[Frontispiece: Kitty Canary. ] Kitty Canary A NOVEL BY KATE LANGLEY BOSHER AUTHOR OF "MARY CARY" ETC. HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS NEW YORK AND LONDON HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK ESTABLISHED 1817 Copyright, 1913, by Harper & Brothers Printed in the United States of America Published February, 1918 KITTY CANARY CHAPTER I I am in love. It is the most scrumptious thing I have ever been in. Perfectly magnificent! Every time I think of it I feel as if I weregoing down an elevator forty floors and my heart flippity-flops so myteeth mortify me. He used to be engaged to Elizabeth Hamilton Carter, the niece of the lady at whose house I am boarding this summer, but hedid something he ought not to have done, or he didn't do something heought to have done, and they had a fuss. No one seems to know thecause of it, but it was probably from her wanting him to be blind toeverything on earth but her, and a man isn't going to be blind when hewants to see, and then she got _hurt_. I'd rather live in a house witha cackling hen or a grunting pig than the sort of person who is alwaysgetting hurt. But she's very pretty. Pink-and-white pretty, withuplifting eyes and a little mouth that shuts itself when mad and saysnothing, and oozes more disagreeableness than if it talked. He stillthinks there isn't another girl in town who can touch her in looks. Idon't suppose a man ever gets over a real case of pink-and-white. It'sthe kind that makes a tender memory if it isn't the best sort to livewith, and men like to have a memory to sigh over in secret. Herrejected one may sigh in secret, but in public he does not seem to besuffering. He isn't suffering. We like each other very much. The reason I am glad I am in love is that I am sixteen and I wasgetting afraid I wasn't ever going to fall in love. Three or fourtimes I have thought I was in it, but I wasn't, and I was beginning tobe sure I was the sort of person who doesn't fall. And, besides, it isgood for Billy, who, because he is twenty, thinks he is old enough tohave some things settled which there is no need to settle too soon. Settled things are not exciting. I love excitement and not knowingwhat a day may bring forth. Billy doesn't. He wants his ducks to bealways in a row. Ever since he fished me out of the water-barrel sunk in GrandmotherHatley's garden, when I was four and he eight, he has seemed to think Ibelonged to him; and, though he doesn't imagine I know it and nevermentions it, he is always around when I am in danger or trouble, to getme out. I suppose saving my life three or four times makes him feel Ican't take care of myself and therefore he must take care of me, butthat's a mistake. I have never had a horse to run away with me butonce. Billy did tell me not to ride her, and when she ran and wouldhave pitched me over her head and down a gully he caught her in thenick of time and caught me, too, but that's the only time a thing ofthat sort ever happened. He was real nice about it and never saidanything concerning having told me so and didn't make remarks of thesort which other people rub in, but the next day the horse was sentaway. That's the thing which makes me fighting furious with Billysometimes. He doesn't say things. He does them. I wasn't afraid ofthat horse and was going to keep on riding her, but the next day therewas no Lady-Bird to ride. The reason he sent her away was I wouldn'tpromise not to ride her. Our summer homes are on adjoining places andHorson, their stableman, a nice, drinky old person, lets me take outanything I want, anything of Billy's, and, knowing he couldn't trustHorson any more than me, he lent Lady-Bird to a man miles and milesaway and I never saw her again until she was a tame old thing I did notwant to ride. Billy behaves as if I were a child! And then the very next winter I fell through the ice and he had to jumpin and get me out. He told me not to go to a certain part of the lake. He had been all over it and tried it before I got my skates on, but Iforgot and went. A boy was with me, a skunky little rat, who, when hesaw the ice was cracking, tried to pull me back, and then he let go myhand and flop I went in and flop came Billy behind me while the littleFur Coat stood off and bawled for help and said afterward he didn'tknow how to swim. Having on heavy clothes, I went down quick and washard to get up, and I would be an angel this minute if Billy hadn'tbeen there. But Billy is always there, which is what makes this summerso queer. He isn't here. On account of servants and things his mother didn't want to open theircountry place this year, and my mother didn't want to open hers, so twohouses are closed. That means a scatteration for both families and iswhy I am here and Billy in Europe; and if he is having as good a timeas I am he isn't grunting at the change. He didn't want to go toEurope. His father made him. His mother and two sisters needed a manalong and, as Mr. Sloane couldn't go, Billy had to, and he was a greatbig silent growl when he went off. I wasn't. I wanted to come toTwickenham Town. We had passed through it once on our way to Floridaand I have been crazy to come back ever since, and when I found Motherwas going with Florine and Jessica to a splashy place I didn't want togo to I begged her to let me come here and board with Miss SusannaMason and--glory be--she let me do it! She is a sort of relation, Miss Susanna is, a farback one, but nothingis too far back to claim here, and everybody who is anybody is kin toone another, or kin to some one else's kin, which makes forsociableness, and I am having a perfectly grand time. In all the worldthere isn't another place like the one I am in this summer, and I amgetting so familiar with a new kind of natural history that maybe someday I will be an authority on it. Ancestry is the chief asset ofTwickenham Town, and though you speak with the tongues of men and ofangels and have not ancestors it profiteth you nothing. That is, amongthe natives. Being an outsider, I have decided not to have ancestors, and I am going to see if the people won't take me in for myself. Ihave always believed a nice person was nice if there weren't any familyshrubs and things, and a nasty one was nasty no matter how many coatsof arms there were or how heirloomy their houses, so I have asked MissSusanna please to excuse me if I don't call her cousin (we are seventhremoved, I think she said), and also, unless she has to, I hope shewon't tell any one my real name is Katherine Bird, but let everybodycall me Kitty Canary, as everybody does at home. I think she thoughtit was very queer in me to say such things, but she smiled herprecious, patient little smile, and, though she didn't promise, sheevidently hasn't mentioned my sure-enough name, as no one here calls meby any other than the one Billy gave me when I wasn't much bigger thana baby. Just Kitty Canary will do for me. CHAPTER II The way I met Whythe (he's the one I'm almost perfectly certain I am inlove with) was this. When I got to the station in Twickenham Townthere was no one to meet me and take me to Rose Hill, which is MissSusanna Mason's home and right far out, because the train was threehours late, and Uncle Henry, who drives the hack, and Mr. Briggs, whoruns the automobile, had gone home. There wasn't even anybody to takemy bag. I told Mother I had written Miss Susanna what train I would beon, and because she was so busy and Father away she trusted me to dothings she had never trusted me to do before and didn't write herself, which is why I wasn't met. I did write the letter saying I was coming, but I forgot to mail it and found it in my bag when I got off the trainand was looking for my trunk check. It was nearly eleven o'clock andnobody around but some train people who looked at me and said nothing. And then a young man who had got off the same train came up and tookoff his hat and asked if he could not do something for me, and I toldhim I hoped he could and I certainly would be obliged if he would do itas quick as possible, as it was getting later every minute and Motherwould be terribly worried if she knew I hadn't been met. "But where are you going?" he asked, and his eyes, which are hisbest-looking part, took me in from top to toe. When I told him I was aboarder for Miss Susanna Mason and would like to get to her house hesaid if I didn't mind a pretty good walk he would take me there withpleasure, and we started off. It was a perfectly gorgeous night. Thestars were as thick as buttercups in spring, and the moon wasmagnificent and the air full of all sorts of old-fashioned fragrances, as if honeysuckle and mignonette and tea-roses and heliotrope were allmixed together; and as there didn't seem any real need of grievingbecause there was no one to meet me, I thought I might as well enjoymyself. I did. I could not help the train being late, and I didn'tforget to mail my letter on purpose; and it was an accident, orcoincidence, that a nice man should be on the same train I was, wholived in the place I was going to spend the summer in, and knew verywell the house I wanted to get to. I didn't know he had been engagedto the niece of the house and hadn't been to the latter since theengagement was broken, and I must say as we walked along he didn't showany evidences of despair or things of that sort. He couldn't possiblyhave been naturaler or in better spirits, and he laughed from the timewe left the station until we reached Rose Hill. Not knowing hishistory, I told him I had come to Twickenham Town because I thought itwas the most delicious old place in America; the sweetest, slowest, self-satisfiedest, cocksuredest place on earth, and everybody in it wasa character--that is, everybody over thirty. He said that let him out, as he was only twenty-five, but he wasn't sure some under twenty-fivewere not somewhat queer. They are, I have found out since. He had left his bag at the station, but he had mine, which was rightheavy, and seeing there was a good stretch of open road before we beganto go up the hill on the top of which was Miss Susanna's home, I toldhim he had better sit down a minute and rest, and I got up on the wormfence and twisted my feet around the rail below, and looked at himbefore he knew what I was going to do. He coughed a little and lookedat his watch and said it was rather late to be resting, as Miss Susannamight be going to bed, and that if I were not too tired he thought wehad better go on; and I told him all right. And then, because Icouldn't help it, I stood up on the top of the fence, balanced myselfon it, and, opening my arms as if I were going to fly, sprang off andran up the road ahead of him. At the gate, which was open and through which I could see therose-bordered path leading up to the white-pillared porch on which MissSusanna and her niece were sitting, he shook hands with me and told megood night and said he hoped he would see me very often while I was intown, and I said I hoped he would. He put my bag down and told me tosend one of the servants out for it, and went on down the road, which Ithought was the queerest behavior I had ever seen in my life. I didn'tknow, of course, about embarrassments and broken engagements and thingsof that sort, and for a moment I stared at his back and then picked upmy bag and went up to the porch with it. All the boarders had gone tobed and only Miss Susanna and her niece were on the porch, and as Icame up the steps they got up and stared at me as if I had risen fromthe grave. I hadn't thought there was anything wrong in my coming from the stationat that time of night with a strange man until I saw the look on MissSusanna's face when I told her I had done it. If I had been a brandsnatched from the burning I could not have been folded to her bosomwith more fervent thanksgiving or a more pained expression, and atfirst, still not understanding, I thought I had done right off theworst thing a person could do in Twickenham Town. I had walked a longway with a man who didn't have ancestors, perhaps. He had seemed allright to me, and I was awfully glad to have him, as otherwise I mighthave had to sit on my suit-case all night, for I certainly couldn'thave come up with the man who swung a lantern, and he was the onlyother white one in sight. But I found out later it wasn't lack ofancestors that caused the sudden chill which fell over us when Imentioned Mr. Eppes's name. It was something else and--oh, mygranny!--the look that pretty little pink-and-white person gave me whenI said what I had done! "Oh, my dear, my dear!" Miss Susanna put her arms around me as if Iwere a little ewe lamb that had been lost and was found, and in themoonlight her beautiful little wrinkles reddened as if she wereresponsible for a most grievous calamity, "To think of your being aloneat a public station at this time of night! A young girl! And I hadpromised your mother to take such good care of you! I wouldn't havehad such a thing occur for--" "There hasn't anything occurred. " I took off my hat and fanned hardand then followed Miss Susanna up-stairs into a big square room with abig tester bed in it, and if she hadn't been looking at me I would haveclimbed up in it and gone to sleep in my clothes, I was so tired; butshe didn't leave me for some time. She couldn't get over my walkingtwo miles with a strange man late at night, and presently I found outshe hoped I wouldn't mention it to any one in the town, as in a littleplace-- "Oh, I know--" I sat down in another chair. "I know little places. Iwas in one once for a month. Every one in it knew everything everyother person did and didn't do, and said and didn't say, and if theysneezed what for, and if they didn't sneeze why not, and it was morefun! But I won't tell if you don't want me to, and did my horse come?Father had her sent three days ago, and I hope you won't get uneasy ifI am not always back on time--" I stopped. She was putting my hat on the top shelf of the biggest oldmahogany wardrobe that was ever built for human apparel, and I knewright off that was one of the things the matter with pretty MissPink-and-White. She was spoiled to death. I picked up the coat I haddropped on the table and hung it up myself, and saw I would have to bethe thing I hate most on earth--an Example. I must be careful or thatprecious old soul would be waiting on me just as she waits on everybodyelse, and I wasn't going to stand for it. And then she asked me if Iwere not hungry--said she knew I must be after such a long trip; and Itold her I was starving, but I would not eat of a feast of the gods ifit were right in front of me, as the only thing I wanted to do was togo to sleep, and for fear she might keep on inquiring about all myrelations I kissed her good night and walked with her to the door andasked if she would mind if I did not come down to breakfast, and shesaid of course I must not come, that Elizabeth never came if she hadbeen up late the night before, and that decided me. I was the firstone down the next morning. CHAPTER III It was a perfectly grand feeling---the feeling I had the next day andhave had every day since I got here--that I was in a place where therewasn't a single member of my family to tell me not to do things Iwanted to do or to do what I did not want to do; and usually as I dressin the morning I dance a new kind of highland fling which I made up fortimes when I feel particularly happy. Everybody is well and Mother andthe girls are having a lovely time in a place where I would have had astupid one, being neither grown up nor a kid, but an in-betweener--tooyoung for some ages and not old enough for others; and here inTwickenham Town I am as free as air, and Father is coming to see me asoften as he can. I can't let myself think much about Father or I wouldtake the train straight home. I had begged him to let me stay with him, but neither he nor Motherwould agree. Just because I got the Grome medal at school theyimagined I had studied too hard and needed a quiet, restful summer inthe mountains; but I will never study too hard while on this littleplanet called the earth. I got the medal because Billy said I'd neversit still long enough to study for it, and just to show him he veryoften does not know what he is talking about I made up my mind to getit. The only thing I ever expect to work hard over is one book. I am goingto write one book that the critics will call a Discovery. It is to bedull and dry and dreary, and therefore it will be thought deep andstrong and big, and only a few people will know that it has beenwritten. After that I am going to write books that sell, write whatpeople want to read--things that make them forget for a few momentsthat at times this world is but a fleeting show and there is a gooddeal of rot in it. If I can I am going to make people laugh, though Idon't think I can do much in that line. I see the funny side of thingstoo quickly to ever be able to write them down, as that takes time; butI am certainly going to be cheerful, and I am not going to croak. Idon't mean I am going to be smiling all the time. I am not. Perpetualsmilers are more than human nature can stand. Nothing is ever wrong, everything is beautiful, their smiles seem to say, which isn't so. There is a lot of life that is wrong, and any day horrid, hurtingthings may pop up, but that doesn't mean you've got to sit down andmake a bosom friend of dolefulness. Some of the things you can shakeyour fist at, and some turn your back on, and some you have to face;but no matter what happens you can buck up and begin again if you getknocked out or hit in the back. And that's what I hope I will havesense enough to do--get up and get a move on when things go wrong. So far nothing has gone wrong in Twickenham. Everybody has been lovelyto me, and all sorts of ages have been to see me and asked me to theirhomes, and if they know my name is not really and truly Kitty Canarythey never say so or mention my family, which is very nice of them, forI am sure they must talk of who I am and where I came from, that beingthe first thing done here when a stranger arrives. The reason I thinkthey haven't let me off among themselves is that one of Miss Susanna'sboarders started to say something to me on the subject one day and Itold her I was a very plain person, almost common, and she could tellany one she chose. She has never mentioned the subject since. JustKitty Canary is all I am going to be this summer, and if anybodydoesn't care for me as Kitty Canary I don't care for them to care forme as Katherine Bird. So endeth that. CHAPTER IV I have seen him every day since I came--seen my station help in time ofneed--and I must say he bears bravely the dispensations of a femaleperson. He is not dejected, and he still seems to find life worthliving; and if he weeps in secret, he shows no sign in public ofregrets; neither does he hide himself from the gaze of others, but isalways to be seen when one goes down-town or to the homes of otherpeople. I don't know how we happen to meet so often, but I never goout that he doesn't appear; and though he does not come in at RoseHill, he comes to the gate, and I am afraid we stand at it a littlelonger than is necessary, especially if Elizabeth Hamilton Carter issitting on the porch. I wonder why Satan walks right into me every time I see that piece ofpretty pink-and-whiteness! He has never taken possession of me in thatway before; but something about her just starts him off, and before Iknow it I am doing what I wouldn't think of doing if she were notaround. She is perfectly furious with me, and I must say her manners, if they are Southern, could be improved. At best she is not much of atalker, I have been told; but since I arrived her little mouth has beenshut so tight that I wonder how she breathes; and if she has spoken adozen words to me since the night I came, they were toobetween-the-teethy for me to hear. I didn't want her beau, and Iwouldn't have dreamed of noticing him if I had known how she felt abouthim; but after she tried the freezing act on me I didn't tell Satan toget behind me, as I suppose I should have done. I just went along andtook things as they came, and the first thing I knew I was in lovemyself, and from the words of his mouth concerning the meditations ofhis heart he seemingly has recovered from a former attack and is in fora new one. Maybe we were not as considerate of the rejecter as wemight have been. Of course, I never knew for a long time why theengagement was broken. He didn't tell me and no one else seemed toknow, and when I found out-- But that was a long time after--when Ifound out. His name is Whythe Rives Eppes. The only things I don't like about himare his front teeth and his relations. He could get three new teeth, but nothing in human power could rid him of his relatives. There arefour of them--Mother, Sister, Sister Edwina, and Miss Lily Lou, and mayGod have mercy on the girl who marries the male member of the familyand goes into their home to live! He is a perfectly grand sort to bein love with, and I am almost sure I am in love or I wouldn't feel sothrilly when I see him coming. But being in love is one thing andgetting married is a very different other, and there isn't a man personliving I want to think of marrying yet. It's awfully interesting, too, to learn the different ways in which love can be made. Twickenham Townmay be slow about many things, but in others it is so quick it takesyour breath away. Whythe became personal in conversation the fourthtime I was with him. It was at the Braxtons' party and conditions werefavorable, but, not expecting the turn that was taken, I was as excitedas if I had never heard remarks of a similar character before, and thefirst thing I knew I had promised Whythe (he begged me to call himWhythe) to go horseback-riding with him the next day. We went--I onSkylark, who is the joy of my life, and he on a borrowed horse, and wehad a perfectly wonderful time. I don't think Whythe will ever be muchof a lawyer, but as a love-maker he hasn't an equal on earth--that is, any I have ever heard. As we rode down the main street of Twickenham everybody in the townseemed on it. Princess Street is the only one called by a name, thoughof course the others have names, and it is the place where everybodymeets everybody else and learns all the news; and if anybody went tosleep that night without knowing that Whythe and I had started on aride at ten o'clock in the morning and didn't get back until three itwas because that person was too deaf to hear and couldn't understandthe movement of lips. I didn't know I was doing anything I oughtn't, and if I did it I am not sorry. I had a grand time. It was a gorgeousday and cool enough for me to wear my brown-linen riding-habit and highboots, which, with a stock collar and small sailor hat, made me lookreal nice, and the way the people stared at me you would have thoughtthey had never seen a divided skirt before, and--oh, my granny!