A PRINCESS IN CALICO

by

EDITH FERGUSON BLACK

PhiladelphiaThe Union Press1122 Chestnut Street1904

CONTENTS

 CHAP. PAGE

 I. SLEEPY HOLLOW 7

 II. A TEN-DOLLAR BILL 20

 III. FAIRYLAND 30

 IV. A NEW WORLD 42

 V. PAULINE'S BIRTHRIGHT 54

 VI. GIVING ONESELF 68

 VII. A GREAT SURRENDER 78

 VIII. IDEALISING THE REAL 90

 IX. A LOST LETTER 103

 X. THE ANGEL OF PATIENCE 117

 XI. PURE GOLD 129

_Chapter I_

SLEEPY HOLLOW

She stood at her bedroom window before going downstairs to take up theburden of a new day. She was just seventeen, but they did not keep anyaccount of anniversaries at Hickory Farm. The sun had given her a lovingglance as he lifted his bright old face above the horizon, but herfather was too busy and careworn to remember, and, since her mother hadgone away, there was no one else. She had read of the birthdays of othergirls, full of strange, sweet surprises, and tender thoughts--but thosewere girls with mothers. A smile like a stray beam of sunshine driftedover her troubled young face, at the thought of the second Mrs Hardingstopping for one instant in her round of ponderous toil to note the factthat one of her family had reached another milestone in life's journey. Certainly not on washing day, when every energy was absorbed in theelimination of impurity from her household linen, and life lookedgrotesque and hazy through clouds of soapy steam. 

She heard her father now putting on the heavy pots of water, and thenwatched him cross the chip-yard to the barn. How bent and old he looked. Did he ever repent of his step? she wondered. Life could not be much tohim any more than it was to her, and he had known her mother! Oh! whycould he not have waited? She would soon have been old enough to keephouse for him. 

The minister had spoken the day before of a heaven where people were, presumably, to find their height of enjoyment in an eternity of rest. She supposed that was the best of it. Old Mrs Goodenough was alwayssighing for rest, and Deacon Croaker prayed every week to be set freefrom the trials and tribulations of this present evil world, and broughtinto everlasting peace. An endless passivity seemed a dreary outlook toher active soul, which was sighing to plume its cramped wings, and soaramong the endless possibilities of earth: it seemed strange that thereshould be no wonders to explore in heaven. Well, death was sure, anyway, and after all there was nothing in life--her life--but hard work, anever-recurring round of the same thing. She thought she could have stoodit better if there had been variety. Death was sure to come, sometime, but people lived to be eighty, and she was so very young. Still, perhaps monotony might prove as fatal as heart failure. She thought itwould with her--she was so terribly tired. Ever since she could remembershe had looked out of this same window as the sun rose, and wondered ifsomething would happen to her as it did to other girls, but the day wentpast in the same dull routine. So many plates to wash, and the darningbasket seemed to grow larger each year, and the babies were so heavy. She had read somewhere that 'all earnest, pure, unselfish men who livedtheir lives well, helped to form the hero--God let none of them bewasted. A thousand unrecorded patriots helped to make Wellington. ' Itseemed to her Wellington had the best of it. 

'Help me git dressed, P'liney, ' demanded Lemuel, her youngeststep-brother, from his trundle bed. 'You're loiterin'. Why ain't youdown helping mar? Mar'll be awful cross with you. She always is washdays. Hi! you'll git it!' and he endeavoured to suspend himself from achair by his braces. 

'Come and get your face washed, Lemuel. Now don't wiggle. You knowyou've got to say your prayers before you can go down. '

'Can't be bovvered, ' retorted that worthy, as he squirmed into hisjacket like an eel, and darted past her. 'I'm as hungry as WobinsonCrusoe, an' I'm goin' to tell mar how you're loiterin'. '

She followed him sadly. She had forgotten to say her own. 

'Fifteen minutes late, ' said Mrs Harding severely, as she entered thekitchen. 'You'll hev to be extry spry to make up. There's pertaters tobe fried, an' the children's lunches to put up, an' John Alexander'slost his jography--I believe that boy'd lose his head if it twarn'tglued to his shoulders. There's a button off Stephen's collar, an' SusanAnn wants her hair curled, an' Polly's frettin' to be taken up. It beatsme how that child does fret--I believe I'll put her to sleep with youafter this--I'm that beat out I can hardly stand. '

'Here, Leander, go and call your father, or you'll be late for schoolagain, an' your teacher'll be sending in more complaints. 'Bout all themteachers is good for anyway--settin' like ladies twiddling at the leavesof a book, an' thinkin' themselves somethin' fine because they know afew words of Latin, an' can figure with an _x_. Algebry is all very finein its way, but I guess plain arithmetic is good enough for most folks. It's all I was brought up on, an' the multiplication table has kept meon a level with the majority. '

Pauline smiled to herself, as she cut generous slices of pumpkin pie togo with the doughnuts and bread and butter in the different dinnerpails. That was just what tired her; being 'on a level with themajority. '

The long morning wore itself away. Pauline toiled bravely over theendless array of pinafores which the youthful Hardings managed to makeunpresentable in a week. 

'Monotony even in gingham!' she murmured; for Polly's were all of pinkcheck, Lemuel's blue, and Leander's a dull brown. 

'Saves sortin', ' had been the brief response, when she had suggestedvarying the colours in order to cultivate the æsthetic instinct in thewearers. 

'But, Mrs Harding, ' she remonstrated, 'they say now that it is possiblefor even wall-paper to lower the moral tone of a child, and lead tocrime----'

Her step-mother turned on her a look of withering scorn. 

'If your hifalutin' people mean to say that if I don't get papering tosuit their notions, I will make my boys thieves an' liars, then it'swell for us the walls is covered with sensible green paint that'll wash. To-morrow is killing time, an' next week we must try out the tallow. Youcan be as æsthetic as you're a mind to with the head-cheese andcandles. '

Pauline never attempted after that to elevate the moral tone of herstep-brothers. 

Her father came in at supper-time with a letter. He handed it over toher as she sat beside him. 

'It's from your uncle Robert, my dear, in Boston. His folks think it'stime they got to know their cousin. '

'Well, I hope they're not comin' trailin' down here with their cityairs, ' said Mrs Harding shortly. 'I've got enough people under my feetas it is. '

'You needn't worry, mother, I don't think Sleepy Hollow would suitRobert's family--they're pretty lively, I take it, and up with thetimes. They'd find us small potatoes not worth the hoeing. ' He sighed ashe spoke. Did he remember how Pauline's mother had drooped and died fromthis very dulness? Was he glad to have her child escape?

'Well, I don't see how there's any other way for them to getacquainted, ' retorted his wife. 'Pawliney can't be spared to gotrapesing up to Boston. Her head's as full of nonsense now as an egg isof meat, an' she wouldn't know a broom from a clothes-wringer aftershe'd been philandering round a couple of months with people that arenever satisfied unless they're peeking into something they can'tunderstand. '

'But I guess we'll have to spare Pauline, ' said Mr Harding. 'She hasbeen a good girl, and she deserves a holiday. ' He patted Pauline's handkindly. 

'Oh, of course!' sniffed Mrs Harding in high dudgeon; 'some folks mustalways have what they cry for. I can be kep' awake nights with the baby, and work like a slave in the day time, but that doesn't signify as longas Pawliney gets to her grand relations. '

'Well, well, wife, ' said Mr Harding soothingly, 'things won't be as badas you think for. You can get Martha Spriggs to help with the chores, and the children will soon be older. Young folks must have a turn, youknow, and I shall write to Robert to-night and tell him Pawliney will bealong shortly--that is if you'd like to go, my dear?'

Pauline turned on him a face so radiant that he was satisfied, and therest of the meal was taken in silence. Mrs Harding knew when her husbandmade up his mind about a thing she could not change him, so she said nomore, but Pauline felt she was very angry. 

As for herself, she seemed to walk on air. At last, after all theseyears, something had happened! She stepped about the dim kitchenexultantly. Could this be the same girl who had found life intolerableonly two hours before? Now the Aladdin wand of kindly fortune had openedbefore her dazzled eyes a mine of golden possibilities. At last shewould have a chance to breathe and live. She arranged the common, heavyware on the shelves with a strange sense of freedom. She would be donewith dish-washing soon. She even found it in her heart to pity herstep-mother, who was giving vent to her suppressed wrath in mightystrokes of her pudding-stick through a large bowl of buckwheat batter. She was not going to Boston. 

When the chores were done, she caught up the fretful Polly and carriedher upstairs, saying the magic name over softly to herself. She evenfound it easy to be patient with Lemuel as he put her through hernightly torture before he fell into the arms of Morpheus. She did notmind much if Polly was wakeful--she knew she should never close her eyesall night. The soft spring air floated in through the open window, andshe heard the birds twitter and the frogs peep: she heard AbrahamLincoln, the old horse that she used to ride to water before she grewbig enough to work, whinney over his hay; and Goliath, the young giantthat had come to take his place in the farm work, answer him sonorously:the dog barked lazily as a nighthawk swept by, and in the distanthen-yard she heard a rooster crow. Her pity grew, until it rested like abenison upon all her humble friends, for they must remain in SleepyHollow, and she was going away. 

_Chapter II_

A TEN-DOLLAR BILL

'I suppose you'll be wanting some finery, little girl, ' said Mr Hardingthe next morning as he pushed away his chair from the breakfast table. 'Dress is the first consideration, isn't it, with women?'

'I don't know about the finery, father, ' and Pauline laughed a little. 'I expect I shall be satisfied with the essentials. '

Mr Harding crossed the room to an old-fashioned secretary which stood inone corner. Coming back, he held out to her a ten-dollar bill. 'Willthis answer? Money is terrible tight just now, and the mortgage fallsdue next week. It's hard work keeping the wolf away these dull times. '

Pauline forced her lips to form a 'Thank you, ' as she put the bank-notein her pocket, and then began silently to clear the table, her thoughtsin a tumultuous whirl. Ten dollars! Her father's hired man received adollar a day. She had been working hard for years, and had receivednothing but the barest necessaries in the way of clothing, purchasedunder Mrs Harding's economical eye. When Martha Spriggs came to take herplace she would have her regular wages. Were hired helpers the only oneswhose labour was deemed worthy of reward? Dresses and hats and boots andgloves. Absolute essentials with a vengeance, and ten dollars to coverthe whole!

