CHAPTER IX.Two serious questions concerning Beth’s rearing presented themselves to Eliza. After her experience with Rose, she knew that her foster-child would be forced to bear the insults and unkind remarks of every ill-bred person who chose to express themselves.As for Rose, Eliza felt that she had quieted her only for such time as she was a visitor at the Wells home. The child was a sort of leader after a fashion of her own, and what she did the half dozen children near her age would do.It meant simply this. Beth would be the subject of the caprice, ill-temper or ill-breeding of the children. The best thing was to put her with those who had kindness in their heart. She would be able to teach her for a year more. Then she would enter her in the schools at Farwell.So far the matter was settled. The next question was one of finance. There were several dollars monthly tuition for pupils who did not reside in the borough. Eliza had so little to go on. She determined that she would be ready for the expense when it came. She would not deny Beth, but she could and would make sacrifices for herself. All winter, not a cent was spent needlessly. She sold her butter close, and studied her chicken manual and fed her hens so scientifically and kept the coops so warm and comfortable that the fowls were under the impression that spring had come and took to laying at once; this when eggs were forty cents a dozen.When Beth was ten years old, she entered the B grammar grade at Farwell. So far Eliza had kept in touch with her work and had taught her all she knew. She had a tug at her heart strings that first morning in September when she walked into town with Beth. It seemed to her that there had come a parting of the ways when each must walk a little more alone.Beth was radiant with new tan shoes and stockings. Her white dress was fresh from the iron. Eliza felt not a little conscience-stricken whenever she bade her little girl wear this particular dress. It had been made from the linen sheets which Eliza’s grandmother had woven and bleached. Eliza loved family traditions. She had thought a long time before she put her shears into these heirlooms. But she concluded at last that the welfare and advancement of the living were to be considered before the traditions of the past.It was a beautiful morning when they started forth on the road to knowledge. The way from the Wells homestead led down a gradual slope. Here one could go by way of the public road, or take a little foot-path which wound in and out through the woods and at length came in just at the edge of Farwell.Eliza and Beth had given themselves plenty of time. The foot-path was enticing. They took it. Eliza walked slowly, pausing now and then to look at the scene about her, or to pluck a bit of golden-rod or wild aster. Beth was flitting from flower to flower like a butterfly. Yet in the midst of her excitement and haste, she stepped carefully on the tips of her shoes so that she would not scuff them. Tan shoes were not to be had for the asking.The slope of the hill stretched to a ravine through which ran a little stream. In spring, it was something worth while; but the heat of summer had dried it up, so that now there was barely enough of it to make a gurgling sound. Once there had been fields along the stream. An apple orchard had stretched over the hillside. The trees were still there, to be sure, but they had degenerated until the fruit was hard, small and bitter.Portions of an old rail fence were to be seen, and close under the one solitary forest-oak which some generous hand had left standing, was a small house built of square timbers. Wild ampelopsis were clambering over it everywhere. A broad stone chimney built for an outlet to the grate within was standing as intact as the day its rough stones were laid.No one had ever lived here since Eliza could remember. The windows and doors had been boarded up for years. Nature had softened the colors and vines and bending branches of oak had made it a beautiful place. The Oliver place, people called it; but nothing remained of the Oliver family but the name of this place. They had come and gone, and that was all the Shintown folk could tell of them.Eliza stopped and looked at the place, as she did every time she passed it. It had always been attractive to her, even when she was a child. It was mellowed in color; it stood aloof from all life, and suggested sentiment and romance.Beth had run on ahead. Seeing that Eliza was not following, she ran back and stood beside her. There was a moment’s silence, until her mind grasped what was holding her companion’s attention.“Isn’t it simply lovely?” she exclaimed. “It would be simply ‘kertish’ for a play-house. When Helen brings her cousin over to spend Saturday, I’ll bring them down here to make a play-house.”“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” said Eliza. “The place may be full of snakes. Old houses like that are often dens of rattlers.”“We could kill them, couldn’t we?” asked Beth.