But Persis little foresaw what her interest in Annis’s ancestry was to develop, nor how it would affect the whole family. The first storm of indignation fell upon her devoted head the next day, when Lisa and Mellicent burst in upon her as she sat absorbed in one of her new Christmas books.
“A nice thing you have done for us all,” began Lisa. “I just wish you had let those Browns alone; but, as you are such a stickler for justice, maybe you will enjoy having your chickens come home to roost.”
“Why, what have I done?” Persis asked, innocently, looking up from her book.
“You have done everything. Poor, dear grandma, whom you profess to love so much; and now you’ve deliberately robbed her! Yes, robbed her, when she does so like to be Lady Bountiful; all for the sake of that meechin Mrs. Brown and her meek little milksop of a daughter.”
“Milksop, indeed!” retorted Persis, angrily. “She isn’t a milksop anything of the kind. She’s just as bright as you are, and much more of a lady.”
“Thank you! And what do you call yourself, pray? Oh, no doubt you consider any one is better than your own family. You’d better go and live at the Browns. You might help to wait on the boarders.” And Lisa’s nose took an angle of forty-five degrees in the direction of the ceiling.
“They won’t have to keep boarders now, will they?” inquired Mellicent.
“No, I suppose not,” Lisa acknowledged, with something like unwillingness.
“Oh, won’t they? Why? Do tell me. I am wild to know,” interposed Persis.
“Maybe you’ll not be so glad when you hear,” returned Lisa; “but I will tell you. Of course you know how grandma’s sister ran away from home and married a wild young fellow by the name of Brown, and how she died, and how he was killed during the war, and all that. Well, his people knew that grandma’s people objected to the match, which they had a right to do, for this Brown was as wild as could be.”
“He perfectly adored his wife, and he reformed when he married her. He was only wild when he was very young,” interrupted Persis, in defence.
“Well, that is neither here nor there. Anyhow, his family were furious because the Carters snubbed him, and there is no telling how he might have turned out if he had lived. At all events, his people wrote to Great-grandpa Carter and told him that both Mary Carter and her husband, Worthington Brown, were dead, and they never said a word about their having left a child, for they wanted to spite the Carters.”
“It was more that they loved the child so much they were afraid he might choose to spend his time with his mother’s people if he knew them,” put in Persis, still on the defensive.
Lisa passed over the interruption. “And so,” she went on, “they left him in ignorance. Then Great-grandfather Carter made an entirely new will, leaving all his money to Grandma Estabrook and her brother’s family, but he never signed the will; but in his first will he left the money to his three children, and in a codicil he said that if his daughter Mary left no heirs her share was to go to grandma, because he had already given his son as much as it would amount to; so grandma had her sister’s money, and now she is going to give it up to these Browns, people she never heard of till lately, for the name of Brown is such a common one that grandma never dreamed they were related to her till you fished them out.”
“And you know”—Mellicent continued the grievance—“she will only have half as much as she has had; and then she has been a great help to mamma, for all the luxuries came from her, so we shall not have any.”
Persis was conscious that this was an appalling piece of news, but she valiantly held her ground. “Well, it doesn’t make us paupers, andweshall not have to keep boarders.”
“Except Basil and Porter,” put in Mellicent.
“They’re not real boarders; they are papa’s wards, and we are doing them a great favor,” Lisa amended. “We shall have to do without all sorts of things; andwhen we have had pretty nearly everything we wanted it will be no fun to see Annis Brown perked out in what ought to be ours, and to have to say we can’t afford to do thus and so.”
“It is rather a strain,” admitted Persis; “but, just the same, it is right, and it will not hurt us. Besides, if you look at it from the Browns’ side, we have been defrauding them all these years, and they have had to bear all sorts of things which we will never be called upon to do.”
“It is no fault of ours. They wouldn’t have been so poorly off if old Mr. Brown had taken better care of his money.”
“Oh, Lisa, how could he? It was the war made him lose, and he died before he had time to make good his losses.”
“Well, it doesn’t alter the fact that it is all very unpleasant, and I don’t enjoy having unexpected relations thrust upon me, and I don’t believe the rest of the family do either. It would be perfectly unnatural if they did.” With which parting thrust Lisa took her departure, Mellicent following.