--thefaces of the family (Whythe's family) as we passed their house! Ismiled the politest and properest I knew and they bowed back, but in away that made me laugh out loud when out of sight, and so did Whythe. And then we forgot them, forgot everything except it was awfully goodto be alive. CHAPTER V The place we went to is very historic and interesting. Somethinghappened there that was very important in American history, but I haveforgotten what it was. Whythe told me, and as it doesn't matter, beingover for such a long time, I haven't tried to remember. The sky was sowonderful and the river so winding and lovely and the air so deliciousthat yesterdays did not seem important and only to-day counted; and itwas when we were sitting under a beautiful big water-oak that Whythebegan to be terribly sentimental and say things that would have beenmore suitable for moonlight and shadows and things of that sort. Butsuitable or not, they were thrilly to hear, and I would have enjoyedhearing them if it hadn't been for an abominable feeling that Billy wasright beside me hearing every word also, and with a look on his face asif he thought my new friend was the foolest yet. And presently when Icouldn't stand it any longer (I mean stand Billy standing by) I got upsuddenly and told Whythe it was time to go home. I interrupted him in the midst of a beautiful sentence about myeyelashes, I think, or maybe it was something else, I don't remember;but anyhow when I jumped up he was very much surprised and wanted toknow what was the matter. I couldn't tell him, but I was perfectlyfurious with Billy and the look on his face, which seemed to say whatI'd heard him say often about fool-flum talk and feather-headed fellowsand things of that sort. And I was so mad I rode so fast Whythecouldn't keep up with me or continue the conversation, but it has beencontinued since. That is the main theme, though the variations arealways different. Whythe never seems to give out on variations. Of course, all of Miss Susanna's boarders, which are only four besidesmyself, had something to say in general about the faithlessness of menand the flirtatiousness of girls, and how times had changed, and howyou couldn't put your hand on any human being and feel you could trusthim in these days, and how men were gobbled up before they had gottheir breath good after painful experiences, and dozens of other thingson that order. And I had such a good time listening to them, thoughthey didn't talk directly to me, that I'd forget at times and nearlyscreech out loud at the tones of voice in which they did me up, andthen I would remember and try to look serious. But seriousness doesn'tseem to fit my face--that is, seriousness over sillinesses--and itwouldn't stay on very long. They thought it very indelicate in me to walk away with Elizabeth'ssweetheart right before her eyes--that is, Mrs. General Games did, butMiss Araminta Armstrong, who is over fifty and by nature sentimentaland sympathetic, said she supposed it was natural for youth to seekconsolation, and Whythe, poor dear, had been so heartbroken atElizabeth's behavior that he had been receptive to other influences ofa pleasing nature, and she didn't think they ought to be so hard onhim. And then, after more talk of that sort, she would sigh and lookaway at the mountains in the distance with a loved-and-lost look in hereyes, and Miss Bettie Simcoe would sit up and snort. There's nothing sentimental or sympathetic about Miss Bettie. Neitheris there anything in the earth below or the heavens above that she hasnot an opinion of her own about, but the one concerning which she hasthe most decided opinions is Man. She doesn't mince matters when shegets on him. Also, she is an authority on God. She can tell youexactly why He does things, and she quotes Him as if He were her mostconfidential friend, and the only thing which stumps her is why He madesuch a mess of what is considered His most important work. Mention amale person's name and up go her eyebrows and down come the corners ofher lips and on the side goes her head, and nothing need be said forher opinion to be understood. She is positively triumphant overWhythe. She goes around with a "Didn't-I-tell-you-so?" expressionoozing out of every feature of her face, and I think she tellsElizabeth she is fortunate to have discovered his fickleness so soon. If Elizabeth thinks she is fortunate she has a queer way of showing it. She must cry a good deal at night, judging by her eyes in the morning, but the thing that's most the matter with her is madness. She can'ttake it in that Whythe is showing no signs of anxiousness to make up. She imagined, I suppose, when they had their fuss that it wouldn't lastvery long and that he would give in to whatever she wanted, and nowthat he isn't giving in she is so freezingly furious with me she barelyspeaks to me. She seems to think it is my fault and that my comingjust when I did is the cause of the whole trouble. Though she neversays anything directly to me, she makes remarks in my presence aboutthe way men flirt in Twickenham Town and how dangerous it is, especially for young girls who have never had any experience in thingsof that sort and are deceived by it; and as she talks I just rock androck if in a chair, and swing and swing if in a hammock, until she hassaid a good many nasty things, and then I get up and go up-stairs andbring down a box of candy Whythe has sent me and offer it to her withmy most Christian forgiveness and most understanding smile, and, strange to say, she never takes a piece! I don't mind her remarks. They're natural, and if she wasn't such ahorrid little teapot I'd do anything I could to straighten out things;but until she behaves herself I won't. I am having a very interestingtime being in love, and why should I stop just because a man she brokewith isn't grieving, but is keeping himself in practice saying to mewhat he used to say to her? I am not going to stop until I think it istime and until both have learned a few things they ought to know beforethey get married. She is a vain, selfish, pretty piece of spoiledness, and I don't believe she knows what real loving means. She is the sortthat wants what it hasn't got, and all the more if she thinks anybodyelse is apt to get it. If she had any sense she would get a beau _protem_. That is the best thing on earth to bring a man back to thestraight and narrow, and Whythe is the kind of man who needs to bebrought every now and then. I gave her that for nothing one morning--I mean the suggestion ingeneral, though of course not personal--and she looked at me as iftrying to understand. And then something came in her face that musthave been an idea in her brain (her brain is slow), for, two daysafterward, she said she was going away. A week later she went to see arich aunt on her father's side who has a summer home somewhere andcorrals young men and compels them to come to it, Miss Bettie Simcoesays. When she was gone a great weight seemed lifted off everybody, and even the servants breathed better. As for Miss Susanna, she wasthat lightened and relieved, though naturally not saying so, that shelooked ten years younger, and I know now it is true that some people ina house are like fruit-cake on a weak stomach. They make life hard. Ididn't say my prayers that night. I just sang the Doxology three timesas loud as I could and jumped into bed. Praise is prayer. CHAPTER VI I have been here four weeks to-day. If there are any people in oraround Twickenham Town that I do not know, it is because they are notknowable. I love people, and, being naturally sociable and not veryparticular, I have had a perfectly grand time making acquaintances withthe high and the low and, the in-betweeners; and the sick and well, andthe dear and the queer, and the ancestrals and up-comers, and the richand the poor, and every other variety that grows; and now I am asfamiliar with most of the family histories as the oldest inhabitant. That's the nice part of living in a small place. Something depends onyou and you depend on all the rest of the town, but at home you're lostin numbers and only a few know you're living. Here everybody knows, also they know some things that perhaps had better be unknown. As fortalk, they are the best talkers on earth, and there's no subject underthe sun they won't talk about. It's an inheritance, Father says, andhas been handed down from ages past, and, though they don't read verymuch, they can do more with a little knowledge than most learned peoplewith their information, and they make anything they mention interestingfrom the way they mention it. I love to hear them, and I've heard agood deal. Dear, precious Miss Susanna in the secrecy of my bedroom gave me alittle talk a few nights ago, and said she hoped I wouldn't mind, butas I was young and inexperienced she thought it her duty to tell methat I must be careful and not too informal, for certain peoplewouldn't understand; and that while the Holts were a very good, respectable family, still they were not-- She stopped and coughed alittle, and of course I understood, but I pretended I didn't, and toldher they were perfectly healthy and I had had more fun with the Holtchildren than with any in town, but if she preferred they should notcome to her house to see me I would just stop in theirs sometimes, as Iwould not like them to think I was afraid to go with them. I wasn't, for while I knew they were not historic, they were the most interestingchildren I'd ever seen, and it seemed pretty cruel that they were leftout of things because they didn't have forefathers to hang on to, ormoney, which of course would speak for itself. And dear, angelic MissSusanna, who is so worn out with boarders and their special kind ofhuman-nature horridness at times that she's hardly got body enough tocover her soul, said I mustn't misunderstand her, but the Holts hadnever gone in the same circles as the other people I had met, and thatcustoms, though unkind, were hard to overcome, and the oldest son-- I told her not to worry about the oldest son. He could go anywhere hewanted and with any one he wanted by the time he was through college, which his parents were working themselves to death to send him through, and it was very probable that several girls in town would be glad toadd their grandfathers to his natural endowments before many years wereover. But if she didn't care for me to accept his attentions, as MissAraminta Armstrong called them, I could always have an engagement whenhe asked me to go anywhere. She looked so shocked and distressed thatI told her I didn't approve of telling stories any more than she did, and for most sorts people ought to be branded, but I'd much rather tellone of that land than hurt a person's feelings. And it wouldn't beuntrue to say I had an engagement, for I always had one to goeverywhere and anywhere, even if I didn't keep it; and again shecoughed and looked so pained that I took her in my arms and whirledaround the room with her and told her not to worry about me, either. Iwouldn't disgrace her by knowing the wrong people too well, buteverybody had their peculiarities and one of mine was I was going toknow anybody I wanted to. I always thought a lady could, and, besides, I liked any kind of person who was interesting, and the best born oneswere often very stupid, which of course was the wrong thing to say. SoI had to give her another whirl, and by the time she got her breath itwas time to see about supper, and she has never referred to the subjectsince. Miss Susanna is a darling little lady of the old school (whatever theold school was) and I love her, but I am of my time as she is of hers, and I don't see her way any more than she sees mine. She ought to wearhoop-skirts and brocaded silks and lace fichus and mits, and sit withher beautiful hands folded in her lap and her tiny little feet on afootstool, and instead she works from morning to night trying to helpthe good-for-nothingest servants that were ever hired by tired ladies, except Uncle Henson, and Aunt Mandy, the cook, who have been with herfor years and years. She's worn out. That's what's the matter withMiss Susanna, and that selfish, lazy little piece of pinkness who isnow away doesn't lift her hand to help her unless it is to make a cakeoccasionally. I don't know how to make cake and never expect to know, as very good kinds can be bought, but I can wash dishes. I do it everymorning and she dries them, so limp Eliza can go up-stairs and clean upthe bedrooms, and we have a beautiful time talking about what a changecomes over human beings when they board. That is, I do the talking andshe shakes her head at me, but it does her good, as it gives sound tothings she can't say. Most of her time has to be spent in thinkingwhat to put in people's stomachs and fixing it to be put; and, from thequantity that goes in, boarders must have much better appetites thanpeople who keep house. They eat and yet are never full. There'll beno hope of heaven for me if I ever have to keep boarders. I'd sweepthem out with a broom certainly once a week. That is, in my mind, ifmy hands didn't. But Miss Susanna will never sweep them out. Thesanctuary in which I let out for her is the pantry, and all the thingsshe won't say I say for her. Yesterday she laughed so she broke a cup. CHAPTER VII Father is coming to-morrow! I am so excited and happy that to-day, after I was safely out of Twickenham Town and there was no one to seeme, I stood up on Skylark's back and held the bridle with one hand andwaved the other in the air; and then I tried standing on one foot withthe other one out, but I came near losing my balance and just did catchmyself in time. Seeing a woman coming down the road in a buggy, with ababy in her lap, I got back in place before she saw what I was doing, but I needn't have done it, for it was just Mrs. Pettigrew, and shewouldn't have cared whether it was my head or my heels which were onthe horse. She has eleven children and no husband to speak of, andwhat people do or don't do doesn't bother her. We stopped for a littletalk and she told me about the roof leaking and the pig eating thebaby's bonnet which Miss Katie Spain had given it last Christmas, andwhich was too small for its head, but was all it had; and that a kettleof soft soap had fallen off the stove and burned two toes of Sammy, thenext to the youngest boy, and she would still be telling me things, butI told her Father was coming and I had to attend to something, and soshe drove on. I did have something to attend to, but I didn't attend right away, forthe day was so wonderful I couldn't go in for a long time. Thesunshine looked as if it had been washed and ironed, it was so clearand clean and crisp, and the wind in the trees said all sorts of lovelythings to me, and I made up my mind that, no matter what happened inlife, I was always going to remember that warm and sweet and sunnythings are sure to come again, if at times they seem dead and buried, and that I would try not to see the cranks and queernesses of people asmuch as I was by nature inclined to do; and then I went right back toMiss Susanna's, and before I knew it I had said something I oughtn't, and to Mr. Willie Prince. Every time I see Mr. Willie I thank God he is no relation of mine. Heis the only man boarder in the house, which is another thing to bethankful for; but, though he is hard to stand, he is nearly sixty and ahuman being, and I ought to remember what I forget and yesterday Ididn't remember. He was the only son of his mother and should havebeen a daughter, and in trying to make him one his maternal parentsucceeded better than in anything else she ever attempted, Miss BettieSimcoe says--and she ought to know, being his first cousin. Hisbusiness is telling people what they don't want to hear; and, though hedoesn't do any work, a hound dog couldn't run a rabbit down quickerthan he can a piece of gossip, and when he isn't sitting on somebody'sfront porch fanning himself with a palm-leaf fan, from which he isnever separated in summer, he is down at the drug-store hearing andbeing heard. He thinks he is handsome, and he is as proud of his pinkcheeks as a goose of her gander, and I'm sure he puts something on themon cool days. If he could wear some blue ribbon on his sandy hair andhave trousers and coats to match his fancy vests he would be perfectlyhappy. As a man he is a poor job, but as a Miss Nancy he is perfect, and when yesterday I came in from my ride he made me so mad that Ipopped out something I shouldn't have popped and before I knew I wasgoing to do it. He was sitting on the porch when I came up, fanning as hard as he couldfan, and as I went by he stopped me. "I would advise you to be morecareful when you go in wading at the creek, Miss Kitty, " he said, "Itisn't customary for young ladies in Twickenham Town to do such thingsand--" "And where I came from it isn't customary for gentlemen to follow youngladies and see what they do, " I said, and the minute the words were outI knew I shouldn't have said them, for his face got as red as a beetand he jumped up and walked into the house. I don't know that he really followed Sallie Sclater, who's a visitinggirl, and myself to see if we went wading, but we certainly went andhad a good time doing it, though we had to dry our feet with mypetticoat. But from the way his face went he must have made itconvenient to walk in that direction and must have seen us, or hewouldn't have known anything about our going, as we were careful tolook around before we took off our shoes and stockings. I can't endurehim, but he is nearly sixty and I am only sixteen, and I shouldn't havespoken as I did; and possibly because I was so happy over Father'scoming I told him last night that if I had said anything I shouldn't Ihoped he would forget it and I, too, would forget what had been said. And that, of course, I knew gentlemen in Twickenham Town never didanything gentlemen shouldn't, and that my quickness of speech wasalways getting ahead of me; and he looked so relieved that I amperfectly certain he followed us. But, anyhow, he was very pleasantlast night and told a scream of a story about poor little Miss Lily LouEppes when she thought she had a beau. She had almost landed him whenhe got away. He's never been heard from since. CHAPTER VIII It's over--Father's visit is. He has been gone a week, and it will bea whole month before he can come again. He has to divide up betweenMother and the girls and me, and he can only get away once in twoweeks, because his partner is ill and business has something the matterwith it and has to be watched, which is why he could stay only fourdays in Twickenham Town. I don't see why fathers have to work so hard, and why wives and daughters must have so many unnecessary things, andsuch big houses and so many new clothes and automobiles and parties andpleasures, which aren't real fun after you have them. But most womenseem to want them, and keep on scrambling for what other peoplescramble for, and only a few have sense enough to see how foolish itall is and stop. Maybe they are wound up so tight they can't stop. Idon't know. I only know I do not want to live the life a lot of womenI know live, and I am not going to do it. I wish Father could see it the way I do--about working so hard, Imean--and I think he might, for he says I am a chip off the block andhe is the block, and in almost everything we feel alike; but there'sMother and the girls, who care for things I don't care for, and ofcourse they must have them. He gives them everything they want, but helooked so awfully tired the day he came I could think of nothing elsethe night he left, which is why I cried so under the sheet, and thenwhen the tears were out and I felt lighter I got up and wrote him along letter and told him I loved him so it hurt, and that he was thebest and dearest father on all this big, big earth, and if he would letme come and keep house for him I would fly back. But he wouldn't letme come. He wrote me a letter, though, that I shall keep with mytreasures, and I wish what he said was so. It isn't so. He justthinks it, but it does your heart good to know somebody cares an awfullot about you and no matter what you do is going to stand by. What hewrote me was this: _Dear little Nut-brown Maid all mine, of course you would come, but youmustn't. It is too hot and you need what you are getting, and nothingcould help me here so much as to know of that wonderful color of yoursand that you are so well and strong again. That you are getting healthand happy memories for the winter of work and study ahead is the besttonic I can take, and every morning when I go to my desk I get out thatlittle picture of you and, nobody being by, I kiss it and send you mylove, and it is a breath of life-giving air to know you are mine. Since the first time I saw you--you were exactly one hour old andlaughing even then--you have been the joy and delight of my heart, andI can't afford to run any risk with summer heat and the joy of myheart. I didn't deserve you, for I wanted a son so badly, and wasfearfully disappointed that you were not a boy. You seemed tounderstand and did not get mad about it, and I've often wanted you toknow that no son could mean to me now what my little harum-scarumdaughter means. There has never been a day since you first looked intomy eyes that I haven't thanked God for you, and the thing I am mostafraid of in life is that you may get sick or not be strong, and thatis why I am so glad for you to be in such a charming old place asTwickenham Town. You were wise, little daughter of mine, to choose soquaint and queer and dear a place in which to spend your summer, forthere real things still count, and there is more time for the finecourtesies of life, and the hurry and rush of it, the push and scramblefor place and power, is out of key with its quiet serenity and thepoise that comes from a sense of values that by many of us is to-dayforgotten. I am coming back as soon as I can, for I, too, want therefreshment and novelty of being where money is not talked andapologies never made for the absence of things that money gets. MissSusanna Mason is a liberal education in herself and no "Course inCulture" could equal the advantage of being in her society. I havewritten her, of course, but tell her again of my sense of privilege, and my great pleasure, in being a guest in her home, and rememberalways you are in your father's heart. Always he is thinking of you. _ Now wasn't that a nice letter to get from a father? I'm nothing to bethankful for; but, if he thinks I am, I am thankful for that, and itmakes life a different thing to know somebody is thankful for you. Andanother thing I think would make life nicer, make working and livingnot so hard, is to tell people you like them and you believe they aretrying to do their best, even if their best is powerful poor. Ofcourse, all people don't try to do their best. Some are by nature andpractice mean and horrid and ought to have facts handed out to them, but most people try to do right, and maybe they would try harder ifthey got a little encouragement now and then. Anyhow, I've oftennoticed it makes a person take fresh hold again for somebody to givethem a lift in the way of a friendly word or so, and it doesn't costmuch--kindness doesn't. I wonder why we don't have more of it. The reason why Father liked Twickenham Town so much was that nobodytalked business to him, and if anybody knew he was the head of Bird &Roller, bankers and brokers, they never mentioned it to him or talkedshop at all, and for four days he forgot stocks and bonds and the upsand downs of the money-market and let go. And yet I am almost sure Mr. Willie Prince knows all about him--the business part, I mean--and that, of course, will mean everybody in Twickenham will know pretty soon. The reason I think he knows is that I went into the bank to get a checkcashed the morning after Father got here, and I saw Mr. Willie sittingat a table in a corner of the bank with a copy of Bradstreet openbefore him and his eyes close to it. I made it convenient to walk upto the table and look down at the book, and I saw he was running hisfinger down the letter "B, " and when he saw me he shut the book quick. I just smiled and passed on. But not talking business is only one ofthe reasons Father liked Twickenham Town so much. Another was becauseeverybody was so nice to him. He had so many invitations to dinner andsupper, and even breakfast, that he was on a dead go from morning untilnight, and he never ate so much in his life as he ate in those fourdays. It did him good, and he didn't look tired a bit when he left. CHAPTER IX The day Father got here was a beautiful day. The train was due atsix-thirty in the morning, but it never hurries and has only been ontime three times since it has been running, and Uncle Henson said therewas no use getting to the station until seven o'clock, but I told himif he wasn't in front of the porch by six o'clock I'd send for Mr. Briggs and go down in his automobile, and there was no need to sayanything more. Mention automobile to Uncle Henson and his back beginsto go up just like a cat's. There are only a few automobiles in town, though a good many people have Fords, and several offered to lend metheirs, but not wanting to hurt Miss Susanna, who has been sending thesame carriage to the station for over thirty years, I didn't accepttheir offers, but went down in the coach, as Uncle Henson calls it. Its top is still upholstered in a sun-shaped thing which was onceyellow satin and now tattered and torn, and hardly anybody ever ridesin it, but when a new boarder comes Miss Susanna always says, in thatqueenly way of hers, "You will take the carriage to the station, Henson, " and Uncle Henson's old gray head bows as if at royal orders, and they do not know they are playing a part that belongs to the daysthat are no more. That is what Tennyson, I think, calls a time thatwill never be the same again. Uncle Henson's coachman's coat, long and faded and once brass-buttoned, and a battered hat to match, are always put on to meet the train; andwhen he held the door open for Father to get in the old, ramshacklething he did it in a way that could be sold for big money, if mannercould be bought, and Father got inside with equal elegance. After hewas in and Uncle Henson couldn't see him, he looked at me as if to askif I thought it would stand, and I nodded back yes, and slipped my