'You can have Abraham Lincoln and the spring waggon this afternoon, ifyou want to go to the village for your gewgaws. '

'Very well, father. '

'I don't suppose you'll rest easy till you've made the dollars fly. That's the way with girls, eh? As long as they can have a lot of flimsylaces and ribbons and flowers they're as happy as birds. Well, well, young folks must have their fling, I suppose. I hope you'll enjoy yourshopping, my dear, ' and Mr Harding started for the barn, serene in theconsciousness that he had made his daughter happy in the ability topurchase an unlimited supply of the unnecessary things which girlsdelight in. 

'You are a grateful piece, I must say!' remarked her step-mother, as sheadministered some catnip tea to the whining Polly. 'I haven't seen thecolour of a ten-dollar bill in as many years, and you put it in yourpocket as cool as a cucumber, and go about looking as glum as aherring. Who's going to do the clothes, I'd like to know? I can't laythis child out of my arms for a minute. I believe she's sickening for afever, and then perhaps your fine relations won't be so anxious to seeyou coming. For my part, I wouldn't be in such a hurry to knuckle topeople who waited seventeen years to find whether I was in the land ofthe living before they said, "How d'ye do. " But then I always wasproud-spirited. I despise meachin' folks. '

'I guess I can get most of the ironing done this morning, if you'll seeto the dinner, ' said Pauline, as she put the irons on the stove and wentinto another room for the heavy basket of folded clothes. 

Dresses and hats and boots and gloves! The words kept recurring to herinner consciousness with a persistent regularity. She wondered whatgirls felt like who could buy what they did not need. She thought itmust be like Heaven, but not Deacon Croaker's kind; that looked lessattractive than ever this morning. 

As she passed Mrs Harding's chair Polly put up her hands to be taken, but her mother caught her back. 

'No, no, Pawliney hasn't got any more use for plain folks, Polly. She'sgoing to do herself proud shoppin', so she can go to Boston and strutabout like a frilled peacock. You'll have to be satisfied with yourmother, Polly; Pawliney doesn't care anything about you now. '

Pauline laughed bitterly to herself. 

'A frilled peacock, with a ten-dollar outfit!'

She began the interminable pinafores. The sun swept up the horizon andlaughed at her so broadly through the open window that her cheeks grewflushed and uncomfortable. 

Lemuel burst into the room in riotous distress with a bruised knee, theresult of his attempt to imitate the Prodigal Son, which had ended in anignominious head-over-heels tumble into the midst of his swinishfriends. This caused a delay, for he had to be hurried out to the backstoop and divested of garments as odorous, if not as ragged, as those ofhis prototype. Then he must be immersed in a hot bath, his knee boundup, reclothed in a fresh suit, and comforted with bread and molasses. 

She toiled wearily on. The room grew almost unbearable as herstep-mother made up the fire preparatory to cooking the noontide meal, and Polly wailed dismally from her cot. The youthful Prodigal appearedagain in the doorway, his ready tears had made miniature deltas overhis molasses-begrimed countenance, his lower lip hung down in animpotent despair. 

'What's the matter now, Lemuel?'

'I want my best shoes, an' a wing on my finger, an' the axe to kill thefatted calf. '

Would the basket never be empty? Her head began to throb, and she feltas if her body were an ache personified. The mingled odours of cornedbeef and cabbage issued from one of the pots and permeated the freshlyironed clothes. She drew a long, deep breath of disgust. At least inBoston she would be free from the horrors of 'boiled dinner. '

 * * * * *

Her scanty wardrobe was finished at last, and she stood waiting forAbraham Lincoln and the spring waggon to carry her to the station. Astrange tenderness towards her old environment came over her, as shestood on the threshold of the great unknown. She looked lovingly at thecows, lazily chewing their cud in the sunshine; she felt sorry for herstep-mother, as she strove to woo slumber to Polly's wakeful eyes withthe same lullaby which had done duty for the whole six; she even foundit in her heart to kiss Lemuel, who, with his ready talent for theunusual, was busily cramming mud paste into the seams of the littletrunk which held her worldly all. She looked at it with contemptuouspity. 

'You poor old thing! You'll feel as small as I shall among the saratogasand the style. Well, I'll be honest from the start and tell them thatthe only thing we're rich in is mortgages. I guess they'll know withoutthe telling. I wonder if they'll be ashamed of me?'

Her father came and lifted the trunk into the back of the waggon, andthey started along the grass-bordered road to the station. He beganrecalling the city as he remembered it. 

'You'll have to go to Bunker Hill, of course, and the Common, and besure and look out for the statues, they're everywhere. Lincoln freeingthe slaves--that's the best one to my thinking, and that's down inCornhill, if I remember right. My, but that's a place! Mind you holdtight to your cousins. The streets, and the horses, and the people whirlround so, it's enough to make you lose your head. Well, well, I wouldn'tmind going along with you to see the sights. '

He bought her ticket, and secured her a comfortable seat, then he said, 'God bless you, ' and went away. 

Pauline looked after him wonderingly. He had never said it to herbefore. Perhaps it was a figure of speech which people reserved fortravelling. She supposed there was always the danger of a possibleaccident. Ah! if they could only have started off together, as he said, and never gone back to Sleepy Hollow any more!

_Chapter III_

FAIRYLAND

To the day of her death Pauline never forgot the sense of satisfieddelight with which she felt herself made a member of her uncle'shousehold. Her three cousins--Gwendolyn, Russell, and Belle--had greetedher cordially as soon as the train drew up in a station which, for sizeand grandeur, surpassed her wildest dreams, and then escorted herbetween a bewildering panorama of flashing lights, brilliant shopwindows, swiftly moving cars, and people in an endless stream to anotherdepot, for her Uncle Robert resided in the suburbs. 

They were waiting to welcome her at the entrance of their lovely home, her Uncle Robert and his wife. With one swift, comprehensive glance shetook it all in. The handsome house in its brilliant setting of lawns andtrees, the wide verandah with its crimson Mount Washington rockers, luxurious hammocks, and low table covered with freshly-cut magazines, the pleasant-faced man who was her nearest of kin, and his graceful wifein a tea-gown of soft summer silk with rich lace about her throat andwrists, her cousins in their dainty muslins, and Russell in his freshsummer suit. Here, at least, were people who knew what it was to live!

'So we have really got our little country blossom transplanted, ' saidher uncle, as he kissed her warmly. 'I have so often begged your fatherto let you come to us before, but he always wrote that you could not bespared. '

A hot flush burnt its way up over her cheeks and brow. And he had lether think all this time that they had not cared! Her own father! Hemight at least have trusted her!

She started, for her uncle was saying:--

'This is your Aunt Rutha, my dear, ' and turned to be clasped in tenderarms, and hear a sweet voice whisper the all-sufficient introduction:--

'I loved your mother. '

And then she had been taken upstairs by the lively Belle to refreshherself after her journey, and prepare for dinner, which had beendelayed until her arrival. 

The dinner itself was a revelation. The snowy table with its silverdishes and graceful centre-piece of hot-house blooms, the crystalsparkling in the rosy glow cast by silken-shaded, massively carvedlamps, the perfect, noiseless serving, and the bright conversationwhich flowed freely, little hindered by the different courses of soupand fish, and game and ices--conversation about things that werehappening in the world which seemed to be growing larger every minute, apt allusions by Mr Davis, lively sallies by Belle, and quotations byRussell from authors who seemed to be household friends, so highly werethey held in reverence. 

Afterwards there had been music, Russell at the piano, and Gwendolyn andBelle with their violins, and she had sat upon the sofa by the gracious, new-found friend, who stroked her rough hand gently with her whitejewelled fingers, and talked to her softly, in the pauses of the music, of what her mother was like as a girl. Verily, Aunt Rutha had awonderful way of making one feel at home. 

She laughed to herself as the thought came to her. She felt more at homethan she had ever done before in her life. She remembered readingsomewhere that the children of men were often brought up under alienconditions, like ducklings brooded over by a mother hen, but as soon asa chance was given, they flew to their native element and the formerthings were as though they had not been. An inborn instinct ofrefinement made this new life immediately congenial. But--could she everforget the weary conditions of Sleepy Hollow? She frequently heard inimagination the clatter of the dishes and the rough romping of thechildren as they noisily trooped to bed. Her nerves quivered as shelistened to Mrs Harding shrilly droning the worn-out lullaby to thesleepless Polly, and Lemuel demanding to have _Jack the Giant Killer_told to him six times in succession. It seemed to her the life, in itsbare drudgery, had worn deep seams into her very soul, like countryroads in spring-time, whose surface is torn apart in gaping wounds andunsightly ruts by heavy wheels and frost and rain. 

She looked at her cousins with a feeling nearly akin to envy. Theirlives had no contrasts. Always this beautiful comradeship with fatherand mother; and Aunt Rutha was so lovely--she stopped abruptly. Shewould not change mothers. No, no, she would be loyal, even in thought, to the pale, tired woman, whom she could remember kissing herpassionately in the twilight, while bitter tears rained on her childish, upturned face. She would not let the demon of discontent spoil hervisit. She would put by and forget while she enjoyed this wonderfulslice of pleasure that had come to her. There was just as much greed inher wanting happiness wholesale as in Lemuel's crying for the whole loafof gingerbread; the only difference was in the measure of theircapacity. 

'What is it, dear?' asked Aunt Rutha, with an amused smile. 'You havebeen in the brownest of studies. '

She looked up at her brightly. 

'I believe it was a briar tangle, Aunt Rutha, of the worst kind; but Ishall see daylight soon, thank you. '

Mrs Davis laid her hand on her husband's arm. 

'Your penknife, Robert. Our little girl here is tied up in a Gordianknot, and we must help to set her free. '

Her uncle laughed as he opened the pearl-handled weapon. 

'If good will can take the place of skill, I'll promise to cut noarteries. ' Then he added more gravely, 'But you have nothing more to dowith knots, my dear, of any kind. You belong to us now. '

They discussed her a little in kindly fashion after she had gone to herroom for the night. 

'The child has the air of a princess, ' said Mrs Davis thoughtfully. 'Sheholds herself wonderfully, in spite of her rustic training, but Isuppose blood always tells'; and she looked over at her husband with asmile. 

'She has wonderful powers of adaptability, too, ' said Gwendolyn. 'Iwatched her at dinner, and she never made a single slip, although Iimagine there were several things that were new to her beside thefinger-glasses. '

'But she is intense, mamma!' and Belle heaved a sigh of mock despair. 'Idon't believe she knows what laziness is, and I'm sure she will end bymaking me ashamed of myself. When I told her we had a three months'vacation, she never said, "How delightful!" as most girls would, butcalmly inquired what I took up in the holidays, and when I groaned atthe very thought of taking up anything, she said so seriously, "But youdon't let your mind lie fallow for three whole months?" And then shesighed a little, and added, half to herself, "Some girls would give allthe world for such a chance to read. " I believe she is possessed with aperfect rage for the acquisition of knowledge, and when she goes tocollege will pass poor me with leaps and bounds, and carry the heartsof all the professors in her train. '

'And did you see her, ' said Gwendolyn, 'when I happened to mention thatour church was always shut up in the summer because so many people wereout of the city? She just turned those splendid eyes of hers on me untilI actually felt my moral stature shrivelling, and asked, "What about thepeople in the city? don't they have to go on living?"'