Persis was left with conflicting emotions; her spirit of justice was here satisfied in a way of which she little dreamed. Her “chickens” had “come home to roost,” indeed, and she was conscious of a queer contradictory feeling about the matter. Pretty trinkets, her new bicycle, little treats, summer journeyings, had all been grandma’s bounty, and now—well, she would go and see grandma herself, and take her cue from this interested member of the family.
Accordingly she sought Mrs. Estabrook’s sunny room. “Oh, grandma,” she began, as soon as she entered, “I am so dreadfully upset in my mind; are you?”
“About what, dear?”
“About your giving up half your income, and all that.”
Grandma smiled a little sadly. “Dear child,” she said, “we human beings are far from perfect, even though our standards are as high as we can make them; but there is one thing we can do: we can rout unworthy feelings at their first appearance, and we can be sure that what seems to be our loss is oftener our gain through the development which it brings us and the good which it brings to others. I confess to having had a little pang at giving up some of the riches I have held in trust, but then I considered that all I have is only mine to use for the Master, you know.” And she paused while Persis buried her head in the comforting lap as she sat on the floor by grandma’s chair.
“So,” grandma went on, “it resolved itself into this. A purely selfish consideration was what was troubling me, and that was unworthy of an almoner of my Father. I enjoyed giving because of the recognition to generosity I received, because I was tickled by thanks and pleased by expressions of gratitude; therefore I said to myself, quite likely I am getting to be a self-satisfied old woman, and it is time some one more worthy should have a share in the giving; and then I became quite ashamed of myself, and after I had thought of how my dear sister if she were here would sorrow for the trials and deprivations of her littlegrand-daughter, I became more ashamed than ever, and now I am very happy to think I can add so much to the comfort of such a worthy descendant of my dear Mary.”
Persis looked up, and her face reflected the exaltation she saw in the one bent over her.
“You can help me much, dear,” grandma went on. “I know the rest must feel somewhat sore over it, although they admit the justice. And you, my dear generous little girl, will do your best not to grumble if you cannot have all you have been used to.”
“Oh, grandma, I will try,” Persis replied, earnestly. “Tell me,” she continued, “did you—did you use to quarrel and say snappy things to each other, you and your sister Mary?”
Grandma sighed. “I am afraid sometimes we did, dear, and if you knew how much I have grieved, all these weary years, over some of the unkind things I have said, you would set a seal upon your lips very often.”
Persis laid hold of her grandmother’s hand sympathetically, and looked up with a penitent look in her gray eyes. “How can I help it, grandma?” she said. “Lisa queens it so, and is so aggravating. She always makes me feel as if I were such an inferior, as if I were a worm of the dust, a regular earthling, and I soar, indeed I do.”
Grandma laughed as much at the phrasing as at the protesting tone. “I don’t doubt you soar, dearie, and it is quite likely that some day your wings will take you longer flights than Lisa dreams of, but it is betterto bide your time and prove your right by your deeds, not by your words.”
“I am inclined to be wordy, I admit,” acknowledged Persis. “I never know when to stop talking about a thing. I hammer and hammer till I wear every one to a thread and they wish me in Halifax. How shall I help it, grandma?”
“Set a seal upon your lips,” again quoted grandma.
“I will,” declared Persis, jumping up with the zeal of a new decision shining in her eyes. “I will, grandma, sure enough. I’d like to start at once.” And she did so literally, for an hour later Lisa, coming into her room, was amazed to see Persis sitting gravely over her book, an enormous wax plaster fitted over her mouth, which plaster bore an unusually fine impression of the family crest, the motto, “Toujours fidèle,” standing forth in distinct prominence.
“For pity’s sake!” exclaimed Lisa. “What is that for?”
Persis gravely produced a bit of paper and a pencil; then she wrote, “I shall be glad to hear anything of importance you may wish to say, but I am bound not to talk for an hour.”
“Are you going to wear that thing for an hour?” asked Lisa.
A nod of the head gave the reply.
“Then you are a goose.”
A very decided shake in the negative, and Persis was aware that but for her seal Lisa’s remark would have brought forth a much more disagreeable protest. She therefore concluded that in the very first hour shehad warded off a discussion, although, as she pensively decided, there wouldn’t have been any need of it but for the seal.
