and for which Jack was coming on. It would occur during the last week of Rose's visit, and Jack thought that possibly--possibly,--well, he could n't define just what "possibly;" but it proved to be an infinitely absorbing one, and Jack felt it was "now or never" with him.
Mrs. Heath had claimed Rose as her guest for the last three weeks, and the days were filled with pleasures. On the Saturday before the ball, and a week before Rose was to return to Mount Hunger, two seats in a box at the opera had been sent in to Mrs. Heath from a friend.
"Look at these, Rose!" Mrs. Heath exclaimed, showing her the note. "Just exactly what you were wishing to hear, and we thought we could not arrange it for next week. That opera has been changed for to-day's matinée, and now you can hear both Lohengrin and Siegfried."
Rose clapped her hands. "I 've just longed to hear Lohengrin; Mrs. Ford and her son have played so much of it to me. I think it's perfectly beautiful."
"I 'm so sorry I can't go, dear; but I made a positive engagement for this afternoon and it must not be broken. But I 'll send round for Cousin Anna May. She does n't care much for the opera, but she will chaperone you. She 's not much of a talker either, so you can enjoy the music in peace. People chatter so abominably there."
From the moment the orchestra sounded the first notes of that pathetic and thrillingly appealing fore-word of the overture, Rose was lost to the world about her. She was glad of the darkness, glad no one could see or notice her intense absorption in the opening scene. Even when the lights were turned on between the acts, and the subdued murmur in the house rose to a confusing babble, she was living in the story of Elsa and her lover Knight. Elderly Cousin Anna May, seeing this, let her alone, thinking to herself:--"One has to be young to be so enthusiastic over this wornout theme."
The curtain fell; the house was brilliant with lights; confusion of talk, confusion of merry chat and laughter were all about Rose; but she sat unheeding, wondering if the element of evil would be turned into a factor of good. Her heart was aching with the intensity of feeling for the two lovers. Suddenly, a few words behind her arrested her attention. She sat with her back to the speakers--two girls in the next box, who had annoyed her more than once by their ceaseless, whispering gabble.
"I told Maude I did n't believe it."
"What did she say?"
"She said it was gospel truth."
"Do tell me what it was, I won't tell."
"Sure?"
"Not a soul."
"Promise?"
"Why, of course. They say he 's got oceans of money."
"Piles--. He 's got his mother's fortune and will have his father's. Besides, his Uncle Gray is a bachelor, and so Jack will have that, too. Maude says he 's the best catch in New York."
"I heard Sam say he was in an awfully fast set in college; but Sam likes him awfully well. Have you seen him?"
"Oh, yes, lots. Maude let me see him one night before dinner at Newport. I used to see him playing polo at the grounds. I think he 's fascinating--just like Lohengrin."
"But what was it? Hurry up, do."
"You 'll never tell?"
"Never."
The voice was slightly lowered--confused with the munching of Huyler's; and Rose, with hypersensitive hearing, could distinguish only a word or two, or a detached sentence.
"I don't think that's so awful. Sam does that, too, and he 's just as nice a brother as I want."
"Oh, I don't know anything about that; but I know it's true, for Maude said so." In the increasing confusion of talk in the house, the voices were suddenly raised, and Rose caught every word.
"I 'll ask Sam--" began the other, dropping her opera glass and stooping to pick it up.
"If you do, Minna Grayson, I 'll never speak to you again."
"Oh, I forgot--" laughed the other. "Tell us some more, it's awfully exciting."
"I won't either," said the other, in a huffy tone. Evidently, they were school-girls in for the matinée.
"Oh,do; whatdidMaude say?"
"She said, 'No,'" chuckled the other triumphantly.
"But think of his money!'
"She said she did n't mind; she 's got money enough of her own, anyway, if she does skimp me on allowance ever since grandmamma died."
"I heard Sara say last Christmas when I was home for vacation, that he was perfectly devoted to that new girl the Clydes have taken up."
"Yes. Maude says it's one of his fads. She gives him six months more to get over it."