“We’ll not risk it,” said Eliza. “Just stay away. Then I’ll feel sure that you are on the safe side.”It was barely eight o’clock when Eliza and her charge entered the school building. Miss Harmon had charge of the B grammar grade. Providence was being good to Beth when she put her in this woman’s charge. She was a fine teacher. Her school-room held more than books. Children were built up, strengthened and made happy. She believed firmly that one can be happy only by being of some use in the world. She considered it sinful to be depressed and blue; for such an attitude of mind showed lack of faith in God. She had a part in every good work in town. She knew every one and had a kindly word of greeting for each one, from drunken, worthless Jerry Hennesey to the Judge who stood as a beacon light of morality and high thinking.“And Beth is to be with me this year?” she said after greeting her visitors. “I am glad of that. We’ll have a lovely time.”“I shall miss her,” said Eliza. “I’ve been teaching her up to this time. Of course I had to do some studying, but I enjoyed it. I’m sorry to give it up.”“Why give it up? Why not continue as you have begun?”“It would be useless. Two years more and she’ll take up Latin and Algebra. I’ve never had them. I know nothing of Botany. I know the wild flowers here about, but nothing about the science.”“You know the finest part if you know the flowers,” was the reply. “What matters it if Beth begins Latin! If you keep side by side with her, could you not begin too?”“I’m too old. Why, Miss Harmon, I’m thirty—”“Don’t, please. I don’t wish to know. Years are not counted any more. Why, you and I are babies yet with a lot of glorious things to learn. Mind is not subject to years. It can keep working as long as there is a body to hold it.”This was a new idea to Eliza. Somewhere hidden in her brain had been this same thought; but she had pushed it back from the light. It had been so different from what every one else thought, that she had believed it must be wrong. She listened to Miss Harmon talk along this same line. She had little to say; but she did a great deal of thinking.“Youth can always dwell in the heart and the mind. We can find joy in living, spontaneity in action, and delight in study as long as we live.”She paused and then laughed softly while a flush stole over her cheeks. “I am going to be personal, Miss Wells, just to prove to you that I know what I’m talking about. I’m ten years older than you—you have been thinking all the while that I’m much younger. Do you know why? I have never let myself think I was too old to learn anything. I’ve kept my mind and muscles flexible and they cannot get stiff.”“I know you are right,” said Eliza at last. “I used to think a good deal on that line, but I never could talk of it to any one. It seemed as though no one thought as I did. They always acted as though I was just a little peculiar.”“They called Galileo crazy; Plato was sneered at because he taught the immortality of the soul when every one else believed something else. We can’t depend upon our friends for some things. Each one of us must be a Columbus and discover for himself the unfathomed country of his own soul. There is no knowing how big and glorious a possession we may have.”The gong sounded here and the children came trooping in. Miss Eliza arose to leave. The teacher came with her to the door.“You will come again and see how Beth is getting along? Don’t give up your studies. You’ll regret it if you do. Some time when I have leisure I would like to talk with you about our Club. I know you would be interested and would like to join.”Eliza went her way. Already the horizon had broadened. A Columbus to her own soul! She grasped what that might mean. No one could tell her own possibilities, her own capabilities, until she cast aside prejudice, servitude to customs which were accepted only because they had been in existence for centuries, and started forth to express the sweetness and strength of her own life.Eliza hurried along with buoyant step. Her feet were light and her hopes high. Her white dress had been mended, but it was the perfection of daintiness. She was good to look at as she went her way, a graceful, gracious, smiling woman.“Slow up, or there’ll be a head-on collision,” cried a merry voice. “I declare I’m always ‘flagging’ people to prevent a wreck.”Eliza brought herself to a sudden stop. Doctor Dullmer, smiling and gracious, stood before her.“I beg your pardon, I didn’t see you. I was preoccupied,” she stammered.“I believe you. Thoughts in the clouds and heels on the pavements. But I’m not surprised. That’s the way I’m being treated these days. Handsome, attractive young women don’t care to notice a fat, seedy old doctor.”Eliza laughed at his jest. “It doesn’t matter though how I’m treated. I’ll not forsake my friends. To prove it, I’ll walk down to the crossroads with you. It is unseemly that a young girl like you should be roaming the streets alone at this hour.” His expression was quite grave and his voice as serious as though he were diagnosing a case.Doctor Dullmer had a thousand subjects to talk upon. He flitted like a bee from one to another, taking out a bit of honey everywhere. When they came to the corner of Champlain Avenue and Sixth Street, which was the beginning of the State Road, Doctor Dullmer pointed across the river to where the base of the mountains spread out into a broad level plain, fully a hundred yards higher than the valley in which Farwell lay. The view from this elevation must have been magnificent, for it extended so that the river swept about it and one could see for miles east and west. Every little village was in sight, and beyond lay the magnificent heights of the Alleghanies.“Notice those workmen over there. That means something. That means that we are going to be society. Next summer we take to swallow-tailed coats and low-cut vests. We are getting on. We will have a summer hotel there, and the fashionables will come and tell us what beautiful mountains we have. As though we didn’t know that the instant we were able to peep from beneath our perambulator blankets to look at them.”He turned to gaze quizzically at Eliza.“You’ll have to do like the rest of them. You’ll be cutting off the collar of your frock and putting a tail to your skirt. That’s the fashionable caper for women, they tell me—. Here’s my turning-off place.” He was gone before Eliza could speak.She stood a moment looking at the swarm of workmen excavating. She had heard rumors of a summer hotel being built. It was really true then!She smiled as she recalled the doctor’s words about evening gowns and trains. How ridiculous!Very strange things happen. Before many years had passed, Eliza was really trailing after her a robe of—. But this is anticipating. Why speak of it now, when she herself never suspected all the strange occurrences which would follow from the hotel’s bringing its influx of guests.
CHAPTER IX.Two serious questions concerning Beth’s rearing presented themselves to Eliza. After her experience with Rose, she knew that her foster-child would be forced to bear the insults and unkind remarks of every ill-bred person who chose to express themselves.As for Rose, Eliza felt that she had quieted her only for such time as she was a visitor at the Wells home. The child was a sort of leader after a fashion of her own, and what she did the half dozen children near her age would do.It meant simply this. Beth would be the subject of the caprice, ill-temper or ill-breeding of the children. The best thing was to put her with those who had kindness in their heart. She would be able to teach her for a year more. Then she would enter her in the schools at Farwell.So far the matter was settled. The next question was one of finance. There were several dollars monthly tuition for pupils who did not reside in the borough. Eliza had so little to go on. She determined that she would be ready for the expense when it came. She would not deny Beth, but she could and would make sacrifices for herself. All winter, not a cent was spent needlessly. She sold her butter close, and studied her chicken manual and fed her hens so scientifically and kept the coops so warm and comfortable that the fowls were under the impression that spring had come and took to laying at once; this when eggs were forty cents a dozen.When Beth was ten years old, she entered the B grammar grade at Farwell. So far Eliza had kept in touch with her work and had taught her all she knew. She had a tug at her heart strings that first morning in September when she walked into town with Beth. It seemed to her that there had come a parting of the ways when each must walk a little more alone.Beth was radiant with new tan shoes and stockings. Her white dress was fresh from the iron. Eliza felt not a little conscience-stricken whenever she bade her little girl wear this particular dress. It had been made from the linen sheets which Eliza’s grandmother had woven and bleached. Eliza loved family traditions. She had thought a long time before she put her shears into these heirlooms. But she concluded at last that the welfare and advancement of the living were to be considered before the traditions of the past.It was a beautiful morning when they started forth on the road to knowledge. The way from the Wells homestead led down a gradual slope. Here one could go by way of the public road, or take a little foot-path which wound in and out through the woods and at length came in just at the edge of Farwell.Eliza and Beth had given themselves plenty of time. The foot-path was enticing. They took it. Eliza walked slowly, pausing now and then to look at the scene about her, or to pluck a bit of golden-rod or wild aster. Beth was flitting from flower to flower like a butterfly. Yet in the midst of her excitement and haste, she stepped carefully on the tips of her shoes so that she would not scuff them. Tan shoes were not to be had for the asking.The slope of the hill stretched to a ravine through which ran a little stream. In spring, it was something worth while; but the heat of summer had dried it up, so that now there was barely enough of it to make a gurgling sound. Once there had been fields along the stream. An apple orchard had stretched over the hillside. The trees were still there, to be sure, but they had degenerated until the fruit was hard, small