CHAPTER XLIV.LAST GLIMPSE OF OAK CITY.

There was much surprise when it was known that Mrs. Percy and Clarice were again in their cottage, and many remarks were made as to the probable state of Clarice’s feelings, and much wonder expressed at her changed demeanor. She had studied her role and decided to make herself popular. She was affable to every one. She went at once to call upon Mrs. Ralston to tell her about Paul, appearing as natural when she talked of him as if he had never been more than an ordinary acquaintance. From the Ralston House she went to see Miss Hansford to tell her of Elithe, and how much she was admired in the American colony, and was so gracious and sweet that Miss Hansford concluded she must have met with a change and thought she would find out. Referring to the camp-meeting, which had been unusually interesting, she spoke of some young people whom Clarice knew and who, she said, had come forward and were enjoying religion.

“I wish you were of the number. Maybe you are,” she added.

Clarice laughed and replied, “I hope I always enjoyed it in a measure.”

“Pretty small measure, if I am any judge,” was Miss Hansford’s mental comment.

She was, however, very sociable, and gave Clarice a glass of root beer and introduced her to Roger when he came in from a long walk across the fields, where he had been tovisit a sick family. Clarice had not expected much of a poor missionary from Samona, and was surprised to find him so courteous and gentlemanly. He was very glad to meet her, for she could tell him of his daughter, and, for a full half hour, she sat answering his questions and asking some of her own concerning Jack, to whom he had been so kind. Evidently, the two were much pleased with each other, and before Clarice had left she had promised to attend a sewing society to be held in the church parlors for the purpose of working on cassocks for the surpliced choir the rector was training.

Up to this point Miss Hansford had joined in the conversation, but, at the mention of cassocks, she left the room hurriedly, banging the door hard, and did not return to say good-bye to Clarice. She was very proud of Roger and he was very popular, as a new rector, earnest in his work, good-looking, fairly young and unmarried, is apt to be. He had entered heart and soul into his work and in an atmosphere more congenial than that of Samona was expanding and developing in more ways than one. All this pleased Miss Hansford, who gave liberally for the maintenance of the church, and went occasionally to hear him preach, until he began to intone the services, when she quit, saying she couldn’t stand that whang-tang, and she didn’t believe the Lord could, either. At the cassocks, which she at first calledhassocksshe rebelled more hotly than at the whang-tang, and gave Roger many a sharp lecture, but never made the slightest impression upon him. He laughed at her good-humoredly and told her she was behind the times, and conducted his services in his own way. Once she thought of suggesting to him to find another boarding place, not on account of his ritualistic proclivities, but on account of his four boys, who nearly drove her wild.

They had very early made the acquaintance of Sherry, who had been left at the Ralston House, and who spent the greater part of every day at the cottage. They picked up two stray cats and brought them home, to the infinite disgust of Jim, growing old and fat, and jealous of intruders. They had a wheel and a kite and stilts. They played ball and croquet on her grounds; they chewed gum, and left little balls of it everywhere. They raced through the house, with Sherry after them. They brought all the boys in the neighborhood to play with them and the place resounded with the merry shouts from morning till night. With all this, they were lovable boys, with bright, handsome faces and pleasing manners, and Miss Hansford doted upon them and, knowing she would be very lonely without them, decided finally to keep them and “stand the racket.” It was something to have so good a man as Roger under her roof and she was very happy until Clarice came as a disturbing element.

From his first introduction to her Roger became interested. He knew her history and, because he knew it, he was very kind to her. He could read the human heart better than his aunt, and he felt sure that in Clarice’s there was a pain she was trying to hide, and he was sorry for her. He did not know how much the interest she began at once to manifest in church matters was feigned, nor how much real. Nor did he care. If she were willing to help, he was very willing to have her, and, knowing it would divert her mind, he put upon her a good deal of work, which she accepted cheerfully. This threw them together a good deal, and before winter was half over people began to gossip. When this reached Miss Hansford she gave Roger a rather unpleasant half hour, and the next day wrote a long letterto Elithe, telling her to come home and see to her father, who was making a fool of himself in more ways than one.

“He’s got a vested choir of girls and boys,—thirty of ’em,” she wrote, “gathered from all over town. Seems as if folks were crazy. They want the training for their children, they say. Training! I should say it was general training; the way they march down one aisle and up another. Your brother Rob leads the van with a big cross. They call him something which sounds like anaconite. ’Tain’t that, of course, but I’m so disgusted I won’t ask any questions. Artie is in it, and you know he can’t sing a note. But he is small and pretty and makes his mouth go, and that pleases the people. They have candles on the altar in broad daylight. Symbols Roger calls them, and tries to convince me it is all right. Maybe it is, but it looks to me like a show. Give me a good, plain meeting, I say, with now and then an Amen thatisan Amen, without abroad ain it. Candles and cottas and cassocks ain’t all. I could stand them if I wan’t afraid your father had a notion after——. You’ll never guesswhoin the world, so I may as well tell you and done with it.Clarice!Did you ever! You know they are staying here all winter, and as there ain’t any carousin’ or dancing going on, she’s turned religious, and really does seem different. The way she teeters round Roger makes me sick. She plays the organ,—helps him train the children,—and he goes home with her from rehearsal. She teaches in Sunday school, too. No more fit to teach than a cat. Artie is in her class and says she tells them stories mostly, which he likes, of course. I’ve given Roger my opinion, and he laughed me in my face, told me I needn’t worry and asked if I s’posed he could ever forget Lucy. Lucy, indeed! I don’t think she stands muchchance with Clarice Percy purrin’ round. I b’lieve she thinks Roger is to be my heir, but she’s mistaken. I’ve made my will and left everything to the boys. Bless their hearts! I never thought much of boys, but I could not live without these four, and can hardly live with them. Such a noise as they make, with balls and kites and dogs and cats. There’s two here now, besides Jim, and I expect they’ll bring a litter of kittens they have found somewhere in the woods. They have wonderful stomachs and are always wanting something to eat, and a pie is nothing to them. I make one every day,—sometimes two. Everybody likes Roger, and he seems to be more like a son than nephew, if he is cracked on ritualism, but I’ll never take in Clarice,—never!”