handin his and hugged him again, I was so glorious glad to see him! He issuch a splendid Father--my Father is, I am so sorry for girls whohaven't one like mine, and not one of them has. He is the only one ofhis kind on earth. Everybody was on the porch to meet us when we drove up, and MissSusanna gave him such a gracious welcome, and was so sweet and statelyand quaint and lovely in her white dotted Swiss muslin dress which MissAraminta Armstrong says she has been wearing for six summers, and whichhas the dearest little darns in it, that Father's face got realflushed, and once I really believe there were tears in his eyes. Hemight have been an ambassador at some court who was being received, forat no court in Europe could a lady bow as Mrs. General Gaines bows, andshe gave her best to Father when he was presented. I don't like her, but she certainly is an old swell. And then Isham (he's Uncle Hensonand Aunt Mandy's grandson, and totes water all day long from the wellup into the house, when he isn't playing a Jew's-harp in the sun) cameout and got Father's bags and things and took them up-stairs, and alittle later Uncle Henson brought up on a silver tray one of those mintjuleps, about which Father told Mr. Willie Prince, who made it, thatthe half could never be told, and at eight o'clock we had breakfast. Usually Father doesn't take anything at home but grape-fruit andcoffee, but that morning, and every morning he was here, he atewaffles, and batter-bread, and beaten biscuits, and everything elseMiss Susanna would urge him to try, and he said he couldn't understandhow he could eat so much. I didn't tell him, but I think it wasbecause of the juleps. They're the best things for poor appetites everinvented yet, Major Hairston says, and he ought to know, being overseventy and never having missed taking two a day since he could fixthem for himself. After breakfast we talked for a while on the porch, and then I took Father out to show him the town. I wouldn't have taken him out if the day had been hot, but it wasn'thot. It was one of those gorgeous days that sometimes come in summerafter a thunder-storm and which have the feel and taste of earlyOctober; and being in the mountains it was cooler on that account, andI could see Father breathe deep, and the tiredness began to go away aswe walked and talked. That is, I talked. He tried to at first, andthen gave up. Everybody in town knew he was coming--I had toldthem--and they came down from their porches and shook hands with him, and said they were so glad to see him and they hoped he was going tostay some time, and that they would call as soon as he was rested, anda whole lot of other nice things, so that Father almost got flurried, he was so pleased and warmed up. At home he is always hurrying in themorning to get to the office, and at night hurrying to get away, and ofcourse we don't have neighbors, and it was so queer to find everybodyso friendly and interested that by the time we got back to Rose Hill helooked like another man. CHAPTER X I took him down Princess Street first, of course, and showed him thebank and post-office and moving-picture places, and the court-house andchurches and stores, and specially the drug-store, which is a sort ofstanding-up club for the men; and I told him whose were the offices;and Whythe came out of his and spoke to him in a perfectly perfect way, and said he hoped he would be permitted to show him some of the thingsof interest in the neighborhood. And also he said if it was convenientto us he would call in a car (Whythe hasn't even a Ford, but he has aTwin-Six manner) in the morning and we would drive to Horseshoe Falls, and from there go on to Spruce Mountain, where something historichappened during the Revolution, I think; and only once when talking didhe look right in my eyes. His sent a message, and my heart floppedaround so it felt like a frog in a can of milk, and, I was so afraidFather would hear, I told Whythe we would go with pleasure and weremuch obliged, but we couldn't stop any longer, as there was a good dealto see before dinner. He shook hands twice with Father, who, when hewas out of hearing, asked me how a young man could leave his businessin the morning and go riding. I told him business could always be leftin Twickenham Town, and he laughed and said he wished he lived in atown of that sort. I wish he did. We stopped just a minute to speak to Mr. Bugg, who sells vegetables andeggs and things, and whose wife has just had twins again, and this timehas a milk-leg also, and Father shook hands with him and asked aboutthe babies, I thinking just in time to tell him to do it, and then wehad some soda-water at Mrs. Grump's. It is the most awful soda-waterin the world, Mrs. Grump's is, but it is wet and cold, and you can sitdown when drinking it, and while we sat she touched up the town andFather nearly fell out of his chair at the way she did it. If Mrs. Grump were for sale, I'd sell everything I own to get enough to buyher, for the way she can put into words what she thinks of human beingswould make a graven image come to life. She never smiles herself. After we got through with Princess Street we turned in by ColonelRixby's and then went down by the Baconses' and into The Court, whosetrees were planted by order of some lordly person, kin to the Aikenswho have been sitting under the shade of their greatness ever since, and then we strolled by the Eppes house, for I wanted Father to see it. It is the stateliest old place in town and its garden of old-fashionedflowers makes one think the twentieth century is a mistake and oughtnever to have been, but ordinarily I pass it quickly, as I don't carefor its owners. The house has perfect lines and the dearest littlepanes of glass in its deep, wide windows; and inside it has bigfireplaces and beautifully carved woodwork and wonderful old furnitureand fearful old portraits, and I certainly wanted Father to seeeverything in it, but I didn't expect him to do it, for the House ofEppes doesn't admire me any more than I admire it--and then theunexpected happened. As we reached the gate we saw the whole bunch sitting in the wide, coolhall--Sister reading aloud, Sister Edwina making tatting, and Miss LilyLou peeling a peach for Mother from a basket on the table beside her, and I was going to pass by and just bow to Mother as pleasantly andpolitely as I could (she was the only one who saw us), when to mysurprise she got up and ordered me to stop by a wave of her hand. Istopped. She does not approve of me. She thinks it very indelicate inme to accept the attentions of one whose engagement had so recentlybeen broken, and, while she will never recover from stupefaction thatElizabeth should disagree with her son, she attributed that action onElizabeth's part to lack of sense and does not hesitate to say so, justas she has not hesitated to say things about me that were not asChristian as they might have been. She knew, however, what wasexpected of Twickenham Town and that personal feelings were to be paidno attention to where politeness was concerned, and with a sort ofscepter movement she beckoned to me and commanded us to come in. Wewent. It is a queer thing how nice disagreeable people can be when they wantto, and that morning the entire Eppes family (even Sister Edwina, who'sthe limit) were so polite and pleasant that Father never would haveimagined how cocky and sniffy they usually are. I behaved as well asthey did, and when we came away I couldn't remember a thing I had saidthat I shouldn't. We didn't stay but half an hour. I wouldn't haveheld out a whole hour, and neither would they, and so, after we hadseen all the beautiful old things downstairs and been introduced to allthe painted ancestors, I got away quick, for Miss Anna was showingsigns I didn't think were safe. They don't know that they worshipidols of wood and glass and silver and china, and images in old giltframes, but they do, and the steel trust hasn't money enough to buythem. It's a pity they won't sell a few and put the money in some newclothes, for those they wear are a sight to behold. As we wereleaving, Mother Eppes invited us to take dinner with her on Sunday in away that was more a command than an invitation and we accepted in amanner to match, though inside I was raging to think we'd have to go. And then I remembered it would be a regular thriller to be eating atthe table with Whythe and his family and my family, and I hoped I'dremember to call him Mr. Eppes, as down here they do that up to the dayof the marriage, the first name being thought too familiar until afterthe ceremony, and even then in public. Grace Marvin, who is engaged toRichard Clarke, calls him Dick, but that is because she isn'tancestral; just accepted, Mrs. Grump says, and she knows, beingfamiliar with the history of everybody in town. They were perfect days, the four Father spent in Twickenham Town, andhe was made over when he went away. Every morning Mr. Willie Princesent him up a mint julep that started the day so cheerfully he washappy through its every minute; and Major Roke, who makes the best onesin town, would come for him at twelve o'clock and take him to hishouse, and Mr. Letcher always managed to get hold of him about six inthe afternoon, and at bedtime some one else would send one in. Andpoor Father, who never drinks anything at home, it not being good forhim, was in an awful state of mind at first, and then he decided hewould rather die than hurt the feelings of the senders and he'd takethe chance on his health. He took. I'm a fighting disbeliever in whisky, and if I had any say I'd say itcouldn't be made except for sickness, but you couldn't get certainTwickenham-Towners to believe it is a dangerous thing, and to take alittle something for the stomach's sake is a recommendation in theBible they approve of and obey. It doesn't seem to kill people here orsome would have been a long time dead, but there are one or two it is apity it hasn't killed. It does much worse than kill; it ruins. I hopenext time Father will say the doctor doesn't permit him to touchanything. I didn't tell him so, of course, and I am afraid he willmanage not to see the doctor before he leaves; but, anyhow, the morningand night juleps can be thrown out of the window after a sip to get thesmell on if he wants to throw. I wouldn't take a bet that he willwant, but I'm hoping. I didn't see much of Whythe while Father was here--that is, by himself. He was awfully nice to Father and he liked him very much (Father likedWhythe, I mean), but he couldn't understand why he didn't get more of amove on and make business for himself. I told him in Twickenham Townpeople waited for business to come to them, and everybody knew Whythewas a lawyer, and if they needed his services they would let him know, and if they didn't there was no use waiting around, which was why hewas out of his office so much of the time. And then Father asked mewhen I had heard from Billy and when he was coming home; and, thankfulto change the subject, I told him all I knew and got out the cards andshowed them to him. We had so many things to talk about--Mother and the girls and the homepeople and things, and the people he had met in Twickenham Town--thathe hadn't talked about Billy, and when I showed him the cards he saidBilly must have mighty little to do but write them, as there werefifty-six and he hadn't been gone but five weeks. He seemed to thinkthat right many, so I didn't say anything much about his letters, whichare long and once a week, but told him Billy would sail on September16th, and get back before I did--that is, if I stayed until the 27th. He said I could if I wanted to, and that he would come down for thelast week and take me back with him, and I was so happy I swirled himaround in my arms and danced a dance I made up as I went along, andboth Billy and Whythe Eppes were out of his mind when he stopped forbreath. And that night he went away. Also that night I almost criedmy eyes out for sorrow at his going and for gladness that he was myFather. I wonder if all girls love their fathers as I love mine! CHAPTER XI Billy has been pretty good about writing. Much better than I havebeen. I told him I would tell him all about Twickenham and the people, and what they did and how they did, and I intended to do it, but thatis my chief trouble. I'm a grand intender and a poor doer. Billynever promises and always does. He sends cards from every place, hegoes to, and a good many from the same place so I can see what he isseeing, which I couldn't do if he wrote a book of descriptions. Hedoesn't tell much about the cities and towns, most of which I have beenin myself and am glad he leaves out, but he writes awfully interestingthings about the places he pokes into by himself and the people hemeets, and I almost die laughing over his accounts of his sister and abeau his mother has caught for her. She is a dandy-looking girl, hissister is, and wears the smartest clothes I ever saw except Florine's, and if Patricia has really landed a duke or a count or a thing of thatsort, his mother will have a wedding that will fit the fellow allright. He's apt to be landed. I never have understood how Billy was born of his parents. He cares nomore for flum-foolishness than I do, which is why we have so much funover the efforts certain mothers we know make to help their daughtersget married, and we've decided to be failures as social successes andenjoy ourselves. My mother isn't at all like his mother. She is aprecious mother, mine is, and adores Father and her children, but sheis in the parade and has to keep step, not having courage to get out, and she thinks she must give her daughters every opportunity, and fordaughters in Mother's world opportunity means marriage. Until she getsus settled she won't feel as if her duty had been done. That's why shehas gone with Florine and Jessica to the same place Florine went tolast summer with the Logans. Florine has had a good many beaux, butnone of them has been just what she had set her mind on, and lastsummer she met a man I believe she fell in love with. Anyhow, she hasgone where it will be convenient for him to see her if he wants to, andhe must want, as Mother says in every one of her letters that Mr. Jeffry has just come or just gone. He came to see Florine last winter, and a blind person could tell he was worth having. I hope they willtake each other. Mother would be so pleased. Jessica and I are notapt to do much for ourselves in the marrying line, so it is left toFlorine to make the catch. She is very beautiful, Florine is. She knows it and she lovesbeautiful things and wouldn't think of marrying any one who could notgive them to her. She wouldn't marry a man who isn't decent andstraight and all that, not being that kind, but neither is sheromantic, and nothing on earth could make her lose her head. She iscool and deliberate and far-seeing, and not apt to ask herself too manyquestions about love alone when thinking about marriage. She is adream to look at, which Jessica isn't, but I love Jessica best. Last night in bed I got to thinking about old Jess, and wondering howshe was making out with that bunch up there, and I almost rolled out atthe way her nose must be turning up inside of her at some of the thingsshe was seeing and hearing and had to take part in; and I laughed soloud that Miss Susanna came in my room to see if anything were thematter. I told her no, and that I was just thinking of something, soshe pattered back, and I put my face in the pillow to keep her fromhearing me again. But it was hard not to let it come out. Mother'sdaughters are a mixture all right, and no more alike than if theyweren't related to one another. Being a parent must be an anxious job. I hope I will have a dozen children, but they'll probably be right muchto manage. If I turn out to be a childless old maid, I'll adopt a boyand girl, anyhow. I can do that if I can't do anything else. Jessica is the clever one of our family. Florine has the beauty andJessica the brains, and so far nothing has shown signs in me, butsomething may turn up yet. Jessica is an A. M. , and she has Ideas andViews and Opinions which she isn't stingy with and lets anybody havewho is within hearing, and she wanted to be something, have a Careerand get an Identity, which she says a woman has no chance of doing aslong as she sinks herself in marriage; but Father said she couldn't goto any more colleges until she had had a fling at fun, for it wasn'tfair to Mother. She came out last winter and had a fearful rushbecause she was so different from the other girls. I don't believe Jessica would ever have wasted a winter doing thethings she did last year if she hadn't wanted to see for herself whatwas in it, anyhow, in society I mean, so she took a header and plungedall right. She says she has a scientific and analytical mind and sheworked it all out--the number of hours and days and weeks and monthsshe had spent flopping around from one party to another, and doing thethings she was supposed to do, and saying the things she wasn'tsupposed to say, and then she estimated the cost in time and strengthand money and wear and tear on her character, and announced that itwasn't a paying business, and at the end of the year she was going toget out. The year won't be up until October and that is why she iswith Mother and Florine this summer. What she is going in for when it is up I don't believe she knowsherself, yet. She says woman to-day is in the most unsettled anduncertain state that any animal has ever been in since the first one, amollusk, or something without a backbone started to get one. And thatit will take time for woman to evolute into being the best kind of ahuman being she is capable of becoming, and that the next step in theevoluting is to get out of her head some of the foolishness put in itby men people who didn't know what they were talking about. Motherthinks it fearful in her to talk as she does, and can't understand howshe can be so daring and so indelicate as to speak about coming frommollusks and things which don't have spinal columns and nervoussystems, but Jessica says that is because Mother belongs to a day thatdidn't know about such things, and that the modern woman is sheddingthe shucks which have kept her a caterpillar much longer than wasnecessary. A good many old ideas she thinks are shucks--that is, shepretends to; but she is an old dear just the same, if she does saythings about people which it isn't polite to say. I love old Jess. She isn't but twenty-two, and she will be less sniffysome of these days and not so scornful and impatient with repeaters andparasiters and people like that, but just now she says they aren'tworth wasting time on. She can talk you right into seeing her way, andthe first thing you know you are agreeing with her, and she has landedyou before you realized the net was out. Landed outsiders, I mean. She will never land Mother and Florine. I love to hear her talk, though I don't think I am going to be a Careering person. I'd like tobe one, but with a dozen children I am afraid there won't be time. Iwouldn't tell old Jess, but I don't think she is going to Career verylong, either. I believe she is in love with the man who taught hersome of the ologies she is so interested in. He is awfully nice, butnot very practical. He is a psychological sociologist or asociological psychologist, I don't know which, but it doesn't matter. If Jess marries him she will run him and the house. CHAPTER XII I wonder what made me get on the subject of my sisters when I beganwith Billy and the reason I had not written him as often as he haswritten me, but that is the way I do everything in life. If I were apreacher I wouldn't hold my job long, for the thing I started on wouldhave about as much connection with the thing I ended with as the moonwith milk. Not that that would be unusual, for a good many ministershave the same failing and skip about just as I do, but my trouble wouldbe in hopping from one subject to another so fast that the congregationwould be in Jericho one minute and in Jerusalem the next and never knowhow it made the jump. As I am never going to be a preacher, I am notworrying about my unfitness to be one, but what does worry me sometimesis that my hopping habit will be my ruination when I begin to write abook. My characters will never keep together, or do the proper thingsor say suitable ones. They will probably get so jumbled up no one willbe able to tell which is the chief hero or heroine, and there will beno logical development at all, which my English teacher insists is anelemental requirement of fiction if it isn't of life. I thought thissummer I was going to begin some sort of book just for practice, but bythe time I get through putting down the things I scribble about theday's doings, and write to Father and send my weekly letter to Motherand the girls, and run off something every now and then to Billy, andanswer the notes I get from Whythe and some of the kiddies around herewho think they're grown, I don't feel like writing on a book, which iswhy I haven't begun one yet. I will never be able to write one thattells of dark deeds and treacherous doings and love-sick lovers, or onewhich has suspended interest or rapid action and narrow escapes, for Iknow very little of such things, and I will never do much with plots. The people I know do not have very exciting lives and here inTwickenham they trot along and do the same thing over and over, and oneday is very much like the other, so there isn't much inspiration for athriller, and thrillers are the style in books to-day. That is onereason I thought I had better wait until the style changes and whilewaiting enjoy myself with the people here who know how to do thatbetter than any people on earth. I'm enjoying myself all right. Of course, now that I am in love, I could write volumes on howscrumptious it is and how floppy I feel whenever I see Whythe, especially when he keeps his deep, dark eyes on me as if he were tryingto read my soul when we happen to meet at the foot of the hill and siton the worm fence for a while. I don't think he is trying to reallyread my soul, for he isn't much on reading anything, but he certainlycan say beautiful things. They aren't so, but they sound well, and Imust admit I enjoy hearing them. They make me feel so grown-upy, andthen, too, it will be a great help when I begin my book to rememberwhat a man says on certain occasions and how he says it. They arenatural couriers, the men in this town are, but they don't always meanto be taken in earnest, and Mr. James Burke came near getting in anawful mess by paying a girl a lot of compliments he oughtn't to havepaid, he being a married man and she not knowing it. She was a veryserious person and believed all that was told her and came nearbreaking her engagement with another man on account of the prettyspeeches Mr. Burke made to her. She was from Rhode Island and visitingMay Strudwick, who told her for mercy's sake not to pay any attentionto speeches of that sort and to hold on to the Rhode-Islander, for Mr. Burke said the same fluff to all the girls who came to Twickenham, andas long as it was just eyebrows and things of that kind no harm wasdone. But she couldn't understand and went home sooner than sheexpected. I understand. It's lots of fun--the different ways ofsaying the same thing--and all enlightenment is advantageous. A few nights ago Whythe got fearfully sentimental and said all sorts ofthrilly, foolish nonsense, and the way he said it certainly added toits enjoyment. He's a corking courter, and if he could teach the wayhe does it he would have crowded classes all right. We were at BessieDebree's party, and just before supper we went out on the side porch, which has bushels of roses on it and no lights, and sat down on arustic bench in the corner where we could hear the music and see themoon and not be seen, and the minute we sat I knew what was coming. Whythe put his elbow on the back of the seat and, chin in the palm ofhis hand, looked at me as if we were on a desert island and there wasno one else in all the world but me, and he would ask for no one elseif I alone was there; and then with his other hand he tried to take outof my fingers a rose he had just pulled and given me. I remembered intime that Jess had told me to keep my hands to myself if anybody seemedinterested in them, so I put the rose on the bench and sat on my handsand asked him if he did not think Marjorie Graham a perfectly beautifulperson; and he said he hadn't noticed her sufficiently to know what shelooked like, as he never saw but one face now. And then he leaned alittle closer and asked me if I knew how wonderful I was