'She is plucky, though, ' said Russell admiringly. 'Did you notice whenyou were both screaming because one of our wheels caught in a street carrail, and the carriage nearly upset, how she never said a word, thoughshe must have been frightened, for we were nearly over. I like a girlthat has grit enough to hold her tongue. '

'She is a dear child, ' said Mr Davis, 'and she has her mother's eyes. '

Upstairs, in her blue-draped chamber, Pauline spoke her verdict toherself. 

'They are all splendid, and I'm a good deal prouder of my relations thanthey can be of me. I'm a regular woodpecker among birds of paradise. Iwish I hadn't to be so dreadfully plain. Well, I'll ring true if I _am_homely, and character is more than clothes, anyway. '

She undressed slowly, her æsthetic eyes revelling in all the daintyappointments of the room which was to be her very own. Then she knelt bythe broad, low window-seat, and said her prayers, looking away to thestars, which glowed red, and green, and yellow, in the soft summer sky, and then, in a great hush of delight, she lay down between thedelicately-perfumed sheets, and gave herself up to the enjoyment of thepresent which God had given her. She would not think of Sleepy Hollow. She had put it by. 

_Chapter IV_

A NEW WORLD

Belle entered Pauline's room to find her cousin revelling in theexquisite pathos of Whittier's _Snowbound_ before dressing for dinner. 

The problem of clothes had been solved by Aunt Rutha in her pleasant, tactful way. 

'You are just Belle's age, my dear, ' she had said the day afterPauline's arrival, as she lifted a delicately pencilled muslin from alarge parcel which had been brought in from White's, and laid it againsther fresh young cheek. 

'That is very becoming, don't you think so, Gwen? It is such a delightfor me to have two daughters to shop for. I have always had a craze tobuy doubles of everything, but Gwendolyn was so much older, I couldnever indulge myself. There is no need to say anything, dearie, ' and shekissed away the remonstrance that was forming on Pauline's lips. 'Youbelong to us now, you know, and your uncle thinks he owes your mothermore than he can ever hope to repay. '

Then she led her to the lounge which Gwendolyn was piling high withdelicately embroidered and ruffled underwear. 

'I did not know whether you would like your sets to be of differentpatterns or not, but Belle has such a horror of having any two alikethat I ventured to think that your tastes would agree. The girls aregoing in town to-morrow to order their summer hats, so you can finishthe rest of your shopping then, if you like, and get an idea of ourcity. '

And then had followed a morning such as she had never dreamed of. Theexcitement of driving to the station in the exhilarating morning air, past houses which, like her uncle's, seemed the abodes of luxuriousease. Before many of them carriages were waiting, and through the opendoors she caught glimpses of white-capped servants and coloured nursescarrying babies in long robes of lawn and lace. A vision of Polly in herpink checked gingham flashed before her. How could life be so different?

The ride in the cars was delightful, past a succession of elegant housesand beautifully laid out grounds, until she began to feel she hadreached a new world where care was an unknown quantity. 

Then the city, with its delightful whirl of cars and horses and people. She had never imagined there could be so many in any one place before. She marvelled at the condescension of the gentlemen in the handsomelyappointed shoe store, and blushed as one of them placed her foot on therest. She looked in amazement at the elegantly furnished apartments ofMadame Louise, and the wonderful structures of feathers and lace andribbon, which the voluble saleswoman assured them were cheap at thirtydollars, and was lost in a rapturous delight, as, with the calmness ofexperienced shoppers, her cousins went from one department to another inWhite's and Hovey's, laying in a supply of airy nothings of which shedid not even know the use; always being treated by them with the samedelicate consideration: there was nothing forced upon her, only, as theywere getting things, she might as well be fitted too. Then to Huyler'sfor ices and macaroons, then up past St Paul's and the Common, and thenhome to a lunch of chicken salad and strawberries and frothed chocolate, in the cool dining-room, with its massive leather-covered chairs andpotted plants and roses. 

She was growing used now to the new order of things and smiled a welcometo Belle from the velvet lounging chair in which she, Pauline Harding, who had never lounged in her life, was beginning to feel perfectly athome. 

'What an inveterate bookworm you are, Paul, ' and Belle looked at thepile of volumes Pauline had brought from the library to study in thelong morning hours which the force of a lifelong habit gave her, beforethe rest of the family were astir. 

'You forget I am an ignoramus, ' she answered quietly. 'I must dosomething to catch up. '

Belle shrugged her shoulders. 

'What's the use? It is surprising with what an infinitesimal fraction ofknowledge one can get through this old world. '

'Such a speech from a woman in this age is rank heresy!'

'Oh, of course, if you are going in for equal suffrage and anti-opium, and the rest, but I never aspired to the garment of either Lucy Stone orFrances Willard. I _do_ pine to be an anatomist, and Professor Herschelsays I have a decided talent for it too. However, papa is notprogressive, at least he does not want his daughters to be, although Itell him I might be a professor in Harvard some day, so there is nothingleft for me but to fall into the ranks of the majority and do nothing. '

'Why so? Is there nothing in the world but suffrage, and opiumand--anatomy?'

'Oh, dear, yes, there's philanthropy, but Gwen does that for the family. She is on every Society under the sun. Let me count them, if I can. There's the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children, and theSociety for the Improvement of the Moral Condition of Working Women, andthe Society for the Betterment of the Sanitary Conditions of TenementHouses. She's a member of the W. C. A. , and the W. C. T. U. , and theS. P. C. A. ; she's on the Board of Lady Managers of the Newsboys' Home, andone of the Directors of the Industrial School for Girls. In fact she isfairly torn asunder in her efforts to ameliorate the condition of the"submerged tenth. "'

'"Submerged tenth, "' echoed Pauline wonderingly. 'Is any one submergedin Boston?'

'You dear stupid, of course! The unseen population in filth, rags andunrighteousness, and the rest of us in lazy self-indulgence, which, perhaps, in God's sight, is about as bad. I often think if eachprofessing Christian took hold of one poor beggar and tried to elevatehim, we should solve the problem a great deal sooner than by starting somany societies to improve them in the aggregate. I can theorize, yousee, but the practice is beyond me. '

'But why don't you try it?' cried Pauline, her eyes sparkling. 'It is asplendid idea. '

'Bless you, my child, because it would involve work, and that is a thingI abhor. '

'But Gwendolyn must work on all these societies, ' said Pauline. 

Belle danced across the room, and seated herself on the arm of herchair. 

'You dear old thing! You're as innocent as your own daisies, and it is ashame to take you from your mossy bed. Don't you know there is work andwork? God says, "Go work in My vineyard, " and we good Christians answer, "Yes, Lord, but let some one else go ahead and take out the stumps. " Themost of us like to do our spiritual farming on a western scale. It ispleasanter to drive a team of eight horses over cleared land than togrub out dockweed and thistles all alone in one corner. '

She leaned forward and began reading the titles of the books Paulinehad selected for her study. 

'Homer's _Iliad_ and _Plato_, --I told mamma you were intense--Hallam's_Middle Ages_ and Macaulay's _History of England_. I had no idea you hadmonarchical tendencies. I must take you to our little chapel, and showyou the communion service that belonged to Charles the Second, orperhaps it was one of the Georges, I'm not very clear on that point. Mydear Paul, you're delicious! To think of anybody voluntarily undertakingto scrape acquaintance with all these dry-as-dust worthies, and insummertime!'

'It is not easy for you to understand how hungry I am, ' said Pauline, with a tremor in her voice. 'You have been going to school all yourlife. '

'Unfortunately, yes!' sighed Belle. 'But don't pine for the experience. You will soon have enough of it. May I inquire when you expect to findtime for these exhilarating researches?'

Pauline laughed. 

'Between the hours of five and eight A. M. '

'Horrible!'

She faced round upon her suddenly. 

'I wonder what you think of us all? You are as demure as a fieldmouse, but I know those big eyes of yours have taken our measures by this time. Come, let us have it, "the whole truth, " you know. Don't be Ananias andkeep back part of the price. "Oh, wad some power the giftie gie us, tosee oorsels as ithers see us. " I delight in revelations. Show me myself, Paul. '

Pauline hesitated for a moment, then she spoke out bravely. 

'I love you all, dearly. You have been so kind! But, Belle, if I hadyour opportunities, I would make more of my life. '

_Chapter V_

PAULINE'S BIRTHRIGHT

'Do you believe in altitudes?' It was Richard Everidge, Aunt Rutha'sfavourite nephew, who asked the question of Pauline, as they sat on thebroad piazza after church waiting for lunch. 

'How do you mean?'

'I mean that trilogy of exulting triumph over the trammels ofcircumstance that Mr Dunn gave us this morning. Don't you remember?"Life is what we make it--an anthem or a dirge, a psalm of hope or alamentation of despair. " Do you believe any one can live in such a rareatmosphere every day?'

'Of course she does, ' and Belle laughed merrily. 'Anyone who hascourage to stroll through the Middle Ages with old Mr Hallam beforesunrise, must have plenty of altitude in her composition. It is mybelief she lives on Mount Shasta, in a moral sense, and I shouldn't besurprised to hear of her taking out a building permit at the North Pole, if she thought duty called her. But, Dick, how can you be such anatrocious sceptic as to doubt the possibility of one's living above theclouds when you know my lady!'

'Ah, but she is Tryphosa, the blessed. '

'Tryphosa!' echoed Pauline in a mystified tone. 

'That is her name, ' said Richard Everidge, with a tender reverence inhis voice, 'and she deserves it, for she is among the aristocracy of theelect. I never see her without feeling envious, and yet she has been asufferer for years. I am amazed that Belle has let all this time passwithout taking you to call at the threshold of the Palace Beautiful. '

'There have been so many other things, ' said Belle, 'tennis, you know, and canoe practice and tandem parties. '

Her cousin laughed. 

'But that is only when Russ and I are not reading up for exams. What doyou find to occupy your leisure?'