and bitter.Portions of an old rail fence were to be seen, and close under the one solitary forest-oak which some generous hand had left standing, was a small house built of square timbers. Wild ampelopsis were clambering over it everywhere. A broad stone chimney built for an outlet to the grate within was standing as intact as the day its rough stones were laid.No one had ever lived here since Eliza could remember. The windows and doors had been boarded up for years. Nature had softened the colors and vines and bending branches of oak had made it a beautiful place. The Oliver place, people called it; but nothing remained of the Oliver family but the name of this place. They had come and gone, and that was all the Shintown folk could tell of them.Eliza stopped and looked at the place, as she did every time she passed it. It had always been attractive to her, even when she was a child. It was mellowed in color; it stood aloof from all life, and suggested sentiment and romance.Beth had run on ahead. Seeing that Eliza was not following, she ran back and stood beside her. There was a moment’s silence, until her mind grasped what was holding her companion’s attention.“Isn’t it simply lovely?” she exclaimed. “It would be simply ‘kertish’ for a play-house. When Helen brings her cousin over to spend Saturday, I’ll bring them down here to make a play-house.”“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” said Eliza. “The place may be full of snakes. Old houses like that are often dens of rattlers.”“We could kill them, couldn’t we?” asked Beth.“We’ll not risk it,” said Eliza. “Just stay away. Then I’ll feel sure that you are on the safe side.”It was barely eight o’clock when Eliza and her charge entered the school building. Miss Harmon had charge of the B grammar grade. Providence was being good to Beth when she put her in this woman’s charge. She was a fine teacher. Her school-room held more than books. Children were built up, strengthened and made happy. She believed firmly that one can be happy only by being of some use in the world. She considered it sinful to be depressed and blue; for such an attitude of mind showed lack of faith in God. She had a part in every good work in town. She knew every one and had a kindly word of greeting for each one, from drunken, worthless Jerry Hennesey to the Judge who stood as a beacon light of morality and high thinking.“And Beth is to be with me this year?” she said after greeting her visitors. “I am glad of that. We’ll have a lovely time.”“I shall miss her,” said Eliza. “I’ve been teaching her up to this time. Of course I had to do some studying, but I enjoyed it. I’m sorry to give it up.”“Why give it up? Why not continue as you have begun?”“It would be useless. Two years more and she’ll take up Latin and Algebra. I’ve never had them. I know nothing of Botany. I know the wild flowers here about, but nothing about the science.”“You know the finest part if you know the flowers,” was the reply. “What matters it if Beth begins Latin! If you keep side by side with her, could you not begin too?”“I’m too old. Why, Miss Harmon, I’m thirty—”“Don’t, please. I don’t wish to know. Years are not counted any more. Why, you and I are babies yet with a lot of glorious things to learn. Mind is not subject to years. It can keep working as long as there is a body to hold it.”This was a new idea to Eliza. Somewhere hidden in her brain had been this same thought; but she had pushed it back from the light. It had been so different from what every one else thought, that she had believed it must be wrong. She listened to Miss Harmon talk along this same line. She had little to say; but she did a great deal of thinking.“Youth can always dwell in the heart and the mind. We can find joy in living, spontaneity in action, and delight in study as long as we live.”She paused and then laughed softly while a flush stole over her cheeks. “I am going to be personal, Miss Wells, just to prove to you that I know what I’m talking about. I’m ten years older than you—you have been thinking all the while that I’m much younger. Do you know why? I have never let myself think I was too old to learn anything. I’ve kept my mind and muscles flexible and they cannot get stiff.”“I know you are right,” said Eliza at last. “I used to think a good deal on that line, but I never could talk of it to any one. It seemed as though no one thought as I did. They always acted as though I was just a little peculiar.”“They called Galileo crazy; Plato was sneered at because he taught the immortality of the soul when every one else believed something else. We can’t depend upon our friends for some things. Each one of us must be a Columbus and discover for himself the unfathomed country of his own soul. There is no knowing how big and glorious a possession we may have.”The gong sounded here and the children came trooping in. Miss Eliza arose to leave. The teacher came with her to the door.“You will come again and see how Beth is getting along? Don’t give up your studies. You’ll regret it if you do. Some time when I have leisure I would like to talk with you about our Club. I know you would be interested and would like to join.”Eliza went her way. Already the horizon had broadened. A Columbus to her own soul! She grasped what that might mean. No one could tell her own possibilities, her own capabilities, until she cast aside prejudice, servitude to customs which were accepted only because they had been in existence for centuries, and started forth to express the sweetness and strength of her own life.Eliza hurried along with buoyant step. Her feet were light and her hopes high. Her white dress had been mended, but it was the perfection of daintiness. She was good to look at as she went her way, a graceful, gracious, smiling woman.“Slow up, or there’ll be a head-on collision,” cried a merry voice. “I declare I’m always ‘flagging’ people to prevent a wreck.”Eliza brought herself to a sudden stop. Doctor Dullmer, smiling and gracious, stood before her.“I beg your pardon, I didn’t see you. I was preoccupied,” she stammered.“I believe you. Thoughts in the clouds and heels on the pavements. But I’m not surprised. That’s the way I’m being treated these days. Handsome, attractive young women don’t care to notice a fat, seedy old doctor.”Eliza laughed at his jest. “It doesn’t matter though how I’m treated. I’ll not forsake my friends. To prove it, I’ll walk down to the crossroads with you. It is unseemly that a young girl like you should be roaming the streets alone at this hour.” His expression was quite grave and his voice as serious as though he were diagnosing a case.Doctor Dullmer had a thousand subjects to talk upon. He flitted like a bee from one to another, taking out a bit of honey everywhere. When they came to the corner of Champlain Avenue and Sixth Street, which was the beginning of the State Road, Doctor Dullmer pointed across the river to where the base of the mountains spread out into a broad level plain, fully a hundred yards higher than the valley in which Farwell lay. The view from this elevation must have been magnificent, for it extended so that the river swept about it and one could see for miles east and west. Every little village was in sight, and beyond lay the magnificent heights of the Alleghanies.“Notice those workmen over there. That means something. That means that we are going to be society. Next summer we take to swallow-tailed coats and low-cut vests. We are getting on. We will have a summer hotel there, and the fashionables will come and tell us what beautiful mountains we have. As though we didn’t know that the instant we were able to peep from beneath our perambulator blankets to look at them.”He turned to gaze quizzically at Eliza.“You’ll have to do like the rest of them. You’ll be cutting off the collar of your frock and putting a tail to your skirt. That’s the fashionable caper for women, they tell me—. Here’s my turning-off place.” He was gone before Eliza could speak.She stood a moment looking at the swarm of workmen excavating. She had heard rumors of a summer hotel being built. It was really true then!She smiled as she recalled the doctor’s words about evening gowns and trains. How ridiculous!Very strange things happen. Before many years had passed, Eliza was really trailing after her a robe of—. But this is anticipating. Why speak of it now, when she herself never suspected all the strange occurrences which would follow from the hotel’s bringing its influx of guests.
Two serious questions concerning Beth’s rearing presented themselves to Eliza. After her experience with Rose, she knew that her foster-child would be forced to bear the insults and unkind remarks of every ill-bred person who chose to express themselves.
As for Rose, Eliza felt that she had quieted her only for such time as she was a visitor at the Wells home. The child was a sort of leader after a fashion of her own, and what she did the half dozen children near her age would do.
It meant simply this. Beth would be the subject of the caprice, ill-temper or ill-breeding of the children. The best thing was to put her with those who had kindness in their heart. She would be able to teach her for a year more. Then she would enter her in the schools at Farwell.
So far the matter was settled. The next question was one of finance. There were several dollars monthly tuition for pupils who did not reside in the borough. Eliza had so little to go on. She determined that she would be ready for the expense when it came. She would not deny Beth, but she could and would make sacrifices for herself. All winter, not a cent was spent needlessly. She sold her butter close, and studied her chicken manual and fed her hens so scientifically and kept the coops so warm and comfortable that the fowls were under the impression that spring had come and took to laying at once; this when eggs were forty cents a dozen.
When Beth was ten years old, she entered the B grammar grade at Farwell. So far Eliza had kept in touch with her work and had taught her all she knew. She had a tug at her heart strings that first morning in September when she walked into town with Beth. It seemed to her that there had come a parting of the ways when each must walk a little more alone.
Beth was radiant with new tan shoes and stockings. Her white dress was fresh from the iron. Eliza felt not a little conscience-stricken whenever she bade her little girl wear this particular dress. It had been made from the linen sheets which Eliza’s grandmother had woven and bleached. Eliza loved family traditions. She had thought a long time before she put her shears into these heirlooms. But she concluded at last that the welfare and advancement of the living were to be considered before the traditions of the past.
It was a beautiful morning when they started forth on the road to knowledge. The way from the Wells homestead led down a gradual slope. Here one could go by way of the public road, or take a little foot-path which wound in and out through the woods and at length came in just at the edge of Farwell.
Eliza and Beth had given themselves plenty of time. The foot-path was enticing. They took it. Eliza walked slowly, pausing now and then to look at the scene about her, or to pluck a bit of golden-rod or wild aster. Beth was flitting from flower to flower like a butterfly. Yet in the midst of her excitement and haste, she stepped carefully on the tips of her shoes so that she would not scuff them. Tan shoes were not to be had for the asking.
The slope of the hill stretched to a ravine through which ran a little stream. In spring, it was something worth while; but the heat of summer had dried it up, so that now there was barely enough of it to make a gurgling sound. Once there had been fields along the stream. An apple orchard had stretched over the hillside. The trees were still there, to be sure, but they had degenerated until the fruit was hard, small and bitter.
Portions of an old rail fence were to be seen, and close under the one solitary forest-oak which some generous hand had left standing, was a small house built of square timbers. Wild ampelopsis were clambering over it everywhere. A broad stone chimney built for an outlet to the grate within was standing as intact as the day its rough stones were laid.
No one had ever lived here since Eliza could remember. The windows and doors had been boarded up for years. Nature had softened the colors and vines and bending branches of oak had made it a beautiful place. The Oliver place, people called it; but nothing remained of the Oliver family but the name of this place. They had come and gone, and that was all the Shintown folk could tell of them.
Eliza stopped and looked at the place, as she did every time she passed it. It had always been attractive to her, even when she was a child. It was mellowed in color; it stood aloof from all life, and suggested sentiment and romance.
Beth had run on ahead. Seeing that Eliza was not following, she ran back and stood beside her. There was a moment’s silence, until her mind grasped what was holding her companion’s attention.
“Isn’t it simply lovely?” she exclaimed. “It would be simply ‘kertish’ for a play-house. When Helen brings her cousin over to spend Saturday, I’ll bring them down here to make a play-house.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” said Eliza. “The place may be full of snakes. Old houses like that are often dens of rattlers.”
“We could kill them, couldn’t we?” asked Beth.
“We’ll not risk it,” said Eliza. “Just stay away. Then I’ll feel sure that you are on the safe side.”
It was barely eight o’clock when Eliza and her charge entered the school building. Miss Harmon had charge of the B grammar grade. Providence was being good to Beth when she put her in this woman’s charge. She was a fine teacher. Her school-room held more than books. Children were built up, strengthened and made happy. She believed firmly that one can be happy only by being of some use in the world. She considered it sinful to be depressed and blue; for such an attitude of mind showed lack of faith in God. She had a part in every good work in town. She knew every one and had a kindly word of greeting for each one, from drunken, worthless Jerry Hennesey to the Judge who stood as a beacon light of morality and high thinking.
“And Beth is to be with me this year?” she said after greeting her visitors. “I am glad of that. We’ll have a lovely time.”
“I shall miss her,” said Eliza. “I’ve been teaching her up to this time. Of course I had to do some studying, but I enjoyed it. I’m sorry to give it up.”
“Why give it up? Why not continue as you have begun?”
“It would be useless. Two years more and she’ll take up Latin and Algebra. I’ve never had them. I know nothing of Botany. I know the wild flowers here about, but nothing about the science.”
“You know the finest part if you know the flowers,” was the reply. “What matters it if Beth begins Latin! If you keep side by side with her, could you not begin too?”
“I’m too old. Why, Miss Harmon, I’m thirty—”
“Don’t, please. I don’t wish to know. Years are not counted any more. Why, you and I are babies yet with a lot of glorious things to learn. Mind is not subject to years. It can keep working as long as there is a body to hold it.”
This was a new idea to Eliza. Somewhere hidden in her brain had been this same thought; but she had pushed it back from the light. It had been so different from what every one else thought, that she had believed it must be wrong. She listened to Miss Harmon talk along this same line. She had little to say; but she did a great deal of thinking.
“Youth can always dwell in the heart and the mind. We can find joy in living, spontaneity in action, and delight in study as long as we live.”
She paused and then laughed softly while a flush stole over her cheeks. “I am going to be personal, Miss Wells, just to prove to you that I know what I’m talking about. I’m ten years older than you—you have been thinking all the while that I’m much younger. Do you know why? I have never let myself think I was too old to learn anything. I’ve kept my mind and muscles flexible and they cannot get stiff.”
“I know you are right,” said Eliza at last. “I used to think a good deal on that line, but I never could talk of it to any one. It seemed as though no one thought as I did. They always acted as though I was just a little peculiar.”
“They called Galileo crazy; Plato was sneered at because he taught the immortality of the soul when every one else believed something else. We can’t depend upon our friends for some things. Each one of us must be a Columbus and discover for himself the unfathomed country of his own soul. There is no knowing how big and glorious a possession we may have.”
The gong sounded here and the children came trooping in. Miss Eliza arose to leave. The teacher came with her to the door.
“You will come again and see how Beth is getting along? Don’t give up your studies. You’ll regret it if you do. Some time when I have leisure I would like to talk with you about our Club. I know you would be interested and would like to join.”
Eliza went her way. Already the horizon had broadened. A Columbus to her own soul! She grasped what that might mean. No one could tell her own possibilities, her own capabilities, until she cast aside prejudice, servitude to customs which were accepted only because they had been in existence for centuries, and started forth to express the sweetness and strength of her own life.
Eliza hurried along with buoyant step. Her feet were light and her hopes high. Her white dress had been mended, but it was the perfection of daintiness. She was good to look at as she went her way, a graceful, gracious, smiling woman.
“Slow up, or there’ll be a head-on collision,” cried a merry voice. “I declare I’m always ‘flagging’ people to prevent a wreck.”
Eliza brought herself to a sudden stop. Doctor Dullmer, smiling and gracious, stood before her.
“I beg your pardon, I didn’t see you. I was preoccupied,” she stammered.
“I believe you. Thoughts in the clouds and heels on the pavements. But I’m not surprised. That’s the way I’m being treated these days. Handsome, attractive young women don’t care to notice a fat, seedy old doctor.”
Eliza laughed at his jest. “It doesn’t matter though how I’m treated. I’ll not forsake my friends. To prove it, I’ll walk down to the crossroads with you. It is unseemly that a young girl like you should be roaming the streets alone at this hour.” His expression was quite grave and his voice as serious as though he were diagnosing a case.
Doctor Dullmer had a thousand subjects to talk upon. He flitted like a bee from one to another, taking out a bit of honey everywhere. When they came to the corner of Champlain Avenue and Sixth Street, which was the beginning of the State Road, Doctor Dullmer pointed across the river to where the base of the mountains spread out into a broad level plain, fully a hundred yards higher than the valley in which Farwell lay. The view from this elevation must have been magnificent, for it extended so that the river swept about it and one could see for miles east and west. Every little village was in sight, and beyond lay the magnificent heights of the Alleghanies.
“Notice those workmen over there. That means something. That means that we are going to be society. Next summer we take to swallow-tailed coats and low-cut vests. We are getting on. We will have a summer hotel there, and the fashionables will come and tell us what beautiful mountains we have. As though we didn’t know that the instant we were able to peep from beneath our perambulator blankets to look at them.”
He turned to gaze quizzically at Eliza.
“You’ll have to do like the rest of them. You’ll be cutting off the collar of your frock and putting a tail to your skirt. That’s the fashionable caper for women, they tell me—. Here’s my turning-off place.” He was gone before Eliza could speak.
She stood a moment looking at the swarm of workmen excavating. She had heard rumors of a summer hotel being built. It was really true then!
She smiled as she recalled the doctor’s words about evening gowns and trains. How ridiculous!
Very strange things happen. Before many years had passed, Eliza was really trailing after her a robe of—. But this is anticipating. Why speak of it now, when she herself never suspected all the strange occurrences which would follow from the hotel’s bringing its influx of guests.