"Everybody says she is a perfect beauty. Sam says that Mrs. Fenlick says she is the most beautiful creature off of a canvas she has ever seen."
"Oh, Maude says Mrs. Fenlick raves over everything new. She, the girl, I mean, made a dead set at him a year ago when he happened to meet her up in the mountains. You know they had a riding-party last August. But now they say she seems to be setting her cap for Hazel's father--he has a million or two more than Jack, and she 's as poor as a church-mouse."
"I did n't know that,--poor?"
"Yes, awfully. Why, Maude says she's seen her selling berries for a living somewhere up in the mountains--oh, way back in them. People call them the Lost Nation, they 're so far back; and Maude says she wore patched shoes and an old calico dress--Sh!--Now we 're going to have that bridal march, is n't it dandy? It ought to be a part of the marriage ceremony, Maude says. I 'm so glad it's coming;--Tum, tum, ty tum--tum, tum, ty tum--here 's just one more candied violet--tum, tum, ty tum, tum, ty tum, ty ty tum, ty tum--Oh, look! Is n't Elsa just lovely--"
A burst of applause greeted the beautiful prima donna. Upon Rose's ears it fell like the thunder of a cataract, like the crash and roll of an avalanche. She stared at the exquisite scene before her with strained eyes. The music went on with all the troublous-sweet under-tones of love, and longing, and forever-parting. Not once did Rose stir until the curtain fell, then she turned to her companion:--
"Can we get out soon, Mrs. May? The air is a little close here."
"Certainly, my dear;" but to herself she said, "How intense she is. I 'm thankful I never was so strung up over music."
XXIV
"OLD PUT"
"Where 's Rose?" said the Doctor as he came in that Saturday evening, and heard no welcoming voice from the library or the stairs.
"She came home from the opera with a frightful headache and has gone to bed. She said she did n't want any dinner, but I have insisted upon her having some toast and tea," replied his wife.
"Humph!" growled the Doctor; "Our wild rose can't stand such hot-house atmosphere. When does the Fenlicks' ball come off?"
"Next Wednesday; it will be a superb affair. Rose showed me her card the other day, and if you will believe me, it's full, although Jack Sherrill gets the lion's share."
"How do you think things are coming on there, wifie?"
"Why, he's devoted to her whenever he can be; you know what Mrs. Pearsell told us about last summer, but--"
"But what?" said the Doctor, a little impatiently. "Generally, wifie, you can see prospective wedding-cake if two young people so much as look twice at each other."
Mrs. Heath laughed and nodded. "Yes, I know; but in just this case, I don't know. You can't tell anything by her--and I fear, hubbie, that Jack Sherrill is n't quite good enough for her."
"Not quite good enough for her!" The Doctor almost shouted in his earnestness. "Jack Sherrill not quite good enough for--"
"Sh--sh, dear!" His wife held up her hand in warning. "Someone might hear."
"Let 'em hear, then," growled the Doctor. "I say Rose is n't a bit too good for him.--Look here, wifie,--" he drew her towards him and down upon the arm of his easy-chair, "Jack's all right every time--do you understand?All right!"
"Ye-es," admitted his wife rather reluctantly. "I know he 's a great favorite of yours. But Mrs. Grayson says he 's in a very fast set at Harvard--
"Now look here, wifie, don't you let those women with their eternal hunger for gossip say anything to you about Jack. I tell you there is n't another fellow I know, who, placed as he is, can set up so many white stones to mark his short life's pathway as John Sherrill's only son. For heaven's sake, give him the credit for them. I know what I saw on Mount Hunger a year ago, and I know and believe what I see."
"Well, I only hope he won't flirt with her--" began Mrs. Heath. Her husband interrupted her:
"Flirt with her!" The Doctor chuckled. "I'll warrant Jack won't do any flirting with her--it 'll be the other way round sooner than that! Just say good-night to Rose for me when you go up stairs, and tell her if she is n't down bright and early Sunday morning, I 'll prescribe for her."