'Leisure!' exclaimed Belle solemnly. 'Leisure, my dear boy, has been anunknown quantity ever since I undertook to pilot this most inexorableyoung woman among the antiquities of our venerable city. She is aninveterate relic-hunter; is enraptured with Bunker Hill and the OldSouth; delights in Cornhill, and wherever she can find a crooked oldstreet that reminds her of Washington; and pokes about all the oldcemeteries, until I feel as eerie as Coleridge's ancient mariner. Ibelieve she expects to come upon all the Pilgrim Fathers buried in onevault. But there is nothing special on the programme for to-day--we willgo and see my lady this very afternoon. '

As they went in to lunch, Richard Everidge leaned over to Pauline andwhispered:--

'You have not answered my question. Do you think it is possible forcommon, every-day Christians to live above the clouds?'

'If I were a Christian, ' she said, in a low tone, 'I should want to getas high up as I could. '

When they reached Tryphosa's, they heard her singing. They waited, listening. 

 'Here brief is the sighing, And brief is the crying, For brief is the life! The life there is endless, The joy there is endless, And ended the strife. 

 O country the fairest! Our country the dearest, We press toward thee! O Sion the golden! Our eyes are still holden, Thy light till we see. 

 We know not, we know not, All human words show not The joys we may reach. The mansions preparing, The joys for our sharing, The welcome for each. '

Then Belle opened the door softly and went in. 

Pauline saw a large bay window opening into a tiny conservatory, whichloving hands kept dowered with a profusion of blooming plants. The roomwas large and dainty with delicate draperies, two or three finepictures, and a beautiful representation in marble of the Angel ofPatience, which stood on a buhl table, where the invalid's eyes couldalways rest upon it. 

Tryphosa turned her head to greet them from the low couch, which was thebattle-ground where she had wrestled with the angel of pain during yearsof physical agony. Her eyes were lustrous with a radiance not of earth, and a wealth of silver hair fell in soft curling waves about her face;her mouth, sweet and tender, parted in a smile of welcome as she heldout her hands to the girls. 

Belle caught them in her own, and kissed them gently. 

'This is our cousin, my lady, Aunt Mildred's only child. '

The thin hands drew Pauline's face down, and she was kissed on cheek andbrow. 

'Your mother was my friend, dear child, in the long ago. ' Then she addedsoftly, with her hands on the silver cross at her throat, 'Are you aprincess? Do you belong to the King?'

Pauline shook her head, 'No, my lady. '

'I am very sorry. '

They sat down then beside her. She held Pauline's strong hand betweenher wasted fingers. 

'Dear Mildred Davis! You have her eyes and brow, my child. It does megood to see you. '

'That is just like papa, ' said Belle. 'He says he can almost fancyhimself back in the old home with Aunt Mildred getting him ready forschool. '

Pauline coloured with pleasure. No one spoke of her mother at SleepyHollow. 

She looked through the French windows into the conservatory. 

'How beautiful the flowers are!'

'You love them? Of course you must, to be your mother's child. It issuch a comfort to me to lie here and listen to them talk. '

'Talk!' exclaimed Pauline. 'Do they do that, my lady?'

Tryphosa smiled. 

'Surely, ' she said gently. '"Every flower has its story, and everybutterfly's life is a poem. "'

Belle broke the silence. 

'We heard you singing, my lady; I do not think Pauline had thought youwould have the heart to sing. '

A ripple of the sweetest laughter Pauline had ever heard fell throughthe quiet room, and Tryphosa's eyes flashed merrily. 

'"The pilgrims kept on their journey, and as they journeyed they sang, "'she said. 'Do you think there is anything to cry about when we are onour way to a palace, dear child? But Sunday is always my resting time, 'she continued, 'I do not sing as much through the week as I should. I amtired often, and busy. '

'Busy, ' echoed Pauline involuntarily, with a glance at the frail bodypropped up among the cushions. 

Tryphosa gave another soft, merry laugh, and drew forward a rosewoodwriting-table, which was fitted to her couch. 

'Here is where I do my work, when my hands are willing; and then thereare my dear poor people, and my rich friends, and sometimes the latterneed as much comforting as the former. Oh, there is a great deal to do, dear child, for some have to be taught the way to the palace, and somehave to be brought into audience with the King, ' her voice hushed itselfinto a reverent whisper. 

'And how about the pain, my lady?' asked Belle. Pauline's eyes were fullof tears. 

'Just right, ' she answered brightly. 'Some days are set in minor key, and the Lord calls me where the waves run high; but so long as I am sureit is the Lord, what does it matter? Not one good thing has failed ofall that He has promised, and soldiers do not mind a few sword thrustswhen they are marching to victory. "This day the noise of battle, thenext the victor's song. " She closed her eyes and a triumphant smileplayed about her mouth. 

'You seem so certain, my lady, ' said Belle wistfully. 

'Surely! "For we know that He hath prepared for us a city. "'

'Now you mean heaven, ' said Pauline impetuously. 'To me heaven isenveloped in fog. '

'It will not be, dear child, when the mists have rolled away, and in theclear light of the Sun of Righteousness you look across to the othershore. '

'Couldn't you tell me what it is like, my lady? You seem to know. Ican't fathom it, and everything looks so dark. '

Tryphosa lifted a plain little book from a revolving bookcase ofmorocco-bound treasures, which stood within easy reach. 

'I believe I will let Miss Warner answer you. "Would you like a heavenso small, so human, that mortal words could line it out, and mortalwishes be its boundary? The things we look for are prepared by One whosethoughts are as far above our thoughts as the broad starlit heaven isabove this little gaslit earth. And do you think that people are to beall massed in heaven, losing their various identities, their differingtastes, their separate natures? Going from this lower world so full ofits adaptations, where colour and form take on a thousand changes, andlife and pursuit can be varied almost at will, to a mere dead level ofperfect felicity? To leave earth where no two things are alike, and goto heaven to find no two different! The Lord's preparations mean morethan that. We should learn better from this lower world. No one pair ofblack eyes is just like another, no two leaves upon the same tree. Andnot a yellow blossom can spring up by the wayside, without a red or awhite one at hand for contrast. Are the clouds copies of each other? Arethe shadows on the hills ever twice the same? Take for your comfort thefull assurance that the very Tree of Life--which in Eden seems to haveborne but one manner of fruit--in heaven shall bear twelve. But wecannot imagine it--in its fulness. We must look, not to see clearoutlines and distinct colours, but only the flood of heavenly light. From point to point the promises pass on, with their golden touch; untilthe vacant places in our lives disappear, and the aches die out, anddesire and longing are lost in 'more than heart could wish. '"'

A pause fell then, and a stillness, broken only by the plashing of alittle fountain, whose drops fell among the flowers. 

As they rose to go, Tryphosa drew Pauline's face down until it touchedher own. 

'Dear child, won't you claim your birthright?'

'I will, my lady. '

_Chapter VI_

GIVING ONESELF

The summer slipped away, and to Pauline it was a continual dream ofpleasure. She adhered strictly to her habit of rising with the sun, andnot the least enjoyable part of the morning was the three hours spent inthe solitude of her uncle's luxurious library, while the day was new. Her active mind awoke from its enforced lethargy, and plumed itself forflight with a delightful sense of freedom. The dream of her life wascoming true at last, and she was to have a chance to learn. She hadlearned all that the Sleepy Hollow school could teach her long ago. Shewould take up chemistry, of course, and biology, mathematics andphysics, French and Latin, geology and botany, and--well, she woulddecide later upon the rest of her curriculum. Her father seemed to takeit for granted she should stay in Boston, her uncle called her his ownlittle daughter, and she was content. Her healthy nature enjoyed to thefull the innumerable diversions and pleasures which Belle's active brainwas continually planning. Picnics and garden-parties, excursions to thebeaches, where she was never tired of feasting her eyes on the glory ofthe waves; or a run into the city to hear some special attraction. Always brightness and fun and laughter, for Aunt Rutha's hospitablehouse was a favourite resort with many of the Harvard students, and itwas the glorious summer time, when all the world--their littleworld--was free to be gay. She, Pauline Harding, was like other girlsat last!

Then she must learn to row and to ride, with Richard Everidge for herteacher. Belle taught her to swim, and Russell to play tennis, andGwendolyn took her to some of the many meetings to which she devoted herlife. 

And then there was Tryphosa. She always made time for a visit there atleast once every week. She was hungry to hear all she could about hermother. She began to understand how Richard Everidge, in the pride ofhis manly beauty, could find it in his heart to envy the woman who dayand night kept close company with pain. Sometimes the shadows would liepurple under the brilliant eyes, and the thin fingers be tightlyclenched in anguish, but the brave lips gave no sign. On such daysPauline could only sit beside her in mute sorrow, or sing softly someof the hymns she loved. 

'It is terrible to see you suffer so, my lady!' she cried, one morning, when, in the fulness of her strength, she had gone from the laughingsunshine into the shadowed room, where every ray of light fell like ablow upon the invalid's quivering nerves. 

Tryphosa made answer with a smile. 

'Not one stroke too much, dear child. It is my Father's hand upon the_tribulum_. He never makes mistakes. '

One day she slipped away directly after breakfast. She wanted to be sureof finding her alone. 

It was one of the invalid's good days, and she greeted her with a brightsmile of welcome. 

'My lady, ' she began abruptly, 'do you think I have forgotten all aboutmy promise? I could not. It has haunted me through everything, and--Igave myself to the King last night. '

Tryphosa's eyes glowed deep with pleasure. 

'Thank God!' she exclaimed softly. Then she closed her eyes, and Paulineknew from her moving lips that she was talking with the Lord. 

She touched Pauline gently. 

'I had to talk a little about the good news with Jesus. He is my nearestneighbour, you know. And now, dear child, tell me all about it. What awonderfully simple thing it is! People talk so much about being aChristian, when, after all, it is simply to be Christ's. We open thedoor where He has knocked so long, and let Him in. We give ourselvesaway to Jesus henceforth to live in Him, with Him, by Him, and for Himfor ever. Dear child, when you were giving, did you include your will?'

'My will?' echoed Pauline, startled. 

'Why surely. The Christian is not to direct his Master. '

'But how do you mean, my lady?'

Tryphosa began to sing softly:--

 'O, little bird, lie still In thy low nest: Thy part, to love My will: My part--the rest. '

'That is His message to me. Yours will be different, for no two of Hischildren get the same training. '

'I suppose now life will be all duty, ' said Pauline, with a sigh. 

Tryphosa smiled. 