When Elithe, who was in Rome, read this letter she cried out loud and Paul laughed louder than she cried.

“Clarice, your stepmother! My stepmother-in-law! that would be rich,” he said.

Then, when he saw how really distressed Elithe was, he tried to comfort her, but she would not be comforted.

“Oh, Paul,” she sobbed, “we must go home and stop it!”

“Stop what?” he asked. “The vested choir?”

“No-o,” Elithe replied.

“Do you want to blow out the candles?”

“No. I don’t care if they have a hundred!”

“Well, do you want to stop Rob from being anaconite?”

“No-o. You know better. It’s,—oh, Paul! I don’t want father to marry Clarice! It would be so ridiculous!”

“That’s it, is it?” Paul said, beginning to laugh again. “Don’t be alarmed,” he continued, “Clarice must amuse herself some way, and just now it suits her to help your father run the church. But she will never marry him. Don’t let that trouble you. We hav’n’t half done Europeyet. Next summer will be time enough to go home, and I doubt if we find Clarice there.”

Paul was right in his conclusions. One winter, with nothing more exciting than helping run a church was enough for Clarice, and as early in the spring as they could get their house she and her mother returned to Washington and a more congenial atmosphere. When last heard from, a millionaire, old enough to be her father, was in constant attendance upon her, and rumor said, with more truth than it frequently does, that she was soon to be mistress of his handsome home on Massachusetts Avenue.

For more than a year Paul and Elithe staid in Europe, accompanied by Tom, whose devotion to them knew no bounds. He did not, however, take kindly to foreign customs and foreign languages, and was glad when at last, on a bright day in July, the boat which had taken him from Oak City drew up to the wharf, where as great a crowd was assembled to meet the returning party as had been there when Paul came home with Clarice. Elithe was with him now, radiant with happiness, as she stepped ashore and was surrounded by her father and brothers and aunt and Mr. and Mrs. Ralston, all talking at once to her and then to Paul and then to Tom, who had never been so happy in his life. Max Allen was there, not in the capacity of constable. He had resigned that office, and during Tom’s absence had been Mr. Ralston’s coachman.

“Hello, Tom,” he said, with a hearty hand grasp. “Here’s the hosses and the kerridge. I’ve been mighty proud to drive ’em, but I give ’em up to you, or would you rather walk this once?”

Tom preferred to walk, and followed the carriage to the house, where the more intimate friends of the family were waiting to receive them. That was a very happy summerfor all the parties concerned. The Ralston House was filled with guests. The Smuggler’s room was thrown open to the air and the light of heaven. From the look-out on the roof a flag was always floating as a welcome to the coming guests and a farewell to the parting. Paul was more popular than ever and an object of so much attention from his friends and curiosity to the strangers in the place that he was glad when the season was over, and they returned to their home in Boston, where they were to pass the winter.

The story of the tragedy is still told in Oak City, the place pointed out where Jack was shot and Tom pointed out as the man who shot him. The window from which Paul escaped and the cell where he was confined is visited by the curious ones, fond of the marvelous. Miss Hansford pursues the even tenor of her way, scolding and petting and spoiling the boys, glad that she has nothing to fear from Clarice and watching vigilantly every marriageable woman who is polite to Roger. If not reconciled to his candles and cassocks and cottas and intoning, she holds her peace, satisfied that he is a good man. Her bones still do their duty, and she has had a chance to wear her gray silk gown to a reception at the Ralston House, where she helped receive the guests and was reported in the papers. Paul and Elithe are very happy, although the memory of the terrible days which he passed in prison and in hiding sometimes casts a shadow over Paul and makes him very sad. But when he looks at Elithe he says: “Only for that she would not have been my wife, and so I thank God for it!”

THE END.

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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTESPageChanged fromChanged to142The next time Paul came he staid longed than usual,—complimentedThe next time Paul came he staid longer than usual,—complimented246Paul’s cherry “How are you, Max?”Paul’s cheery “How are you, Max?”263not belief he intended to kill Jack Percy, and she wonderednot believe he intended to kill Jack Percy, and she wondered342here there. Don’t you remember? And you are home.her there. Don’t you remember? And you are home.Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

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