But there was no need for the Doctor's prescription; for Rose was down for breakfast, and although white cheeks and heavy eyes caused the Doctor to draw his eyebrows together in a straight line over the bridge of his nose, nothing was said of there being any need for a prescription. But after breakfast he drew her into the library and placed her in an easy-chair before the blazing fire.
"There now," he said in his own kindliest tones, "sit there and dream while wifie makes ready for church, and after that you shall go with me for an official drive. The air will do you good. I can't send such white roses"--he patted her cheek--"back to Mount Hunger; what would mother say?"
To his amazement Rose buried her face in both hands; a half-suppressed sob startled him.
"Why, Rose-pose! What's the matter, little girl? Headachey--nerves unstrung--too much opera? Here, come into the office where we shan't be disturbed, and tell me all about it."
But Rose shook her head, lifted it from her hands, and smiled through the welling tears.
"I 'm a perfect goose, but--but--I believe I 'm getting just a little bit homesick for Mount Hunger, and I 'm not going to stay for Mrs. Fenlick's ball. I know mother needs me at home--I can just feel it in her letters, and I know I want--I want her."
"Don't blame you a bit, Rose,--but is n't this rather sudden? Any previous attacks?"
"No--and I know it seems dreadfully ungrateful to you and dear Mrs. Heath to say so, and it is n't that--I 'd love to be with just you two; but it's this dreadful feeling comes over me, and I know I ought to go."
"And go you shall, Rose," said the Doctor, emphatically, but oh! so kindly and understandingly. "Go back to all the dear ones there--and when you come again, don't give us the tail-end of your visit, will you?"
"Indeed, I won't," answered Rose, earnestly, "and if it were only you and Mrs. Heath, I 'd love to stay, but--but--"
"No need to say anything more, Rose, wifie and I understand it perfectly--" ("I wish the dickens I did!" was his thought)--"Tell wifie when she comes down, and meanwhile I 'll send round for the brougham and we 'll take a little drive in the Park before office hours."
Rose patted his hand, and her silence spoke for her.
"Here 's a pretty kettle of fish!" said the Doctor to himself as he went to the telephone. "I wish I could get to the bottom of it."
And thus it came about that a cool, dignified note, not expressive of any particular regret, was mailed to Cambridge on Sunday afternoon, and a long letter to Mount Hunger telling them to be sure to meet her on Tuesday at Barton's, and filled with wildly enthusiastic expressions of delight in anticipation of the home-coming. And on Tuesday afternoon, as the train sped onwards, following the curves of the frozen Connecticut, and the snow-covered mountains on the Vermont side began to crowd its banks, Rose felt a lightening of the heart and an uplifting of spirits.
The bitterness and shame and shock she had experienced, in consequence of that one little bite of the fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, seemed to diminish with every mile that increased the distance between her and the frothing whirlpool of the great city's gayeties. All the way up, until the mountains loomed in sight, there had been hot, indignant protest in her thoughts. At first, indeed, it had been hatred.
"I hate it all--hate it,hateit!" she found herself saying over and over again after the good-byes had been said at the station, and Hazel and Mr. Clyde and Doctor Heath had supplied her with flowers and magazines for the long day's journey. It was all she could think or feel at the time; but soon the little pronoun changed, and the thought grew more bitter:
"I hate him! How could he--how dared he do as he did! Because I am poor, I suppose. Oh! I wish I could make him pay for it. I wish I could make him love me really and truly, and then justscornhim! But what a fool I am--as if hecouldlove after what I heard--oh, why did I hear it! I wish I may never see his face again, and I wish I 'd stayed at home where I belong--I hate him!"--And so on "da capo" hour after hour, and the incessant chugetty-chug-chug of the express furnished the rhythmic, basal tone for the bitter motive.
It was long after lunch time, and the train of thought had not changed, when Rose's eye fell upon the dainty basket Martin had placed in the rack.
"This is a pretty state of mind to go home to Martie in!" she said to herself, rising and taking down the basket. "I have n't eaten a good meal since last Saturday at lunch, and I 'm--why, I believe I 'm hungry!"