'That is not the way I read my Bible. Peter says we must "love thebrethren, " and John, "This is Christ's commandment, that we believe andlove, " because "he who loveth knoweth God, " and Paul, "The love ofChrist constraineth us. "'

'Well, but I must do something, my lady. '

'Don't fall into that snare, little one. It is what we are, not what wedo. The dear Christ wants us, not for what we do for Him, but what Hedoes for us. Listen: "He that abideth in Me and I in him, the samebringeth forth much fruit, for without Me ye can do nothing. " "He thatdwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under theshadow of the Almighty. " The first great thing for you now is to "getyour meaning. "'

Pauline looked puzzled. 

'I do not understand, my lady. '

'What are you going to stand for? How much better is the world to be foryour having lived in it? The day is long past when people weresatisfied with a Sunday religion. True Christianity means a dailyconsecration of purpose. Look at the men who have made their mark in theworld--reformers, inventors, discoverers, all men of a single purpose;and Paul says, "This one thing I do. " Michael Angelo said, "Nothingmakes the soul so pure, so religious, as the endeavour to createsomething perfect, for God is perfection, and whoever strives for it, strives for something that is God-like. " And remember, "perfect has noclipped edges, no dreary blanks. " Little one, I want you to strive to bea perfect Christian. '

Pauline fell on her knees beside the couch, and buried her face in thecushions. 

'I am not worthy, ' she murmured. 

Tryphosa laid her hand very tenderly upon the bowed head, as sherepeated in low, triumphant tones:--

'"I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, my soul shall be joyful in my God;for He hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, He hath coveredme with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decketh himself withornaments, and as a bride adorneth herself with her jewels. " "This isthe will of God, even your sanctification. " "That ye may be holy andwithout blame before Him in love. " "Be ye perfect as My Father in heavenis perfect. " According to the measure of our capacity, that is the idea, just as the tiny cup may be as full as the ocean. But for this we mustlay all upon the altar. There must be no closed doors, no reservedcorners in our hearts. We must give Christ the key to every room, sothat He shall be, not merely a guest in the guest-chamber, but theowner of the house. Are you ready for that, dear child?'

And Pauline answered humbly:--

'I want the very best God has to give me. '

_Chapter VII_

A GREAT SURRENDER

The beautiful summer had slipped away and the glory of October was overthe land. Pauline had crossed the borders and plunged, with all the zestof her thirsty soul, into the fair world of knowledge which laystretched at her feet. Her three months of conscientious study had beenof great service as a preparatory training, and already more than one ofthe professors had complimented her on her breadth of view, and therapidity with which she was able to grasp an idea. 

A subtle sense of power stole over her. Every part of her being seemedto expand In the congenial atmosphere. A brilliant future seemedopening before her enraptured gaze. The world should be the better forher life. God had endowed her with gifts. She would lay them at Hisfeet. She would devote herself to the up-lifting of others. She wouldstrive to lift them from the torpor of their common-place into a higherlife. Life was magnificent! Poor Tryphosa, in her narrow sphere of pain, how could she be so happy!

Belle hurried along the hall and stopped at the door of the blue-drapedchamber. 

'My dear Paul, do you know we are all waiting? What have you been doing?If I could only get a snapshot at you now I should call it "TheIntoxication of Success. " You would make a splendid Jeanne d'Arc, withthe light of high and holy purpose in her eyes; but as this is the lastSaturday in the year that we shall have the chance of a ride to ForestGlen and home by moonlight, I move that we postpone our rhapsodiesuntil a more convenient season. The boys are waiting below with thehorses, and the servants started long ago with the hampers. Even Gwenhas been wooed by the beauty of the morning to accompany us, though Ithink there are about a dozen meetings on her calendar. Here is a letterfor you, but you have no time to read it now. '

'Have I kept you? Oh, I am sorry!' and catching up her silver-mountedriding whip Pauline threw her habit over her arm, and ran down to whereRichard Everidge held the handsome bay mare which had been her uncle'sgift. The letter she had tossed lightly on the table. It was from herfather, but it would keep. There was never any news at Sleepy Hollow. 

Aunt Rutha watched the merry party as they cantered off. 

'How well Pauline looks in the saddle. We have been very fortunate inour adopted daughter, Robert. '

'Yes, she is a sweet girl, and her passion for knowledge is just theincentive that our lazy little Belle needs. I only hope her father willnever take it into his head to claim her again. She is a blessing in thehouse. '

On and on the riders travelled, through the exhilarating autumn air, until they stopped for lunch on the borders of a forest which Jack Frosthad set ablaze, and which glowed in the sunshine with a dazzlingsplendour of crimson and bronze and gold. The hours flew by, and whenthey started homewards the sun was sinking in majestic glory, while onthe opposite horizon the moon rose, silver clear. Pauline's every nervequivered with delight. It was a perfect ending to a perfect day. 

When she went up to her room that night her eye fell on the forgottenletter. She opened it slowly with a smile on her lips. Suddenly thesmile faded, and a cold chill crept into her heart. 

'It has been such a happy day, ' she had told Aunt Rutha, as, after themerry supper was over, she had stood by her side in the soft-lightedlibrary. 'Such a happy day, without a flaw!' And now already it seemedto be fading into the dim, dim past! And yet it was only a few hourssince Richard Everidge had climbed lightly up after the spray ofbrilliant leaves which she had admired, and she had pinned them againstthe dark background of her riding habit; even now they were before heron the table. She looked at them with a dull sense of pain. 

'Mother has had a stroke of some sort, ' Mr Harding wrote, 'the doctordoesn't seem to know rightly what. She is somewhat better, but she can'tleave her bed. The children are well, except Polly, who seems weakly. The doctor thinks her spine has been hurt. Mother had her in her armswhen she fell. '

Pauline shivered. Was this God's 'best' for her? The letter dropped fromher hand, and she sat for hours motionless, her eyes taking in everydetail of the pretty moonlit room, until it was indelibly engraved uponher memory. 

 * * * * *

When the morning came she took the letter to Tryphosa. She could nottrust herself to tell the others yet. 

The eyes that looked up at her from the open sheet were very tender. 

'Dear child, are you satisfied?'

'With what, my lady?'

'With Christ, and the life He has planned for you?'

She hesitated. If it had been this other life that she had been planningfor herself only the day before, how gladly she would have answered:but, if it should be Sleepy Hollow, could she say yes?

With her keen intuition, which had been sharpened by pain, Tryphosadivined her thought. 

'I am going to give you a new beatitude, ' she said, brightly. 'Blessedbe drudgery, for it is the grey angel of success. '

'That is a hard gospel, my lady. '

'Perhaps, but ease and victory are for ever incompatible. The Fatherloved the Son, yet He surrendered Him to a life of toil, and ChristHimself gave His chosen ones the heritage of tribulation, crowned withthe sweet, bright gift of peace. It is the tried lives that ring thetruest. The idea runs all through the Bible. "Silver purified seventimes, " and "gold tried in the fire, " and "polished after the similitudeof a palace. " Have you ever thought of the friction that involves? Thefinest diamonds bear the most cutting, and it is the mission of thediamond to reflect the light. If we would have our lives a success, wemust seek not happiness but harmony. '

'Harmony! With what, my lady?'

'The will of God, dear child. We are out of tune when God finds us. Heputs us in tune with our great keynote Jesus, and then we are like anÆolian harp. The west and the east winds make music through it, and theshrieking storm the sweetest music of all. But remember, little one, itis the "joy of the Lord" which is our strength. We must sit in thesunshine if we would reflect the rainbow. '

That night Pauline spent upon her knees. 

'It is ridiculous, ' exclaimed Mr Davis, when, the next morning, sheannounced her decision to the family. 'I will send a nurse down by theearly train, but it is not fit work for you, my child, and besides wecannot spare you. '

Her eyes filled. 

'It is so good of you to say that! But my Father has called me, and Imust go. '

'He does not say anything about your going in the letter, ' said MrDavis, as he ran his eyes over the words. 

'I mean my heavenly Father, Uncle Robert. ' she said simply. 'The messagecame last night. '

After that they could not shake her, although Belle hung about hertearfully. Russell and Gwen protested, Aunt Rutha looked at her withsorrowful eyes, and Mr Davis repeated that the very idea was absurd, ashe paced up and down with a strange huskiness in his throat. 

 * * * * *

'I have come to say good-bye, my lady. '

Tryphosa looked wistfully at the brave, sweet face, which she knew shewould see no more. 

'So soon, dear child?'

'I have given Christ the key, as you said, and now I am under orders. '

'Well, I knew it would come. It is only that we must travel by differentroads. We shall meet at the end of the journey. '

'But you never told me that my way to the kingdom lay through SleepyHollow!'

'Surely not, dear child! It is not for me to do the work of the HolySpirit. I knew you would hear His voice speaking to you from out theshadows by-and-by. '

Pauline sighed. 

'I have so longed for culture, my lady, and now I must put it by. '

'I am going to quote again. "Blessed be drudgery, the secret of allculture. " Some one has said: "Latin and Greek, and music and art, andtravel, are the decorations of life, but industry and perseverance, courage before difficulties, and cheer under straining burdens, self-control and self-denial are the indispensables. It is our dailytask that mainly educates us, and the humblest woman may livesplendidly. " And remember, dear child, a life like Christ's is thegrandest thing in the world. Angels may well envy us the opportunity ofliving it, for God Himself has lived it in Christ and rejoices to liveit again in each of us. We should glory in the thought that our Kingallows us to be the mirror in which the world may see Jesus. May theLord keep you as one of His "hidden ones, " my darling, and make you torealise that He who "holdeth the height of the hills, " spreads the hushof His presence over the valleys. '

Then she drew her close in a long, last farewell. 

_Chapter VIII_

IDEALISING THE REAL

'If you cannot realise your Ideal, you can at least idealise your Real. '

As the train slackened speed, Pauline lifted her eyes from the bookwhich Richard Everidge had laid on the seat beside her, after giving herthat last strong handshake, to see her father standing in front of theSleepy Hollow Station. A great pity filled her heart--how worn and oldhe looked!

They had all wanted to accompany her part of the way, and Belle hadpleaded to be allowed to go and help nurse, but she had said them nay. She knew the accommodations of Hickory Farm, and it was easier to leavethem where she had met them first, at the entrance of what would alwaysbe to her the city of delights. 

Abraham Lincoln and the spring waggon! Had the whole beautiful summerbeen one delicious dream? Could it be only a week since she had stoodentranced in that forest of flame? Here the leaves hung brown andshrivelled on the denuded branches, stray flakes of snow were in theair, and the early twilight fell chill and dreary. 

'I'm terrible glad to see you, Pauline, though I hated to spoil yourvisit, ' said Mr Harding, as he gave Abraham Lincoln a taste of the whip. 

Pauline leaned towards him, and laid both hands upon his arm. 

'Poor father! I am so sorry for you! Now tell me all about it. '

And the tired man turned to the daughter who for his sake had left easeand beauty and friends, and shifted to her shoulders the burden whichhe found too heavy for his own. 

The children crowded to meet her as she stumbled through the narrowhall-way into the kitchen. How dark it was! Her quick glancecomprehended the whole scene, and the contrast between it and that otherhome-coming smote her with a keen sense of physical pain. She looked atthe solitary lamp with its grotesquely hideous ornament of red flannel, at Susan's expressionless, freckled face, at the boys in theircopper-toed boots and overalls, at the good-natured, but hopelesslycommon-place Martha Spriggs, with her thin hair drawn tight into a knobthe size of a bullet, and her bare arms akimbo. 'Idealize her real!'Would it be possible to idealize anything at Sleepy Hollow?

She got her welcome in various fashions. 

'It's about time you were getting back!' exclaimed Mrs Harding from thebed on which she was forced to lie, in bitterness of spirit, with Pollyby her side. 'I suppose nothing less than a stroke would have broughtyou. It beats me how people can be such sponges! I'm thankful I wasnever one to go trailin' about the country after my relations. I neverwas away from home more than a day in my life till I was married, andit's been nothing but work ever since, and now to be laid here like auseless log, with everything going hotfoot to destruction! It's a goodthing you've come at last, for the children are makin' sawdust andsplinters of every bit of crockery in the house, and that Martha Spriggshas no more management than a settin' hen. I don't suppose you'll bemuch better, though. You never did hev much of a head, an' now you'vebeen up among the clouds so long, you'll be more like to sugar thebutter and salt the pies than before. '

Pauline lifted Polly from her uncomfortable position with a warm glowabout her heart, which all the sick woman's bitterness was powerless toquench. If she could see Richard Everidge, she would tell him that shedid believe in altitudes now. It was possible even in the valleys tolive above the clouds. 'Do not seek happiness, ' Tryphosa had said, 'butharmony with God's will, ' and God's will for her was Sleepy Hollow. 'Itis not what we do, but what we are, dear child, ' she seemed to hear hersaying. She remembered reading that 'the smallest roadside pool has itswater from heaven, and its gleam from the sun, and can hold the stars inits bosom, as well as the great ocean. ' God could make a 'perfectChristian' even in Sleepy Hollow. 

'I'm powerful glad ye've cum, Pawliney, ' said Martha Spriggs, as shefollowed her into the dairy after the meal was over. 'I'm that beset Idunno where I'm standin', for Miss Hardin's been as crooked as a snakefence, an' as contrairy as a yearlin' colt, an' the childern dew trainawful. '

'Yer've got to tell me stories all night, miles of 'em, ' said Lemuel, ashe bestowed his small person on the floor, with his legs in the air. 

'No, no, Lemuel, you're going right to bed, like a good little brother, so Polly can get to sleep. Poor Polly is so tired, ' and Pauline walkedup and down the floor of her tiny room trying to soothe the weary child. 

'Hi! Poll's no 'count; she's only a gurl. I ain't goin' ter sleepnuther. I'm goin' ter stay up fer hours an' hours, an' if yer don't keepright on tellin' stories quick, I'll holler, an' that'll make mar mad, an' then she'll send par up with a stick ter beat me. I don't care, hedon't hit ez hard as she duz, anyhow. '

'If you'll get undressed right away, Lemuel, I'll tell you about alittle boy who lived with an' old, old man, and one night he couldn'tsleep, but----'

'Huh! that's a Bible story. This ain't Sunday. Par never reads the Bible'cept Sunday. I want 'em 'bout lions an' tigers, an' men tumblin' downmountains, and boys gettin' eaten by bears. '

'What did you do when I was away, Lemuel?'

His lower lip protruded ominously. 

'Ain't had nuthin'. Martha Spriggs don't hev any. She only knows "thecow that jumped over the moon, " an' that's no good: 'tain't true, nuther, fer our cows don't do it. '

No time the next morning for the long hours of delightful study. It waschurning day, and there was baking to be done, and the mending wasbehindhand, and the children needed clothes; besides the numerous 'oddjobs' which Mrs Harding had deferred, but which she was prompt torequire done as soon as she had some one besides Martha to call on. Thenher meals must be given to her, and nothing tasted right, and thechildren were so noisy, and the older boys so uncouth. 

Wearily Pauline toiled up the narrow stairs with Polly as the clockstruck nine. She laid the sleeping child on her bed softly, so as not towake Lemuel, and knelt down by the window. Not a sound broke thestillness. Her thoughts flew to the blue-draped chamber, and the softlighted library, where she could almost see Uncle Robert and AuntRutha, and Belle and Richard, and Russell and Gwen. But they might notbe there yet; they had set apart this night, she remembered, to run overfor a look through the big telescope. Last week that was, before she haddecided to come to Sleepy Hollow, and broken up all their happy plans. Only last week! Then she thought of Tryphosa, lying with closed eyes inher darkened room, waiting patiently for the sleep which so oftenrefused to come, while the angel of pain brooded over her pillow. Thenher eyes sought the stars. 

'You dear things!' she whispered. 'God put you in your places and toldyou to shine, and for all these hundreds of years you've just kept onshining. Oh! my lady, ask God to help me to make this dark placebright. '

She knelt on in the clear, cold moonlight until at last the hush ofGod's peace crept into her heart, and there was a great calm. 

The winter crept on steadily. Jack Frost threw photographs of fairylandupon the windows, and hung the roofs with fringes of crystal pendants, while the snowflakes piled themselves over the fences and made a shroudfor the trees, and every day Pauline, with this strange peace in herheart, did her housework to the glory of God. 

There were bright spots here and there, for the Boston letters camefreely, and the magazines which she had liked best, and now and then abook, as Belle said, 'to keep Mr Hallam company. ' They would not let herdrop out of their life, these kind friends, and she took it allthankfully, though she could only glance at the magazines, and neveropened the books. There would be time by-and-by, she said to herselfcheerfully. There was so much waiting for her in the beautifulby-and-by. 

'It beats me, ' said Mrs Harding fretfully, as Pauline hushed Polly tosleep, 'what you do to that child. I used to sing to her till my throatcracked, but you just smooth her hair awhile with those fingers ofyours, and off she goes. I wish you'd come and smooth me off to sleep. I'm that tired lying here, I don't know what to do. That new doctor's nomore good than his powders are. I don't see what old Dr Ross had to diefor, just before I was goin' ter need him. ' And the sick woman groaned. 

Pauline laid Polly in her cot with a smile. This grudging praise wasvery sweet to her. To make darkness light, that was Christ's mission, and hers. She was putting her whole soul in the effort. 

'What makes P'liney so different?' queried Leander of Stephen and John, as they rested from their daily task of cutting wood. 'She used ter beas mad as hops if yer mussed up yer clothes, an' now she only laughs an'sez, "Never mind, if it's a stain that soap will conquer. "'

'An' she's always singin' too, ' said John thoughtfully; 'if motherdidn't scold so it would be real pleasant. '

'I'd like to know why it is, though, ' repeated Leander thoughtfully. 

'Because she belongs to the King, ' said the clear, sweet voice of hisstep-sister from the doorway, 'and she wants you all to belong to Himtoo. '

When she went back into the house, she found Lemuel brandishing abroomstick over the frightened Polly. 

'Why, Lemuel, what are you doing?'

'I've casted the devils out of her, ' exclaimed that youth triumphantly, 'an' they've gone inter the pig pen, whole leguns of 'em, an' they'rekickin' orful!'

_Chapter IX_

A LOST LETTER

Seven years had gone by, and every day of each successive month had beenfull to overflowing of hard work for Pauline. 

'Dear Tryphosa, ' she whispered to herself with a smile, 'you littlethought, when you gave me that new beatitude, what constant friends thegrey angel of Drudgery and I were to be. '

She climbed slowly up the narrow stairs to her room, and shaded the lampthat it might not disturb Polly's troubled sleep, --poor Polly, who wouldbe an invalid for life. Then she sat down with a sigh of relief to readBelle's last letter. It had been a hard day, her step-mother had beenmore than usually restless, and the farm-work had been very heavy, forMartha Spriggs was home on a visit; every nerve in her body seemed toquiver with the strain. 

'My dearest Paul, ' Belle wrote, 'I can hardly see for crying, but Ipromised her that you should know at once. 

'Tryphosa went away from us to "the other shore" last night. We were allthere--her "inner circle" as she used to call us--all except you, andshe seemed to miss you so. I never knew her to grow fond of any one inso short a time, but she took you right into her heart from the first. If I had not loved you so much I should have been jealous, but who couldbe jealous of you, you precious, brave saint?

'I have heard of the gate of heaven, but last night we were there. 

'Dick was supporting her in his arms, poor Dick, he was so fond of her, and it was so hard for her to breathe--and we were all gathered roundher, our hearts breaking to think it was the last time. She has sufferedterribly lately, but at the last the pain left her, and she lay with thevery rapture of heaven on her dear face, talking so brightly of how weshould do after she had gone. It was just as if she were going on apleasure trip, and we were to follow later. She turned to me with herlovely eyes all aglow with joy, and said:--

'"Give my Bible to the dear child in the valley" (that was what shealways called you), "and tell her 'the miles to heaven are but short andfew. '"

'She had a message for us all, and then, suddenly, just as the dawnbroke, a great light swept over her face and she turned her head andwhispered, "Jesus!" just as if He were close beside her, and then--shewas gone. 

'I shall never forget it. I have always thought of Death as the King ofTerrors, but last night it was the coming of the Bridegroom for Hisown. '

With a low cry Pauline's head dropped. There could never be anyone justlike 'my lady, ' and she had gone away. 

The hours passed silently, as she sat benumbed in the grasp of her greatsorrow. 

Suddenly she sprang up. Her father was calling her from the foot of thestairs. 

'Mother's had a bad turn. Send Stephen for the doctor, and come, quick!'

She hurried down, and mechanically heated water, and did what she couldto help the stricken woman, but before the doctor could reach the house, the Angel of Death had swept over the threshold, and Pauline and herfather were left alone. 

 * * * * *

'Here's a letter for yer, Pawliney. Don't yer wish yer may git it?' andLemuel, the irrepressible, waved it at her tantalisingly from the top ofthe tall hickory, where he had perched himself, like the monkey that hewas. 

She saw the Boston post-mark, and stretched out her hands for itlongingly. 

'Bring it down, there's a dear boy. '

'Not much! I bet Leander that I could make you mad, an' he bet his newjack-knife that I couldn't. I'm goin' to chew it up. It's orful thin, 'taint no good anyhow. You won't miss it, P'liney, ' and crushing theletter into a small wad he put it into his capacious mouth. 

It was, as Lemuel said, 'awful thin, ' not much like the volumes whichBelle usually wrote. She had not been able to distinguish the writing, but, of course, it must be from Belle. The two cousins had grown verynear to each other as the years rolled by, and a summer never passedwithout some of her uncle's family spending a week or two in SleepyHollow. Those were Pauline's red-letter days--the bright, scintillatingpoints where she was brought into touch again with the world of thoughtand light and beauty. 

'Throw it down to me, Lemuel, dear. '

'Can't, ' said the boy coolly, 'I'm goin' ter tie it to Poll's balloon, an' let go of the string, an' then it'll go straight to heaven, ' and, with the letter reposing in his cheek, he began to sing vociferously:--

 '"I want ter be an angel, An' with the angels stand; A crown upon my forehead, A harp within my hand. "

'Git mad now, P'liney, quick, fer I want that knife orful. '

A cry from Polly made Pauline hurry into the house to find that MarthaSpriggs had slipped while passing the child's couch, and upset a bowl ofscalding milk, which she was carrying, right over the little invalid'sfoot. In the confusion which followed, Pauline forgot Lemuel and herlonged-for letter. When she went out to look for him he was gone. 

'Give it to me now, Lemuel, ' she said, as he came into supper; 'you'vehad enough fun for to-day. '

'Can't P'liney. I used it fer a gun wad to shoot a squirrel with, an'the cat ate the squirrel, letter an' all. Yer don't want me ter killthe cat, do yer, P'liney?'

'Oh! Lemuel, ' she cried softly, 'how could you? How could you do it?'

She sighed sorrowfully. She had tried so hard to make Lemuel a good boy, but nothing seemed to touch him, and, young as he was, the neighbourshad begun to lay the blame of every misdeed upon his shoulders, andDeacon Croaker predicted with a mournful shake of his head, 'No goodwill ever come of Lemuel Harding. He's a bad lot, a bad lot. '

'Sing to me!' cried Polly, 'the pain's awful!' and taking the wearylittle form in her arms, Pauline sang herself back into her usual happytrust. 

She would not tell Belle her letter had been destroyed. She must shieldLemuel. 

'I'm doing my best, ' she said to herself, 'God understands. '

'Ain't yer mad yit?' whispered Lemuel anxiously, as he peered into thebright peaceful face on his way to bed. 

The hand that stroked his tumbled hair was very gentle. 

'No, Lemuel, only sorry that my boy forgot the King was looking on. '

With a shame-faced look the boy's hand sought his pocket, but Satanwhispered, 'She may be mad to-morrow, ' and he crept away. 

'What are you teasing Pauline about?' asked Stephen, as he wentupstairs. 

'Ain't doin' nuthin', ' was the sullen reply. 

'Yes, you are. She don't hev sorrowful looks in her eyes unless you'recuttin' up worse than common. You've just got to leave off sudden, orI'll give you something you won't ever forgit. '

'Ain't goin' ter be bossed by nobody, ' said the boy doggedly, as hereached his room. 'Was goin' ter give her the old letter to-morrow, anyway, but now I don't care if she never gits it, ' and opening thechest which held his few treasures, he deliberately shut up the letterin an old tin box, and went to bed. 

 * * * * *

'Father is gettin' so mortal queer, ' said Stephen discontentedly. 'Firsthe tells me to top-dress the upper lot, and then right off he wants meto harness up and go to the mill. I don't see how a feller's to knowwhat to do. Most wish I'd gone West with Leander, it's a free lifethere, and he's his own master. '

'"One is our Master, even Christ, "' Pauline quoted softly. 'Don't go, Stephen, you and Lemuel are the only ones on the farm now, and father isgetting old. '

She spoke sadly. She had noticed with a sinking heart how 'queer' herfather was. 

The years had slipped by until Polly was seventeen. A very frail littlebody she was, but always so patient and sweet, that Pauline nevergrudged the constant care. 

Two of the boys had taken the shaping of their own lives and gone away, and Susan Ann had a home of her own with two little freckled-facedchildren to call her mother. 

'We'll jog along together, Stephen, ' she said in her bright, cheery way. 'Father forgets now and then, but he doesn't mean any harm, and it'sonly one day at a time, you know. '

Stephen looked at her admiringly. 

'You're a brick, Pawliney, and I guess if you can stand it, I ought tobe able to, with you round making the sunshine. I'd be a brute to goand leave you and Lem with it all on your shoulders'; and the honest, good-hearted fellow went in to give Polly a kiss before he started forthe mill. 

Clearing out an old trunk next day Pauline came across a soiled, tumbledenvelope. It was the letter which Lemuel had tucked away and forgottenwhile he waited for her to 'get mad. '

She opened it eagerly. It was from Richard Everidge. 

'I should like to come down and see you, ' he wrote, 'in Sleepy Hollow, that is, if you care to have me, and it is quite convenient. Do nottrouble to write unless you want me. If I do not get an answer I shallknow you do not care. '

Richard Everidge had been married for three years now, and had a littlegirl. 

She clasped her hands with one quick cry of pain. What must he havethought of her all these years? Her friend, who had always been so kind!so kind!

'Pawliney!' called her father, in the querulous accents of one whosebrain is weakening. 'Pawliney, I wish you'd come down and sing a little, the house is terrible lonesome since mother's gone. '

And Pauline sang, in her full, sweet tones:--

 '"God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform. "'

'God is good, Pawliney?'

'Yes, father. '

'He never makes mistakes?'

'Oh, no, father. '

'You believe that, Pawliney?'

'Yes, yes, I know it, father. '

And her voice rang out triumphantly in another stanza:--

 '"Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust Him for His grace: Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face. "'

_Chapter X_

THE ANGEL OF PATIENCE

'Here's the mortgage money, Pawliney, ' said Stephen, as he handed her aroll of bank-notes. 'It's not due for a month yet, but I'll be away fora week at the Bend, and if father gets hold of it he'll take it to makematches of, as like as not. You'd better stow it away somewheres tillthe time comes. '

'Very well, Stephen, I'll put it in my strong box, and carry the key inmy pocket. You won't be away at the Bend any longer than you can help, Stephen? It's such a comfort to have you in the house. '

They were standing by the light waggon, which Lemuel had brought roundfrom the barn, ready for Stephen's journey. 

'Don't know about the comfort part, Pawliney, ' said Stephen, with aqueer choke in his voice. 'Seems like as if we all depended on you forthat commodity. But I'll be as quick as I kin. Good-bye, all of you. Gitalong, Goliath. '

Three days had passed since his departure, and Pauline stood in thedoorway feasting her eyes on the lights and shadows which groupedthemselves about the distant hills, when Lemuel brushed past her, cladin his Sunday best. 

'Why, Lemuel!' she cried astonished, 'you haven't had your supper yet. Where are you going?'

'To China, ' was the brusque response. 'I've hed enuff of Sleepy Hollow, an' bein' ordered round by an old man with his head in the moon. It's"Lemuel, do this, " an' before I git started it's "Lemuel, do thet'other thing. " You kin stand it ef you're a mind ter; I won't. '

'But, Lemuel!' gasped Pauline, 'what will Stephen say?'

'I don't care what he says, ' said the boy roughly. 'Stephen ain't myboss. '

'Oh, Lemuel, you can't mean it!' cried Pauline, as she followed him downthe path to the main road. 

'See if I don't!' And he strode away from her, and vaulted over thegate. 

'But what will father do?'

'Git somebody that's ez loony ez himself. I ain't, ' was the jeeringreply. 

'Lemuel, you mustn't go, it will kill father!' and Pauline stretched outher hands to him appealingly. 

A mocking laugh was the only reply as he disappeared round a bend of theroad. 

Pauline went slowly back to the house feeling bruised and stunned. 

'Pawliney, ' piped her father in his shrill voice, 'where's Lemuel? Itold him to take the horse to the forge, and hoe the potatoes, and weedthe onions, and go to the woods for a load. I don't see how I'm to getthrough with such a lot of heedless boys around. What hev you done withhim? You just spoil them all with your cossetin'. '

'It will all come right, father, ' said Pauline soothingly. 'Lemuel hasgone away for awhile. '

'Away!' echoed the old man suspiciously. 'Away, Pawliney? Did you knowhe was going?'

'Yes, father; he will be back by-and-by, and Stephen will be home nextweek. '

She paced her room that night with a heavy heart. There was no way tohinder the misguided boy. Before Stephen could follow him he would beon the sea. He had often declared he meant to be a sailor. Suddenly shestopped, thunder-struck. The lid of her strong box had been forced open!With an awful dread at her heart she lifted it and looked in. The moneywas gone!

With a bitter cry she fell upon her knees. 'A thief!' Her Lemuel. Theboy that she had borne with and prayed over all these years! And themoney was due in a month! What should she do? Stephen must neverknow--Stephen, with his stalwart honesty and upright soul. His angerwould be terrible, and she must shield Lemuel all she could. PoorLemuel!

All night long she pondered sorrowfully. When the morning came she wentto Deacon Croaker. 

'I hear you are behindhand with your wool, ' she said, in herstraightforward way. 'I will spin it for you if you like, and, Deacon, may I ask you as a favour to let me have the money in advance?'

The deacon looked at her curiously. 

'Hard up, air ye, Pawliney? Well, well, don't colour up so, we all hevour scarce times. I ain't partial to payin' forehanded, but you wasawful kind to Mis' Croaker when her rheumatiz was bad on her, an' Iain't one ter forgit a favour. Cum in, Pawliney, while I git the money. Mis' Croaker will be rale pleased; she thinks you're the best spinner inthe valley. '

'No, thank you, I will wait out here. '

The old man hobbled into the house, and she stood waiting, clothed inher sorrow and shame. 

'So Lemuel's ben an' tuk French leave?' he said, as he handed her themoney. 'Well, well, I allers did say that boy'd be a heart break tew ye, Pawliney. Well, what's gone's forgot. Don't fret over him, Pawliney, hewas a bad lot, a bad lot. Ye'er well rid of him, my dear. '

'I never shall forget him, ' Pauline said gravely, 'and he can't get awayfrom God, Deacon Croaker. '

She counted the bills as she hurried along. It would just make enough, with the butter money. That was all she had for clothes for herself andPolly--but Polly had enough for a while, and she could go without. 

In the evenings, long after the others were in bed, she paced up anddown the kitchen, spinning Deacon Croaker's wool into smooth, eventhreads, but her heart ached as she prayed for her boy, and often, whenin the still watches of the night Polly kept her vigils with pain, sheheard her cry softly:--

'Lemuel, Lemuel, oh! how could you, how could you do it?'

Her uncle's family were living abroad now, and it was from Paris thatBelle wrote, announcing her engagement to Reginald Gordon. 

'Just imagine, Paul, ' the letter went on, 'I, of all possible people, amissionary's wife! But the fact of the matter is, my precious saint, your splendid, consecrated life made me tingle with shame to my fingertips when I thought of my aimless existence, and when I remembered howyou took up your cross and followed your Master to Sleepy Hollow, thereseemed to be no reason why I should not follow Him to Africa. If it willcomfort you, I want you to know that you have been the guiding starwhich has led me out of the sloth of my selfishness into active workfor the King. '

The years slipped by peacefully after that. Her father grew daily morechildish, and needed more constant watching, but she found time to readto Polly many a snatch from her favourite authors, and Tryphosa's Biblelay always open near her hand. 

At last the day came when, in the full noontide, her father had calledto her in his weak voice, 'It's gettin' dark, Pawliney, and Lemuel's notcome home. '

And she had answered with her brave, sweet faith, 'Not yet, father, buthe'll come by-and-by. God knows. '

'Yes, God knows, ' said the old man with a peaceful smile, 'I think I'llgo to sleep now, I'm very tired. You've been a good girl, Pawliney; agood girl. God bless you, my dear. '

When the evening came Pauline laid her hand softly on the wrinkled brow, from which the shadows had forever lifted. 'Dear old father, ' shewhispered, 'how little I thought, when I wished you and I could leaveSleepy Hollow, that you would be the first one to go away!'

 * * * * *

'You ought always to dress in silk, Pauline, instead of calico. I wishyou could, ' and Polly's eyes rested on her with a world of love in theirdepths. 

Pauline laughed as she kissed her. 

'You silly child! Don't you know that cotton grows, and silk has to bespun, which makes it costly? and cotton is content to be washed inspring water, while silk has to be bathed in tea. Can you spare me for awhole afternoon do you think, if I leave Carlyle and Whittier by yourpillow?'

'Where are you going?'

'Well, I want to take some apple custard to that poor Dan who fell fromthe haymow, and I must go and see how Susan's children are gettingthrough the measles. Then old Mrs Croaker wants to be sung to, and thewidow Larkin wants to be read to, and Matilda Jones is "jest pinin' fera talk. "' She laughed merrily. 

'I never saw anyone get so much into their lives, ' said Polly wistfully. 'I am so useless. '

'You blessed child!' cried Pauline, with the tears in her eyes; 'you areour Angel of Patience. Don't ever call yourself useless, dear, you arethe centre of gravity for Stephen and me. '

When the twilight fell she sat in her favourite position near the opendoor, looking up at the rose-tinted clouds, as she made Polly laugh withmerry descriptions of her different visits. 

Suddenly she grew still, for a sun-browned, bearded man had crossed thethreshold, and thrown a paper into her lap, saying huskily:--

'There's the mortgage, Pauline, to make a bonfire of. I've come home tostay. '

Before he had finished, her arms were around his neck, and Polly heardher cry softly, with the break of a great gladness in her voice:--

'Lemuel! Why, Lemuel!'

_Chapter XI_

PURE GOLD

Richard Everidge sat in his handsome library one evening in earlysummer, reading a letter from his only child, Muriel, the joy of hisheart:--

 'MY DEAREST PAPA, --We are stopping now in the quaintest little place, a veritable Sleepy Hollow, like its name, where Rip Van Winkle might have snoozed away for centuries without fear of being disturbed. 

 'As I advised you in my last, we were on our way to Farningham, when something went wrong with the engine, and we had to stop here for repairs, and mamma was so charmed with this little village that she decided to stay awhile; she says it seems to suit her better than any place she has seen; poor mamma, I wish I could find some place where she would be satisfied. To me all the world seems so beautiful, but she says no one knows how to sympathise with her peculiar organisation. 

 'That was Saturday. On Sunday morning I went to the little church, mamma was too tired, and now comes the best part of the story. I was looking round watching the different families, all in their Sunday best, coming in and getting seated, when suddenly a woman's voice began to lead the little choir. I looked up with a start. She was tall and slender; and as she stood with lifted head singing her heart out, I don't think I ever saw such a splendid carriage, even at the President's reception in Washington. She looked like a princess among the plain farmer folk; for a crown she had a mass of lovely soft white hair, and the sweetest, clearest eyes I ever saw. When she was singing "Coronation" (which was quite appropriate for a princess) it seemed as if she would lift the whole congregation up to God. 

 'After the service I could not help watching her for a minute, for, as you will have imagined ere this, my silly heart went out to her at once. She was the centre of a group; every one seemed to have something to say to her, and she was so nice with them all, kissing the children, and having a bright smile and word for some of the most uninteresting women and stupid-looking boys I ever saw. Just as I was going out of the door I felt a soft touch upon my arm, and turned to find her beside me. I am free to confess I never received such a welcome to any church before. 

 'When I gave her my name she looked puzzled for a minute. 

 '"Everidge, " she repeated. "It is, it must be; she would be just about your age. I believe you are the little Muriel that my cousin Belle used to write about. You must come home with me at once: your father was my dear friend in the long ago. "

 'And so here we are, ensconced with my princess. She has a wonderful way with her, for mamma came without making the slightest objection, and seems happier than I have seen her for months. 

 'There are just four in the family, besides Martha Spriggs, the funny old girl. My princess, and her two stepbrothers, Stephen and Lemuel, and Polly, who has been a sufferer from spinal trouble all her life. 

 'It is the quaintest old house, with low, small rooms, except on the east side, where Captain Lemuel has added two large rooms with the loveliest bay windows, which are always full of flowers and sunshine. I think the neighbours are horrified that they use them for common. You know country people always keep their best parlours done up in must and green paper; but the princess says, "Nothing is too good for Polly and the boys!" They just idolize her, and I fancy they have good reason to, for, as Stephen said, in his queer, blunt way, "she comes as near to an angel as any mortal ever will. " Captain Lemuel has been all over the world, and is very interesting. Mamma is so amused over his stories. Stephen is blunt, but I shouldn't be afraid to trust him with every cent I owned, and Polly is just a bundle of sweetness and patience. I wish you could see how gentle these great, strong men are with her: Stephen won't let any one but himself carry her to bed, and Lemuel is always ready to push her about in her wheel chair, and talk nonsense to her till she laughs and cries together. 

 'And the princess! She is just everything to everybody. I cannot fancy what the house would be without her. I only hope she won't die before Polly, for I'm sure it would kill her. She never takes her eyes off her when she is in the room, and when I teased her a little about it her eyes filled, and she cried softly:--

 '"It's little wonder if I do love her, after thirty years of such nursing as no one even dreamed of. " It made me almost wish to be sick myself. 

 'She has such a merry, tender way with her. I do not wonder Lemuel says they don't mind rainy weather since Pauline makes sunshine to order. And she is the busiest creature! I believe she carries the whole of Sleepy Hollow on her heart and shoulders. She seems to have all the destitute and afflicted under her wing, and dispenses beef-tea and Bible promises with the same liberal hand. 

 'Oh! Papa, I am so glad we were detained at Sleepy Hollow, for at last I have found what I have been looking for--an absolutely Christ-like life. Your own little daughter, 'MURIEL. '

Richard Everidge remained deep in thought for a long time after he hadkissed the large, girlish signature; then he drew a sheet of papertowards him, and wrote, in his clear, bold hand:--

 'MY DARLING MURIEL, --I knew your princess, as she says, in "the long ago, " and she is, as you have found her, pure gold. 

 'Make the most of your visit, for, next to your Bible, she is the best teacher you could have. Your loving 'FATHER. '

The days lengthened into weeks and the Everidges were still at the Farm. 

'Why should you go?' Pauline said, in her cheery, unanswerable way, whenthey spoke of leaving: 'it does us good to have you, and it does yougood to be here, ' and Muriel and her mother were content. 

'Princess, ' said the girl one day, as she watched her moving lightlyabout the kitchen, 'I envy you your altitude. '

Pauline laughed merrily. 

'You dear child! Every one gets up the mountain if they keep onclimbing. '

'But I have not an atom of perseverance, ' sighed Muriel. 'Christianityseems such a tremendous undertaking to me. '

'Let me give you what was to me the beginning of all Gospels: "Thekingdom of heaven is just as near us as our work is, for the gate ofheaven for each soul lies in the endeavour to do that work perfectly. "

'But, princess, you are such a royal creature. It seems such a waste foryou to be buried here. '

'The King never wastes, little one. If we have the angel aim andstandard, we can consecrate the smallest acts. Don't you know that "hewho aims for perfectness in a trifle, is trying to do that trifleholily?"'

'You dear princess! You make me think of one of Murillo's pictures inthe Louvre, which we saw when we were abroad last year. It is theinterior of a convent kitchen, and instead of mortals in old dressesdoing the work, there are beautiful white-winged angels. One puts thekettle on the fire, and one is lifting up a pail of water, and one is atthe kitchen dresser reaching up for plates. '

Pauline smiled. 

'That is it exactly. How can anything we do be common when we rememberour inheritance? You call me Princess, out of love, little one, but I ama princess in reality, for my Father is a King. Let me give you a goodword which your father gave me long ago. "If you cannot realize yourIdeal, you can at least idealize your Real. " I have been trying to do itever since. '

'That is just like papa, ' said Muriel, with a proud smile. 'He says youare "pure gold, " princess. '

'Did Rich--did your father say that?' cried Pauline, and Muriel lookedup to see a soft flush in her face, while her eyes shone. 'The King'sdaughter is all glorious within, ' she repeated slowly, 'her clothing isof wrought gold. ' Then she chanted in her clear, triumphant voice:--

 '"They have clean robes, White robes; White robes are waiting for me!"

'Ah! little one, "the court dress of heaven differs somewhat from thatof earth. "'

'But, princess, ' said Muriel wistfully, 'farm work and cooking andwashing dishes over and over--it seems such drudgery. '

A great light broke over her face, and she cried in a low, exultanttone:--

'"Blessed be Drudgery!" Christ bore it for thirty years, why should Imind for forty-nine? I have only to wait a little now for the "fulnessof joy" and "pleasures for evermore. "'

Muriel threw her arms about her and kissed her softly. 

'Then our princess will be at home, ' she whispered, 'in the Palace ofthe King. '

 * * * * *

TURNBULL AND SPEARS, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.