and what myeyes could do to a man's heart if I would only let come in them whatcould come, and which he hoped would some day come only for him; and Iasked him what it was, not knowing, as it had never been mentionedbefore, and he said it was a thing a man would die for. And then hetook the rose up and put it to his lips and asked me if I would marryhim; asked me if I could never care for him as he cared for me, for heknew now that he had never really loved before, and if I would promiseto marry him he would be in heaven, his happiness would be so great. It was perfectly thrilling, much better than anything I have ever seenon the stage. He tried to get one of the hands I was still sitting on, but I thought I had better not let him have it, as we were not engaged, and Jess had said no affectionaries until you are engaged. And then, too, I remembered he had probably said the same things several timesbefore, he seemed so familiar with them, and I had a feeling that Billywas standing by, perfectly disgusted, but ready to fish me out if Ifell in. I came pretty near falling, and then I told Whythe I wouldn'tbe through college until I was twenty and I didn't believe in waitingfor anything on earth for four years, and though it was awfully nice inhim to ask me to marry him, my father would have fits if he thought Iwas listening to him do it, and that we had better go in. I wish I had had a kodak and could have snapped the look that came overhis face when I suggested going in. He was perfectly astonished. Alsohe was indignant and grieved and the look he bent upon me was trulyburning. As for his voice--Sothern couldn't have surpassed it. Aftera while he said he thought I had more sympathy, more understanding of alove such as his, and if I realized its depth I would not keep himwaiting four years, as four years at college was all nonsense for awoman; and then he got my hand, anyhow, and I jumped up, for somebodywas coming, and, besides, if we hadn't gone in we'd have been in anargument right off, with love left out, on the subject of education andwomen. I did not want him to think I was not appreciative, however, and though I went in with Mr. Keane, who had come for his dance, I gaveWhythe a little look that was not unfriendly as I left him. I amafraid it was not even discouraging, but he seemed so mysterious andtragic and amazed that I should leave him at such a critical time thatI thought a little look wouldn't hurt. I noticed, as we reached thedoor, that he was lighting a cigarette, and I knew his feelings wouldsoon be soothed. Man has no sorrow that smoking may not cure. When we went home that night other people were in the automobile (Ialways see that that happens, knowing how Mother would feel about it)and Whythe, of course, had no chance to continue a former conversation, but his silence said a lot, and when he helped me out of the car hehelped much more than was necessary and held my hands so tight henearly broke my little finger; and the look he gave me was a thrillerall right. Every time I've thought of it since my heart has thumped soI know I must be in love, for all books say that is a reliable symptom. Being proposed to is awfully interesting, and the reason I like it somuch is that I am not apt to have many proposals of Whythe's sort, asthat kind has gone out of fashion, owing to golf and tennis and countryclubs and so much association. Plain statement is about all a girlgets nowadays, I am told. Jacqueline Smith told Florine Mr. Smith hadwired her he had to go to South America and asked her if she wouldmarry him and go with him, and she wired back she would, and that wasall the courting they had, though they seem very happy. And a girlJess knows said the man she married had asked her how he stood withher, that she stood all right with him, and that was the way they knewthey cared for each other. But I'm not that sort. I am very romanticand I like a lot of words, which is why I am just crazy about Whythe'sletters. If Whythe doesn't make a success of law or politics he could certainlymake a living writing letters of a certain sort. He's an expert atthem and greatly gifted, and though I don't say much in mine, thinkingit safer to telephone than write, I do tell him that his are perfectlylovely, at which he doesn't seem displeased. He still begs me to marryhim, and is so fearfully polite about it that I don't like to ask himwhat he has to marry on, and so far as I know he has only nerve and hismother's home. I would not like to spend eternity as a maiden lady, but I'd much rather so spend it than dwell under the vine and fig-treeof the person who would be a mother-in-law to Whythe's wife. My heartgoes out to Elizabeth every time I think of the fate that willeventually be hers. Also it goes out to the House of Eppes. Whenopposing elements meet something usually happens. I'm betting onElizabeth, but I may be wrong. CHAPTER XIII Jehoshaphat the Golden! For two days Twickenham Town has been standingon its head and wriggling its heels in the air, and nothing has beentalked about since it appeared except its appearance. Every tongue intown has had its say, and everybody in town has been on somebody else'sporch and talked it over; and as for Miss Susanna, I believe she criedthe whole night through, last night. The first night she was too dazedto take it in. The Twickenham Town _Sentinel_ had it on its front pagein the middle column in letters indecently large, Miss Bettie Simcoesays, and it certainly did make a sensation: "Mrs. Roger S. Payneannounces the engagement of her niece Elizabeth Hamilton Carter to Mr. Algernon Grice Baker, of Perryville, Wisconsin, " was what theTwickenham-Towners waked up and read on Wednesday the 1st of August, and if the dynamite-plant which has made business so good for BuzzardBrothers, the undertakers, had exploded, it couldn't have caused moreof a stir. Twickenham wasn't only amazed; it was indignant, and itcouldn't believe it was true. But it was true, for the next day MissSusanna got a letter from Elizabeth, telling her all about herengagement and that she would be home very soon and bring him with her, and it was the night of the day the letter was received that MissSusanna went early to her room and locked her door for a while (thatis, my door, for she is sleeping in my room during the August rush) andcried all night long. I had to pretend I didn't know, for she didn'twant me to know how hurt and distressed she was that Elizabeth shouldhave so treated her, and as I didn't sleep any more than she did, though, owing to very different feelings about Elizabeth, I made up mymind as to some things I would say to her when she got back. And ifshe has never read "King Lear" I will see that she hears it read beforevery long with a glossary, and comments of my own on ingratitude andthings of that sort. Also she may hear some other things. I have been perfectly furious with Elizabeth for the way she hastreated the aunt who has been mother and father and all things else toher, but I can't help laughing at the way Twickenham Town has taken theengagement. As for Whythe--I have wished for Billy a dozen times of late, for onlyBilly could see what a scream it is, the shock to Whythe's vanity thatElizabeth's beau is proving. I can't speak of it to any one else, andkeeping it to myself is a great strain. At first he seemed dazed withunbelief, and then he became scorny and sniffy and shruggy and smiley, and though he says little about his successor, whom he hasn't seen yet, his manner indicates that as a substitute for himself he considers himan insult. Last night at the gate he talked to me about it for a while, and thenhe asked me when I was going to tell him I would marry him, and why wasit I would not engage myself to him and take him out of his miserablestate of uncertainty and make him the happiest man in the world, andwhy-- Oh, my granny! he spieled it off so beautifully and his eyeshelped so wonderfully, also the moon, which was half out and half in, that I stayed a little longer at the gate than I should, perhaps, andlet him say things he shouldn't, but his fluency was so enjoyable Icouldn't get away. After a while, however, when he had run down alittle, I told him I didn't think it would be respectful to what mighthave been if I engaged myself to him, and that sixteen was too young tobe engaged, and then, too, it wasn't positively certain that a certainyoung person was going to marry another young person just because shewas at present engaged to him. At which he got perfectly furious andsaid he would not marry that certain person if she was the only womanleft on earth; that she had treated him as no lady should treat agentleman, and that she was vain and mercenary and ambitious, and hewas mortified to think he had ever imagined he had loved so shallow andweak and changeable a girl, and-- "But you did love her, didn't you?" I got up on the gate-post, swungmy feet down, and put my hands in my lap and out of reach, the post notbeing big enough for two. "Everybody says you were frightfully in lovewith her and you didn't think she was shallow and weak and mercenaryuntil you had the break, and maybe you may change your mind back againabout her some day, and then where would I be?" I put my chin in myhands and my elbows in my lap and looked down at him, and he looked sohurt and surprised that I saw he had not thought of his own real giftfor changing, and I realized that his attention ought to be drawn tosome things he was apt to forget. Quick as a flash, though, he said Ihad opened new worlds to him; that I stimulated and inspired him as noone had ever done, and that he would never love any one as he loved me, and that he would wait forever if necessary for me. Also he said hewould never change back again to a certain person, as she had killedhis love, and would I not promise to be just his? And I had to sittight on my hands, his manner was so very imploring; and then, before Icould say anything, I heard Mr. Willie Prince, who was sitting on thefront porch, fanning, cough rather loud and come down the steps andcall Ben, who was barking, and I knew Mr. Willie was doing what hethought was his duty, and I got down from the post and told Whythe goodnight. He went away like the young man in the Bible, very sorrowful, and I went in. It wasn't late, but everybody had gone in except Miss Susanna and Mr. Willie, and when I sat down in a rocking-chair Miss Susanna looked atme as if she didn't know whether to say anything or not, and I saw shewas worried. But before I could ask what was the matter she got up andkissed me good night and went in, so I asked Mr. Willie. He wouldn't tell me at first, though I could see he was dying to do it, but after a while he said Miss Susanna was the sort that found life ofthe present day a hard thing to accept, and, fanning himself with hispalm leaf, he looked at me as if I were one of the reasons she foundlife hard. "Miss Susanna, " he said, "is a lady of the old school wherelove and honor were placed above riches and mere material things, andit was a blow to her to find how readily young people could changetheir affections and break their plighted vows and be blind to theirbest interests, which was to keep along the same path and not betempted out of it by passing people and worldly ambitions. " And as hetalked in his fine little cambric-needle voice that sounded as if itcame out of a squeaky cabinet, I knew he was meaning more than he wassaying, and I sat up and listened until he stopped for breath. "Is that all?" I asked, and got up to go in, "for if it is I don'tthink Miss Susanna need worry herself. People in one generation aren'tvery different from people in another where self-interest is concerned. Everybody knows Mrs. Loraine married her husband for his money, thoughloving Mr. Spence, and Miss Susanna was one of her bridesmaids; and ifElizabeth prefers to marry a rich man to a poor one, I don't seeanything new about that. " And also I said it wasn't likely that loveand honor were ever going to die out, and a few other things would livea long time yet, and he need not bother any more than Miss Susannaconcerning present-day young people; and then to my surprise he askedme to sit down and told me what he enjoyed telling very much. CHAPTER XIV "Everybody has been talking about the way Whythe Eppes has been rushingyou, " he began, fanning as hard as he could fan, "and several peoplehave been to see Miss Susanna and told her they thought your parentsought to know--" He didn't get any further. I stopped him. It was silly in me to gethot, but I got hot all right, and in all my life I never wanted anybodyas I wanted Billy right then at my side. He doesn't get mad the way Ido. He would see that talk he did not like was stopped in two minutes, but I was too fighting angry to stop my own tongue, and I said thingsto fat Miss Nancy Willie Prince I oughtn't to have said. Among themthat my parents would not have permitted me to come to this town or anyother if not perfectly certain I knew how to behave myself wherever Iwent, and that whatever was advisable for them to know concerning methey would know without the assistance of Miss Bettie Simcoe or Mrs. Caperton (she is a frisky little widow who has no use for young girls)or any other Twickenham-Towner. And then, perhaps because he was soflustered he didn't know what he was saying, he told me riches were agreat temptation to any young man, and everybody, of course, knew myfather was wealthy, though he must say it had not been learned from thefamily. And that Whythe, being poor from a money standpoint, hadnaturally been tempted, especially as his engagement had been sorecently broken with a girl he had been in love with since childhood, and I, being young, didn't understand and was under the impression thatyoung men meant all they said, and-- He would be talking now if I had not stamped my foot and stopped hisrambling. His insinuations sounded as if I were a feeble-mindedcreature and couldn't tell truth from untruth, or know when a man meantor didn't mean what he said, and had never heard things of the samesort before. I've heard them before, and in several different places. I am a good many things I ought not to be, but I am not feeble-minded. I told him-- It does not matter what I told him, but I made himunderstand I could take care of myself without the help of the town, and, while I appreciated his effort to keep me from thinking the men inTwickenham did not mean what they said, and were not to be relied on, and not to be trusted, and that honor was not held very high by themwhere young girls were concerned, it was difficult to believe it, for Ihad been made to understand by others that certain old-fashioned thingswere still held sacred there, and the dangers and temptations of thecity were absent. When I saw how red his fat, round face got and howsquirmy his legs and how hard he fanned I knew I had better go in. Iwent, but I didn't say good night. Mad! Was I mad? I was. For a long time I sat by the window andtalked to Billy in my mind and told him what I thought of men old-maidsand prissy places and gossipy spinsters and flirtatious widows, and ofpeople who didn't have anything to talk of but one another; and then, as the moon came out clearer, I seemed to see myself clearer also, andafter a while it came over me that maybe I had been a little nicer toWhythe than was necessary just to see if a man couldn't get comfortedsooner than he thought. I had been doing a little scientificexperimenting along a different way from Jess's way; and then my eyesgot open wide and I saw what Mr. Willie had been trying to tell me, which was that Whythe was probably taking practical consolation and wasnot ignorant of the fact that my Father was not a poor man. At the thought something got into my backbone and I sat up. I had beenfooling myself and didn't know it. I don't mean I had believed all thethrilly love things Whythe had been saying. They came natural to himand he might have said them to some other girl if not to me, but I hadnot dreamed he had any thought of an advantageous alliance, as Billycalls the thing his mother is hoping his sister will make, or that anyone could associate such a thought with me. It didn't seem possible, and I don't believe Whythe is that sort. Still, men are queer ducks, Jess says, and one never can tell what is in the back of their brainfrom the words of their mouth, and if Whythe was imagining I had anyvalue outside of my own self I would like to find it out. How I wasgoing to find out I did not know, and when I said my prayers I startedto pray that a rattling good way would turn up, but I remembered itwasn't exactly a thing to pray about and that watching might be better. I had had a grand time being in love. Every day there was some newevidence of how nice a beau is, and though the other boys didn't letWhythe have it all his own way, as they called it, and we had a jollytime together and I danced and rode and picnicked and pleasured withall of them, still, it was understood that Whythe was my steady andthey gave him right much chance. It had been loads of fun having asteady, and I knew now how excited Mazie, one of our maids at home, must have felt the day she became engaged to hers, who was the milkman. But I had somehow thought that nobody but girls of Mazie's sort hadsteadies, and I had wished I could be a maid for a few weeks just tofind out how it would feel to possess some one and be possessed by him. I guess it amounts to about the same thing, though, love does, nomatter in what way it comes to one or by what name we call it, if it isthe genuine thing. I have certainly never felt about Whythe in the wayMazie must have felt about her milkman, judging by her face, but I hadbeen enjoying myself and I didn't intend to stop with too muchsuddenness. Mr. Willie had warned me and I would remember, but it isagainst the law to condemn a man unheard. The Bible says so. I wouldgo slowly for once in my life and give Whythe a chance to conduct hisown defense. It wouldn't be necessary to mention that a case was beingtried or that I would be both judge and jury. There are times in lifewhen it is well to keep some things to oneself. CHAPTER XV Yesterday it poured in torrents all day. None of us could get out ofthe house, so while Miss Araminta darned my stockings, which hadn'tbeen touched since I came to Twickenham Town, I read aloud to the wholebunch in the library and we had a very nice time. Miss Araminta hastried to teach me to darn since I have been here, but she has notsucceeded in doing it! I will never be a darner. I have asked Mothernot to get me all-over silk stockings, as the Lisle-thread feet lastmuch longer, but she doesn't seem to remember, and one of my charitiesis giving my nice stockings away when they can no longer be worn withself-respect. Clarissa, Mother's maid, is supposed to keep them inorder, but she doesn't do it, and she has headaches so often I don'tlike to say anything to her, with the result that Mother thinks I wearout an awful lot, and yet I know she wouldn't want me to wear stockingswith holes in them. I found out early in life that it is foolish totry to do things you are not by nature fitted to do, and I am notfitted by nature to sit still for hours and fill up a little hole in astocking to save a few cents or a dollar or so. I don't do it. Iwould rather save in some other way. Miss Araminta loves to darn. Also she loves pretty clothes in a waythat is truly pitiful, not having the means to get them, and she hasabout as much idea how to have her few things made as a Comanche Indianhas of _vers-libre_. If she would wear those that suited her style shewould look dear, but she wears clothes of many colors made, as shethinks, in the prevailing fashion, and of course she is a sight for allbeholders. While I was reading _Pendennis_ out loud I was wondering atthe same time what Miss Araminta was going to wear to the receptionJudge and Mrs. Maclean are going to give to their two married daughtersand their husbands on the 17th of August, which is the big thing of theyear for Twickenham Town; but of course I couldn't ask her. I knew shehad nothing suitable or that had not been the subject of nudges andremarks under the breath, and smiles that could be heard. And I alsoknew nothing could keep her away, for she dearly loves to go to partiesand is not often invited, being of an inconvenient age forentertainments, and I wished something could come to pass that would beto her interest. As I read I poked around in my mind trying to think what might be done, and suddenly something came to me, and after a while I put the bookdown and began to talk of the different things that were going on intown and the many visitors who were already there, and then I askedMiss Araminta if she didn't think lavender was a lovely color. Shesaid it was the one she loved best and all her life she had longed fora lavender satin with everything to match, but she knew now she wouldnever have it and she rarely let herself wish for things any more. Andshe sighed the softest little sigh, like a mother whose baby had died along time ago, but who always kept it in her heart, and I said tomyself, "Go up-stairs, Kitty Canary, and think out a way, " andup-stairs I went. August is The Season in Twickenham Town, and there is hardly a familyin it that doesn't have company or boarders, or whose sons anddaughters don't come home for their holiday, and Miss Bettie Simcoesays it's perfectly scandalous, the flirting that goes on. Miss Bettiethinks anything matrimonial is close to scandalous, and she iscontinually raising her eyebrows and making a half moon of her mouth atwhat she says is the forwardness and freeness of present-day youngpeople. Miss Susanna always has a crowded house in August. A DoctorMacafee and his wife and two daughters are here from Florida, and aMiss LeRoy from New Hampshire, and Judge Lampton and his wife fromAlabama, and how she manages to put them away is known only to herself. When I heard she was going to give up her room and take a tiny one inthe garret I made up my mind I would have an awful dream that night, aregular nightmare, that would scare her to death and make her come inmy room to see what was the matter. I had it and she came, and I toldher I was subject to nightmares and ought not to sleep in a room bymyself, though I hadn't mentioned it before, and I wished she wouldplease sleep in mine with me and take the four-poster, which I thoughtgave me bad dreams, as I wasn't accustomed to such high beds. And ifshe would I would take the cot, as I liked cots much better. I amsubject to nightmares, or anything else that is advisable to have atthe proper time, and if I had known how many people were coming andthat Miss Susanna was going to give up her room, I would have had onebefore, so she wouldn't think they had come on pretty sudden. But sheis not apt to think. She is a darling little old lady, not brought upto think, and now too busy to do it, and she just works herself todeath with her head up and a smile on her face, and doesn't realize sheis spending all she makes in good things for the people who come hereand nearly kill themselves eating. She never buys herself anyclothes--that is, until Elizabeth has all she needs--and when I went upto my room yesterday to think out a way of getting that lavender satinfor Miss Araminta, another thought came into my head, which was a blacksatin for Miss Susanna. Feelings are things one has to be awfully careful about in TwickenhamTown, and not for a billion dollars put in my pocket would I hurtanybody's here, and I couldn't let Miss Araminta or Miss Susanna thinkfor a moment that their dresses were not all right, and how to get themnew ones I couldn't imagine. I started to pray about it, and then Iremembered I was in an awful hurry and it would be better to get towork, and, going over to the bureau, I opened its top drawer, and therelooking up at me was my bank-book lying on a pile of handkerchiefs. Father had put a very respectable sum of money in the Twickenham bankfor me and told me to use it whenever I could do it in the right way, and he would trust me to find the right way; but though I had tried toget rid of some of it, there were few opportunities (so it wouldn't bemanifest, I mean), and now one popped right up in my face. For fear it might pop out again I ran downstairs as quick as I could, and, seeing Miss Susanna and Miss Araminta were by themselves, I beganto talk about the Pettigrew children and what they had told me theywanted Santa Claus to bring them Christmas. And that reminded mesuddenly that Christmas would soon be here, and I told them that inAugust I always began to think about what to get