She opened the basket, and loving evidence of Minna-Lu's admiration tempted her to pick a little here and there--a stuffed olive or two, a roast quail, a delicate celery sandwich, a quince tart, a bunch of Hamburg grapes. Soon Rose was feasting on all the good things, and her harsh thoughts began to soften. How kind they all were! Andtheytruly loved her--and what had they not done for her comfort and pleasure! Rose, setting her pretty teeth deep into a third quince tart, looked out of the window and almost exclaimed aloud at the sight. The vanguard of the Green Mountains closed in the upper end of the river-valley along which they were speeding. It was home that was behind all that! The thought still further softened her.
What? Carry her bitterness and disappointed pride back into that dear, peaceful home? Not she! "They shall never know--never!" she said to herself--"I 'm not Molly Stark for nothing, and there are others in the world beside Jack Sherrill." And so she continued to speak cold comfort to herself for the next four hours until the brakeman called "Barton's River!"
There beyond the platform was the old apple-green pung!--and yes! father and March and Budd and dear old Chi anxiously scanning the coaches.
Home at last! and such a home-coming! How busy the tongues were for a week afterwards! How wildly gay was Rose, who kept them laughing over the many queer doings of the metropolis, over Wilkins and Minna-Lu and Martin and Mrs. Scott! And how lovingly she spoke of Hazel's charming hospitality and of Mr. Clyde's thoughtfulness for her pleasure, although, as she mentioned his name, a wave of color mounted to the roots of her hair at the ugly thought that would intrude. Chi listened with all his ears, enjoying it with the rest; but once upstairs in his room over the shed, he would sit down on the side of his bed to ponder a little the gay doings of his Rose-pose among the "high-flyers," and then turn in with a sigh and a muttered:
"'T ain't Rose-pose. I knew how 't would be.--There 's a screw loose somewhere; but she's handsome!--handsome as a picture, 'n' I 'd give a dollar to know if she 's cut that other one out."
"Valentines seem kind of scarce this year," he remarked rather grimly, a few days after her arrival, as late in the afternoon, he returned from Barton's with little mail and no boxes of flowers. "It's the sixteenth day of February, but it might be Fast Day for all that handful of mail would show for it!" He placed the package on Mrs. Blossom's work-table at which Rose was sitting busy with some sewing. They were alone in the room.
Rose laughed merrily. "Goodness, Chi! you want us to have more than our share. We had a perfect deluge last year when Hazel was here; you know it makes a difference without her. You said yourself that there was a good deal of bulk, but it was pretty light weight--don't you remember?"
Chi elevated one bushy eyebrow. "I ain't forgot; but I don't know about it's bein' anyDeluge--it appeared to me it was a Shadrach, Meshach, 'n' Abednego kind of a business--" He gave the back log a kick that sent the sparks up the chimney in a grand pyrotechnic show. "Seems as if I could see those posies, now, a-shrivellin' in the fireplace. Never thought you treated those innocent things quite on the square, Rose-pose!"
Rose's head was bent low over her work. Chi went on, bracing himself to the self-imposed task of enlightening her:--
"I don't want to meddle, Rose, in anybody's business, but it ain't set well with me ever since--the way you treated those roses; 'n', after all, we 're both members of the Nobody's Business But Our Own Society, 'n' if anybody 's goin' to meddle, perhaps I 'm the one. I 've thought a good many times you would n't have been quite so harsh with 'em, if you had n't overlooked this in your flare-up--" He drew out of his breast pocket a card--Jack 's--with the verse on the back. "Read that, 'n' see if you ain't dropped a stitch somewhere that you can pick up in time." He handed her the card.
Rose looked up surprised, but with burning cheeks. She took the card, read the verse, turned it over on the name side, and rose from her chair. Every particle of color had left her face. She went over to the fireplace, and, bending, dropped the little piece of pasteboard upon the glowing back-log.
"The sentiment belongs with the roses, Chi; don't let's have any more Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego business--I 'm tired of it." She spoke indifferently; then, resuming her seat, called out in a cheery voice:
"Martie, won't you come here a minute, and see if I have put on this gore right?"