Failing to have her curiosity gratified, Lisa left her sister to her own devices, and when the hour was up Persis carefully peeled off the wax, to be put aside for future use.
“My goodness!” she exclaimed. “I feel like a corked-up bottle of beer,” she continued to herself. “And, my, how sore my lips are! I’ll have to have the glycerin-bottle filled if I am to keep this up. Oh, dear, what a mean creature I am! I have not been near Annis to-day. It is kind of awkward, too, for they all feel so stirred up about her that they will be horrid if I ask her here. Mamma won’t, of course, and grandma will be a love. I’ll find out when Lisa is going out, and then I’ll go. Oh, maybe she can have a wheel now, and we can go all around together. After all, as grandma says, gain often comes from loss. I don’t believe I shall mind the change of affairs so very much. I wonder if the boys know.”
The boys did know. They had been told with much emphasis by Mellicent, who dwelt with feeling upon the pitiable condition to which she personally would be reduced, though, to give her credit, she did mean to be cordial to Annis, and was really glad to discover the kinship. The whole affair appealed strongly to her romantic little soul, and gave her an interesting topic to discuss with Audrey.
Persis found her with the boys playing “parcheesi” in the library.
“I say,” blurted out Porter, without looking up, “why didn’t you let that Brown girl fight her own battles? If you hadn’t been so fierce to get her into the club you would never have known anything about her being your cousin.”
“As if I were so mean as to be sorry,” said Persis. “She’d as good a right and a better one than any of us to join it; and even if she’d never had a single ancestor, she would always be a dear, lovely girl.”
Basil looked up, amused at the fierce little partisan with her remarkable statements and her readiness to take up the cudgels. “Where’s your chip, Perse?” asked Porter, mockingly, for “Perse is always going around with a chip on her shoulder,” he was wont to say.
“Chip, yourself; at least you’re only a blockhead,” retorted Persis, the seal being most certainly no longer upon her lips.
“Ah, what’s the use of squabbling?” interposed Basil, in his slow way. “You did all right, Persis, and I side with you, whatever the others say. They’ll get over it after awhile. Annis is a first-rate sort of a girl, and you were another to take her part.”
Persis shot him a grateful look and sat down to watch the game. The little talk with grandma came back to her, but it was too sacred to be repeated there, and she contented herself with remarking, “Well, anyhow, grandma is content, and so I think we have no right to complain.”
“Well, but if she had never known she would bejust as happy,” persisted Porter, “and you’d all be better off.”
“Oh, but then Annis would have been cheated out of her rights.”
“What’s the odds, so long as no one knew it?” continued Porter.
Basil spoke up. “Look here, young man; that’s no way to talk. Wrong is wrong, whether any one knows it or not.”
It was Porter’s turn to look uneasy, and he glanced quickly at Mellicent, who blushed and seemed to be giving close attention to the game.
“I’m going out on my wheel,” Porter announced, as if anxious to change the subject, and, springing up, he left the room, Mellicent following.
Basil began to turn over the leaves of a book absently, while Persis sat watching him. Presently he looked up. “Say, Perse,” he said, “does Porter talk to you much about the boys and—and things?”
“No,” she replied; “he used to more than he does now, but he told me some tricks the boys played, and I suppose I was too plain-spoken for him, for he said I was ‘a chump,’ and since then we haven’t been quite so confidential.”
Basil looked thoughtful. “I wish he were confidential with you. I know you are up and down straightforward enough not to let him impose on you. I wish I didn’t have to say it, but Porter is awfully plausible.”
“Yes he is,” agreed Persis. “He is very agreeablewhen he wants to be, and he knows just how to get around one. Is—is anything wrong, Basil?”
“I hope not, but I thought I’d just ask.” And Basil began to walk around the room, his hands in his pockets and an occupied look upon his face.
“Can I do anything?” hesitatingly asked Persis. “Maybe I shouldn’t ask,” she continued, quickly, “but you know papa and mamma have always said we all ought to be sisters to you, and I would do anything I could.”
“You’re very good,” replied Basil. “Just keep your eyes open, that’s all. If I see any cause for anything further, I’ll tell you. I—I don’t like to have Port discussed too much,” he added, apologetically, and Persis realized that her “wordiness” might be in the way of further confidences.