Mother and AuntCeleste, who were my chief Christmas worries, and I wondered if theythought I could get something in Twickenham that I could take back withme. I felt, as I talked, that I was on a tight rope forty feet in theair and mighty little to balance myself with, but I managed to put inwords what I wanted to say, and like little angels they fell in andnever dreamed I had thought the thing out before I spoke. I told them that Mother and Aunt Celeste had much more than they neededin life, and it was hard to get anything new and different for them, asthere were so many to give them presents, and that I liked to getsomething odd if I could. The things they were crazy about were oldsilver and old jewelry, especially old settings, and it was hard tofind them in our town, and I wondered if they could help me get a pieceof silver like one of Miss Susanna's pitchers for Mother, and a set ofsapphires like Miss Araminta's for Aunt Celeste. Also I said I didn'twant to trouble them and I hoped they wouldn't mind my asking them. Miss Araminta said no indeed, she didn't mind, and that she had gotinto the state of mind Miss Virginia Hill was in, and she wasn't goingto keep on keeping a lot of things that were no use just because theyhad belonged to long-dead grandmothers. And while she wouldn't go asfar as Miss Virginia, who would sell every ancestor she had for amillion dollars, she would part with some other things for much less, and if I wanted to buy the sapphire set (pin and ear-rings) she wouldbe glad to sell them. She would have to tell me, though, they had beenher great-grandmother's, and not her great-great's, as the pearls were, and that she would take forty-five dollars for them, and if that wastoo much she would take forty. I almost lost my breath at her good sense, not expecting it, but I toldher it would be cheating if I paid less than seventy-five for them (Ihad calculated that it would take about that to get the lavender satinwith things to match), and if she would get them for me I would takethem right away, and I was awfully obliged to her, as it would be sucha relief to get Aunt Celeste off my mind. I admitted I didn't alwayspay as much as seventy-five for her present (I usually give her afive-dollar one which Mother pays for), but Father wanted me to bringher something quaint from Twickenham if I could find it, and he wouldbe delighted to know of the sapphires. I fiddled along about other things for a moment or two and then I askedMiss Susanna if she would think me a very piggy person to want to buyone of those precious old silver pitchers of hers, as Mother would loveso to have one of that pattern (Mother had never mentioned it, but Iknew she would long for one of that pattern if she could see it), and Iwaited with terrible anxiousness in my heart and a hot face for heranswer. Miss Susanna's got a lovely pinky color, and for a moment shedidn't say anything, and then Miss Araminta spoke for her and showedmore sensibleness than I thought was in her. "Why don't you, Susanna?" she said, and nodded at her. They are firstcousins and very good friends. "Why don't you let the child have oneof those old pitchers? You have too much silver, anyhow, and withservants of the present day any sort of silver is too great a burden tobe borne, much less ancestral sort. Young people want to buy their ownthings, and reverence for the past is a thing of the past; and besides, you have no one to leave yours to except some one who won't appreciateit. Why don't you let her have it?" "I would be glad for her to have it. Glad to help her out with herChristmas difficulties, but"--Miss Susanna bit her lip and the pink inher face became rose--"I have never done anything of this sort, and itdoes not seem just right. I would be pleased for her mother to haveone of the pitchers. In a sense they are connected with her family asour great-great-great-grandmothers were the same, and--" "Oh, you precious person!" I jumped up and took Miss Susanna in myarms and whirled around the room with her. I was afraid she would geton the grandparent subject, and I didn't want to hear it. To head heroff I gave her a squeeze and a skip or two and then I sat her down andkissed her, and asked her if she thought seventy-five dollars wasenough for the pitcher, and if so I would get the checks while MissAraminta got the sapphires. And before they had time to change theirminds their things were mine and my money (Father's) was theirs, and wewere all a little more excited than we were willing to admit. CHAPTER XVI They are in my trunk, the two Christmas presents, and we have had agrand time, Miss Araminta and Miss Susanna and I, buying their partydresses and things, and it is as true as Scripture that at times thereis nothing better for the soul than pretty clothes for the body. Andnothing so chirps up a woman as to have on becoming ones that fit andare fresh and make her feel she can walk across the floor withoutwishing she had a shawl on. The way Miss Araminta has bloomed out isas amazing as a moon-plant. And Miss Susanna has such a pleased smileon her boarder-tired face that I have been up in the air just fromlooking at her, and the best time I've ever had in my life has been intaking charge of their money and spending it for them. The way theyagreed to get the dresses was this: I told them it would be awfully exciting to have a secret and spring asurprise on Mrs. General Gaines and Miss Bettie Simcoe and a few othersin town, and if they were willing I would design a dress for each ofthem and Miss Fannie Cross would make the dresses, which would be of akind to suit their particular styles, and they could have them for theparty on the 17th. And if they didn't get them at once something wouldhappen to make them spend the money and it would be gone and they nobetter off than before. And I mentioned that there was the loveliestpiece of black charmeuse at Mr. Peter Smith's, and that he wasexpecting a piece of lavender satin on Thursday. I had been to see Mr. Peter and the lavender was ordered before I told them it was coming. Also a few other things had been ordered by wire, I going with him tothe telegraph-office to see him do it, being afraid to trust hismemory, which, like his methods, is right put-offy. Also I told themthere would be no time to hesitate. They got so flustrated at beingmanaged and so dazed by the pictures I showed them of the dresses I haddrawn that they were lambs, perfect lambs. They let me do everything Itold them ought to be done. It was a real relief to them to have some one go ahead and decidethings and not give them time to think whether they should do this ordo that, or whether they had not better spend the money some other way. Miss Susanna said, feebly, something about the roof needing to befixed, and that the cellar ought to have a new floor, but I told her itwould be sacrilegious to put a great-grandmother's silver pitcher onthe roof or in the cellar, and that it would mortify her heavenlyancestors to know such a thing was being done, and I was surprised ather mentioning it. The only suitable way in which it would be properto use the pitcher was in something personal, and as I was afraid Mr. Peter Smith would sell the satin, it was so lovely and only a littlemore than enough for a dress, I had told him to put it aside and I hadto let him know that afternoon if it was wanted. And another thing Itold her was that all her life other people had been getting her shareof nice things, and practicalities had eaten up everything pretty shehad wanted for years, and there was an end to making over, and that sheowed it to memories of the past to have a new dress for herself and notlet all the newness always appear on a certain person's back justbecause that certain person happened to be young. Uncle Henson wouldbe at the door with the carriage at four o'clock, I told her, to takeus down-town, and she must be ready in time, as there was a good dealto do. I wouldn't take a mint of money for the look that came in herface as I talked. I have put it away for low-down days. As for Miss Araminta--I wish I could write a book and put Miss AramintaArmstrong in it. If the lady who wrote _Cranford_ had known her shewould have put her in, and it is a loss to literature that no one cando again for little places and the Miss Aramintas of life what the_Cranford_ writer did. She has told me right much about herself, and Idon't smile any more, even to myself, as I couldn't help doing at firstin the dark when I was so afraid I would roll on the floor and whoopthat I had to hold on to my chair with both hands. It is still funnyto hear her tell of her beaux who never quite came to the point, andwho were always snatched away at the critical moment by ajealous-minded person who was close kin but whose name she nevermentions. But it isn't as funny as it used to be. It's queer how muchtragedy there is in the comic things of life. Ever since she was bornMiss Araminta has been a pieced-and-patched-up person, and never oncehas she had everything new and to match at the same time. When I toldher about some of the things that must go with the lavender satin shebegan to cry a little and said she oughtn't to let herself think aboutindulgences of that sort, as her poor brother was not in business atpresent and needed-- "Now look here, Miss Araminta, " I said. "The first preparation youhave got to make for the party is to forget you have a brother andremember your own body, which needs attention. It has come down from along line of people who took very good care to put expensive things ontheirs. And another thing you ought to remember is that if yourbrother didn't know he could call on you every time he lost his job--" "My brother has never had a job. " Miss Araminta sat up at once andwiped her eyes and left, unknowing, a streak of white down a pink cheekthat turned purple at the word "job. " "He has been unfortunate in notbeing able to retain certain positions he has once held, but hishealth--" "Rats!" It came out without thinking, but when a man has a worn-outwife and seven children and won't do this and won't do that because itis beneath his lordly ideas of what a well-born person should do, it isbetter for me not to speak of him out loud. I told Miss Araminta shemust excuse me, but there were some sorts of men I couldn't mentionwith safety and I thought "job" was a very good word, and I wouldrather have one that paid a dollar a day than borrow money to pay mybills, and that I'd sweep the streets before I would sit down and donothing if I had a wife and seven children. The look on her face Itucked away, too, to take out on days when there isn't a thing in sightto laugh at. She can't help it, Miss Araminta can't. She was bornthat way and, not being an evoluting kind, words are wasted when itcomes to trying to make her see what she doesn't want to see. There isa lot of bummy rot in this world which has nothing to do with theproper kind of pride, and it's my belief we are mighty apt to fill theplace in life we are fitted to fill. If a dollar a day is all I amworth it is all I ought to get until I make myself worth more. Ofcourse if people are feeble-minded that's a different thing. When theyare, the State ought to step in and take charge of them in order toprotect itself, Jess says, and also she says feeble-mindeders alwayshave the largest families, and even a feeble-minded person knows thatis not right. I didn't mean to hurt Miss Araminta's feelings, but that brother ofhers is a snuff-the-moon old snob, and I was determined he shouldn'tget a penny of that sapphire money if I could help it, and I told MissAraminta a few firm facts. After a while she blew her nose and wipedher eyes and I had no further trouble. But I was afraid to trusteither her or Miss Susanna with their money, so I took the checks backand told them it was better for me to keep them, as money had such aqueer way of disappearing. Any that was handy was used when needed, and when the time came to get the things the money was for there mightnot be any to get. They handed it back as meek as little lambs. CHAPTER XVII Miss Susanna and Miss Araminta are crazy about the designs I havesketched for their dresses, and so is Miss Fannie Cross. It is theonly talent I have, designing clothes is, and if I ever have to earn myliving I am going to be "Katrine" and have a shop on a fine street andcharge like old glory for my things. That will make them wanted, andthose who think a gown is desirable according to its price can payenough to make up for those who can't pay much, and I'll have a greattime charging the payers. I am going to get ready to earn a living, anyhow, because every girl ought to, Fathers or Billys notwithstanding. Life is a very up-and-downy thing, and it is good to know, should itget down, that you can give it a lift up yourself and not have to waitfor a shover. It was a private matinée, watching Miss Susanna and Miss Araminta buythe things that Mr. Peter Smith had ordered and which they couldn'tunderstand his having in stock. The trimmings and linings and glovesand stockings were exactly what was needed and they couldn't get overhow fortunate it was. They paid for them themselves, as I had handedtheir money to them when we started out, holding back only enough topay Miss Fannie Cross; but though they took some time to do the buying, and felt and smoothed everything they bought and put the satin to theircheeks to be sure of its quality, and looked at each other every nowand then as if what they were doing was wicked, perhaps, but fearfullyenjoyable, still in two days everything was at Miss Fannie's, and itwas then I had to be awfully firm with Miss Araminta. There are some things some women can never take in, and one is that anold sheep should never dress lamb fashion. It was all Miss Fannie(she's a corking-good dressmaker for a small place) and I could do tohold Miss Araminta down when it came to colors, and the cut of herskirt, and some trimmings she wanted to put on the waist. She thinksshe loves lavender, but Joseph's coat would have been a colorless pieceof apparel beside her dress if we finally hadn't sat on her and toldher certain things couldn't be done. She was crazy to pile on a bunchof ancestral lace, yellow and dowdy; but we told her not much, told herfreshness and daintiness suited her style much better, and she wasn'told enough to emphasize ancestral lace, and she blushed and gave in. But nothing would have made her do it if Miss Fannie hadn't thought tothrow out the age-line. She caught on and agreed, and after that wedid not have a great deal of trouble. Miss Susanna was a little crankier than I thought she was going to be, and wanted a practical dress that she could wear anywhere at any time, and we had to argue with her a good deal. I told her a train was thething for her, and I intended to walk behind her the night of the partyand keep everybody back far enough to see how grand she looked. When awoman is sixty-six and pretty worn, short skirts for evenings are notimpressive, and, though we didn't mention age, we said finally she owedit to her mother's memory to dress in a style suitable to the positioninto which she had been born, and that settled it. She's the realthing, Miss Susanna is. She doesn't have to play a part. I had told Miss Fannie on the quiet that the price of making thedresses would be doubled if she would have them ready for the 17th ofAugust, and they were ready. Miss Araminta and Miss Susanna thought itwas a bad example to set, as it might not be just to the otherTwickenham-Towners to pay more than they could pay, and it stuck MissAraminta pretty deep to hand out more than was necessary. But I toldher it was an emergency operation and that kind always came high. Andalso I told them that Miss Fannie charged entirely too little for herwork, and it was poor religion to go to church on Sunday and singpraises to God and underpay a poor little dressmaker. They said theysupposed it was, but I don't think they thought it very reverential inme to speak of God in connection with a dress-maker and what she gotfor sewing. I gave each one a list of their expenditures, with thecost of everything on it, and each had a little left over after gettingtheir slippers and some sachet powder and a bottle of violet-waterapiece, and, after all, that brother of Miss Araminta's got a little ofthe sapphire money. But it wasn't much. I saw to that. It's beenawfully exciting in Twickenham lately. The event of the year is the MacLean party and the best of everythingis saved for it, and in itself it makes every tongue in town talk untilyou wonder why tongues are the only things that never tire, and then, lo and behold! two days before it came off back comes ElizabethHamilton Carter, bringing her beau behind her, and off start the sametongues on a new lap and no breath taken in between. I wish Billy could see it, the thing Elizabeth brought back! He wearsmen's clothes (very good ones) and he is twenty-seven years old, andhas large hands and feet and ears and a feeble mustache, but as a manhe isn't much. He looks like a hatter and is seemingly dumb, and heblinks his eyes so continually that no one can tell their color. Alsohe bites his finger-nails. I advised Elizabeth to get a beau _protem. _, but I didn't mean anything like that. If she wants jealousy tobring Whythe back to her she should keep something on hand to bejealous of. Elizabeth has an iron will and a copper determination, butabout as much judgment as a horse-fly. Miss Bettie Simcoe's eyebrows haven't come down good since the nightthe _engagées_ arrived. She has an explanation for the situation, asshe calls it, there never yet being a situation she couldn't explain, and she says the engagement is a piece of management on the part ofElizabeth's aunt on her father's side, the aunt she has been visiting. This aunt is society crazy, and, knowing you can't keep step in societywithout money, she arranged the whole thing. Anyhow, Elizabeth has agorgeous ring and a magnificent pin, and of course she ought to behappy if diamonds and things mean happiness, but she isn't happy, andfor the first time since I met her I can't make her out. Before I knowit I am going to feel sorry for her, and then good-by to in-lovenessfor me! I have very little sense at times, and no hold-outness at allwhen certain things come to pass. Elizabeth still loves Whythe. Engaged or not to some one else, shestill cares only for him. I don't want him. I wonder how it might bemanaged--getting them to take in how silly they have been. I believeI'll try and see if something can't be done. Watchful waiting may beall right in some cases, but I never cared for waiting. Milton saysall things come to him who hustles while he waits. You get a move on, Kitty Canary, and see what you can do! CHAPTER XVIII The party is over. Everybody who is anybody was at it and we had aperfectly scrumptious time. I never saw so many good things to eat ona hot summer night in all my life, but the heat didn't affectappetites, and Miss Kate Norris, who lives in the Wellington Home(memorial for a dead wife or a live conscience, I don't rememberwhich), ate three platefuls of supper and three helpings of ice-cream. She is fearfully ancestral and an awful eater, and also a sourremarker, and I stay out of her way, but that night I couldn't helpseeing the way she made food disappear. No low-born person could havedone it quicker. It was a perfectly beautiful party. The two married daughters of Judgeand Mrs. MacLean, who live in the city and always come home for August, were as dear and lovely as if they had never left old Twickenham Town, and their clothes were a liberal education to the stay-at-homers. Theywere well taken in by the latter, but the sensation of the evening wasthe arrival and appearance of My Girls, and--oh, my granny!--I was soexcited I couldn't stand on both feet at once, and I had to get in acorner and put my back against the wall to keep from making movement. When they came in the room there was a little hush, and then there wereso many exclamations of surprise and admiration that I had to fan ashard as Mr. Willie Prince to keep down the blazing red in my face whichwas there from pride in the dear old darlings and not from heat. And Isaw clearer than I had ever seen before that fine things behind onecount a good deal, and ancestors of the right kind leave something totheir descendants that comes out when needed, and at that party thedesirable things came out. They looked like pictures--Miss Susanna and Miss Araminta--for theprevailing modes, as Miss Araminta calls them, and which she loves sodearly and hits at but never touches, had not been paid very particularattention to, and the thing that suited each had been made for them. They were as becoming to the dresses as the dresses to them. Twickenham nearly lost its breath as they came into the longdrawing-room of the MacLean house and walked through it after speakingto the receiving party, and I know now how a mother feels when herdebutante daughters are a success. I will have more sympathy withMother than I used to have, and I will try to behave myself and do thestunts all right for the first year. But she already knows I do notexpect to keep on doing them. I have told her. Nobody can say again that women can't keep a secret, for not even MissBettie Simcoe, who knows what the Lord is going to do before He doesit, had any idea of the dresses; and though I don't think she or Mrs. General Gaines liked not being told, they were very nice about it andsaid much kinder things than I thought they were capable of saying. And I really think Elizabeth was pleased also. She actually smiledwhen she saw her aunt come in with Miss Araminta. Smiles of late havebeen faint and feeble on the face of the affianced young lady, whoisn't playing her part as a person with ancestors ought to play it. She bounced her old beau and took unto herself a new one, and what Ican't understand is, having done it, why she doesn't carry it off witha rip-roaring bluff that might fool even herself for a while. ButElizabeth isn't that sort. Everybody is talking about how miserableshe looks. I'm afraid I put the beau idea in her head, and the ideahas got her in a hole and she doesn't know how to get out of it. Iwish Billy was here. He can get a person out of any sort of hole. I went to the party with Whythe. He has been away for a week, andwhile away got a new dress suit, which, of course, he wore to the partyand looked perfectly grand in it. I think his mother gave the suit tohim, though he didn't say, but he was off attending to some businessfor her, and I'm sure he took it out in the new clothes. It would havebeen more sensible to have had his teeth fixed, or gotten three newones, the rest being all right, but it was natural to prefer the suit, and much less painful. Whythe is never going to do anythingdisagreeable that he can keep from doing. He was so nice the night of the party that I hadn't the courage tobegin finding out the truth or untruth of what Mr. Willie Prince hadmentioned as the reason of the rush he had been giving me, and as Idon't believe Whythe has ever thought of Father's money, there was noneed to be in a hurry to learn whether he had or not. I've had a jollygood time being in love with him, and being made love to, and as anexperience it may come in when I begin to write my book. I always didwant to know how many ways love can be made in, which, of course, I cannever know, for there are as many ways, I guess, as there are men tomake it, and the variations on the main theme are as infinitesimal asthe tongues that tell the story. It is truly wonderful how differentlythe same words can be trimmed up and handed out, and I like thecrescendoes and diminuendoes and shades of feeling which give emphasisand expression, as my music teacher says I must be careful of whenplaying. There is never going to be any crescendo or diminuendobusiness about Billy's love-making, and I might as well make up my mindto that in the beginning. It's going to be pure staccato withhim--short and quick and soon over. But it will last forever, Billy'swill. He isn't going to stand for foolishness about it when he starts, either. He has two more years at college and then he is going in hisfather's office. I don't know what's the matter with Billy. I haven't had a letter fromhim for a week, or a single card. He must be crazy. I've been so busyI have not written for ten days, and if I don't get a letter soon hewon't get one from me for another ten. He can't expect me to do whathe doesn't do, and besides, a man doesn't want what he gets too easy, even letters. I don't suppose he could be sick. If he was-- I am notgoing to let myself think sickness or automobile accidents or slidingoff mountain peaks (they are in Switzerland now and Billy would get tothe top of anything he started for or die trying). And though I say tomyself forty times a day he is all right, I wake up at night and wonderif anything could be the matter. I am wondering all the time. Maybe that is why I was a little nicer to Whythe at the party than Ineed to have been, because I wanted to forget something it was not wellto remember if I was out to enjoy myself. After I had danced with halfa dozen boys and spoken to everybody on the place, we went out on thelawn, Whythe and I, and sat on a rustic seat under a great maple-treeto cool off and rest awhile; and though everybody could see us andseveral couples were under several other trees (a number of cases beingon hand and apt to culminate in August), Miss Bettie Simcoe had remarksto make, of course. She made them the next day at breakfast. I wish I could buy a beau for Miss Bettie and make a present of him toher, but, being a member of the Society for the Prevention of Crueltyto Animals, I couldn't very well do it. I never yet have seen a man Iwould be that hard on. But it would be the only way she could be madeto see some things, and maybe it might make her feel young again. Jesssays there's nothing so kittenish as a spinster who's caught anunexpected beau. He is the most rejuvenating thing on earth to a womanwho wants one. All don't want them. There are a great many moresensible women in this world than people realize, but in certain smallplaces matrimony is still the chief pursuit in which women can engagewithout being thought unwomanly. Miss Bettie doesn't pursue, and menare good dodgers in this part of the world, but if one of them wouldsay a few things to her of the sort that Whythe knows how to say sowell, her sniffing and snorting and seeing might grow less. I don't like her, but I feel sorry for her, for nobody really lovesher, and it must be awful to have nobody to love you best of all onearth. I couldn't live if nobody loved me. I could not. I might livewithout food and live without drink, and do without clothes and dowithout air--the right kinds of those things, I mean--but I couldn'tand I wouldn't live without loving. As long as I am on this littleplanet I expect to love a lot of people and I hope they will love me inreturn. When Miss Bettie makes me so mad I have to go out of the roomto keep from saying things I shouldn't, and Miss Araminta simpers sowhen any one mentions Mr. Sparks's name (he's the new widower ministerof the Presbyterian church, with no chance of escape), and ElizabethHamilton Carter makes me ashamed of my sex, and I feel like I haveswallowed concentrated extract of Human Peculiarities, I remember thatnot one of them has a father of any sort, much less my sort, or aprecious mother and two dandy sisters and a good many nice relationsand some bully friends--when I remember all that, remember how many Ihave to love me, I spit out the peculiarities and try not to mind them, try to see how funny they are. But sometimes the taste sticks rightlong. I don't suppose I spit right. What I can't understand is thatif people want to be loved--and everybody does--why in the name ofgoodness don't they do a little loving on their own account? Youneedn't expect to get what you don't give. I'm glad I was born with ataste for liking, though I don't like every one, by a jugful. When Icome across a righteous hypocrite I get out of the way, if it isn'tconvenient to make the hypocrite get out of mine. There are somepeople I could never congeal with and I am never even going to try. CHAPTER XIX I wonder what made me waste time thinking about Miss Bettie Simcoe andhuman peculiarities when I started to say something about sitting underthe trees with Whythe at the MacLean party, but, born a rambler, I willramble unto death, and there's no use wasting time lamenting naturaldeficiencies. Whythe, of course, couldn't very conveniently makepersonal remarks, as people were passing pretty close, though he didsay I looked like a dream, which I did not, being too brown for adream; but I did look real nice. I fished out one of the party dressesMother made Clarissa put in my trunk, which I haven't worn since I havebeen here, and I suppose it suited my brownness, as it was creamy andstuck out in the silly way skirts stick now, and it was new-fashionedenough to make everybody look at it and nudge a little. Whythe thoughtit was lovely, and told me so sixteen times, which was tiresome, andthen I saw he was watching Elizabeth, who was on the porch with her newbeau and did not know really whether my dress was blue or pink. Theonly thing he was thinking of was that not far from him was asuperseder in possession of something which was once his. Whythedoesn't like to be superseded in anything affecting his personalestimate of himself. The Lord certainly let loose a lot of contradictions when he startedthe human race. When I saw the way Whythe was watching Elizabeth, andremembered how she had looked at him when he passed her a few minutesbefore, I knew two specimens of a common variety were before me, and Imade up a parable as I watched them watch each other. The twospecimens had been in love and been engaged. They had a fuss. Theengagement was broken. She was mad, and he was mad, and each thoughtthe other would make the first advance to own up and make up; butbefore it could be done a young person appeared and distractedtemporarily the attention of the man, and the girl went away to seewhat she could do. The man repaired the damage done unto him by sayingpretty things to the new person, which was good for his pride and kepthim in practice, and all was going well when the first maiden returnedwith a new possession. The new possession was a son of great wealth, but the Faithless One wasmade to understand, without words, that his Cruelty was driving theMaid to Marriage with another, and his Vanity was appeased, and in hisheart he rejoiced and said unto himself: "It is even as I thought, andthat piece of punk she has brought back is bitter unto her, and incomparison to me he is nothingness indeed. And I would arise and punchhis head if it were not for the New Person who may love me very much. "And the young man was sorrowful when he thought on these things and yetglad also, for the heart of man is receptive to the love of all kindsof women, and it is pleasing unto him to believe he is pleasing untothem. And seeing that which had come to pass, the New Young Person made upher mind that the Young Man and the Young Maid who had once loved mustlove again, and in her heart she said it is a vain thing to believe inthe words of a man. They cometh out as cometh breath, then pass awayand are remembered by him no more. And she took counsel with herselfas to how she might bring to pass that which the simple souls knew nothow to bring, and, lo! as she thought it came unto her. That's a trueparable! What came was the thought of a picnic. Whythe and Elizabeth mustaccidentally have a chance to come across each other and have it out, and the best way they could do it would be outdoors, where it isconvenient to wander off and get away from nudgers and commenters; andbeing nothing but impulse, I turned to Whythe, who was stillunconsciously watching Elizabeth, and asked him if he would help mewith something I was anxious to do. He said of course, and wanted toknow what it was. When I told him I would tell him the next day heasked me to drive with him in the morning, and didn't like it because Ideclined. That is, he didn't like my reason, which was that, as he hadbeen out of his office for some time, his business must need attendingto, and I didn't think it ought to be left any longer. He seemed tothink that a very unnecessary remark, and I realized he likedElizabeth's kind better. She would never have dreamed of telling himhis business needed attention. Elizabeth is the Admired and Honoredtype of Womanhood which does not think it is ladylike to have knowledgeof business matters. Seeing the look on his face, I said to myself: "Kitty Canary, it is allover. A pin has been stuck in your balloon and the air is out. " And Igot up and went in and danced with every man dancer in the room, andhardly knew who they were, the breaks were so often. I had a goodtime, but also I had a right sinky feeling, for it's pretty wabbly torealize that nothing human is to be depended on very long, and that agirl may be engaged one day to a man and not speaking to him the next. Not that I had ever been engaged. I hadn't, not caring for what goeswith engagements, but I might have been if I hadn't remembered aboutthe different things I have fallen in and been fished out of when therewas some one by to haul me out. Nobody being by, I had to take care ofmyself, and I thought it best to go only so far and no farther. On the way home Whythe tried to say some things pretty low about how hehad missed me while away, but Miss Susanna and Miss Araminta were inthe back seat of the car (it was Mr. Lipscomb's Ford, and borrowed, ofcourse), and he had to be so careful it was a strain, and as I didn'tanswer he stopped after a while. It takes two to do more things thanmake a bargain, and to battledore love without having it shuttlecockedback isn't much fun. He wanted to know what was the matter when I gotout, and I told him it was sleep. He didn't seem to like that, either. It's hard to please men. CHAPTER XX I didn't see Whythe for the next few days, as I thought it best not to, and, besides, I had bushels of letters to write and a very special oneto Father, and I had no time for him. The thing I had to write Fatherabout was money. I wanted five hundred dollars, and the only way Iknew how to get it was to ask him to give it to me; so I asked. Ialways did believe that the person who gives the money ought to be toldwhat is to be done with it, and that is why I wrote Father as I did;and, besides, he likes to hear little bits of news about theTwickenham-Towners, and asking for the money gave me a chance to tellhim. He had told me, when he was here, that if there was any way in which Icould be of service in the right way to let him know and he would putup the money part, if I would manage the other part, and it would be alittle secret between us and nobody else need know anything about it. When, last week, I heard Mrs. Richard Stafford say she would rather goto a hospital for a month than do anything on earth, I thought mychance had come. At the hospital, she said, a person had the right tobe waited on and do nothing, and not think about food or servants, andnot feel they were bothering other people by being sick; and while shewasn't sick exactly, a hospital would seem like heaven if she could bein one for a little while. She had laughed when she said it, anddidn't dream of its being taken in earnest, but I took it in earnest, for the tiredness in her face makes me ache every time I see her, andright up in my mind popped the little secret Father and I and Miss Polkcould have. What I wrote was this: _Father dear, will you please send me five hundred dollars, and if youcan do it by return mail I will be very much obliged. The person Iwant part of it for is so tired that she might not be able to ever getrested unless she has a chance pretty quick to lie down and do nothingfor a month, anyhow, and that is why I am in a hurry. Tiredness is avery wearing disease and if it runs on too long it runs a person into astate that is almost impossible to get out of, and the whole family hasto pay up for letting it go on. Home gets hell-y when there's too muchtiredness in it. What I want the money for is this: Mrs. Stafford isworn out. You know her. She was Miss Mary Shirley, and married aperfectly useless man when she was eighteen, and she is now the motherof seven children, and has a mother-in-law living with her, and alsoMiss Lou Barbee, who won't go away. And, of course, the man whom shecan't turn out. He isn't bad. Just lazy, with nothing to him, but sheloves him and I will skip over that part. She needs a rest and oughtto have it. It's nothing but scrimp and scrape and strive to keep upappearances day in and day out, year in and year out, until she is allto pieces and the children don't realize what is the matter. And, ofcourse, the Male Person doesn't, for he says that Woman's Place is inthe Home. When he told me that yesterday (his heels were on therailing of his porch, where he generally keeps them, and his pipe inhis mouth) I thought to myself that if he were mine he would have toget out of my home or prove he had a better right to share it with methan he had ever proved to his wife. But I won't get on that, either. I'll go back to Mrs. Stafford. _ _Half the time she doesn't have a servant, and all the time she has amother-in-law, who is pie crust, and Miss Lou Barbee, who's a bagpipe, and with the doors locked and windows shut so no one can see, she hasworked herself to death. What I want done is to have an invitationsent her from an old friend to be the guest of the hospital here for amonth, and you will be the friend and she will never know it. MissPolk, the superintendent of the hospital, will manage things. I'vetalked it over with her, and she understands. Miss Polk is a perfectlygrand person. For Simon-pure sense there isn't her equal on earth. She and I have decided on what we would do if we had money. We'd havea Fund for Tired Mothers and Fathers. It would be used to give them aRest before Death. _ _I hope you won't mind sending the money. I don't think you will, foreverybody says business is so prosperous it's actually unrighteous, andit's in the Bible that you ought to put your treasures where you canfind them again, or something like that. If you can't send it I knowthere will be a good reason for your not sending it, but I would liketo have it by Monday if possible, so Mrs. Stafford can go to theHospital the next day. Later, four other people can have their turn. It is to be used not for illness, but for Tiredness; for broken-downersand worn-outers who need being waited on and fed up and allowed to keepstill. Miss Polk and I are going to decide on who needs a rest themost before I go away, and I send you for it, Father dear, an armful ofsqueezes and the biggest bunch of kisses the mail-man can take. _ That was all I told him about the Rest money, but I said a littlesomething about the picnic I thought I ought to give. Everybody intown has given something, and, having accepted, I have to return, andthe picnic will be the best thing for Whythe and Elizabeth. I didn'tmention the ex-lovers to Father, of course. Even to a father onedoesn't have to tell everything in life. CHAPTER XXI I haven't seen Whythe alone but once since the night of the MacLeanparty, and then I stopped any tendencies that showed signs of beingpersonal, and talked most of the time about the picnic which we can'thave until late in the month. Every day is engaged up to thetwenty-fourth. Whythe tried to talk of Mr. Algernon Grice Baker, but Icut that out also. Sarcasm doesn't suit him, and some day he might besorry. The Superseder has gone, however, and every day Elizabethpasses Whythe's office, and every day Whythe happens to be at hiswindow at the time of passing. They speak, but so far that is all. Iam sorry the picnic has to wait so long. They are two silly children. Their fingers aren't in their mouths, but their heads are on the sidewhen they see each other, and the thing's getting on my nerves. Almostany kind of sin is easier to stand than some sorts of silliness. I wonder why I stay awake so much at night! It's very unusual, and Itry my best to go to sleep, but I can't sleep. Always I am thinking ofMr. William Spencer Sloane and the things I would say to him if he werein hearing distance. Not one line have I had from him for more thantwo weeks. Not a card or a little present, which he usually sends fromevery place he goes to, or any sign to show he is living. I got so madwhen I realized he hadn't noticed me for fourteen days that I couldn'tkeep in things which had to come out, and, seeing Miss Susanna wassleeping the sleep of worn-outness, I got up the other night andlighted a candle behind the bed, and on the floor I wrote a letter thatmaybe wasn't altogether as accurate as it might have been. I wouldn'thave sent it the next day if it hadn't been for a letter I got fromJess, but after I read hers I sent mine flying. I haven't cooled down yet from reading Jess's letter. I am not goingto cool down until I see the cause of it face to face, and if Billythinks it makes the least difference to me how he amuses himself orwith whom he spends his time sightseeing he thinks Wrong! I was goingto tear up the letter I had written him in the middle of the night forthe relief of indignations and because in the middle of the nightthings seem so much bigger and harder and stranger than in thedaylight; but after I read the letter from Jess I added a postscript tomine and almost ran down to the post-office to mail it, for fear if Ididn't do it quick I mightn't do it at all. Ever since I sent it off Ihave been perfectly horrid, and I can hardly stand myself. I have putoff trying to make Whythe and Elizabeth see how stupid they are, and asElizabeth hasn't been very nice to me I haven't felt it to be my dutyto show her what a goose she is. Neither have I told Whythe thatalmost any girl who adored him would do for his wife. As I don't adoreI wouldn't do, and I think he is beginning to take it in. A dozentimes of late he has told me he doesn't understand me. He does not. And never will. The thing in Jess's letter which made me hot was this: "What is thematter with you and Billy? Pat says (Pat is Patricia, Billy's sister)that you've been pretty horrid about writing him, and he's beenblue-black at not getting letters from you; but at present he is havinga good time with a very jolly girl from the West who is at their hotel. Chirp him something cheerful, Canary Bird. If I were younger or Billyolder you shouldn't have him. I'd have him myself. I'm not going tostand for bad treatment of him, and if those Southern boys who makelove to every pretty girl they see, and make it better than any boys onearth, have made you forget an old friend, I'm coming down and take youback home. Behave yourself, Kitty Canary, and write Billy the sort ofletter we scream over up here. " And then she went on with other things. It is ridiculous in Pat to say I haven't written Billy! I have. Threelong letters and three cards, and certainly he can't expect more thanthat, as he hasn't been gone but two months and five days; and, besides, friends ought to have such confidence in each other that theydon't need letters to prove their friendship. Not a word have I hadfrom him in more than two weeks, and if Jess thinks I am going to writehim a chirp letter (which he won't have time to read if he is goingaround so much with a Western girl and having so much fun) she, too, thinks Wrong. That Westerner explains why I haven't heard from him forso long. It is outrageous in Billy to behave as he has been behaving. All men are alike. Every one of them. It was ignorance in me toimagine Billy was different. He isn't. The more I thought of howmistaken I had been in him the madder I got, and I just wrote apostscript to my letter and flew to the post-office with it. It seemedprovidential that my letter was ready to send. I hope he will read itwhile on one of his joyous excursions with the Western Woman, who isdoubtless twenty-five, maybe thirty, and just making use of Billy, whohasn't sense enough to see it. I nearly cried my eyes out last night, before Miss Susanna came up to bed, because it was necessary to sendhim such a letter. Still, Billy has to learn things in life and hemight as well learn them early. What I wrote was this: _Dear Billy, --I have been having such a perfectly grand time latelythat it has been impossible to squeeze out a scrap in which to writeyou, and yet I have wanted to do so, for I am sure you will be glad toknow how fearfully happy I am and what is causing the happiness. I amin love. It is the most wonderful thing I have ever been in, andthrillingly interesting. I suppose you have been in it many times, butnot my way, or you would have mentioned it, just as I am doing to you, as we are such old friends, and friends have the right to know ofimportant happenings. I hope you will like each other when you meet, for, though you are very unlike, you are both made of male material, and I have often noticed that men have many peculiarities in common. One of them is out of sight out of love, and a great readiness to beadmired and entertained. He is a lawyer and couldn't be better born, though he might be better educated; still, one mustn't expect allthings in one man, and his eyes are so wonderful, and he uses suchpoetic prose, that the lack of money and a few other lacks shouldn'tcount. He lives in a beautiful old house which has proud traditionsand no bathrooms, and his family is one of the oldest and mostdisagreeable in America; still, we would not have to live with them ifwe were married. Nothing on earth could make me sleep under the sameroof with his sisters, who are so churchy that the minister himself issubject under them. And neither would it be safe for me to be tooclosely associated with his mother. However, things of that sort arein the distance, which may be far or may not, and I am not thinking ofimmediate marriage, but just how magnificent it is to have somebody inlove with you who knows how to say so in the most delicious way, andwith a voice that, when the moon is out, is truly heavenly. I amtelling you about it because I thought you might be interested andwould like to know of my happiness; but, of course, I don't want you totell any one else, as it is still a secret and all so indefinite thatit wouldn't do to speak of it to any one but you. I am scribbling thisin the middle of the night, because I can't sleep for thinking of someone, and because there is no time in the day in which to write. I hopeyou are having a great time. Give my love to the family and write meof your gladness at knowing of mine. _ _As ever, Kitty. _ Now what do you suppose made me write such slush as that? And why is afemale person born with such horridness in her that she can say thingsthat are not so with a smile in public and cry her eyes out when alone?That's what I have been doing lately, though I can't let tears havemuch time, for I am not by nature a crier, and they would disturb MissSusanna at night. In my secret heart I just wrote that letter to Billybecause I was indignant with him for not writing to me for more thantwo weeks, and I didn't intend to let him think I was sitting on atombstone waving a willow branch in one hand and wiping tears away withthe other. And, besides, I have been in love. Summer love. And ithas been exciting. No one could expect me to go through life and nothave but one experience in love making and hearing, and because a girlenjoys the different manners of expression it doesn't mean she is notparticular about the story not being illustrated. I don't illustrateor allow illustrations, which, of course, lessens some of the thrill, but I promised Jess I would always draw the line at the right time, andI have. I have not been engaged for half a minute, and I wouldn't haveadded the postscript if it hadn't been for her letter and what she toldme about that girl from some Western town who is no more his sort thanI am her brother's. Billy is perfectly blind about some things, andhas no discrimination where it is most needed. Anyhow, I added thepostscript: _P. S. --By the time you get this I may be engaged. Thank you for whatyou would say if here. _ _K. C. _ CHAPTER XXII It was after I sent the letter that I got so restless I couldn't sitstill, and as there was nothing I enjoyed doing I spent a good deal ofmy tune at the hospital with Miss Polk, who is a very splendid person, and every day I went in to see Mrs. Stafford. She is having thegrandest rest, with rubs and good eats and nothing to do but be waitedon and cared for, that a tired person ever had, and I am the only onewho is allowed to see her, which is beyond the understanding ofTwickenham Town. I'm cheerful is the reason I'm allowed to see her, the town is told, and that's enough for it to know. It certainly is queer how some things happen in the nick of time. Father sent me the money, but told me to try to be as practical aspossible, knowing I am given to doing impractical things; and I took itto Miss Polk, and nobody but she and I know where it came from. Andthen she invited Mrs. Stafford to be a guest of the hospital for amonth. I happened to be at the house when the note came. I thought itbest to be there accidentally, in case there should be argument andtalk, and the Man of the House should still think Woman's Place was inthe Home, and sure enough there was. Mrs. Stafford read the note, andher face got as white as death, and after a minute she said it would beheaven to go, but of course she couldn't. And the noble creature whois her husband said it was very presumptuous in whoever had invited herto be the guest of the hospital, and that he wasn't in the habit ofhaving his wife visit such places on the invitation of unknowninterferers, and of course she couldn't go. And just as he said thatMrs. Stafford keeled over in a dead faint right at his feet, as ifsomething had given out at the thought of rest. I knew that was mychance, and I took it. "Stop that automobile!" I waved to a man who was coming down thestreet, and as he stopped I knelt and did the things Billy had made melearn how to do the first year we went to camp. And seeing the poor, tired soul had just fainted, and would come to in a minute, I spokequick to the man looking down at her, scared to death, as were thechildren, who began to cry, and told him he wouldn't have a wife muchlonger to be interfered with if he didn't come down from that horse hethought he was riding and have some common sense. "Don't you see she is worn out, " I said, "and got nothing to go onwith? Everything has given out, and the next time she drops over inthis way she may never get up again. " I was putting some water on herface as I spoke, and, seeing her eyes begin to open a little, I calledto Mr. Everett, who had gotten out of his car and was on the porch, tohelp Mr. Stafford put his wife in and take her to the hospital, and thefrightened husband for once did as he was told. I hopped in with herand held her up and told Mr. Everett to drive like old Scratch, and hedrove. It was all over so quickly nobody knew what had happened. It was like somebody being kidnapped and dragged off by highwaymen, taking her away so hurriedly, but if it hadn't been done that way therewould have been endless talk and a thousand reasons why she couldn'tgo; and if she hadn't she would have soon gone for good. Sometimessomebody has to be high-handed, and even if that billy-goat of ahusband pretends to resent what I did his wife isn't resenting it, andshe is the one that counts. I always agree with her that it was such astrange thing I happened to be there the day the note came. And alsoshe thinks it strange I decided so quickly to take her to the hospital, when she had just said she couldn't go. I tell her I do a good manythings on the spur of the moment, and getting the men to pick her upand hurry away with her was just another case of spur, and she shutsher eyes when I say that and looks as if she is praying. The luckypart was her fainting at the right time. Anyhow, she is at thehospital, and that old rooster of hers is finding out a good manythings it took her absence from home for him to learn. I never expectto get married. NEVER! CHAPTER XXIII I have just found out why Elizabeth and Whythe had their break. MissBettie Simcoe told me. It took Miss Bettie some time to get at thebottom of it, but Elizabeth told her last night, and this morning I wasgiven the information at the first moment Miss Bettie could get me toherself. Elizabeth was dead right in the stand she took, but her little spurt ofindependence didn't last long, and she is now ready to give in when thechance comes to give. Miss Bettie added that on her own account. Whythe couldn't afford to be married, but that wasn't to interfere withhis marriage. He had expected to take Elizabeth to his mother's homeand plant her in it, but when he told her Elizabeth balked. Shepreferred to stay with her aunt Susanna after her marriage to going toWhythe's home, and when she so informed him he said things heshouldn't, and then both sent off skyrockets and the whole thing wentup in the air. And then I came. She has now changed her mind and is willing to follow her husbandwherever he leads. She is truly womanly, also she is still wearing thering of the beau with whom she sought to bring Whythe to terms, and toplease her worldly aunt. But she will return the ring when it isproper to do so. She is waiting to find out. Elizabeth had more sense than I gave her credit for in refusing to livein the House of Eppes; but it's either live there or not live withWhythe, and she evidently can't live without him. I'd hate love tomake me lose the little gumption I was born with, and even my littleknows no house is big enough for a son's wife and a mother-in-law andthree in-law sisters. It won't be a Home, Sweet Home, place whenElizabeth enters the Eppes house, and it will be nip and tuck as to whowins out, but that's not my business. I'm sorry for both sides, andthankful I'm not related to either. Also, I will get out of the way assoon as possible, but until the picnic there doesn't seem a possibleway. There is nothing in life that is not over if life is long enough, andmy little love affair with Mr. Whythe Rives Eppes belongs to the past. Elizabeth can have him any minute she wants, and unless actions do notspeak louder than words she wants him right away, and he her. I do notsee how she is possibly going to stand his teeth. Still, there are agreat many things I do not understand in life. The picnic is over. By giving it I brought down a good deal of commentand criticism on my brown and curly head, but it does not matter. Nothing except sin really matters if we have sense enough to see it. Iinvited everybody in Twickenham Town that I liked to the picnic, andsome few I didn't, the latter being relations of those I did. I don'tthink a person ought to be punished for their relations, any more thanbeing held responsible for them, and so I included them, too. What Iwas criticized for was asking to the picnic quite a number of peoplewho don't usually go to the same places at the same time theHistoricals go, and it made talk. That night Miss Araminta Armstrong, on the quiet, told me she knew I meant to do right, but one had to usejudgment in life, and it wasn't well to put ideas in some people'sheads. I told her I knew it, knew certain kinds of heads couldn't takein certain ideas, one of which was that people could enjoy friendlinessand outdoorness and a lunch they didn't have to prepare for themselves, even if they were not high-born, and as the ones referred to did nothave contagious diseases their presence wouldn't prove dangerous andthe Ancestrals needn't be uneasy. Also I told her I didn't care forjudgment as much as I ought, and if human beings knew one anotherbetter they might find they were not as unlike as they thought. Shedidn't say anything more. Neither did any one else say anything to me. To one another they said a good deal. It was at the picnic I had a little talk with Whythe. We went down toa stream under a big willow-tree, and he started on the usual, but Itold him he must not say anything more to me on that subject, and if hewere the man I thought him he would not allow Elizabeth to marry theCompensator she was no more in love with than I was. Also, I said afew more things that were pleasant for him to hear, such as Elizabeth'sheart was breaking (it was, as much as her kind of heart could break), and I told him it was foolishness to ruin one's life because of amisunderstanding, and that both had doubtless been in the wrong. Andincidentally I let drop that if, after years of preparation, I ever gotmarried I would have nothing to bring my husband but myself, as myfather had made up his mind that young people should make their own wayin life (he ought to have so made it up if he hasn't), and Whythe saidthat cut no figure with him, and asked me point-blank if I did not lovehim. It didn't sound polite to say no, and yet I couldn't truthfullysay yes, so I just sighed and shook my head. When he asked me if Icould give him no hope, I answered _no_ with such uncomplimentaryquickness that I had to cough to overcome it, and then I told him itwas impossible for a girl of Elizabeth's taste and training andcharacter, who had once loved such a man as he, to really care for anyone else. And the blackness in his face, caused by my unnecessaryemphasis, died out, and I saw he was agreeing with me concerningElizabeth, and that I would not have to insist on what I said being so. A man's appetite for flattery is never poor, and usually it is hearty. When we got up to go back to where lunch was being served Whythe hadquite a determined air about him. I told him if I could help in anyway to let me know. An hour later I saw him and Elizabeth going downto the same stream and the same old willow tree. When the time came to go home I pretended I had to see Florence Kenseyabout something that was important, and in the confusion of getting thepeople in the cars I managed to have Whythe put Elizabeth in his, andtold them to get away quick and I would come on with Mason Page. Theygot. And the next day Elizabeth looked like some one who had beenunbandaged and was letting out breath that for a long time had beenheld in. Also, she looked pinker and whiter than ever, and so Purethat it was not possible for me to stay close to her, so I got away. No longer Hurt and Misunderstood, she went about smiling in sweettriumphantness that was not put in words, but oozed without them, andher manner to me was one of deepest sympathy. Poor Whythe! CHAPTER XXIV There are some things not required of human nature to stand. ElizabethHamilton Carter is one of them. I was glad to give her back her beau. I felt truly Virginian in doing it, for Virginians always say, whengiving you something, that they don't want it; I certainly didn't wantWhythe. I wouldn't have known what to do with him after the summer wasover, and I was conscious of great relief in getting him off my handswithout further loss or trouble. I couldn't tell Elizabeth this, ofcourse, though there were times when it took a good deal of something Idid not know I had to keep from doing so. Also, it took more strengthto keep several other things to myself than I knew I possessed. Ittook praying and the end of the sheet to do it, but I did it, and I'mgetting encouraged about K. C. What encourages me is this: Two nights after the picnic Elizabeth cameto my room and asked if she might have a little talk with me, as shefelt she ought to. I told her she could, and she sat down and began. Miss Susanna was back in her own quarters, the people from Floridahaving gone, and I had just finished saying my prayers and was ready tohop into bed when Elizabeth knocked at my door. I knew what was comingfrom the look on her face and her manner of walking, and the way sheheld her head. If ever I write that book I am always thinking about I am going to putElizabeth in it as well as Miss Araminta Armstrong, and if I could getsome men to match them I would have some corking characters to beginwith. But no kind of pen-and-ink picture of Elizabeth would do herjustice. Her sweetness of speech when she is particularly nasty isbeyond the power of human portrayal. I got in bed quick when she saidshe wanted to talk, because I was afraid I might have to hit something, and the pillow was the only thing I could manage without sound. I putit where I could give it a dig when politeness required control, andtold her to go ahead. In her last sleep Elizabeth will pose. She took her seat near thewindow where the moonlight could shine on her (she looked very prettyin her pink-silk kimono, a hand-over from her rich aunt, and shabby butbecoming in color), and for a moment she didn't say anything, justfooled with the pink ribbon on her hair. And then she said she had asecret to tell me; said it so soft, with her head on the side, that Ihad to ask her to speak louder please, and I got nearer the edge of thebed. Elbow on it and chin in the palm of one hand, I prayed hard to bepolite in my own room, and reached out for an end of the sheet with theother. Again I told her to go ahead. After a minute she went. "You and Whythe have been such friends that I think you should be thefirst to know that--" "Have you and Whythe made up?" I stuck my bare foot over the edge ofthe bed and wriggled it. "If you have you had better be married quickand not take any more chances. I'm awfully glad if things are settled. Have you bounced the other fellow yet?" It was cruel in me to take out of her mouth what she was moistening herlips to say, but I was sleepy and I didn't want details. She had noidea of being cut out of saying what it was her determination to say, however, considering I had been responsible for some unhappy daysduring the past two months, and before she got through she had said allshe wanted me to hear. If it hadn't been for the pillow I would haverolled out of bed. The nerve of her! The belief of her! And, oh, mygranny! the punishment, as she imagined, of me! Before she left the room she told me she could no longer hold outagainst Whythe's pleadings. Told me he had suffered so during thesummer she was uneasy about him, and, though he had tried to forget, ithad been useless, and, unable to endure it any longer, he had come toher and told her he could stand no more, and if she did not promise tomarry him at once he would--he would-- Her voice trailed, but I saidnothing, the end of the sheet being stuffed into my mouth forpoliteness' sake, and when her tears had been wiped away she beganagain. "It is hard to forgive Whythe, because you are so young, and he knowshow fascinating he is and how little experience you have had with youngmen, but his father was a flirt before him" (poor Father! I thought ofthe retribution that had come to him in Mother, and I pushed in moresheet), "and it is natural in a man to seek amusement and entertainmentwhen he is suffering as Whythe was. I hope you will forgive him. Itis because he may have made you imagine things that were not so, andbecause you have been so nice to him, that I thought you should be thefirst to know. " I rolled back to the side of the bed facing her, from which I hadrolled the other way for safety, and took the end of the sheet out ofmy mouth. "Have you told IT?" I asked. "It doesn't make anydifference about my knowing as I knew before you did, but something isdue that which you brought back with you. Have you told IT, Elizabeth?" "Told who? I don't understand. " She sat up. "I don't know who youare talking about. " "Don't you?" I too sat up and swung my bare feet over the side of thebed. "I am talking about the person to whom I read in the TwickenhamTown Sentinel that you were engaged. He dresses like a man, and he maybe one, but even if he isn't he deserves to be treated decently by thelady who had promised to marry him. I suppose he knows. " I nodded toher hand, on which was the ring he had given her and which she had beentwirling as she talked. "That is, if you have had time to tell him. " "That is entirely my affair!" When not hurt or injured Elizabeth issuperior, and she added scorn to the tone of her voice, but stoppedfooling with the ring, which I know she hated to send back. "I see youdo not appreciate the confidence I am putting in you or the complimentI am paying you by telling you first, and if that is the case I willgo. " She made movement as if to get up, but she had no idea of going, so I didn't notice it, but kept on swinging my feet, and then I askedher if she had told Miss Susanna, and if she hadn't she ought to atonce, Miss Susanna being closely related and I nothing but a summerboarder. And I said I hoped she would be married right away, as Iwould love to be at the wedding, and if she would ask me to be one ofthe bridesmaids I would be one with pleasure. But she wouldn't answerme. Seeing she still had something to say, and wouldn't leave untilshe said it, I put my feet back in bed and lay flat with my hands undermy head and my eyes shut, and when at last I was fixed and quiet shebegan for a third time. I don't remember a thing after that except a sort of monotone voice andsomething about people talking about me because I had accepted Whythe'sattentions when everybody knew--I didn't hear what everybody knew, andnot until I did hear a sound at the door did I wake up good, and then Ijumped as if shot and asked her, half-asleep, if she were going to livewith Mother and Sister and Sister Edwina and Miss Lily Lou when she wasmarried, but she answered not. And since her midnight confession shehath not opened her mouth unto me and her little lips get together whenshe sees me coming, and from her friends I have learned that she isdeeply distressed at my treatment of her. And to her friends I havesaid Rats! and so endeth the efforts at friendship which she imaginedshe had made. I am never going to pretend to be friends with a personwho is not truthful, and whom I understand as I understand ElizabethHamilton Carter. I don't like her, and though it is not necessary tosay so unless occasion requires, neither is it necessary to appear tobe what I am not. I like Whythe, and when I saw him a few days afterElizabeth gave herself the satisfaction of communicating to me thereturn of his tempted affections, I shook hands with him good and hardand wished him all the happiness I knew there was little chance of hisgetting. If I were a man and had to live in the house with a femalewho shut her mouth tight every time she got mad and was continuallyhurt and always sensitive, there would likely be in that house battle, murder, or sudden death. Any kind of outspokenness is better to beendured than silent offense. CHAPTER XXV This is the last day of August, and it is a dayTwickenham Town is going to remember fora long time. I have done again that which Ishould not have done, and I guess I had better gohome. I had expected to stay until the twenty-seventhof September and return with Father, whowas to spend a week here with me, but he can't come. I suppose it was the awful disappointment ofknowing Father couldn't come, and being so miserablemyself (not one line yet from that person namedWilliam Spencer Sloane, who is probably marriedto an elderly woman by this time), and becauseof my sureness that no human being could bedepended on in time of temptation, especiallyvigorous, aggressive temptations that come outof the West, that I gave help where help seemedto be needed, and now again I am in everybody'smouth. Also my ankles are still a little sore fromthe weight of the window being on them as I hungout, but they are nearly well, and even if theywere not it would not matter. Two young heartsare happy and a proud person is not, and theblame is on me. That also doesn't matter. I amsoon going away. The thing I did, which maybe I shouldn't havedone, was to help little Amy Frances Winstonget married. She is the property of hergrandmother, who is a very important part ofTwickenham Town. Having no parents or sisters orbrothers, and only enough money of her own forher keep, and no spunk or spirit, she has gone onfor years loving an awfully nice chap namedTaylor French, with little chance of ever marryinghim, and then in hops this Miss Frisk, who asksher why she doesn't quit fumbling and stop fearing, and the thing is done. There is nothing the matter with Taylor Frenchexcept he is not Ancestral. Mrs. Brandon, Amy'sgrandmother, is diseased on the subject ofancestry, and the first thing she asks about a manis who is he. Knowing she would want to knowwho I was, I mentioned to her one day that Ihad never had any grandparents on either side(living ones I meant), and that we were nothistoric, and no member of our family had everbeen distinguished (for righteousness, though Ididn't use the word), and that we had made ourown way in life, which was true, for Father didn'thave a thing but what he was making when hemarried Mother. I also told her I did not mindin the least, and if I did I would try to rememberthat Christ was a carpenter and St. Paul asail-maker, though I'd never care to be intimatewith St. Paul. And I told her I thought it wasyourself that counted most, after all, and not deadpeople, though it must be nice to know somebodyin your family had been something if you were not. All she said was, "Are you a suffragist?" WhenI said I was and I hoped I didn't look as if Iwere not, for I wouldn't like anybody to bemistaken about it, she gave me a long look and leftthe room. She did not exactly draw her skirts aside withher hand as she passed me, but she did it inwardly;that is, I imagined she did from the expressionof her face, and the next day she must havefumigated the house, for when I went by an awfulsmell of sulphur was coming from it. She is alow bender and bower in church at the mentionof a name belonging to one she believes a Princein disguise, who in another life will receive herinto His kingdom, and whom she professes tofollow in the expectation of being rewarded for sodoing, but her head is held high when she doesn'tcare to see the lowly ones He came to give lightand life to. I don't mean she doesn't give oldclothes and food and sometimes a little wood toold Mrs. Snicker, who can't move, fromrheumatism, but she would no more speak other thanstiffly to some of the people I know here than shewould go in for suffrage. She doesn't realize sheis a living woman. She thinks she is an Ancestor. For years she has forbidden Taylor French tocome to her house, and Amy has to see him elsewhere. She has seen a good deal of him lately, Amyhas. Taylor doesn't live in Twickenham Townnow. He is living in North Carolina and has agood position, and is able to get married (I knowbecause I asked him), and any minute day ornight in the past eighteen months in which Amywould have agreed he would have married herand taken her away, but Amy wouldn't agree. Things have been dragging along this way solong that the nerves of both are frazzled out, andthere's nothing to hope for but death, and, ofcourse, it isn't respectful to think too hopefullyof death and a grandmother. And then I poppedin and gave things a little push and the curtain dropped. The way it dropped was this. I mean the waythey got married. Taylor was in town the lasttwo weeks in August, and, as everybody invitedhim to their parties, he and Amy managed to seea good deal of each other (also the seeing wasn'taltogether at places where other people werearound). But she wasn't allowed to meet himon the square or to receive letters from himstraight. And sometimes, if he wanted to saysomething in a hurry, or send her candy or a newbook, or any of the usuals, he had to give a signalby throwing pebbles on her window at night, and then she would throw out a string and hewould tie the thing to it and she would haulup, and the Personage, who was usually asleep, would be none the wiser. The Personage is deaf, which is a great help. Well, one night three of the town girls andmyself, with a boy apiece, had been to see Amy, and when we went up-stairs (just the girls) tosee a new hat a city cousin had sent her, we hearda little tap at the west window. It had beenraining, which accounted for our being indoorswith the windows lowered, and when we heardthe tapping we were so excited we could hardlybreathe. It was fearfully thrilly, just like thingsone reads about in books, and I told the girlsto put out the light quick, and when it was outI went to the window and saw Taylor standingin the shadow of a big tree. He signaled me todrop the line, but when I threw the piece oftwine Amy gave me I threw it wrong and it gotcaught in a broken piece of shingle on the edgeof the porch and hung there. I couldn't get itback and Taylor couldn't get it down, and, seeing it was necessary for something to be done, Ipushed aside the curtains (they were made ofstriped calico, blue and white) and told the girlsI was going to lean out of the window on the roofof the porch to get the string loose, and theymust hold on to my feet, for the roof sloped andI might slip if they didn't. They tried to stopme, and Amy wrung her hands, being verynervous from living on a strain and loving insecret, but I was out head foremost in a jiffy, and all four made a grab for my feet and legs. Being flat on my stomach, and having long arms, I got the string off from the piece of shingle, andjust as I did it and threw it to Taylor I hearda noise and a little cry from the girls, somethingabout, "Oh, my goodness! here she comes!" andI knew what had happened. "Pull the window down on my feet and letgo, " I called, as loud as I dared, "and draw thecurtains so she won't see my shoes. If she askswhere I am, tell her I am outdoors. Quick!Let it down!" They got it down and drew the curtains justas her Royal Highness walked in, and as she wenttoward the window Katherine Hardy says thatnever before had she prayed as she prayed thatminute, and then she thought of mice, which wasa quick answer. She gave a little scream andjumped with her hands over her eyes and bumpedinto the lady, who, being a woman first, was alsoafraid of mice, and she moved, too. Seeing thegirls flying around, she told them to stop, toldthem Maud Hendren's mother had telephonedthat she must come home at once and, notmissing me, owing to the girls moving about soshe wouldn't notice, she went out of the room, skirts still held up, and the minute she was outthey rushed for the window and pulled me in. My dress was a sight when I got in, and Ididn't have much skin on my elbows, and myhands were stuck up with splinters, as I had tohold on to anything I could clutch, being afraidthe window would not hold my feet and theshingles being rotten. But otherwise no damagewas done, and I got the note Taylor had tiedto the string, which I had pulled up by the timethe Ogress had departed. I gave it to Amy andtold her to read it quick. She read it, and after doing it turned so whiteand looked so queer we were frightened. For aminute she couldn't speak, then she handed methe note, and when I asked if I must read italoud she nodded her head and sat down, as ifto stand up was impossible. I glanced over itfirst so as to leave out the little love decorationsand just read the practical part, and whatTaylor told her was that he had just gotten atelegram from his house (it's iron-works I think)saying he must leave on important business forSouth America on the 6th of September. Thehouse had been talking of sending him for sometime, and had been waiting for certain developmentswhich had suddenly developed, and hewould have to go. Would she go with him, andif she would not he never expected to come backagain, but would stay over there and take chargeof the South-American branch of the house he wasgoing to establish. She would have to decideat once, as he couldn't stay a minute laterthan the 30th. They could be married anywhereshe said, only it must be quickly done. He hadgotten the telegram an hour before, and in themorning she must get Kitty Canary to fix thingsso he could see her and talk more fully. Kittycould be depended on and would managesomehow. The rest being private and personal, Iskipped it and gave the note back to Amy, whowas as white as the dress she had on, and herhands as limp as wet kid gloves. Excited! To my dying day I will neverforget the thrill of it. Being in love myself, as Ihad once thought, wasn't a circumstance to it, and the other girls were as bad as I. To helpa heart-yearning, backboneless young girlescape from the captivity of a cast-irongrandparent was something no red-blooded personcould refuse, and every one of us agreed that theonly thing for Amy to do was to walk into theden of lions and tell the head lioness the truth;ask her permission to many the man she loved, and, if she would not give it, to take it, anyhow, and tell her farewell and leave at once for SouthAmerica. That, at least, was what I thoughtought to be done, and after a while the othersthought so, too. At first there was a lot ofargument, but I told them I would never agree toAmy's running away to be married without herfirst telling her grandmother she was going to doit. That is, if she would not let her be marriedat home. If the G. M. Would not let, then Amycould take the first train out, but she mustn'ttake it until she had shown her grandmother therespect she did not deserve. I never could bearrunaway marriages. There's always somethingso common about them, and I wasn't going to beparty to one if I could help it. All the time we were talking we left Amy outof it, and never once asked her what shepreferred in the matter. The reason we didn't wasthe poor little thing was so frightened anddistressed that she could not open her lips. Wewould not let her come down-stairs with us, andwhen we said good night I whispered that I wouldsee Taylor on my way to Rose Hill, and at teno'clock the next morning we would meet her atthe back of Miss Susanna's vegetable gardenunder the big locust-tree, and that she mustn'tworry, we'd fix it, he and I. Also I told her shemight bring up some toilet things and littletraveling necessities and leave them with me;and though she clung to me like a frightenedchild and didn't speak, she was down by thebarn the next morning at ten, and so was Taylor. I let them get there a little ahead of me. CHAPTER XXVI They are married and gone, and for two days Twickenham Town has talkedof nothing else. It made a regular soup of the marriage. The brideand groom were the stock, the grandparent and maiden aunts were thethickening, and I was the seasoning; but all that does not matter now. The ancestralized person has learned that the twentieth century seessome things clearer than the eighteenth did, but she will never admitthat she has learned it. Taylor and Amy were not unmindful of what wasdue her, however. Taylor wrote her a very nice letter, asking herpermission to marry her granddaughter and take her to South America, and her answer was low-down. He wrote as a gentleman should, and sheanswered as a lady shouldn't, for her answer was insulting, and a reallady never humiliates any one. After reading it Taylor told Amy tomeet him at seven o'clock on Wednesday morning, and they would bemarried in the church with no one present but his brother (the onlyrelative Taylor has in town is a bachelor brother), and the sexton, theminister, and me. She met and the marriage took place. We didn't tell a soul about the marriage. The night before Amy spentwith me at Rose Hill, and, thinking it best Taylor should not be there, I told him not to come, and sent the other boys home early. In my roomI packed my suitcase and put in it two dresses I had never worn, whichI was glad to do, as it would mean that much less to pack when I wenthome, and also I put in some other things; and though Amy cried a gooddeal and didn't think she ought to take them, she was very particularabout how they went in. She is very neat and careful, and I'mfearfully quick, so it was well she watched me. I told her she wasdoing me a favor to dispossess me of what I didn't want and what was inmy way, and as we were the same height, though Amy is a little thinner, owing to secret love and distress of mind, I knew the things would fither, and I was more than glad to get rid of them. Also she didn't haveany of her own convenient, and she might as well be sensible. She was, and put in her own tooth brush and powder and left the rest to me, andby eleven o'clock everything was ready. When the next day the news flew around that the marriage had takenplace and I had been the leading spirit in it, I went to bed and stayedthere until the town had finished chewing me up, and then I came outagain. It was the most sensible thing I ever did and saved a lot oftalk and argument. Another reason I went to bed was because I was so homesick and solonely, and so something I had no name for, that I knew it was wiser tobe by myself. I can't be much in life, but I can keep from being anuisance, and when you feel you haven't a friend on earth outside ofyour family, who sometimes are queer also, you're apt to be a trial tothose you come in contact with. For two whole days I stayed in my roomand thought of nothing but a big, brawny, domineering, dictating girlfrom the West who was giving Billy no time to write letters; and thoughI would die before I would let anybody know it, even Jess, I nearlycried my eyes out under the bedclothes the day of the marriage. Life is a poor thing at times. And it is never so poor as when youthink a friend has failed you. There was nothing on earth that couldhave made me believe Billy would ever fail me when we had known eachother since children, and he had saved my life three or four times; buthow can I help believing it when he is letting a perfectly ordinary, straight-haired, large-footed girl from the West make him forget that Iam living and spending the summer in Twickenham Town? If he had notforgotten, would he not write? He would. I am miserable and I willnever be happy until I can say some things to William Spencer Sloanethat he ought to hear. But I'm trying to keep my miserableness tomyself. People aren't interested in other people's miseries. I wonderif I will ever again get a letter from Billy! CHAPTER XXVII It is a perfectly magnificent thing to be alive! And this world is aperfectly glorious place to be alive in! There isn't a bird inTwickenham Town that isn't singing to-day, or a flower that isn'tblooming, and, owing to the rain last night, the dust is laying. Asfor the sun--there couldn't be a more shining one, and the sky is ablue so gorgeous that it seems heaven turned inside out, and in the airis the snap of coolness that makes one want to walk and walk and walk, and its crispness means fall is coming. I love the fall. I can'tthink of anything I do not love to-day except Elizabeth Hamilton Carterand Grandmother Brandon, and I don't exactly abhor them. I just don'tlike them, and prefer to stay out of their way. But everybody else intown is a dear, and I wish I knew I was coming back next summer. Thatis-- It doesn't matter what is or what isn't. The thing that matters isthat this morning I went to the post-office, as usual, but, what wasnot as usual, I got what I had long been looking for, and which hadcome not for endless, endless days. When I saw the big batch ofletters and things from Billy, and knew that all my fears were at anend, I was so excited I could not speak without signs that shouldn'tshow, and, lest some one stop me, I put the mail inside my shirt-waistand hopped on Skylark and flew out of town. I didn't stop until I got to a big chestnut-tree about three miles fromRose Hill, and there I took off Skylark's bridle and let her have allthe grass she could eat, and then I sat down and sorted the lettersout. There were four from Billy and twelve cards and two packages, andat first I couldn't understand why they had been held up, why I hadn'tgotten them before; and then I saw they were postmarked from the sameplace, and had been mailed within three days of one another. Thatpuzzled me, so I decided to open them and find out what was thematter--whether it was the Western girl or something else. I ought to have known it was something else! And I have beenwondering, ever since I read the letters and found out about theaccident to Billy's eyes, when he came near being shot and the powdergot in them and nearly put them out, why it is that people are somistrusting and why we let one thing we can't understand make us forgetwhat we ought to understand very well. Ten thousand kind things, rightthings, nice things we take for granted, and then at the first thing wethink isn't kind or right or nice we forget the others and howl andsnort about the one we do not like. At least that is what I did. Notoutwardly, of course, but inwardly, for I'm pretty toplofty about beingtreated right, and I flare out and say things I shouldn't at times, andafterward I am so ashamed of myself that a worm of the dust is a perkyanimal to me for a few minutes. That condition of mind doesn't lastvery long, however. I am not by nature a humble-minded person. Whileit does last it is awful. Perfectly awful. When I read Billy's letter I laid right down on the grass and put myface deep down in it, and there wasn't anything abominable that anybodycould have said about me that I would not have agreed to. All the timeI had been furious with him for not writing as usual, he had been shutup in a dark room, not able to see the food he was eating, much lessable to write letters, and then when they took the bandages off hewrote so much they had to be put back again, and he was forbidden towrite more than a few lines, which accounted for so many cards. Hewouldn't let any one else write me, and I don't understand exactly howit happened except he saw a drunken man on the street waving a pistol, and there were some children around, and before the policeman could getto him Billy had caught his hand and the thing had gone off and some ofthe powder got in his eyes. He made light of it, but I know exactlywhat he did. I thought it was a Western product that was engrossinghim, and it was the children he was trying to save. Oh, Billy, I'm apig! A perfectly horrid pig! And then I suddenly thought of the astonishing letter I had writtenabout being in love and maybe engaged, and I prayed hard that he wouldnever get it; but I knew it was too late for prayers. And then I gotmad with Pat for writing to Jess about the girl from the West, and withJess for writing what Pat had written, and not for some time did I cometo my senses and realize I was the only person I had any right to getmad with. I got, all right. And then I wondered what to do. Billysaid they would sail on the 21st and reach New York on the 29th, so Idecided to go back to Rose Hill and begin to pack. Father could not come to me, so I would go to Father and be home by thetime Billy got there. It was only the 3d of September, but I decided Iwould leave as soon as I could do so without remarks being made aboutmy going sooner than I expected, and to prevent remarks I would have toinvent a good reason for getting away. Father's loneliness would makea perfect reason for Twickenham Town, and a most dutiful one, and noone would be apt to ask me why I hadn't thought of his lonelinessbefore; but it wouldn't do for the family. They wanted me to stay outof the city as long as possible, and while I was wondering what I coulddo to get back, Mrs. Pettigrew passed with five of the children in thebuggy and asked if I knew there was a telegram for me at the station. I told her I did not, and my heart got right where hearts always getwhen telegrams are mentioned, and in the twinkling of an eye Skylark'sbridle was on and I on Skylark, and we raced like mad to town. On the way I was thinking all the awful things that telegrams start oneto thinking, and I remembered it was just eleven days since I had sentthe letter to Billy, who had, of course, gotten it by this time, and, not realizing how fast I was going, I was at the station before itseemed possible to get there, and so out of breath I could not speak. I slipped off the horse and held out my hand to Mr. Pepper for thetelegram, and when he handed me the yellow envelope I slid down on abench and held it as if it were a death-warrant, and not for some timecould I open it. I was positive it was about Mother, who wasn't verywell when she last wrote, and everything I had ever done that I oughtnot to have done, and everything I had left undone which I should havedone, walked right up in front of me and clutched me by the throat, andI had to shut my eyes to keep my head steady. I had inside the samesinky feeling I felt the first time I went to Europe, on the first dayout. Mr. Pepper was looking at me, and so were several other people whohappened to be standing around, so I tried to get a grip on, and afterawhile I opened the envelope; but at first I couldn't see the words onit. Finally I took them in after three times reading them over, and atlast I understood. Cut it out. You are engaged to me. Sailing to-morrow. See youSeptember fifteenth. --BILLY. CHAPTER XXVIII There never was a sinner saved by grace who so wanted to make a noiseas I wanted to make one when I got into my head what had happened. Therelief from fear and the joyfulness of knowing I had been pulled out ofanother ditch made me dizzy for a moment, and down went my elbows intomy lap and down my face into my hands, and not until Mr. Pepper saidsomething to me did I lift my head and get up. Then I threw myriding-crop in the air, tossed up the Pepper baby, danced around withhim, and, suddenly seeing all present were watching me, and knowingthey felt they had a right to hear what was in the telegram withoutwaiting for Mr. Pepper to tell them, I said an old friend of mine, whowas anxious to know Twickenham Town, was coming to see it when he gotback from Europe. After which I gave Mr. Pepper a little wink which heunderstood, and I am sure no one was told the wording of the message Ihad received. Mr. Pepper has a good deal of sense. Happy? I was the happiest girl in all the world that day. I nearlysang my throat off when I got to my room, but I did not mention thetelegram to anybody save Miss Susanna, and I didn't go into detailswith her about it. I just said a friend was coming to see me when hegot back from Europe, and I said it in such a way she didn't think Iwas interested very much. She is so astonished by Elizabeth'sbehavior, and so surprised at her marriage, which is to be in November, that I don't think she paid any attention to what I said and got theimpression it was a friend of Father's who was coming to TwickenhamTown. I let her keep it. I did not give it to her knowingly, butthere was no need to take it away. And last night, not being able to sleep, I knew I had not been in lovewith Whythe at all. I don't know a thing in the world about being inlove. I had tried to think I knew something, but I was mistaken. Imust say I enjoyed hearing Whythe's crescendo, obligato, diminuendo wayof making it, but I realize now I am not the sort of person to reallyfall in love with strange men. Certainly I could never do it with awabbly, changery, one-or-the-othery kind of man that Whythe is, andwhile it was pretty scrumptious thinking a twenty-five-year-older wasin love with me, I soon found out it was a summer case and not at allserious. And I am thankful I never thought I was enough in love tobecome engaged. There might have been things to remember that onelikes to forget when the real one comes along, and I have nothing ofthat sort to be sorry for. I'm right particular at times. If I am ever really and truly engaged I wonder if I will be asparticular as a sixteen-year-old person, a girl person, ought to be? Iguess it will depend on whom I am engaged to, but, of course, not beingin love, I couldn't be engaged, and there is no use in thinking what Imight do under circumstances that might warrant the doing of it, andwhen I see Billy I will just shake hands; that is-- Every time I think of his coming I feel like opening my arms so wide Icould take the whole world in, but I don't open them. I just go lookat the calendar to see if another day hasn't gone by yet. When thismorning I saw it was the 14th and realized there wasn't but one moreday to wait, I went to the window and did open my arms, and I sent amessage into the air. And then, because I felt so sorry for MissAraminta Armstrong, who has nothing to wait for but older age, and forMiss Bettie Simcoe, who has long since stopped hoping, I wentdown-stairs and asked them if they wouldn't like to motor to GladeSprings, and they said they would, and we went. Also Mr. WilliePrince. I didn't want to ask him, but I couldn't leave him out, and ofcourse he wanted to go. The going made the day pass a little quicker, but it has been a long day! Awful long! For the last week I have been going around to almost every house intown to say good-by. I don't know the exact day I will leave, as thatwill depend on when Mother says I must be home; but I didn't want to goaway and not say good-by to everybody and tell them what a good time Ihave had, and I started telling very soon after I got Billy's messagesaying he was coming. I have thanked everybody for their niceness andkindness to me, and told every one I hope to come back next summer, andsometimes we have had little weeps, for they put their arms around meand held me so tight I could hardly breathe. And I know now there isnothing as good as friendliness, and loving-kindness is more to bedesired than all things else on earth, and I am going to try to make itgrow wherever I live. I will have a garden of it--have it in my heart. I am afraid I will always have some practical things in my heart, too, for of late I've been thinking about all that money Billy had to spendin cabling me from Europe. When Billy wants to do a thing he neverlets obstacles stand in his way, and he would have sent that cable ifhe'd had to borrow the money from the Bank of England at an awful rateof interest. What he did do I guess was to get it from his mother. She would take her head off and her heart out and hand both over if hewanted them, and it isn't her fault that William, as she calls him, isn't a ruined person. I know she hated him to leave ahead of time, which he had to do to gethere on the 15th, the rest not sailing, Jess says, until the 20th; butthat's William again. He doesn't waste time when he has anything toattend to, and I know exactly what he said to his mother. He will makeevery arrangement and fix everything for them and then tell themgood-by. He isn't much with words, Billy isn't. He acts. There's nofumble in him, and even his mother, who thinks his mold was broken whenhe was born and that the Lord never made but one like him, has to admithe is a high-handed person when occasion requires. I don't agree withhis mother in a good many things concerning William, but in some I do. I wish he wasn't an only son. An only son for a husband is hard on awife. The thing I have been thinking about most since I got his cable, however, is a certain thing that was in it. I've worn the paper outreading it, and at first there was no argument in my mind, but it iscoming, argument is. And though I know it is a bad habit, especiallyin girls and women and disliked by the other sex, how can you help itwhen things are said that are not so? Billy said, "You are engaged tome. " How does he know? I never told him so. He hasn't exactly askedme--that is, in a way that I would answer him--and he always got sochoky when on such subjects that I changed them quick, and yet heannounces that I am his, and with never so much as by your leave! I am afraid, I'm terribly afraid, I am going to agree with him. It's arelief to have some things settled for you, and as he imagines I willalways be falling overboard, he doubtless thinks he had better keep alife-preserver on me in case he isn't near enough to jump in after me. He knows if I ever agree to put one on I will keep it on. I have agood deal of Father in me, and when I give my word I stick to it. If any one had told me when I came to Twickenham Town that the chiefthing I would find out before I went away was that I wouldn't reallymind owning a life-preserver, my head would have gone up and I wouldhave been as chesty as a hen who tries to crow; and now I'm nothing buta humble-minded person waiting for a high-handed one to come and takeme back home. And I am perfectly willing to go. Another thing I havefound out this summer is that it doesn't much matter where you are orwhat you are doing; whether there is purple and fine linen or justancestors, or both together, or neither; if the one you want most isn'twith you, you will be pretty lonely after a while. I have had a grand time in Twickenham Town, but I don't want to comehere again by myself. If Mrs. William Spencer Sloane wants to take herson away with her next summer, she won't be able to do it. Her sonwill be twenty-one next summer, and though I hope he will always berespectful and obedient, as far as possible, to his mother's wishes, still, she will have to remember there are other wishes in this worldbesides hers. I trust she will be nice about the discovery. Mrs. Sloane is a very handsome woman, but spoiled. And very fond of havingher own way. We are not apt to have much money, Billy and I. We have often said wethought young people ought to do their own scrambling, and I thinkthat's what we'll have to do, as our fathers think much the same way. I'm not fond of herbs, but I can stand a dinner of them if Billy can, and besides, it will be nice for us to work up together and not havetoo quick a shove. And another thing we agree about. We know thething that counts most, and we are going to keep a good deal of it onhand. Father says neither poverty nor riches can kill love if it isthe right sort. I know Billy's is the right sort, but I am crazy tohear him put it into words. He will have traveled thousands of miles to say something he could havewritten, to tell me I am engaged to him and I might as well understandit; but there won't be an extra sentence in the way he says it. Hewill be here to-morrow, and I bet the best thing I've got that all hewill say is: "Kitty Canary, we are going to decide right now on the dayand the month and the year. I will wait until you get through college, as you say I've got to, but I won't wait a day longer. Let's get acalendar and work it out. " And I, being a weak-minded person at times, will say, "All right, Billy, " and then-- THE END