"I 'll come, dear."
Chi, nonplussed, irritated, repulsed, set his teeth hard and abruptly left the room.
Outside in the shed he clenched his fist and shook it vigorously at the closed door of the long-room: "--By George Washin'ton!" he muttered, "I 'll make you pay up for that, Rose Blossom. You can't come any of your high-flyers' games on me-- Just you put that in your pipe and smoke it! Thunderation! what gets into women and girls, sometimes?" He seized the milk-pails from the shelf and hurried to the barn nearly running down Cherry in his wrathful excitement.
"Look out there, Cherry! You 're always getting round under foot!" he said, harshly, and stumbled on, regaining his balance, only to be met by Budd in the barn.
"Just clear out now, Budd! I ain't goin' to stand your foolin'. Let alone of that stanchion," he roared. "Always worryin' the cow if she looks once at you sideways. Getup, there--" His right boot helped the amazed cow forwards into the stall, and the milk drummed into the pail as if the poor creature were being milked by a dummy-engine with more pressure of steam on than it could well stand.
Budd flew into the woodshed and found Cherry still standing, in a half-dazed condition, where Chi had left her. They compared notes immediately to the detriment and defamation of Chi's character. Then they carried their budget of woe to their mother.
"Chi is worried, children; you must n't mind if he is a little cross now and then. He feels dreadfully about the prospect of this war, as we all do, and that's his way of showing it."
"Well, if he's going to be so cross at us, I wish he 'd clear out an' go to war!" retorted Budd, smarting under the unjust treatment.
"I 'm only afraid he will if we have one," said Mrs. Blossom, sadly. "But, oh, I hope and pray we may be spared that!"
But Budd continued to grumble, and Cherry to be suspiciously sniffy, until their father's return; and then at the supper table they listened greedily to all the talk of their elders, that had for its absorbing theme the prospective war.
As the spring days lengthened, and the sun drew northward, the tiny cloud on the country's peaceful horizon grew larger and darker, until it cast its shadow throughout the length and breadth of the land, and men's faces grew stern and troubled and women prayed for peace.
With the lengthening days Chi showed signs of increasing restlessness. "It ain't any use, Ben," he said, one soft evening in early May, as the family, with the exception of the younger children, sat on the porch discussing the latest news, "I 've got to go."
"Oh, Chi!" broke from Mrs. Blossom and Rose. They cried out as if hurt. Mr. Blossom grasped Chi's right hand, and March wrung the other.
"I can't stand it," he went on; "we 've been sassed enough as a nation, 'n' some of us have got to teach those foreigners we ain't goin' to turn the other cheek just coz we're slapped on one. When I wasn't higher than Budd, my great-grandfather--you remember him, Ben, lived the other side of the Mountain--put his father's old Revolution'ry musket (the one, you know, Rose-pose, as I 've used in the N.B.B.O.O.) into my hands, 'n' says: 'Don't you stand no sass, Malachi Graham, from no foreigners.--Just shoot away, 'n' holler, "Hands off" every time, 'n' they 'll learn their lesson easy and early, 'n' respect you in the end.' And I ain't forgot it."
"Chi," Mrs. Blossom's voice was tremulous, "you won't go till you 're asked, or needed, will you?"
"I ain't goin' to wait to be asked, Mis' Blossom; I 'd rather be on hand to be refused. That's my way. So I thought I 'd be gettin' down along this week--"
"This week!" Rose interrupted him with a cry and a half-sob. "Oh, Chi! dear old Chi!mustyou go? What if--what if--" Rose's voice broke, and Chi gulped down a big lump, but answered, cheerily:
"Well, Rose-pose,what if? Ain't I Old Put? 'n' ain't you Molly Stark? 'n' ain't Lady-bird Barbara Frietchie?--There, just read that--" he handed a letter to March, who gave it back to him, saying, in a husky voice, that it was too dark to read.
"Well, then we 'll adjourn into the house, 'n' light up.--There now," he said, as he lighted the lamp and set it on the table beside March, "here's your letter, Markis, read ahead."
March read with broken voice: