MOTHER CAREY'S CHICKENS

By KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN

CONTENTS

 I. MOTHER CAREY HERSELF II. THE CHICKENS III. THE COMMON DENOMINATOR IV. THE BROKEN CIRCLE V. HOW ABOUT JULIA? VI. NANCY'S IDEA VII. "OLD BEASTS INTO NEW" VIII. THE KNIGHT OF BEULAH CASTLE IX. GILBERT'S EMBASSY X. THE CAREYS' FLITTING XI. THE SERVICE ON THE THRESHOLD XII. COUSIN ANN XIII. THE PINK OF PERFECTION XIV. WAYS AND MEANS XV. BELONGING TO BEULAH XVI. THE POST-BAG XVII. JACK OF ALL TRADES XVIII. THE HOUSE OF LORDS XIX. OLD AND NEW XX. THE PAINTED CHAMBER XXI. A FAMILY RHOMBOID XXII. CRADLE GIFTS XXIII. NEARING SHINY WALL XXIV. A LETTER FROM GERMANY XXV. "FOLLOWING THE GLEAM" XXVI. A ZOOLOGICAL FATHER XXVII. THE CAREY HOUSEWARMING XXVIII. "TIBI SPLENDET FOCUS" XXIX. "TH' ACTION FINE" XXX. THE INGLENOOK XXXI. GROOVES OF CHANGE XXXII. DOORS OF DARING XXXIII. MOTHER HAMILTON'S BIRTHDAY. XXXIV. NANCY COMES OUT XXXV. THE CRIMSON RAMBLER

I

MOTHER CAREY HERSELF

"By and by there came along a flock of petrels, who are Mother Carey'sown chickens.... They flitted along like a flock of swallows, hoppingand skipping from wave to wave, lifting their little feet behind them sodaintily that Tom fell in love with them at once. "

Nancy stopped reading and laid down the copy of "Water Babies" on thesitting-room table. "No more just now, Peter-bird, " she said; "I hearmother coming. "

It was a cold, dreary day in late October, with an east wind and a chillof early winter in the air. The cab stood in front of Captain Carey'shouse, with a trunk beside the driver and a general air of expectancy onthe part of neighbors at the opposite windows. 

Mrs. Carey came down the front stairway followed by Gilbert andKathleen; Gilbert with his mother's small bag and travelling cloak, Kathleen with her umbrella; while little Peter flew to the foot of thestairs with a small box of sandwiches pressed to his bosom. 

Mrs. Carey did not wear her usual look of sweet serenity, but nothingcould wholly mar the gracious dignity of her face and presence. As shecame down the stairs with her quick, firm tread, her flock followingher, she looked the ideal mother. Her fine height, her splendidcarriage, her deep chest, her bright eye and fresh color all bespoke thehappy, contented, active woman, though something in the way of transientanxiety lurked in the eyes and lips. 

"The carriage is too early, " she said; "let us come into the sittingroom for five minutes. I have said my good-byes and kissed you all adozen times, but I shall never be done until I am out of your sight. "

"O mother, mother, how can we let you go!" wailed Kathleen. 

"Kitty! how can you!" exclaimed Nancy. "What does it matter about uswhen mother has the long journey and father is so ill?"

"It will not be for very long, --it can't be, " said Mrs. Carey wistfully. "The telegram only said 'symptoms of typhoid'; but these low feverssometimes last a good while and are very weakening, so I may not be ableto bring father back for two or three weeks; I ought to be in FortressMonroe day after to-morrow; you must take turns in writing to me, children!"

"Every single day, mother!"

"Every single thing that happens. "

"A fat letter every morning, " they promised in chorus. 

"If there is any real trouble remember to telegraph your UncleAllan--did you write down his address, 11 Broad Street, New York? Don'tbother him about little things, for he is not well, you know. "

Gilbert displayed a note-book filled with memoranda and addresses. 

"And in any small difficulty send for Cousin Ann, " Mrs. Carey went on. 

"The mere thought of her coming will make me toe the mark, I can tellyou that!" was Gilbert's rejoinder. 

"Better than any ogre or bug-a-boo, Cousin Ann is, even for Peter!" saidNancy. 

"And will my Peter-bird be good and make Nancy no trouble?" said hismother, lifting him to her lap for one last hug. 

"I'll be an angel boy pretty near all the time, " he asserted betweenmouthfuls of apple, "or most pretty near, " he added prudently, as ifunwilling to promise anything superhuman in the way of behavior. As amatter of fact it required only a tolerable show of virtue for Peter towin encomiums at any time. He would brush his curly mop of hair awayfrom his forehead, lift his eyes, part his lips, showing a row of tinywhite teeth; then a dimple would appear in each cheek and a seraphicexpression (wholly at variance with the facts) would overspread the babyface, whereupon the beholder--Mother Carey, his sisters, the cook or thechambermaid, everybody indeed but Cousin Ann, who could never bewheedled--would cry "Angel boy!" and kiss him. He was even kissed now, though he had done nothing at all but exist and be an enchantingpersonage, which is one of the injustices of a world where a largenumber of virtuous and well-behaved people go unkissed to their graves!

"I know Joanna and Ellen will take good care of the housekeeping, "continued Mrs. Carey, "and you will be in school from nine to two, sothat the time won't go heavily. For the rest I make Nancy responsible. If she is young, you must remember that you are all younger still, and Itrust you to her. "

"The last time you did it, it didn't work very well!" And Gilbert gaveNancy a sly wink to recall a little matter of family history when therehad been a delinquency on somebody's part. 

Nancy's face crimsoned and her lips parted for a quick retort, and nonetoo pleasant a one, apparently. 

Her mother intervened quietly. "We'll never speak of 'last times, 'Gilly, or where would any of us be? We'll always think of 'next' times. I shall trust Nancy next time, and next time and next time, and keep ontrusting till I can trust her forever!"

Nancy's face lighted up with a passion of love and loyalty. Sheresponded to the touch of her mother's faith as a harp to the favoringwind, but she said nothing; she only glowed and breathed hard and puther trembling hand about her mother's neck and under her chin. 

"Now it's time! One more kiss all around. Remember you are MotherCarey's own chickens! There may be gales while I am away, but you mustride over the crests of the billows as merry as so many flying fish!Good-by! Good-by! Oh, my littlest Peter-bird, how can mother leave you?"

"I opened the lunch box to see what Ellen gave you, but I only broke offtwo teenty, weenty corners of sandwiches and one little new-moon biteout of a cookie, " said Peter, creating a diversion according tohis wont. 

Ellen and Joanna came to the front door and the children flocked downthe frozen pathway to the gate after their mother, getting a touch ofher wherever and whenever they could and jumping up and down betweenwhiles to keep warm. Gilbert closed the door of the carriage, and itturned to go down the street. One window was open, and there was a lastglimpse of the beloved face framed in the dark blue velvet bonnet, onelast wave of a hand in a brown muff. 

"Oh! she is so beautiful!" sobbed Kathleen, "her bonnet is just thecolor of her eyes; and she was crying!"

"There never was anybody like mother!" said Nancy, leaning on the gate, shivering with cold and emotion. "There never was, and there never willbe! We can try and try, Kathleen, and we _must_ try, all of us; butmother wouldn't have to try; mother must have been partly born so!"

II

THE CHICKENS

It was Captain Carey's favorite Admiral who was responsible for thephrase by which mother and children had been known for some years. TheCaptain (then a Lieutenant) had brought his friend home one Saturdayafternoon a little earlier than had been expected, and they went to findthe family in the garden. 

Laughter and the sound of voices led them to the summer-house, and asthey parted the syringa bushes they looked through them and surprisedthe charming group. 

 A throng of children like to flowers were sown About the grass beside, or climbed her knee. I looked who were that favored company. 

That is the way a poet would have described what the Admiral saw, and ifyou want to see anything truly and beautifully you must generally goto a poet. 

Mrs. Carey held Peter, then a crowing baby, in her lap. Gilbert wastickling Peter's chin with a buttercup, Nancy was putting a wreath ofleaves on her mother's hair, and Kathleen was swinging from anapple-tree bough, her yellow curls flying. 

"Might I inquire what you think of that?" asked the father. 

"Well, " the Admiral said, "mothers and children make a pretty goodpicture at any time, but I should say this one couldn't be 'beat. ' Twofor the Navy, eh?"

"All four for the Navy, perhaps, " laughed the young man. "Nancy hasalready chosen a Rear-Admiral and Kathleen a Commodore; they are modestlittle girls!"

"They do you credit, Peter!"

"I hope I've given them something, --I've tried hard enough, but they aremostly the work of the lady in the chair. Come on and say how d'ye do. "

Before many Saturdays the Admiral's lap had superseded all other placesas a gathering ground for the little Careys, whom he called thestormy petrels. 

"Mother Carey, " he explained to them, came from the Latin _mater cara_, this being not only his personal conviction, but one that had thebacking of Brewer's "Dictionary of Phrase and Fable. "

"The French call them _Les Oiseaux de Notre Dame_. That means 'The Birdsof our Lady, ' Kitty, and they are the sailors' friends. Mother Careysends them to warn seafarers of approaching storms and bids them go outall over the seas to show the good birds the way home. You'll have yourhands full if you're going to be Mother Carey's chickens. "

"I'd love to show good birds the way home!" said Gilbert. 

"Can a naughty bird show a good bird the way home, Addy?" This blandquestion came from Nancy, who had a decided talent for sarcasm, considering her years. (Of course the Admiral might have stopped thechildren from calling him Addy, but they seemed to do it because"Admiral" was difficult, and anyway they loved him so much they simplyhad to take some liberties with him. Besides, although he was thegreatest disciplinarian that ever walked a deck, he was so soft andflexible on land that he was perfectly ridiculous and delightful. )

The day when the children were christened Mother Carey's chickens wasNancy's tenth birthday, a time when the family was striving to give herher proper name, having begun wrong with her at the outset. She was thefirst, you see, and the first is something of an event, take it howyou will. 

It is obvious that at the beginning they could not address a tiny thingon a pillow as Nancy, because she was too young. She was not evenalluded to at that early date as "she, " but always as "it, " so theycalled her "baby" and let it go at that. Then there was a long periodwhen she was still too young to be called Nancy, and though, so far asage was concerned, she might properly have held on to her name of baby, she couldn't with propriety, because there was Gilbert then, and he wasbaby. Moreover, she gradually became so indescribably quaint andbewitching and comical and saucy that every one sought diminutives forher; nicknames, fond names, little names, and all sorts of words thattried to describe her charm (and couldn't), so there was Poppet andSmiles and Minx and Rogue and Midget and Ladybird and finally Nan andNannie by degrees, to soberer Nancy. 

"Nancy is ten to-day, " mused the Admiral. "Bless my soul, how timeflies! You were a young Ensign, Carey, and I well remember the letteryou wrote me when this little lass came into harbor! Just wait a minute;I believe the scrap of newspaper verse you enclosed has been in mywallet ever since. I always liked it. "

"I recall writing to you, " said Mr. Carey. "As you had lent me fivehundred dollars to be married on, I thought I ought to keep you posted!"

"Oh, father! did you have to borrow money?" cried Kathleen. 

"I did, my dear. There's no disgrace in borrowing, if you pay back, andI did. Your Uncle Allan was starting in business, and I had just put mylittle capital in with his when I met your mother. If you had met yourmother wouldn't you have wanted to marry her?"

"Yes!" cried Nancy eagerly. "Fifty of her!" At which everybody laughed. 

"And what became of the money you put in Uncle Allan's business?" askedGilbert with unexpected intelligence. 

There was a moment's embarrassment and an exchange of glances betweenmother and father before he replied, "Oh! that's coming back multipliedsix times over, one of these days, --Allan has a very promising projecton hand just now, Admiral. "

"Glad to hear it! A delightful fellow, and straight as a die. I onlywish he could perform once in a while, instead of promising. "

"He will if only he keeps his health, but he's heavily handicappedthere, poor chap. Well, what's the verse?"

The Admiral put on his glasses, prettily assisted by Kathleen, who wason his knee and seized the opportunity to give him a French kiss whenthe spectacles were safely on the bridge of his nose. Whereuponhe read:--

 "There came to port last Sunday night The queerest little craft, Without an inch of rigging on; I looked, and looked, and laughed. 

 "It seemed so curious that she Should cross the unknown water, And moor herself within my room-- My daughter, O my daughter!

 "Yet, by these presents, witness all, She's welcome fifty times, And comes consigned to Hope and Love And common metre rhymes. 

 "She has no manifest but this; No flag floats o'er the water; She's rather new for British Lloyd's-- My daughter, O my daughter!

 "Ring out, wild bells--and tame ones, too; Ring out the lover's moon, Ring in the little worsted socks, Ring in the bib and spoon. "[1]

[Footnote 1: George W. Cable. ]

"Oh, Peter, how pretty!" said Mother Carey all in a glow. "You nevershowed it to me!"

"You were too much occupied with the aforesaid 'queer little craft, 'wasn't she, Nan--I mean Nancy!" and her father pinched her ear andpulled a curly lock. 

Nancy was a lovely creature to the eye, and she came by her good looksnaturally enough. For three generations her father's family had beenknown as the handsome Careys, and when Lieutenant Carey chose MargaretGilbert for his wife, he was lucky enough to win the loveliest girl inher circle. 

Thus it was still the handsome Careys in the time of our story, for allthe children were well-favored and the general public could never decidewhether Nancy or Kathleen was the belle of the family. Kathleen had faircurls, skin like a rose, and delicate features; not a blemish to mar herexquisite prettiness! All colors became her; all hats suited her hair. She was the Carey beauty so long as Nancy remained out of sight, but themoment that young person appeared Kathleen left something to be desired. Nancy piqued; Nancy sparkled; Nancy glowed; Nancy occasionally poutedand not infrequently blazed. Nancy's eyes had to be continually searchedfor news, both of herself and of the immediate world about her. If youdid not keep looking at her every "once in so often" you couldn't keepup with the progress of events; she might flash a dozen telegrams tosomebody, about something, while your head was turned away. Kathleencould be safely left unwatched for an hour or so without fear of change;her moods were less variable, her temper evener; her interest in thepassing moment less keen, her absorption in the particular subject lessintense. Walt Whitman might have been thinking of Nancy when he wrote:--

 There was a child went forth every day And the first object he looked upon, that object he became, And that object became part of him for the day, or a certain part of the day Or for many years, or stretching cycles of years. 

Kathleen's nature needed to be stirred, Nancy's to be controlled, theimpulse coming from within, the only way that counts in the end, thoughthe guiding force may be applied from without. 

Nancy was more impulsive than industrious, more generous than wise, moreplucky than prudent; she had none too much perseverance and nopatience at all. 

Gilbert was a fiery youth of twelve, all for adventure. He kindledquickly, but did not burn long, so deeds of daring would be in his line;instantaneous ones, quickly settled, leaving the victor with a swellingchest and a feather in cap; rather an obvious feather suitedGilbert best. 

Peter? Oh! Peter, aged four, can be dismissed in very few words as aconsummate charmer and heart-breaker. The usual elements that go to themaking of a small boy were all there, but mixed with white magic. It ispainful to think of the dozens of girl babies in long clothes who musthave been feeling premonitory pangs when Peter was four, to think theycouldn't all marry him when they grew up!

III

THE COMMON DENOMINATOR

Three weeks had gone by since Mother Carey's departure for FortressMonroe, and the children had mounted from one moral triumph to another. John Bunyan, looking in at the windows, might have exclaimed:--

 Who would true valor see Let him come hither. 

It is easy to go wrong in a wicked world, but there are certaincircumstances under which one is pledged to virtue; when, like a knightof the olden time, you wear your motto next your heart and fight forit, --"Death rather than defeat!" "We are able because we think we areable!" "Follow honor!" and the like. These sentiments look beautifullyas class mottoes on summer graduation programmes, but some of them, apparently, disappear from circulation before cold weather sets in. 

It is difficult to do right, we repeat, but not when mother is away fromus for the first time since we were born; not when she who is the verysun of home is shining elsewhere, and we are groping in the dim lightwithout her, only remembering her last words and our last promises. Notdifficult when we think of the eyes the color of the blue velvet bonnet, and the tears falling from them. They are hundreds of miles away, but wesee them looking at us a dozen times a day and the last thing at night. 

Not difficult when we think of father; gay, gallant father, desperatelyill and mother nursing him; father, with the kind smile and the jollylittle sparkles of fun in his eyes; father, tall and broad-shouldered, splendid as the gods, in full uniform; father, so brave that if a navalbattle ever did come his way, he would demolish the foe in an instant;father, with a warm strong hand clasping ours on high days and holidays, taking us on great expeditions where we see life at its best and tasteincredible joys. 

The most quarrelsome family, if the house burns down over their heads, will stop disputing until the emergency is over and they get under a newroof. Somehow, in times of great trial, calamity, sorrow, thedifferences that separate people are forgotten. Isn't it rather like theprocess in mathematics where we reduce fractions to a commondenominator?

It was no time for anything but superior behavior in the Careyhousehold; that was distinctly felt from kitchen to nursery. Ellen thecook was tidier, Joanna the second maid more amiable. Nancy, who was"responsible, " rose earlier than the rest and went to bed later, afterlocking doors and windows that had been left unlocked since the flood. "I am responsible, " she said three or four times each day, to herself, and, it is to be feared, to others! Her heavenly patience in dressingPeter every few hours without comment struck the most callous observeras admirable. Peter never remembered that he had any clothes on. Hemight have been a real stormy petrel, breasting the billows in hisbirthday suit and expecting his feathers to be dried when and how theLord pleased. He comported himself in the presence of dust, mud, water, liquid refreshment, and sticky substances, exactly as if clean whitesailor suits grew on every bush and could be renewed at pleasure. 

Even Gilbert was moved to spontaneous admiration and respect at thesight of Nancy's zeal. "Nobody would know you, Nancy; it is simplywonderful, and I only wish it could last, " he said. Even this style ofencomium was received sweetly, though there had been moments in herprevious history when Nancy would have retorted in a very pointedmanner. When she was "responsible, " not even had he gone the length ofcalling Nancy an unspeakable pig, would she have said anything. She hada blissful consciousness that, had she been examined, indications ofangelic wings, and not bristles, would have been discovered underher blouse. 

Gilbert, by the way, never suspected that the masters in his own schoolwondered whether he had experienced religion or was working on some sortof boyish wager. He took his two weekly reports home cautiously for fearthat they might break on the way, pasted them on large pieces of paper, and framed them in elaborate red, white, and blue stars united by stripsof gold paper. How Captain and Mrs. Carey laughed and cried over thischaracteristic message when it reached them! "Oh! they _are_ darlings, "Mother Carey cried. "Of course they are, " the Captain murmured feebly. "Why shouldn't they be, considering you?"

"It is really just as easy to do right as wrong, Kathleen, " said Nancywhen the girls were going to bed one night. 

"Ye-es!" assented Kathleen with some reservations in her tone, for shewas more judicial and logical than her sister. "But you have to keepyour mind on it so, and never relax a single bit! Then it's lots easierfor a few weeks than it is for long stretches!"

"That's true, " agreed Nancy; "it would be hard to keep it up forever. And you have to love somebody or something like fury every minute or youcan't do it at all. How do the people manage that can't love like that, or haven't anybody to love?"

"I don't know. " said Kathleen sleepily. "I'm so worn out with beinggood, that every night I just say my prayers and tumble into bedexhausted. Last night I fell asleep praying, I honestly did!"

"Tell that to the marines!" remarked Nancy incredulously. 

IV

THE BROKEN CIRCLE

The three weeks were running into a month now, and virtue still reignedin the Carey household. But things were different. Everybody but Petersaw the difference. Peter dwelt from morn till eve in that Land of PureDelight which is ignorance of death. The children no longer bounded tomeet the postman, but waited till Joanna brought in the mail. Steadily, daily, the letters changed in tone. First they tried to be cheerful;later on they spoke of trusting that the worst was past; then of hopingthat father was holding his own. "Oh! if he was holding _all_ his own, "sobbed Nancy. "If we were only there with him, helping mother!"

Ellen said to Joanna one morning in the kitchen: "It's my belief theCaptain's not going to get well, and I'd like to go to Newburyport tosee my cousin and not be in the house when the children's told!" AndJoanna said, "Shame on you not to stand by 'em in their hour oftrouble!" At which Ellen quailed and confessed herself a coward. 

Finally came a day never to be forgotten; a day that swept all theformer days clean out of memory, as a great wave engulfs all the littleones in its path; a day when, Uncle Allan being too ill to travel, Cousin Ann, of all people in the universe, --Cousin Ann came to bring theterrible news that Captain Carey was dead. 

Never think that Cousin Ann did not suffer and sympathize and do herrocky best to comfort; she did indeed, but she was thankful that hertask was of brief duration. Mrs. Carey knew how it would be, and hadplanned all so that she herself could arrive not long after the blow hadfallen. Peter, by his mother's orders (she had thought of everything)was at a neighbor's house, the centre of all interest, the focus of allgayety. He was too young to see the tears of his elders with any profit;baby plants grow best in sunshine. The others were huddled together in asad group at the front window, eyes swollen, handkerchiefs rolled intodrenched, pathetic little wads. 

Cousin Ann came in from the dining room with a tumbler and spoon in herhand. "See here, children!" she said bracingly, "you've been crying forthe last twelve hours without stopping, and I don't blame you a mite. IfI was the crying kind I'd do the same thing. Now do you think you've gotgrit enough--all three of you--to bear up for your mother's sake, whenshe first comes in? I've mixed you each a good dose of aromatic spiritsof ammonia, and it's splendid for the nerves. Your mother must get anight's sleep somehow, and when she gets back a little of her strengthyou'll be the greatest comfort she has in the world. The way you'recarrying on now you'll be the death of her!"

It was a good idea, and the dose had courage in it. Gilbert took thefirst sip, Kathleen the second, and Nancy the third, and hardly had thelast swallow disappeared down the poor aching throats before a carriagedrove up to the gate. Some one got out and handed out Mrs. Carey whosestep used to be lighter than Nancy's. A strange gentleman, oh! not astranger, it was the dear Admiral helping mother up the path. They hadbeen unconsciously expecting the brown muff and blue velvet bonnet, butthese had vanished, like father, and all the beautiful things of thepast years, and in their place was black raiment that chilled theirhearts. But the black figure had flung back the veil that hid her fromthe longing eyes of the children, and when she raised her face it wasfull of the old love. She was grief-stricken and she was pale, but shewas mother, and the three young things tore open the door and claspedher in their arms, sobbing, choking, whispering all sorts of tendercomfort, their childish tears falling like healing dew on her poorheart. The Admiral soothed and quieted them each in turn, all but Nancy. Cousin Ann's medicine was of no avail, and strangling with sobs Nancyfled to the attic until she was strong enough to say "for mother's sake"without a quiver in her voice. Then she crept down, and as she passedher mother's room on tiptoe she looked in and saw that the chair by thewindow, the chair that had been vacant for a month, was filled, and thatthe black-clad figure was what was left to them; a strange, sad, quietmother, who had lost part of herself somewhere, --the gay part, thecheerful part, the part that made her so piquantly and entrancinglydifferent from other women. Nancy stole in softly and put her youngsmooth cheek against her mother's, quietly stroking her hair. "There arefour of us to love you and take care of you, " she said. "It isn't quiteso bad as if there was nobody!"

Mrs. Carey clasped her close. "Oh! my Nancy! my first, my oldest, Godwill help me, I know that, but just now I need somebody close and warmand soft; somebody with arms to hold and breath to speak and lips tokiss! I ought not to sadden you, nor lean on you, you are too young, --but I must a little, just at the first. You see, dear, you come nextto father!"

"Next to father!" Nancy's life was set to a new tune from that moment. Here was her spur, her creed; the incentive, the inspiration she hadlacked. She did not suddenly grow older than her years, but simply, inthe twinkling of an eye, came to a realization of herself, heropportunity, her privilege, her duty; the face of life had changed, andNancy changed with it. 

"Do you love me next to mother?" the Admiral had asked coaxingly oncewhen Nancy was eight and on his lap as usual. 

"Oh dear no!" said Nancy thoughtfully, shaking her head. 

"Why, that's rather a blow to me, " the Admiral exclaimed, pinching anear and pulling a curl. "I flattered myself that when I was on my bestbehavior I came next to mother. "

"It's this way, Addy dear, " said Nancy, cuddling up to his waistcoat andgiving a sigh of delight that there were so many nice people in theworld. "It's just this way. First there's mother, and then all roundmother there's a wide, wide space; and then father and you come nextthe space. "

The Admiral smiled; a grave, lovely smile that often crept into his eyeswhen he held Mother Carey's chickens on his knee. He kissed Nancy on thelittle white spot behind the ear where the brown hair curled in tinyrings like grape tendrils, soft as silk and delicate as pencil strokes. He said nothing, but his boyish dreams were in the kiss, and certainhopes of manhood that had never been realized. He was thinking thatMargaret Gilbert was a fortunate and happy woman to have become MotherCarey; such a mother, too, that all about her was a wide, wide space, and next the space, the rest of the world, nearer or farther accordingto their merits. He wondered if motherhood ought not to be like that, and he thought if it were it would be a great help to God. 

V

HOW ABOUT JULIA?

We often speak of a family circle, but there are none too many of them. Parallel lines never meeting, squares, triangles, oblongs, andparticularly those oblongs pulled askew, known as rhomboids, these andother geometrical figures abound, but circles are comparatively few. Ina true family circle a father and a mother first clasp each other'shands, liking well to be thus clasped; then they stretch out a hand oneither side, and these are speedily grasped by children, who hold oneanother firmly, and complete the ring. One child is better than nothing, a great deal better than nothing; it is at least an effort in the rightdirection, but the circle that ensues is not, even then, a truly niceshape. You can stand as handsomely as ever you like, but it simply won't"come round. " The minute that two, three, four, five, join in, the"roundness" grows, and the merriment too, and the laughter, and thepower to do things. (Responsibility and care also, but what is the useof discouraging circles when there are not enough of them anyway?)

The Carey family circle had been round and complete, with love andharmony between all its component parts. In family rhomboids, forinstance, mother loves the children and father does not, or father does, but does not love mother, or father and mother love each other and thechildren do not get their share; it is impossible to enumerate all thelittle geometrical peculiarities which keep a rhomboid from being acircle, but one person can just "stand out" enough to spoil the shape, or put hands behind back and refuse to join at all. About the ugliestthing in the universe is that non-joining habit! You would think thatanybody, however dull, might consider his hands, and guess by the lookof them that they must be made to work, and help, and take hold ofsomebody else's hands! Miserable, useless, flabby paws, those of thenon-joiner; that he feeds and dresses himself with, and then hangs tohis selfish sides, or puts behind his beastly back!

When Captain Carey went on his long journey into the unknown anduncharted land, the rest of the Careys tried in vain for a few months tobe still a family, and did not succeed at all. They clung as closely toone another as ever they could, but there was always a gap in the circlewhere father had been. Some men, silent, unresponsive, absent-minded andespecially absorbed in business, might drop out and not be missed, butCaptain Carey was full of vitality, warmth, and high spirits. It isstrange so many men think that the possession of a child makes them afather; it does not; but it is a curious and very generalmisapprehension. Captain Carey was a boy with his boys, and a gallantlover with his girls; to his wife--oh! we will not even touch upon thatground; she never did, to any one or anything but her own heart! Such anone could never disappear from memory, such a loss could never be madewholly good. The only thing to do was to remember father's pride andjustify it, to recall his care for mother and take his place so far asmight be; the only thing for all, as the months went on, was to be whatmother called the three b's, --brave, bright, and busy. 

To be the last was by far the easiest, for the earliest effort ateconomy had been the reluctant dismissal of Joanna, the chambermaid. Inold-fashioned novels the devoted servant always insisted on remainingwithout wages, but this story concerns itself with life at a later date. Joanna wept at the thought of leaving, but she never thought of theromantic and illogical expedient of staying on without compensation. 

Captain Carey's salary had been five thousand dollars, or rather was tohave been, for he had only attained his promotion three months beforehis death. There would have been an extra five hundred dollars a yearwhen he was at sea, and on the strength of this addition to their formerincome he intended to increase the amount of his life insurance, but ithad not yet been done when the sudden illness seized him, an illnessthat began so gently and innocently and terminated with such sudden andunexpected fatality. 

The life insurance, such as it was, must be put into the bank foremergencies. Mrs. Carey realized that that was the only proper thing todo when there were four children under fifteen to be considered. Thepressing question, however, was how to keep it in the bank, and subsiston a captain's pension of thirty dollars a month. There was the tenthousand, hers and the Captain's, in Allan Carey's business, but Allanwas seriously ill with nervous prostration, and no money put into hisbusiness ever had come out, even in a modified form. The Admiral was atthe other end of the world, and even had he been near at hand Mrs. Careywould never have confided the family difficulties to him. She couldhardly have allowed him even to tide her over her immediate pressinganxieties, remembering his invalid sister and his many responsibilities. No, the years until Gilbert was able to help, or Nancy old enough to useher talents, or the years before the money invested with Allan wouldbring dividends, those must be years of self-sacrifice on everybody'spart; and more even than that, they must be fruitful years, in which notmere saving and economizing, but earning, would be necessary. 

It was only lately that Mrs. Carey had talked over matters with thethree eldest children, but the present house was too expensive to belonger possible as a home, and the question of moving was a matter ofgeneral concern. Joanna had been, up to the present moment, the onlyeconomy, but alas! Joanna was but a drop in the necessary bucket. 

On a certain morning in March Mrs. Carey sat in her room with a letterin her lap, the children surrounding her. It was from Mr. Manson, AllanCarey's younger partner; the sort of letter that dazed her, opening upas it did so many questions of expediency, duty, and responsibility. Thegist of it was this: that Allan Carey was a broken man in mind and body;that both for the climate and for treatment he was to be sent to a restcure in the Adirondacks; that sometime or other, in Mr. Manson'sopinion, the firm's investments might be profitable if kept long enough, and there was no difficulty in keeping them, for nobody in the universewanted them at the present moment; that Allan's little daughter Juliahad no source of income whatever after her father's monthly bills werepaid, and that her only relative outside of the Careys, a certain MissAnn Chadwick, had refused to admit her into her house. "Mr. Carey onlyasked Miss Chadwick as a last resort, " wrote Mr. Manson, "for his verysoul quailed at the thought of letting you, his brother's widow, sufferany more by his losses than was necessary, and he studiously refused tolet you know the nature and extent of his need. Miss Chadwick's onlyresponse to his request was, that she believed in every tub standing onits own bottom, and if he had harbored the same convictions he would nothave been in his present extremity. I am telling you this, my dear Mrs. Carey, " the writer went on, "just to get your advice about the child. Iwell know that your income will not support your own children; whattherefore shall we do with Julia? I am a poor young bachelor, with twosisters to support. I shall find a position, of course, and I shallnever cease nursing Carey's various affairs and projects during the timeof his exile, but I cannot assume an ounce more of financialresponsibility. "

There had been quite a council over the letter, and parts of it had beenread more than once by Mrs. Carey, but the children, though verysympathetic with Uncle Allan and loud in their exclamations of "PoorJulia!" had not suggested any remedy for the situation. 

"Well, " said Mrs. Carey, folding the letter, "there seems to be but onething for us to do. "

"Do you mean that you are going to have Julia come and live with us, --beone of the family?" exclaimed Gilbert. 

"That is what I want to discuss, " she replied. "You three are the familyas well as I. --Come in!" she called, for she heard the swift feet of theyoungest petrel ascending the stairs. "Come in! Where is there a sweeterPeter, a fleeter Peter, a neater Peter, than ours, I should like toknow, and where a better adviser for the council?"

"_Neater_, mother! How _can_ you?" inquired Kathleen. 

"I meant neater when he is just washed and dressed, " retorted Peter'smother. "Are you coming to the family council, sweet Pete?"

Peter climbed on his mother's knee and answered by a vague affirmativenod, his whole mind being on the extraction of a slippery marble from along-necked bottle. 

"Then be quiet, and speak only when we ask your advice, " continued Mrs. Carey. "Unless I were obliged to, children, I should be sorry to goagainst all your wishes. I might be willing to bear my share of aburden, but more is needed than that. "

"I think, " said Nancy suddenly, aware now of the trend of her mother'ssecret convictions, "I think Julia is a smug, conceited, vain, affectedlittle pea--" Here she caught her mother's eye and suddenly she heardinside of her head or heart or conscience a chime of words. "_Next tofather_!" Making a magnificent oratorical leap she finished her sentencewith only a second's break, --"peacock, but if mother thinks Julia is aduty, a duty she is, and we must brace up and do her. Must we love her, mother, or can we just be good and polite to her, giving her the breastand taking the drumstick? _She_ won't ever say, '_Don't let me robyou_!' like Cousin Ann, when _she_ takes the breast!"

Kathleen looked distinctly unresigned. She hated drumsticks and all thatthey stood for in life. She disliked the wall side of the bed, themiddle seat in the carriage, the heel of the loaf, the underdonebiscuit, the tail part of the fish, the scorched end of the omelet. "Itwill make more difference to me than anybody, " she said gloomily. 

"Everything makes more difference to you, Kitty, " remarked Gilbert. 

"I mean I'm always fourth when the cake plate's passed, --in everything!Now Julia'll be fourth, and I shall be fifth; it's lucky people can'ttumble off the floor!"

"Poor abused Kathleen!" cried Gilbert. "Well, mother, you're alwaysright, but I can't see why you take another one into the family, whenwe've been saying for a week there isn't even enough for us five to liveon. It looks mighty queer to put me in the public school and spend themoney you save that way, on Julia!"

Way down deep in her heart Mother Carey felt a pang. There was a littleseed of hard self-love in Gilbert that she wanted him to dig up from thesoil and get rid of before it sprouted and waxed too strong. 

"Julia is a Carey chicken after all, Gilbert, " she said. 

"But she's Uncle Allan's chicken, and I'm Captain Carey's eldest son. "

"That's the very note I should strike if I were you, " his motherresponded, "only with a little different accent. What would CaptainCarey's eldest son like to do for his only cousin, a little girl youngerthan himself, --a girl who had a very silly, unwise, unhappy mother forthe first five years of her life, and who is now practically fatherless, for a time at least?"

Gilbert wriggled as if in great moral discomfort, as indeed he was. "Well, " he said, "I don't want to be selfish, and if the girls say yes, I'll have to fall in; but it isn't logic, all the same, to ask a sixthto share what isn't enough for five. "

"I agree with you there, Gilly!" smiled his mother. "The only questionbefore the council is, does logic belong at the top, in the scale ofreasons why we do certain things? If we ask Julia to come, she will haveto 'fall into line, ' as you say, and share the family misfortunes asbest she can. "

"She's a regular shirk, and always was. " This from Kathleen. 

"She would never come at all if she guessed her cousins' opinion of her, that is very certain!" remarked Mrs. Carey pointedly. 

"Now, mother, look me in the eye and speak the whole truth, " askedNancy. "_Do you like Julia Carey_?"

Mrs. Carey laughed as she answered, "Frankly then, I do not! But, " shecontinued, "I do not like several of the remarks that have been made atthis council, yet I manage to bear them. "

"Of course I shan't call Julia smug and conceited to her face, " assertedNancy encouragingly. "I hope that her bosom friend Gladys Ferguson hasdisappeared from view. The last time Julia visited us, Kitty and I gotso tired of Gladys Ferguson's dresses, her French maid, her bedroomfurniture, and her travels abroad, that we wrote her name on a piece ofpaper, put it in a box, and buried it in the back yard the minute Julialeft the house. When you write, mother, tell Julia there's a piece ofbreast for her, but not a mouthful of my drumstick goes to GladysFerguson. "

"The more the hungrier; better invite Gladys too, " suggested Gilbert, "then we can say like that simple little kid in Wordsworth:--

 "'Sisters and brother, little maid, How many may you be?' 'How many? Seven in all, ' she said, And wondering looked at me!"

"Then it goes on thus, " laughed Nancy:--

 "'And who are they? I pray you tell. ' She answered, 'Seven are we; Mother with us makes five, and then There's Gladys and Julee!'"

Everybody joined in the laugh then, including Peter, who was especiallyuproarious, and who had an idea he had made the joke himself, else whydid they all kiss him?

"How about Julia? What do you say, Peter?" asked his mother. 

"I want her. She played horse once, " said Peter. The opinion that theearth revolved around his one small person was natural at the age offour, but the same idea of the universe still existed in Gilbert's mind. A boy of thirteen ought perhaps to have a clearer idea of the relativesizes of world and individual; at least that was the conviction inMother Carey's mind. 

VI

NANCY'S IDEA

Nancy had a great many ideas, first and last. They were generally uniqueand interesting at least, though it is to be feared that few of themwere practical. However, it was Nancy's idea to build Peter a playhousein the plot of ground at the back of the Charlestown house, and it wasshe who was the architect and head carpenter. That plan had brought muchhappiness to Peter and much comfort to the family. It was Nancy's ideathat she, Gilbert, and Kathleen should all be so equally polite toCousin Ann Chadwick that there should be no favorite to receive an undueshare of invitations to the Chadwick house. Nancy had made two visits insuccession, both offered in the nature of tributes to her charms andvirtues, and she did not wish a third. 

"If you two can't be _more_ attractive, then I'll be _less_, that'sall, " was her edict. "'Turn and turn about' has got to be the rule inthis matter. I'm not going to wear the martyr's crown alone; it willadorn your young brows every now and then or I'll know the reason why!"

It was Nancy's idea to let Joanna go, and divide her work among thevarious members of the family. It was also Nancy's idea that, therebeing no strictly masculine bit of martyrdom to give to Gilbert, heshould polish the silver for his share. This was an idea that proved sounpopular with Gilbert that it was speedily relinquished. Gilbert waswonderful with tools, so wonderful that Mother Carey feared he would bea carpenter instead of the commander of a great war ship; but thereseemed to be no odd jobs to offer him. There came a day when even Peterrealized that life was real and life was earnest. When the floor wasstrewn with playthings his habit had been to stand amid the wreckage andsmile, whereupon Joanna would fly and restore everything to itsaccustomed place. After the passing of Joanna, Mother Carey sat placidlyin her chair in the nursery and Peter stood ankle deep among histoys, smiling. 

"Now put everything where it belongs, sweet Pete, " said mother. 

"You do it, " smiled Peter. 

"I am very busy darning your stockings, Peter. "

"I don't like to pick up, Muddy. "

"No, it isn't much fun, but it has to be done. "

Peter went over to the window and gazed at the landscape. "I dess I'llgo play with Ellen, " he remarked in honeyed tones. 

"That would be nice, after you clear away your toys and blocks. "

"I dess I'll play with Ellen first, " suggested Peter, starting slowlytowards the door. 

"No, we always work first and play afterwards!" said mother, going ondarning. 

Peter felt caught in a net of irresistible and pitiless logic. 

"Come and help me, Muddy?" he coaxed, and as she looked up he suddenlylet fly all his armory of weapons at once, --two dimples, tossing back ofcurls, parted lips, tiny white teeth, sweet voice. 

Mother Carey's impulse was to cast herself on the floor and request himsimply to smile on her and she would do his lightest bidding, butcontrolling her secret desires she answered: "I would help if you neededme, but you don't. You're a great big boy now!"

"I'm not a great big boy!" cried Peter, "I'm only a great big littleboy!"

"Don't waste time, sweet Pete; go to work!"

"_I want Joanna_!" roared Peter with the voice of an infant bull. 

"So we all do. It's because she had to go that I'm darning stockings. "

The net tightened round Peter's defenceless body and he hurled himselfagainst his rocking, horse and dragged it brutally to a corner. Havingdisposed of most of his strength and temper in this operation, he putaway the rest of his goods and chattels more quietly, but with streamingeyes and heaving bosom. 

"Splendid!" commented Mother Carey. "Joanna couldn't have done itbetter, and it won't be half so much work next time. " Peter heard thewords "next time" distinctly, and knew the grim face of Duty at last, though he was less than five. 

The second and far more tragic time was when he was requested to makehimself ready for luncheon, --Kathleen to stand near and help "a little"if really necessary. Now Peter _au fond_ was absolutely clean. Frenchphrases are detestable where there is any English equivalent, but inthis case there is none, so I will explain to the youngest reader--whomay speak only one language--that the base of Peter was always clean. Hereceived one full bath and several partial ones in every twenty-fourhours, but su-per-im-posed on this base were evidences of his eternalactivities, and indeed of other people's! They were divided into threeclasses, --those contracted in the society of Joanna when she took himout-of-doors: such as sand, water, mud, grass stains, paint, lime, putty, or varnish; those derived from visits to his sisters at theiroccupations: such as ink, paints, lead pencils, paste, glue, andmucilage; those amassed in his stays with Ellen in the kitchen: sugar, molasses, spice, pudding sauce, black currants, raisins, dough, berrystains (assorted, according to season), chocolate, jelly, jam, andpreserves; these deposits were not deep, but were simply dabs on thefacade of Peter, and through them the eyes and soul of him shone, delicious and radiant. They could be rubbed off with a moisthandkerchief if water were handy, and otherwise if it were not, and theperson who rubbed always wanted for some mysterious reason to kiss himimmediately afterwards, for Peter had the largest kissing acquaintancein Charlestown. 

When Peter had scrubbed the parts of him that showed most, and hadperformed what he considered his whole duty to his hair, he appeared forthe first time at the family table in such a guise that if the childrenhad not been warned they would have gone into hysterics, but hegradually grew to be proud of his toilets and careful that they shouldnot occur too often in the same day, since it appeared to be the familyopinion that he should make them himself. 

There was a tacit feeling, not always expressed, that Nancy, aftermother, held the reins of authority, and also that she was a person ofinfinite resource. The Gloom-Dispeller had been her father's name forher, but he had never thought of her as a Path-Finder, a gallantadventurer into unknown and untried regions, because there had beensmall opportunity to test her courage or her ingenuity. 

Mrs. Carey often found herself leaning on Nancy nowadays; not as a deadweight, but with just the hint of need, just the suggestion ofconfidence, that youth and strength and buoyancy respond to so gladly. It had been decided that the house should be vacated as soon as a tenantcould be found, but the "what next" had not been settled. Julia hadconfirmed Nancy's worst fears by accepting her aunt's offer of a home, but had requested time to make Gladys Ferguson a short visit at PalmBeach, all expenses being borne by the Parents of Gladys. This estimablelady and gentleman had no other names or titles and were never spoken ofas if they had any separate existence. They had lived and loved andmarried and accumulated vast wealth, and borne Gladys. After that theyhad sunk into the background and Gladys had taken the stage. 

"I'm sure I'm glad she is going to the Fergusons, " exclaimed Kathleen. "One month less of her!"

"Yes, " Nancy replied, "but she'll be much worse, more spoiled, morevain, more luxurious than before. She'll want a gold chicken breast now. We've just packed away the finger bowls; but out they'll have tocome again. "

"Let her wash her own finger bowl a few days and she'll clamor for thesimple life, " said Kathleen shrewdly. "Oh, what a relief if theFergusons would adopt Julia, just to keep Gladys company!"

"Nobody would ever adopt Julia, " returned Nancy. "If she was yours youcouldn't help it; you'd just take her 'to the Lord in prayer, ' as theSunday-school hymn says, but you'd never go out and adopt her. "

Matters were in this uncertain and unsettled state when Nancy came intoher mother's room one evening when the rest of the house was asleep. 

"I saw your light, so I knew you were reading, Muddy. I've had such abright idea I couldn't rest. "

"Muddy" is not an attractive name unless you happen to know its truederivation and significance. First there was "mother dear, " and aspersons under fifteen are always pressed for time and uniformlybreathless, this appellation was shortened to "Motherdy, " and Peterbeing unable to struggle with that term, had abbreviated it into"Muddy. " "Muddy" in itself is undistinguished and even unpleasant, butwhen accompanied by a close strangling hug, pats on the cheek, andardent if somewhat sticky kisses, grows by degrees to possess delightfulassociations. Mother Carey enjoyed it so much from Peter that she evenpermitted it to be taken up by the elder children. 

"You mustn't have ideas after nine P. M. , Nancy!" chided her mother. "Wrap the blue blanket around you and sit down with me near the fire. "

"You're not to say I'm romantic or unpractical, " insisted Nancy, leaningagainst her mother's knees and looking up into her face, --"indeed, you're not to say anything of any importance till I'm all finished. I'mgoing to tell it in a long story, too, so as to work on your feelingsand make you say yes. "

"Very well, I'm all ears!"

"Now put on your thinking cap! Do you remember once, years and yearsago, before Peter it was, that father took us on a driving trip throughsome dear little villages in Maine?"

(The Careys never dated their happenings eighteen hundred and anything. It was always: Just before Peter, Immediately after Peter, or A LongTime after Peter, which answered all purposes. )

"I remember. "

"It was one of Gilbert's thirsty days, and we stopped at nearly everyconvenient pump to give him drinks of water, and at noon we came to theloveliest wayside well with a real moss-covered bucket; do youremember?"

"I remember. "

"And we all clambered out, and father said it was time for luncheon, andwe unpacked the baskets on the greensward near a beautiful tree, andfather said, 'Don't spread the table too near the house, dears, orthey'll cry when they see our doughnuts!' and Kitty, who had beenrunning about, came up and cried, 'It's an empty house; come and look!'"

"I remember. "

"And we all went in the gate and loved every bit of it: the stone steps, the hollyhocks growing under the windows, the yellow paint and the greenblinds; and father looked in the windows, and the rooms were large andsunny, and we wanted to drive the horse into the barn and staythere forever!"

"I remember. "

"And Gilbert tore his trousers climbing on the gate, and father laid himupside down on your lap and I ran and got your work-bag and you mendedthe seat of his little trousers. And father looked and looked at thehouse and said, 'Bless its heart!' and said if he were rich he would buythe dear thing that afternoon and sleep in it that night; and asked youif you didn't wish you'd married the other man, and you said there neverwas another man, and you asked father if he thought on the whole that hewas the poorest man in the world, and father said no, the very richest, and he kissed us all round, do you remember?"

"Do I remember? O Nancy, Nancy! What do you think I am made of that Icould ever forget?"

"Don't cry, Muddy darling, don't! It was so beautiful, and we have somany things like that to remember. "

"Yes, " said Mrs. Carey, "I know it. Part of my tears are grateful onesthat none of you can ever recall an unloving word between your fatherand mother!"

"The idea, " said Nancy suddenly and briefly, "is to go and live in thatdarling house!"

"Nancy! What for?"

"We've got to leave this place, and where could we live on less than inthat tiny village? It had a beautiful white-painted academy, don't youremember, so we could go to school there, --Kathleen and I anyway, ifyou could get enough money to keep Gilly at Eastover. "

"Of course I've thought of the country, but that far-away spot neveroccurred to me. What was its quaint little name, --Mizpah or Shiloh orDeborah or something like that?"

"It was Beulah, " said Nancy; "and father thought it exactly matched theplace!"

"We even named the house, " recalled Mother Carey with a tearful smile. "There were vegetables growing behind it, and flowers in front, and yourfather suggested Garden Fore-and-Aft and I chose Happy Half-Acre, butfather thought the fields that stretched back of the vegetable gardenmight belong to the place, and if so there would be far more than ahalf-acre of land. "

"And do you remember father said he wished we could do something tothank the house for our happy hour, and I thought of the little box ofplants we had bought at a wayside nursery?"

"Oh! I do indeed! I hadn't thought of it for years! Father and youplanted a tiny crimson rambler at the corner of the piazza at the side. "

"Do you suppose it ever 'rambled, ' Muddy? Because it would be ever sohigh now, and full of roses in summer. "

"I wonder!" mused Mother Carey. "Oh! it was a sweet, tranquil, restfulplace! I wonder how we could find out about it? It seems impossible thatit should not have been rented or sold before this. Let me see, that wasfive years ago. "

"There was a nice old gentleman farther down the street, quite in thevillage, somebody who had known father when he was a boy. "

"So there was; he had a quaint little law office not much larger thanPeter's playhouse. Perhaps we could find him. He was very, very old. Hemay not be alive, and I cannot remember his name. "

"Father called him 'Colonel, ' I know that. Oh, how I wish dear Addy washere to help us!"

"If he were he would want to help us too much! We must learn to bear ourown burdens. They won't seem so strange and heavy when we are more usedto them. Now go to bed, dear. We'll think of Beulah, you and I; andperhaps, as we have been all adrift, waiting for a wind to stir oursails, 'Nancy's idea' will be the thing to start us on our new voyage. Beulah means land of promise;--that's a good omen!"

"And father found Beulah; and father found the house, and father blessedit and loved it and named it; that makes ever so many more good omens, more than enough to start housekeeping on, " Nancy answered, kissing hermother goodnight. 

VII

"OLD BEASTS INTO NEW"

Mother Carey went to sleep that night in greater peace than she had feltfor months. It had seemed to her, all these last sad weeks, as thoughshe and her brood had been breasting stormy waters with no harbor insight. There were friends in plenty here and there, but no kith and kin, and the problems to be settled were graver and more complex thanordinary friendship could untangle, vexed as it always was by its ownproblems. She had but one keen desire: to go to some quiet place wheretemptations for spending money would be as few as possible, and therelive for three or four years, putting her heart and mind and soul onfitting the children for life. If she could keep strength enough toguide and guard, train and develop them into happy, useful, agreeablehuman beings, --masters of their own powers; wise and discreet enough, when years of discretion were reached, to choose right paths, --that, sheconceived, was her chief task in life, and no easy one. "Happy I mustcontrive that they shall be, " she thought, "for unhappiness anddiscontent are among the foxes that spoil the vines. Stupid they shallnot be, while I can think of any force to stir their brains; they haveordinary intelligence, all of them, and they shall learn to use it; dulland sleepy children I can't abide. Fairly good they will be, if they arebusy and happy, and clever enough to see the folly of being anything_but_ good! And so, month after month, for many years to come, I must behelping Nancy and Kathleen to be the right sort of women, and wives, andmothers, and Gilbert and Peter the proper kind of men, and husbands, andfathers. Mother Carey's chickens must be able to show the good birds theway home, as the Admiral said, and I should think they ought to be ableto set a few bad birds on the right track now and then!"

Well, all this would be a task to frighten and stagger many a person, but it only kindled Mrs. Carey's love and courage to a white heat. 

Do you remember where Kingsley's redoubtable Tom the Water Baby swimspast Shiny Wall, and reaches at last Peacepool? Peacepool, where thegood whales lie, waiting till Mother Carey shall send for them "to makethem out of old beasts into new"?

Tom swims up to the nearest whale and asks the way to Mother Carey. 

"There she is in the middle, " says the whale, though Tom sees nothingbut a glittering white peak like an iceberg. "That's Mother Carey, "spouts the whale, "as you will find if you get to her. There she sitsmaking old beasts into new all the year round. "

"How does she do that?" asks Tom. 

"That's her concern, not mine!" the whale remarks discreetly. 

And when Tom came nearer to the white glittering peak it took the formof something like a lovely woman sitting on a white marble throne. Andfrom the foot of the throne, you remember, there swam away, out and outinto the sea, millions of new-born creatures of more shapes and colorsthan man ever dreamed. And they were Mother Carey's children whom shemakes all day long. 

Tom expected, --I am still telling you what happened to the famous waterbaby, --Tom expected (like some grown people who ought to know better)that he would find Mother Carey snipping, piecing, fitting, stitching, cobbling, basting, filing, planing, hammering, turning, polishing, moulding, measuring, chiselling, clipping, and so forth, as men do whenthey go to work to make anything. But instead of that she sat quitestill with her chin upon her hand, looking down into the sea with twogreat blue eyes as blue as the sea itself. (As blue as our own mother'sblue velvet bonnet, Kitty would have said. )

Was Beulah the right place, wondered Mrs. Carey as she dropped asleep. And all night long she heard in dreams the voice of that shining littleriver that ran under the bridge near Beulah village; and all night longshe walked in fields of buttercups and daisies, and saw the June breezeblow the tall grasses. She entered the yellow painted house and put thechildren to bed in the different rooms, and the instant she saw themsleeping there it became home, and her heart put out little roots thatwere like tendrils; but they grew so fast that by morning they held theyellow house fast and refused to let it go. 

She looked from its windows onto the gardens "fore and aft, " and theyseemed, like the rest of little Beulah village, full of sweet promise. In the back were all sorts of good things to eat growing in profusion, but modestly out of sight; and in front, where passers-by could seetheir beauty and sniff their fragrance, old-fashioned posies bloomed andrioted and tossed gay, perfumed heads in the sunshine. 

She awoke refreshed and strong and brave, not the same woman who tookNancy's idea to bed with her; for this woman's heart and hope hadsomehow flown from the brick house in Charlestown and had built itself anew nest in Beulah's green trees, the elms and willows that overhung theshining river. 

An idea of her own ran out and met Nancy's half way. Instead of goingherself to spy out the land of Beulah, why not send Gilbert? It was ashort, inexpensive railway journey, with no change of cars. Gilbert wasnearly fourteen, and thus far seemed to have no notion of life as adifficult enterprise. No mother who respects her boy, or respectsherself, can ask him flatly, "Do you intend to grow up with the idea oftaking care of me; of having an eye to your sisters; or do you considerthat, since I brought you into the world, I must provide both for myselfand you until you are a man, --or forever and a day after, if you feelinclined to shirk your part in the affair?"

Gilbert talked of his college course as confidently as he had before hisfather's death. It was Nancy who as the eldest seemed the head of thefamily, but Gilbert, only a year or so her junior, ought to grow intothe head, somehow or other. The way to begin would be to give him a fewdelightful responsibilities, such as would appeal to his pride and senseof importance, and gradually to mingle with them certain duties ofheadship neither so simple nor so agreeable. Beulah would be adelightful beginning. Nancy the Pathfinder would have packed a bag andgone to Beulah on an hour's notice; found the real-estate dealer, incase there was such a metropolitan article in the village; looked up herfather's old friend the Colonel with the forgotten surname; discoveredthe owner of the charming house, rented it, and brought back the key intriumph! But Nancy was a girl rich in courage and enterprise, whileGilbert's manliness and leadership and discretion and consideration forothers needed a vigorous, decisive, continued push. 

If Nancy's idea was good, Mother Carey's idea matched it! To seeGilbert, valise in hand, eight dollars in pocket, leaving Charlestown ona Friday noon after school, was equal to watching Columbus depart for anunknown land. Thrilling is the only word that will properly describe it, and the group that followed his departure from the upper windows used itfreely and generously. He had gone gayly downstairs and Nancy flungafter him a small packet in an envelope, just as he reached the door. 

"There's a photograph of your mother and sisters!" she called. "In casethe owner refuses to rent the house to _you_, just show him the rest ofthe family! And don't forget to say that the rent is exorbitant, whatever it is!"

They watched him go jauntily down the street, Mother Carey with specialpride in her eyes. He had on his second best suit, and it looked well onhis straight slim figure. He had a gallant air, had Gilbert, and onecould not truly say it was surface gallantry either; it simply did not, at present, go very deep. "No one could call him anything but a fineboy, " thought the mother, "and surely the outside is a key to what iswithin!--His firm chin, his erect head, his bright eye, his quick tread, his air of alert self-reliance, --surely here is enough, for any motherto build on!"

VIII

THE KNIGHT OF BEULAH CASTLE

Nancy's flushed face was glued to the window-pane until Gilbert turnedthe corner. He looked back, took off his cap, threw a kiss to them, andwas out of sight!

"Oh! how I wish _I_ could have gone!" cried Nancy. "I hope he won'tforget what he went for! I hope he won't take 'No' for an answer. Oh!why wasn't I a boy!"

Mrs. Carey laughed as she turned from the window. 

"It will be a great adventure for the man of the house, Nancy, so nevermind. What would the Pathfinder have done if she had gone, instead ofher brother?"

"I? Oh! Millions of things!" said Nancy, pacing the sitting-room floor, her head bent a little, her hands behind her back. "I should be going tothe new railway station in Boston now, and presently I should be at thelittle grated window asking for a return ticket to Greentown station. 'Four ten, ' the man would say, and I would fling my whole eight dollarsin front of the wicket to show him what manner of person I was. 

"Then I would pick up the naught-from-naught-is-naught, one-from-ten-is-nine, five-from-eight-is-three, --three dollars andninety cents or thereabouts and turn away. 

"'Parlor car seat, Miss?' the young man would say, --a warm, worriedyoung man in a seersucker coat, and I would answer, 'No thank you; Ialways go in the common car to study human nature. ' That's what theAdmiral says, but of course the ticket man couldn't know that theAdmiral is an intimate friend of mine, and would think I said it myself. 

"Then I would go down the platform and take the common car forGreentown. Soon we would be off and I would ask the conductor ifGreentown was the station where one could change and drive to Beulah, darling little Beulah, shiny-rivered Beulah; not breathing a word aboutthe yellow house for fear he would jump off the train and rent it first. Then he would say he never heard of Beulah. I would look pityingly athim, but make no reply because it would be no use, and anyway I knowGreentown _is_ the changing place, because I've asked three men before;but Cousin Ann always likes to make conductors acknowledge they don'tknow as much as she does. 

"Then I present a few peanuts or peppermints to a small boy, and hold aninfant for a tired mother, because this is what good children do in theSunday-school books, but I do not mingle much with the passengersbecause my brow is furrowed with thought and I am travelling onimportant business. "

You can well imagine that by this time Mother Carey has taken out herdarning, and Kathleen her oversewing, to which she pays little attentionbecause she so adores Nancy's tales. Peter has sat like a small statueever since his quick ear caught the sound of a story. His eyes followNancy as she walks up and down improvising, and the only interruptionshe ever receives from her audience is Kathleen's or Mother Carey'soccasional laugh at some especially ridiculous sentence. 

"The hours fly by like minutes, " continues Nancy, stopping by the sidewindow and twirling the curtain tassel absently. "I scan the surroundingcountry to see if anything compares with Beulah, and nothing does. Nosuch river, no such trees, no such well, no such old oaken bucket, andabove all no such Yellow House. All the other houses I see are but ashuts compared with the Yellow House of Beulah. Soon the car door opens;a brakeman looks in and calls in a rich baritone voice, 'Greentown!Greentown! Do-not-leave-any-passles in the car!' And if you knowbeforehand what he is going to say you can understand him quite nicely, so I take up my bag and go down the aisle with dignity. 'Step lively, Miss!' cries the brakeman, but I do not heed him; it is not likely thata person renting country houses will move save with majesty. Alighting, I inquire if there is any conveyance for Beulah, and there is, a wagonand a white horse. I ask the driver boldly to drive me to the Colonel'soffice. He does not ask which Colonel, or what Colonel, he simply says, 'Colonel Foster, I s'pose, ' and I say, 'Certainly. ' We arrive at theoffice and when I introduce myself as Captain Carey's daughter I receivea glad welcome. The Colonel rings a bell and an aged beldame approaches, making a deep curtsy and offering me a beaker of milk, a crusty loaf, afew venison pasties, and a cold goose stuffed with humming birds. When Ihave reduced these to nothingness I ask if the yellow house on theoutskirts of the village is still vacant, and the Colonel replies thatit is, at which unexpected but hoped-for answer I fall into a deepswoon. When I awake the aged Colonel is bending over me, his long whitegoat's beard tickling my chin. "

(Mother Carey stops her darning now and Kathleen makes no pretence ofsewing; the story is fast approaching its climax, --everybody feels that, including Peter, who hopes that he will be in it, in some guise orother, before it ends. )

"'Art thou married, lady?' the aged one asks courteously, 'and if not, wilt thou be mine?'"

"I tremble, because he does not seem to notice that he is eighty orninety and I but fifteen, yet I fear if I reject him too scornfully andspeedily the Yellow House will never be mine. 'Grant me a little time inwhich to fit myself for this great honor, ' I say modestly, and a mightygood idea, too, that I got out of a book the other day; when suddenly, as I gaze upward, my suitor's white hair turns to brown, his beard dropsoff, his wrinkles disappear, and he stands before me a young Knight, infull armor. 'Wilt go to the yellow castle with me, sweet lady?' he asks. '_Wilt I_!' I cry in ecstasy, and we leap on the back of a chargerhitched to the Colonel's horseblock. We dash down the avenue of elms andmaples that line the village street, and we are at our journey's endbefore the Knight has had time to explain to me that he was changed intothe guise of an old man by an evil sorcerer some years before, and couldnever return to his own person until some one appeared who wished tolive in the yellow house, which is Beulah Castle. 

"We approach the well-known spot and the little picket gate, and theKnight lifts me from the charger's back. 'Here are house and lands, andall are yours, sweet lady, if you have a younger brother. There istreasure hidden in the ground behind the castle, and no one ever findssuch things save younger brothers. '

"'I have a younger brother, ' I cry, '_and his name is Peter_!'"

At this point in Nancy's chronicle Peter is nearly beside himself withexcitement. He has been sitting on his hassock, his hands outspread uponhis fat knees, his lips parted, his eyes shining. Somewhere, sometime, in Nancy's stories there is always a Peter. He lives for that moment!

Nancy, stifling her laughter, goes on rapidly:

"And so the Knight summons Younger Brother Peter to come, and he fliesin a great air ship from Charlestown to Beulah. And when he arrives theKnight asks him to dig for the buried treasure. "

(Peter here turns up his sleeves to his dimpled elbows and seizes animaginary implement. )

"Peter goes to the back of the castle, and there is a beautiful gardenfilled with corn and beans and peas and lettuce and potatoes and beetsand onions and turnips and carrots and parsnips and tomatoes andcabbages. He takes his magic spade and it leads him to the cabbages. Hedigs and digs, and in a moment the spade strikes metal!

"'He has found the gold!' cries the Knight, and Peter speedily liftsfrom the ground pots and pots of ducats and florins, and gulden anddoubloons. "

(Peter nods his head at the mention of each precious coin and then clapshis hands, and hugs himself with joy, and rocks himself to and fro onthe hassock, in his ecstasy at being the little god in the machine. )

"Then down the village street there is the sound of hurrying horses'feet, and in a twinkling a gayly painted chariot comes into view, and init are sitting the Queen Mother and the Crown Prince and Princess of theHouse of Carey. They alight; Peter meets them at the gate, a pot of goldin each hand. They enter the castle and put their umbrellas in onecorner of the front hall and their rubbers in the other one, behind thedoor. Lady Nancibel trips up the steps after them and, turning, saysgraciously to her Knight, 'Would you just as soon marry somebody else? Iam very much attached to my family, and they will need me dreadfullywhile they are getting settled. '

"'I did not recall the fact that I had asked you to be mine, 'courteously answers the youth. 

"'You did, ' she responds, very much embarrassed, as she supposed ofcourse he would remember his offer made when he was an old man with agoat's beard; 'but gladly will I forget all, if you will relinquishmy hand. '

"'As you please!' answers the Knight generously. 'I can deny you nothingwhen I remember you have brought me back my youth. Prithee, is the otherlady bespoke, she of the golden hair?'

"'Many have asked, but I have chosen none, ' answers the Crown PrincessKitty modestly, as is her wont. 

"'Then you will do nicely, ' says the Knight, 'since all I wish is to beson-in-law to the Queen Mother!'

"'Right you are, my hearty!' cries Prince Gilbert de Carey, 'and as wemuch do need a hand at the silver-polishing I will gladly give my sisterin marriage!'

"So they all went into Beulah Castle and locked the door behind them, and there they lived in great happiness and comfort all the days oftheir lives, and there they died when it came their time, and they wereall buried by the shores of the shining river of Beulah!"

"Oh! it is perfectly splendid!" cried Kathleen. "About the best one youever told! But do change the end a bit, Nancy dear! It's dreadful forhim to marry Kitty when he chose Nancibel first. I'd like him awfully, but I don't want to take him that way!"

"Well, how would this do?" and Nancy pondered a moment before going on:"'Right you are, my hearty!' cries Prince Gilbert de Carey, 'and as wedo need a hand at the silver-polishing I will gladly give my sister inmarriage. '

"'Hold!' cries the Queen Mother. 'All is not as it should be in thiscoil! How can you tell, ' she says, turning to the knightly stranger, 'that memory will not awake one day, and you recall the adoration youfelt when you first beheld the Lady Nancibel in a deep swoon?'

"The Young Knight's eyes took on a far-away look and he put his hand tohis forehead. 

"'It comes back to me now!' he sighed. 'I did love the Lady Nancibelpassionately, and I cannot think how it slipped my mind!'

"'I release you willingly!' exclaimed the Crown Princess Kittyhaughtily, 'for a million suitors await my nod, and thou wert neverreally mine!'

"'But the other lady rejects me also!' responds the luckless youth, thetears flowing from his eagle eyes onto his crimson mantle. 

"'Wilt delay the nuptials until I am eighteen and the castle is set inorder?' asks the Lady Nancibel relentingly. 

"'Since it must be, I do pledge thee my vow to wait, ' says the Knight. 'And I do beg the fair one with the golden locks to consider the claimsof my brother, not my equal perhaps, but still a gallant youth. '

"'I will enter him on my waiting list as number Three Hundred andSeventeen, ' responds the Crown Princess Kitty, than whom no violet couldbe more shy. ''Tis all he can expect and more than I should promise. '

"So they all lived in the yellow castle in great happiness foreverafter, and were buried by the shores of the shining river ofBeulah!--Does that suit you better?"

"Simply lovely!" cried Kitty, "and the bit about my modesty is too funnyfor words!--Oh, if some of it would only happen! But I am afraid Gilbertwill not stir up any fairy stories and set them going. "

"Some of it will happen!" exclaimed Peter. "I shall dig every single daytill I find the gold-pots. "

"You are a pot of gold yourself, filled full and running over!"

"Now, Nancy, run and write down your fairy tale while you remember it!"said Mother Carey. 

"It is as good an exercise as any other, and you still tell a story farbetter than you write it!"

Nancy did this sort of improvising every now and then, and had done itfrom earliest childhood; and sometimes, of late, Mother Carey looked ather eldest chicken and wondered if after all she had hatched in her abird of brighter plumage or rarer song than the rest, or a young eaglewhose strong wings would bear her to a higher flight!

IX

GILBERT'S EMBASSY

The new station had just been built in Boston, and it seemed a greatenterprise to Gilbert to be threading his way through the enormousspaces, getting his information by his own wits and not asking questionslike a stupid schoolboy. Like all children of naval officers, the Careyshad travelled ever since their birth; still, this was Gilbert's firstjourney alone, and nobody was ever more conscious of the situation, normore anxious to carry it off effectively. 

He entered the car, opened his bag, took out his travelling cap and hiscopy of "Ben Hur, " then threw the bag in a lordly way into the brassrack above the seat. He opened his book, but immediately becameinterested in a young couple just in front of him. They were carefullydressed, even to details of hats and gloves, and they had anunmistakable air of wedding journey about them that interested thecurious boy. 

Presently the conductor came in. Pausing in front of the groom he said, "Tickets, please"; then: "You're on the wrong train!" "Wrong train? Ofcourse I'm not on the wrong train! You must be mistaken! The ticketagent told me to take this train. "

"Can't help that, sir, this train don't go to Lawrence. "

"It's very curious. I asked the brakeman, and two porters. Ain't thisthe 3. 05?"

"This is the 3. 05. "

"Where does it go, then?"

"Goes to Lowell. Lowell the first stop. "

"But I don't want to go to Lowell!"

"What's the matter with Lowell? It's a good place all right!"

"But I have an appointment in Lawrence at four o'clock. "

"I'm dretful sorry, but you'll have to keep it in Lowell, Iguess!--Tickets, please!" this to a pretty girl on the opposite sidefrom Gilbert, a pink and white, unsophisticated maiden, very muchinterested in the woes of the bride and groom and entirely sympatheticwith the groom's helpless wrath. 

"On the wrong train, Miss!" said the conductor. 

"On the wrong train?" She spoke in a tone of anguish, getting up andcatching her valise frantically. "It _can't_ be the wrong train! Isn'tit the White Mountain train?"

"Yes, Miss, but it don't go to North Conway; it goes to Fabyan's. "

"But my father _put_ me on this train and everybody _said_ it was theWhite Mountain train!"

"So it is, Miss, but if you wanted to stop at North Conway you'd oughtto have taken the 3. 55, platform 8. "

"Put me off, then, please, and let me wait for the 3. 55. "

"Can't do it, Miss; this is an express train; only stops at Lowell, where this gentleman is going!"

(Here the conductor gave a sportive wink at the bridegroom who had anappointment in Lawrence. )

The pretty girl burst into a flood of tears and turned her facedespairingly to the window, while the bride talked to the groomexcitedly about what they ought to have done and what they would havedone had she been consulted. 

Gilbert could hardly conceal his enjoyment of the situation, and indeedeverybody within hearing--that is, anybody who chanced to be on theright train--looked at the bride and groom and the pretty girl, andtittered audibly. 

"Why don't people make inquiries?" thought Gilbert superciliously. "Perhaps they have never been anywhere before, but even that'sno excuse. "

He handed his ticket to the conductor with a broad smile, saying in anundertone, "What kind of passengers are we carrying this afternoon?"

"The usual kind, I guess!--You're on the wrong train, sonny!"

Gilbert almost leaped into the air, and committed himself by making amotion to reach down his valise. 

"I, on the wrong train?" he asked haughtily. "That _can't_ be so; theticket agent told me the 3. 05 was the only fast train to Greentown!"

"Mebbe he thought you said Greenville; this train goes to Greenville, ifthat'll do you! Folks ain't used to the new station yet, and the ticketagents are all bran' new too, --guess you got hold of a tenderfoot!"

"But Greenville will _not_ 'do' for me, " exclaimed Gilbert. "I want togo to _Greentown_. "

"Well, get off at Lowell, the first stop, --you'll know when you come toit because this gentleman that wanted to go to Lawrence will get offthere, and this young lady that was intendin' to go to North Conway. There'll be four of you; jest a nice party. "

Gilbert choked with wrath as he saw the mirth of the other passengers. 

"What train shall I be able to take to Greentown, " he managed to callafter the conductor. 

"Don't know, sonny! Ask the ticket agent in the Lowell deepot; he's anold hand and he'll know!"

Gilbert's pride was terribly wounded, but his spirits rose a littlelater when he found that he would only have to wait twenty minutes inthe Lowell station before a slow train for Greentown would pick him up, and that he should still reach his destination before bedtime, and neednever disclose his stupidity. 

After all, this proved to be his only error, for everything movedsmoothly from that moment, and he was as prudent and successful anambassador as Mother Carey could have chosen. He found the Colonel, whose name was not Foster, by the way, but Wheeler; and the Colonelwould not allow him to go to the Mansion House, Beulah's one smallhotel, but insisted that he should be his guest. That evening he heardfrom the Colonel the history of the yellow house, and the next morningthe Colonel drove him to the store of the man who had charge of itduring the owner's absence in Europe, after which Gilbert was conductedin due form to the premises for a critical examination. 

The Yellow House, as Garden Fore-and-Aft seemed destined to be chieflycalled, was indeed the only house of that color for ten miles square. Ithad belonged to the various branches of a certain family of Hamiltonsfor fifty years or more, but in course of time, when it fell into thehands of the Lemuel Hamiltons, it had no sort of relation to their modeof existence. One summer, a year or two before the Careys had seen it, the sons and daughters had come on from Boston and begged their fatherto let them put it in such order that they could take house parties ofyoung people there for the week end. Mr. Hamilton indulgently allowedthem a certain amount to be expended as they wished, and with the helpof a local carpenter, they succeeded in doing several things to theirown complete satisfaction, though it could not be said that they addedto the value of the property. The house they regarded merely as acamping-out place, and after they had painted some bedroom floors, setup some cots, bought a kitchen stove and some pine tables and chairs, they regarded that part of the difficulty as solved; expending the restof the money in turning the dilapidated barn into a place where theycould hold high revels of various innocent sorts. The two freshman sons, two boarding-school daughters, and a married sister barely old enough tochaperon her own baby, brought parties of gay young friends with themseveral weeks in succession. These excursions were a great delight tothe villagers, who thus enjoyed all the pleasures and excitements of acircus with none of its attendant expenses. They were of short duration, however, for Lemuel Hamilton was appointed consul to a foreign port andtook his wife and daughters with him. The married sister died, and incourse of time one of the sons went to China to learn tea-planting andthe other established himself on a ranch in Texas. Thus the LemuelHamiltons were scattered far and wide, and as the Yellow House in Beulahhad small value as real estate and had never played any part in theirlives, it was almost forgotten as the busy years went by. 

"Mr. Hamilton told me four years ago, when I went up to Boston to meethim, that if I could get any rent from respectable parties I might letthe house, though he wouldn't lay out a cent on repairs in order to geta tenant. But, land! there ain't no call for houses in Beulah, norhain't been for twenty years, " so Bill Harmon, the storekeeper, toldGilbert. "The house has got a tight roof and good underpinnin', and ifyour folks feel like payin' out a little money for paint 'n' paper youcan fix it up neat's a pin. The Hamilton boys jest raised Cain out in thebarn, so 't you can't keep no critters there. "

"We couldn't have a horse or a cow anyway, " said Gilbert. 

"Well, it's lucky you can't. I could 'a' rented the house twice over ifthere'd been any barn room; but them confounded young scalawags rippedout the horse and cow stalls, cleared away the pig pen, and laid a floorthey could dance on. The barn chamber 's full o' their stuff, so 't nohay can go in; altogether there ain't any nameable kind of a fool-trickthem young varmints didn't play on these premises. When a farmer'slookin' for a home for his family and stock 't ain't no use to show hima dance hall. The only dancin' a Maine farmer ever does is dancin' roundto git his livin' out o' the earth;--that keeps his feet flyin', fast enough. "

"Well, " said Gilbert, "I think if you can put the rent cheap enough sothat we could make the necessary repairs, I _think_ my mother wouldconsider it. "

"Would you want it for more 'n this summer?" asked Mr. Harmon. 

"Oh! yes, we want to live here!"

"_Want to live here_!" exclaimed the astonished Harmon. "Well, it's beena long time sence we heard anybody say that, eh, Colonel?

"Well now, sonny" (Gilbert did wish that respect for budding manhoodcould be stretched a little further in this locality), "I tell you what, I ain't goin' to stick no fancy price on these premises--"

"It wouldn't be any use, " said Gilbert boldly. "My father has diedwithin a year; there are four of us beside my mother, and there's acousin, too, who is dependent on us. We have nothing but a small pensionand the interest on five thousand dollars life insurance. Mother says wemust go away from all our friends, live cheaply, and do our own workuntil Nancy, Kitty, and I grow old enough to earn something. "

Colonel Wheeler and Mr. Harmon both liked Gilbert Carey at sight, and ashe stood there uttering his boyish confidences with great friendlinessand complete candor, both men would have been glad to meet him halfway. 

"Well, Harmon, it seems to me we shall get some good neighbors if we canmake terms with Mrs. Carey, " said the Colonel. "If you'll fix areasonable figure I'll undertake to write to Hamilton and interest himin the affair. "

"All right. Now, Colonel, I'd like to make a proposition right on thespot, before you, and you can advise sonny, here. You see Lem has gothis taxes to pay, --they're small, of course, but they're anexpense, --and he'd ought to carry a little insurance on his buildings, tho' he ain't had any up to now. On the other hand, if he can get atenant that'll put on a few shingles and clapboards now and then, or acoat o' paint 'n' a roll o' wall paper, his premises won't go to rack'n' ruin same's they're in danger o' doin' at the present time. Now, sonny, would your mother feel like keepin' up things a little mite if weshould say sixty dollars a year rent, payable monthly or quarterly as isconvenient?"

Gilbert's head swam and his eyes beheld such myriads of stars that hefelt it must be night instead of day. The rent of the Charlestown housewas seven hundred dollars a year, and the last words of his mother hadbeen to the effect that two hundred was the limit he must offer for theyellow house, as she did not see clearly at the moment how they couldafford even that sum. 

"What would be your advice, Colonel?" stammered the boy. 

"I think sixty dollars is not exorbitant, " the Colonel answered calmly(he had seen Beulah real estate fall a peg a year for twenty successiveyears), "though naturally you cannot pay that sum and make anyextravagant repairs. "

"Then I will take the house, " Gilbert remarked largely. "My mother leftthe matter of rent to my judgment, and we will pay promptly in advance. Shall I sign any papers?"

"Land o' Goshen! the marks your little fist would make on a paperwouldn't cut much of a figure in a court o' law!" chuckled old Harmon. "You jest let the Colonel fix up matters with your ma. "

"Can I walk back, Colonel?" asked Gilbert, trying to preserve somedignity under the storekeeper's attacks. "I'd like to take somemeasurements and make some sketches of the rooms for my mother. "

"All right, " the Colonel responded. "Your train doesn't go till twoo'clock. I'll give you a bite of lunch and take you to the station. "

If Mother Carey had watched Gilbert during the next half-hour she wouldhave been gratified, for every moment of the time he grew more and moreinto the likeness of the head of a family. He looked at the cellar, atthe shed, at the closets and cupboards all over the house, and at thefireplaces. He "paced off" all the rooms and set down their proportionsin his note-book; he even decided as to who should occupy each room, andfor what purposes they should be used, his judgment in every case beingthought ridiculous by the feminine portion of his family when theylooked at his plans. Then he locked the doors carefully with a finesense of ownership and strolled away with many a backward look andthought at the yellow house. 

At the station he sent a telegram to his mother. Nancy had secretlygiven him thirty-five cents when he left home. "I am hoarding for theAdmiral's Christmas present, " she whispered, "but it's no use, I cannotendure the suspense about the house a moment longer than is necessary. Just telegraph us yes or no, and we shall get the news four hours beforeyour train arrives. One can die several times in four hours, and I'mgoing to commit one last extravagance, --at the Admiral's expense!"

At three o'clock on Saturday afternoon a telegraph boy came through thegate and rang the front door bell. 

"You go, Kitty, I haven't the courage!" said Nancy, sitting down on thesofa heavily. A moment later the two girls and Peter (who for oncedidn't count) gazed at their mother breathlessly as she opened theenvelope. Her face lighted as she read aloud:--

 "_Victory perches on my banners. Have accomplished all I went for_. GILBERT. "

"Hurrah!" cried both girls. "The yellow house is the House of Careyforevermore. "

"Will Peter go too?" asked the youngest Carey eagerly, his nosequivering as it always did in excitement, when it became an animatedquestion point. 

"I should think he would, " exclaimed Kitty, clasping him in her arms. "What would the yellow house be without Peter?"

"I wish Gilbert wouldn't talk about _his_ banners, " said Nancycritically, as she looked at the telegram over her mother's shoulder. "They're not his banners at all, they're ours, --Carey banners; that'swhat they are!"

Mother Carey had wished the same thing, but hoped that Nancy had notnoticed the Gilbertian flaw in the telegram. 

X

THE CAREYS' FLITTING

The Charlestown house was now put immediately into the hands of severalagents, for Mrs. Carey's lease had still four years to run and she wasnaturally anxious to escape from this financial responsibility as soonas possible. As a matter of fact only three days elapsed before sheobtained a tenant, and the agent had easily secured an advance of ahundred dollars a year to the good, as Captain Carey had obtained a veryfavorable figure when he took the house. 

It was the beginning of April, and letters from Colonel Wheeler hadalready asked instructions about having the vegetable garden ploughed. It was finally decided that the girls should leave their spring term ofschool unfinished, and that the family should move to Beulah duringGilbert's Easter vacation. 

Mother Carey gave due reflection to the interrupted studies, butconcluded that for two girls like Nancy and Kathleen the making of a newhome would be more instructive and inspiring, and more fruitful in itsresults, than weeks of book learning. 

Youth delights in change, in the prospect of new scenes and freshadventures, and as it is never troubled by any doubts as to the wisdomof its plans, the Carey children were full of vigor and energy just now. Charlestown, the old house, the daily life, all had grown sad and drearyto them since father had gone. Everything spoke of him. Even motherlonged for something to lift her thought out of the past and give itwings, so that it might fly into the future and find some hope andcomfort there. There was a continual bustle from morning till night, anda spirit of merriment that had long been absent. 

The Scotch have a much prettier word than we for all this, and what weterm moving they call "flitting. " The word is not only prettier, but inthis instance more appropriate. It was such a buoyant, youthful affair, this Carey flitting. Light forms darted up and down the stairs and pastthe windows, appearing now at the back, now at the front of the house, with a picture, or a postage stamp, or a dish, or a penwiper, or apillow, or a basket, or a spool. The chorus of "Where shall we put this, Muddy?" "Where will this go?" "May we throw this away?" would havedistracted a less patient parent. When Gilbert returned from school atfour, the air was filled with sounds of hammering and sawing and filing, screwing and unscrewing, and it was joy unspeakable to be obliged (or atleast almost obliged) to call in clarion tones to one another, acrossthe din and fanfare, and to compel answers in a high key. Peter took aconstant succession of articles to the shed, where packing was going on, but his chief treasures were deposited in a basket at the front gate, with the idea that they would be transported as his personal baggage. The pile grew and grew: a woolly lamb, two Noah's arks, bottles andmarbles innumerable, a bag of pebbles, a broken steam engine, two chinanest-eggs, an orange, a banana and some walnuts, a fishing line, atrowel, a ball of string. These give an idea of the quality of Peter'seffects, but not of the quantity. 

Ellen the cook labored loyally, for it was her last week's work with thefamily. She would be left behind, like Charlestown and all the old life, when Mother Carey and the stormy petrels flitted across unknown watersfrom one haven to another. Joanna having earlier proved utterlyunromantic in her attitude, Nancy went further with Ellen and gave heran English novel called, "The Merriweathers, " in which an old familyservant had not only followed her employers from castle to hovel, remaining there without Wages for years, but had insisted on lending allher savings to the Mistress of the Manor. Ellen the cook had loved "TheMerriweathers, " saying it was about the best book that ever she hadread, and Miss Nancy would like to know, always being so interested, that she (Ellen) had found a place near Joanna in Salem, where she wasoffered five dollars a month more than she had received with the Careys. Nancy congratulated her warmly and then, tearing "The Merriweathers" toshreds, she put them in the kitchen stove in Ellen's temporary absence. "If ever I write a book, " she ejaculated, as she "stoked" the fire withGwendolen and Reginald Merriweather, with the Mistress of the Manor, andespecially with the romantic family servitor, "if ever I write a book, "she repeated, with emphatic gestures, "it won't have any fibs init;--and I suppose it will be dull, " she reflected, as she rememberedhow she had wept when the Merriweathers' Bridget brought her savings ofa hundred pounds to her mistress in a handkerchief. 

During these preparations for the flitting Nancy had a fresh idea everyminute or two, and gained immense prestige in the family. 

Inspired by her eldest daughter Mrs. Carey sold her grand piano, gettingan old-fashioned square one and a hundred and fifty dollars in exchange. It had been a wedding present from a good old uncle, who, if he had beenstill alive, would have been glad to serve his niece now that she was indifficulties. 

Nancy, her sleeves rolled up, her curly hair flecked with dust andcobwebs, flew down from the attic into Kathleen's room just aftersupper. "I have an idea!" she said in a loud whisper. 

"You mustn't have too many or we shan't take any interest in them, "Kitty answered provokingly. 

"This is for your ears alone, Kitty!"

"Oh! that's different. Tell me quickly. "

"It's an idea to get rid of the Curse of the House of Carey!"

"It can't be done, Nancy; you know it can't! Even if you could think outa way, mother couldn't be made to agree. "

"She must never know. I would not think of mixing up a good lovely womanlike mother in such an affair!"

This was said so mysteriously that Kathleen almost suspected thatbloodshed was included in Nancy's plan. It must be explained that whenyoung Ensign Carey and Margaret Gilbert had been married, Cousin AnnChadwick had presented them with four tall black and white marble mantelornaments shaped like funeral urns; and then, feeling that she had notyet shown her approval of the match sufficiently, she purchased a largegroup of clay statuary entitled You Dirty Boy. 

The Careys had moved often, like all naval families, but even when theirother goods and chattels were stored, Cousin Ann generously managed todefray the expense of sending on to them the mantel ornaments and theDirty Boy. "I know what your home is to you, " she used to say to them, "and how you must miss your ornaments. If I have chanced to give youthings as unwieldy as they are handsome, I ought to see that you havethem around you without trouble or expense, and I will!"

So for sixteen years, save for a brief respite when the family was inthe Philippines, their existence was blighted by these hated objects. Once when they had given an especially beautiful party for the Admiral, Captain Carey had carried the whole lot to the attic, but Cousin Annarrived unexpectedly in the middle of the afternoon, and Nancy, with theaid of Gilbert and Joanna, had brought them down the back way and putthem in the dining room. 

"You've taken the ornaments out of the parlor, I see, " Cousin Ann saidat the dinner table. "It's rather nice for a change, and after all, perhaps you spend as much time in this room as in any, and entertain asmuch company here!"

Cousin Ann always had been, always would be, a frequent visitor, for shewas devoted to the family in her own peculiar way; what therefore couldNancy be proposing to do with the Carey Curse?

"Listen, my good girl, " Nancy now said to Kathleen, after she had closedthe door. "Thou dost know that the china-packer comes early to-morrowmorn, and that e'en now the barrels and boxes and excelsior arebestrewing the dining room?"

"Yes. "

"Then you and I, who have been brought up under the shadow of thosefuneral urns, and have seen that tidy mother scrubbing the ears of thatunwilling boy ever since we were born, --you and I, or thou and I, perhaps I should say, will do a little private packing before the truepacker arriveth. "

"Still do I not see the point, wench!" said the puzzled Kathleen, tryingto model her conversation on Nancy's, though she was never thoroughlysuccessful. 

"Don't call me 'wench, ' because I am the mistress and you my tiringwoman, but when you Watch, and assist me, at the packing, a great lightwill break upon you, " Nancy answered "In the removal of cherishedarticles from Charlestown to Beulah, certain tragedies will occur, certain accidents will happen, although Cousin Ann knows that the Careyfamily is a well regulated one. But if there are accidents, and _therewill be_, my good girl, then the authors of them will be forever unknownto all but thou and I. Wouldst prefer to pack this midnight or at cockcrow, for packing is our task!"

"I simply hate cock crow, and you know it, " said Kathleen testily. "Whynot now? Ellen and Gilbert are out and mother is rocking Peterto sleep. "

"Very well; come on; and step softly. It won't take long, because I haveplanned all in secret, well and thoroughly. Don't puff and blow likethat! Mother will hear you!"

"I'm excited, " whispered Kathleen as they stole down the back stairs andwent into the parlor for the funeral urns, which they carried silentlyto the dining room. These safely deposited, they took You Dirty Boy fromits abominable pedestal of Mexican onyx (also Cousin Ann's gift) andstaggered under its heavyweight, their natural strength beingconsiderably sapped by suppressed laughter. 

Nancy chose an especially large and stout barrel. They put a little(very little) excelsior in the bottom, then a pair of dumb-bells, then afuneral urn, then a little hay, and another funeral urn, crosswise. Thespaces between were carelessly filled in with Indian clubs. On thesethey painfully dropped You Dirty Boy, and on top of him the other pairof funeral urns, more dumbbells, and another Indian club. They hadpacked the barrel in the corner where it stood, so they simply laid thecover on top and threw a piece of sacking carelessly over it. The wholeperformance had been punctuated with such hysterical laughter fromKathleen that she was too weak to be of any real use, --she simply aidedand abetted the chief conspirator. The night was not as other nights. The girls kept waking up to laugh a little, then they went to sleep, andwaked again, and laughed again, and so on. Nancy composed severalletters to her Cousin Ann dated from Beulah and explaining the sadaccident that had occurred. As she concocted these documents between hernaps she could never remember in her whole life any such night of mirthand minstrelsy, and not one pang of conscience interfered, to cloud thepresent joy nor dim that anticipation which is even greater. 

Nancy was downstairs early next morning and managed to be the one togreet the china-packers. "We filled one barrel last evening, " sheexplained to them. "Will you please head that up before you begin work?"which one of the men obligingly did. 

"We'll mark all this stuff and take it down to the station thisafternoon, " said the head packer to Mrs. Carey. 

"Be careful with it, won't you?" she begged. "We are very fond of ourglass and china, our clocks and all our little treasures. "

"You won't have any breakage so long as you deal with James Perkins &Co. !" said the packer. 

Nancy went back into the room for a moment to speak with the skilful, virtuous J. P. & Co. "There's no need to use any care with that cornerbarrel, " she said carelessly. "It has nothing of value in it!"

James Perkins went home in the middle of the afternoon and left his sonto finish the work, and the son tagged and labelled and painted with allhis might. The Dirty Boy barrel in the corner, being separated from theothers, looked to him especially important, so he gave particularattention to that; pasted on it one label marked "Fragile, " one "ThisSide Up, " two "Glass with Care, " and finding several "Perishables" inhis pocket tied on a few of those, and removed the entire lot of boxes, crates, and barrels to the freight depot. 

The man who put the articles in the car was much interested in the DirtyBoy barrel. "You'd ought to have walked to Greentown and carried thatone in your arms, " he jeered. "What is the precious thing, anyway?"

"Don't you mind what it is, " responded young Perkins. "Jest you keepeverybody 'n' everything from teching it! Does this lot o' stuff have tobe shifted 'tween here and Greentown?"

"No; not unless we git kind o' dull and turn it upside down jest forfun. "

"I guess you're dull consid'able often, by the way things look when yougit through carryin' 'em, on this line, " said Perkins, who had noopinion of the freight department of the A. &B. The answer, though notproper to record in this place, was worthy of Perkins's opponent, whohad a standing grudge against the entire race of expressmen and carterswho brought him boxes and barrels to handle. It always seemed to himthat if they were all out of the country or dead he would have nowork to do. 

XI

THE SERVICE ON THE THRESHOLD

From this point on, the flitting went easily and smoothly enough, andthe transportation of the Carey family itself to Greentown, on a mildbudding day in April, was nothing compared to the heavy labor that hadpreceded it. All the goods and chattels had been despatched a weekbefore, so that they would be on the spot well in advance, and theactual flitting took place on a Friday, so that Gilbert would have everyhour of his vacation to assist in the settling process. He had acceptedan invitation to visit a school friend at Easter, saying to his mothermagisterially: "I didn't suppose you'd want me round the house when youwere getting things to rights; men are always in the way; so I told FredBascom I'd go home with him. "

"Home with Fred! Our only man! Sole prop of the House of Carey!"exclaimed his mother with consummate tact. "Why, Gilly dear, I shallwant your advice every hour! And who will know about the planting, --forwe are only 'women folks'; and who will do all the hammering andcarpenter work? You are so wonderful with tools that you'll be worth allthe rest of us put together!"

"Oh, well, if you need me so much as that I'll go along, of course, "said Gilbert, "but Fred said his mother and sisters always did this kindof thing by themselves. "

"'By themselves, ' in Fred's family, " remarked Mrs. Carey, "means abutler, footman, and plenty of money for help of every sort. And thoughno wonder you're fond of Fred, who is so jolly and such good company, you must have noticed how selfish he is!"

"Now, mother, you've never seen Fred Bascom more than half a dozentimes!"

"No; and I don't remember at all what I saw in him the last five ofthem, for I found out everything needful the first time he came to visitus!" returned Mrs. Carey quietly. "Still, he's a likable, agreeablesort of boy. "

"And no doubt he'll succeed in destroying the pig in him before he growsup, " said Nancy, passing through the room. "I thought it gobbled andsnuffled a good deal when we last met!"

Colonel Wheeler was at Greentown station when the family arrived, anddrove Mrs. Carey and Peter to the Yellow House himself, while the restfollowed in the depot carryall, with a trail of trunks and packagesfollowing on behind in an express wagon. It was a very early season, theroads were free from mud, the trees were budding, and the young grassshowed green on all the sunny slopes. When the Careys had first seentheir future home they had entered the village from the west, the YellowHouse being the last one on the elm-shaded street, and quite on theoutskirts of Beulah itself. Now they crossed the river below the stationand drove through East Beulah, over a road unknown to any of them butGilbert, who was the hero and instructor of the party. Soon thewell-remembered house came into view, and as the two vehicles had keptone behind the other there was a general cheer. 

It was more beautiful even than they had remembered it; and morecommodious, and more delightfully situated. The barn door was open, showing crates of furniture, and the piazza was piled high with boxes. 

Bill Harmon stood in the front doorway, smiling. He hoped for trade, andhe was a good sort anyway. 

"I'd about given you up to-night, " he called as he came to the gate. "Your train's half an hour late. I got tired o' waitin', so I made freeto open up some o' your things for you to start housekeepin' with. Iguess there won't be no supper here for you to-night. "

"We've got it with us, " said Nancy joyously, making acquaintance in aninstant. 

"You _are_ forehanded, ain't you! That's right!--jump, you little pinto' cider!" Bill said, holding out his arms to Peter. Peter, carryingmany small things too valuable to trust to others, jumped, as suggested, and gave his new friend an unexpected shower of bumps from hardsubstances concealed about his person. 

"Land o' Goshen, you're _loaded_, hain't you?" he inquired jocosely ashe set Peter down on the ground. 

The dazzling smile with which Peter greeted this supposed tributeconverted Bill Harmon at once into a victim and slave. Little did heknow, as he carelessly stood there at the wagon wheel, that he wasdestined to bestow upon that small boy offerings from his stock foryears to come. 

He and Colonel Wheeler were speedily lifting things from the carryall, while the Careys walked up the pathway together, thrilling with theexcitement of the moment. Nancy breathed hard, flushed, and caught hermother's hand. 

"O Motherdy!" she said under her breath; "it's all happening just as wedreamed it, and now that it's really here it's like--it's like--adedication, --somehow. Gilbert, don't, dear! Let mother step over thesill first and call us into the Yellow House! I'll lock the door againand give the key to her. "

Mother Carey, her heart in her throat, felt anew the solemn nature ofthe undertaking. It broke over her in waves, fresher, stronger, now thatthe actual moment had arrived, than it ever had done in prospect. Shetook the last step upward, and standing in the doorway, trembling, saidsoftly as she turned the key, "Come home, children! Nancy! Gilbert!Kathleen! Peter-bird!" They flocked in, all their laughter hushed by thenew tone in her voice. Nancy's and Kitty's arms encircled their mother'swaist. Gilbert with sudden instinct took off his hat, and Peter, lookingat his elder brother wonderingly, did the same. There was a moment ofsilence; the kind of golden silence that is full to the brim of thoughtsand prayers and memories and hopes and desires, --so full of all theseand other beautiful, quiet things that it makes speech seem poor andshabby; then Mother Carey turned, and the Yellow House was blessed. Colonel Wheeler and Bill Harmon at the gate never even suspected thatthere had been a little service on the threshold, when they came up thepathway to see if there was anything more needed. 

"I set up all the bedsteads and got the mattresses on 'em, " said BillHarmon, "thinkin' the sandman would come early to-night. "

"I never heard of anything so kind and neighborly!" cried Mrs. Careygratefully. "I thought we should have to go somewhere else to sleep. Isit you who keeps the village store?"

"That's me!" said Bill. 

"Well, if you'll be good enough to come back once more to-night with alittle of everything, we'll be very much obliged. We have an oil stove, tea and coffee, tinned meats, bread and fruit; what we need most isbutter, eggs, milk, and flour. Gilbert, open the box of eatables, please; and, Nancy, unlock the trunk that has the bed linen in it. Welittle thought we should find such friends here, did we?"

"I got your extension table into the dining-room, " said Bill, "and triedmy best to find your dishes, but I didn't make out, up to the time yougot here. Mebbe you marked 'em someway so't you know which to unpackfirst? I was only findin' things that wan't no present use, as I guessyou'll say when you see 'em on the dining table. "

They all followed him as he threw open the door, Nancy well in thefront, as I fear was generally the case. There, on the centre of thetable stood You Dirty Boy rearing his crested head in triumph, and roundhim like the gate posts of a mausoleum stood the four black and whitemarble funeral urns. Perfect and entire, without a flaw, they stoodthere, confronting Nancy. 

"It is like them to be the first to greet us!" exclaimed Mrs. Carey, with an attempt at a smile, but there was not a sound from Kathleen orNancy. They stood rooted to the floor, gazing at the Curse of the Houseof Carey as if their eyes must deceive them. 

"You look as though you didn't expect to see them, girls!" said theirmother, "but when did they ever fail us?--Do you know, I have a courageat this moment that I never felt before?--Beulah is so far from Buffalothat Cousin Ann cannot visit us often, and never without warning. Ishould not like to offend her or hurt her feelings, but I think we'llkeep You Dirty Boy and the mantel ornaments in the attic for thepresent, or the barn chamber. What do you say?"

Colonel Wheeler and Mr. Harmon had departed, so a shout of agreementwent up from the young Careys. Nancy approached You Dirty Boy with abloodthirsty glare in her eye. 

"Come along, you evil, uncanny thing!" she said. "Take hold of his otherend, Gilly, and start for the barn; that's farthest away; but it's nouse; he's just like that bloodstain on Lady Macbeth's hand, --he will notout! Kathleen, open the linen trunk while we're gone. We can't set thetable till these curses are removed. When you've got the linen out, takea marble urn in each hand and trail them along to where we are. You cantrack us by a line of my tears!"

They found the stairs to the barn chamber, and lifted You Dirty Boy upstep by step with slow, painful effort. Kathleen ran out and put twovases on the lowest step and ran back to the house for the other pair. Gilbert and Nancy stood at the top of the stairs with You Dirty Boybetween them, settling where he could be easiest reached if he had to bebrought down for any occasion, --an unwelcome occasion that was certainto occur sometime in the coming years. 

Suddenly they heard their names called in a tragic whisper! "_Gilbert!Nancy! Quick! Cousin Ann's at the front gate_!"

There was a crash! No human being, however self-contained, could havewithstood the shock of that surprise; coming as it did so swiftly, sounexpectedly, and with such awful inappropriateness. Gilbert and Nancylet go of You Dirty Boy simultaneously, and he fell to the floor in twolarge fragments, the break occurring so happily that the mother and thewashcloth were on one half, and the boy on the other, --a situation longdesired by the boy, to whom the parting was most welcome!

"She got off at the wrong station, " panted Kathleen at the foot of thestairs, "and had to be driven five miles, or she would have got here asshe planned, an hour before we did. She's come to help us settle, andsays she was afraid mother would overdo. Did you drop anything? Hurrydown, and I'll leave the vases here, in among the furniture; or shall Itake back two of them to show that they were our first thought?--And oh!I forgot. She's brought Julia! Two more to feed, and not enough beds!"

Nancy and Gilbert confronted each other. 

"Hide the body in the corner, Gilly, " said Nancy; "and say, Gilly--"

"Yes, what?"

"You see he's in two pieces?"

"Yes. "

"_What do you say to making him four, or more_?"

"I say you go downstairs ahead of me and into the house, and I followyou a moment later! Close the barn door carefully behind you!--Am Iunderstood?"

"You are, Gilly! understood, and gloried in, and reverenced. My spiritwill be with you when you do it, Gilly dear, though I myself will begreeting Cousin Ann and Julia!"

XII

COUSIN ANN

Mother Carey, not wishing to make any larger number of personsuncomfortable than necessary, had asked Julia not to come to them untilafter the house in Beulah had been put to rights; but the Fergusons wentabroad rather unexpectedly, and Mr. Ferguson tore Julia from the arms ofGladys and put her on the train with very little formality. Her meetingCousin Ann on the way was merely one of those unpleasant coincidenceswith which life is filled, although it is hardly possible, usually, fortwo such disagreeable persons to be on the same small spot at the sameprecise moment. 

On the third morning after the Careys' arrival, however, matters assumeda more hopeful attitude, for Cousin Ann became discontented with Beulah. The weather had turned cold, and the fireplaces, so long unused, wereuniformly smoky. Cousin Ann's stomach, always delicate, turned fromtinned meats, eggs three times a day, and soda biscuits made by BillHarmon's wife; likewise did it turn from nuts, apples, oranges, andbananas, on which the children thrived; so she went to the so-calledhotel for her meals. Her remarks to the landlady after two dinners andone supper were of a character not to be endured by any outspoken, free-born New England woman. 

"I keep a hotel, and I'll give you your meals for twenty-five centsapiece so long as you eat what's set before you and hold your tongue, "was the irate Mrs. Buck's ultimatum. "I'll feed you, " she continuedpassionately, "because it's my business to put up and take in anythingthat's respectable; but I won't take none o' your sass!"

Well, Cousin Ann's temper was up, too, by this time, and she declined onher part to take any of the landlady's "sass"; so they parted, rather toMrs. Carey's embarrassment, as she did not wish to make enemies at theoutset. That night Cousin Ann, still smarting under the memory of Mrs. Buck's snapping eyes, high color, and unbridled tongue, complained aftersupper that her bedstead rocked whenever she moved, and asked Gilbert ifhe could readjust it in some way, so that it should be as stationary asbeds usually are in a normal state. 

He took his tool basket and went upstairs obediently, spending fifteenor twenty minutes with the much-criticised article of furniture, whichhe suspected of rocking merely because it couldn't bear Cousin Ann. Thisidea so delighted Nancy that she was obliged to retire from Gilbert'sproximity, lest the family should observe her mirth and Gilbert's andimpute undue importance to it. 

"I've done everything to the bedstead I can think of, " Gilbert said, oncoming downstairs. "You can see how it works to-night, Cousin Ann!"

As a matter of fact it _did_ work, instead of remaining in perfect quietas a well-bred bedstead should. When the family was sound asleep atmidnight a loud crash was heard, and Cousin Ann, throwing open the doorof her room, speedily informed everybody in the house that her bed hadcome down with her, giving her nerves a shock from which they probablywould never recover. 

"Gilbert is far too young for the responsibilities you put upon him, Margaret, " Cousin Ann exclaimed, drawing her wrapper more closely overher tall spare figure; "and if he was as old as Methuselah he wouldstill be careless, for he was born so! All this talk about his beingskilful with tools has only swollen his vanity. A boy of his age shouldbe able to make a bedstead stay together. "

The whole family, including the crestfallen Gilbert, proposed variousplans of relief, all except Nancy, who did not wish to meet Gilbert'sglance for fear that she should have to suspect him of a new crime. Having embarked on a career of villainy under her direct instigation, hemight go on of his own accord, indefinitely. She did not believe himguilty, but she preferred not to look into the matter more closely. 

Mother Carey's eyes searched Gilbert's, but found there no confirmationof her fears. 

"You needn't look at me like that, mother, " said the boy. "I wouldn't beso mean as to rig up an accident for Cousin Ann, though I'd like her tohave a little one every night, just for the fun of it. "

Cousin Ann refused to let Gilbert try again on the bedstead, and refusedpart of Mrs. Carey's bed, preferring to sleep on two hair mattresseslaid on her bedroom floor. "They may not be comfortable, " she saidtersely, "but at least they will not endanger my life. "

The next morning's post brought business letters, and Cousin Ann fearedshe would have to leave Beulah, although there was work for a fortnightto come, right there, and Margaret had not strength enough to getthrough it alone. 

She thought the chimneys were full of soot, and didn't believe thekitchen stove would ever draw; she was sure that there were dead toadsand frogs in the well; the house was inconvenient and always would betill water was brought into the kitchen sink; Julia seemed to have noleaning towards housework and had an appetite that she could onlydescribe as a crime, inasmuch as the wherewithal to satisfy it had to bepurchased by others; the climate was damp because of the river, andthere was no proper market within eight miles; Kathleen was too delicateto live in such a place, and the move from Charlestown was an utter andabsolute and entire mistake from A to Z. 

Then she packed her small trunk and Gilbert ran to the village on gladand winged feet to get some one to take his depressing relative to thenoon train to Boston. As for Nancy, she stood in front of the parlorfireplace, and when she heard the hoot of the engine in the distance sheremoved the four mortuary vases from the mantelpiece and took them tothe attic, while Gilbert from the upper hall was chanting a favoriteold rhyme:--

 "She called us names till she was tired, She called us names till we perspired, She called us names we never could spell, She called us names we never may tell. 

 "She called us names that made us laugh, She called us names for a day and a half, She called us names till her memory failed, But finally out of our sight she sailed. "

"It must have been written about Cousin Ann in the first place, " saidNancy, joining Kathleen in the kitchen. "Well, she's gone at last!

 "Now every prospect pleases, And only Julia's vile, "

she paraphrased from the old hymn, into Kathleen's private ear. 

"You oughtn't to say such things, Nancy, " rebuked Kathleen. "Motherwouldn't like it. "

"I know it, " confessed Nancy remorsefully. "I have been wicked since themoment I tried to get rid of You Dirty Boy. I don't know what's thematter with me. My blood seems to be too red, and it courses wildlythrough my veins, as the books say. I am going to turn over a new leaf, now that Cousin Ann's gone and our only cross is Julia!"

Oh! but it is rather dreadful to think how one person can spoil theworld! If only you could have seen the Yellow House after Cousin Anawent! If only you could have heard the hotel landlady exclaim as shedrove past: "Well! Good riddance to bad rubbish!" The weather grewwarmer outside almost at once, and Bill Harmon's son planted the garden. The fireplaces ceased to smoke and the kitchen stove drew. ColonelWheeler suggested a new chain pump instead of the old wooden one, afterwhich the water took a turn for the better, and before the month wasended the Yellow House began to look like home, notwithstanding Julia. 

As for Beulah village, after its sleep of months under deep snow-driftsit had waked into the adorable beauty of an early New England summer. Ithad no snow-capped mountains in the distance; no amethyst foothills toenchain the eye; no wonderful canyons and splendid rocky passes to makethe tourist marvel; no length of yellow sea sands nor plash of oceansurf; no trade, no amusements, no summer visitors;--it was just a quiet, little, sunny, verdant, leafy piece of heart's content, that's whatBeulah was, and Julia couldn't spoil it; indeed, the odds were, that itwould sweeten Julia! That was what Mother Carey hoped when her heart hadan hour's leisure to drift beyond Shiny Wall into Peacepool and considerthe needs of her five children. It was generally at twilight, when shewas getting Peter to sleep, that she was busiest making "old beastsinto new. "

"People fancy that I make things, my little dear, " says Mother Carey toTom the Water Baby, "but I sit here and make them make themselves!"

There was once a fairy, so the tale goes, who was so clever that shefound out how to make butterflies, and she was so proud that she flewstraight off to Peacepool to boast to Mother Carey of her skill. 

But Mother Carey laughed. 

"Know, silly child, " she said, "that any one can make things if he willtake time and trouble enough, but it is not every one who can makethings make themselves. "

"Make things make themselves!" Mother Carey used to think in thetwilight. "I suppose that is what mothers are for!"

Nancy was making herself busily these days, and the offending Julia wasdirectly responsible for such self-control and gains in general virtueas poor impetuous Nancy achieved. Kathleen was growing stronger andsteadier and less self-conscious. Gilbert was doing better at school, and his letters showed more consideration and thought for the familythan they had done heretofore. Even the Peter-bird was a little sweeterand more self-helpful just now, thought Mother Carey fondly, as sherocked him to sleep. He was worn out with following Natty Harmon at theplough, and succumbed quickly to the music of her good-night song andthe comfort of her sheltering arms. Mother Carey had arms to carry, armsto enfold, arms to comfort and caress. She also had a fine, handsome, strong hand admirable for spanking, but she had so many invisiblemethods of discipline at her command that she never needed a visiblespanker for Peter. "Spanking is all very well in its poor way, " she usedto say, "but a woman who has to fall back on it very often is sadlylacking in ingenuity. "

As she lifted Peter into his crib Nancy came softly in at the door witha slip of paper in her hand. 

She drew her mother out to the window over the front door. "Listen, " shesaid. "Do you hear the frogs?"

"I've been listening to them for the last half-hour, " her mother said. "Isn't everything sweet to-night, with the soft air and the elms allfeathered out, and the new moon!"

"Was it ever so green before?" Nancy wondered, leaning over thewindow-sill by her mother's side. "Were the trees ever so lace-y? Wasany river ever so clear, or any moon so yellow? I am so sorry for thecity people tonight! Sometimes I think it can't be so beautiful here asit looks, mother. Sometimes I wonder if part of the beauty isn't insideof us!" said Nancy. 

"Part of all beauty is in the eyes that look at, it, " her motheranswered. 

"And I've been reading Mrs. Harmon's new reference Bible, " Nancycontinued, "and here is what it says about Beulah. "

She held the paper to the waning light and read: "_Thou shalt no more betermed Forsaken, neither shall thy land any more be termed Desolate ... But it shall be called Beulah, for the Lord delighteth in thee_. 

"I think father would be comforted if he could see us all in the YellowHouse at Beulah!" Nancy went on softly as the two leaned out of thewindow together. "He was so loving, so careful of us, so afraid thatanything should trouble us, that for months I couldn't think of him, even in heaven, as anything but worried. But now it seems just as if wewere over the hardest time and could learn to live here in Beulah; andso he must be comforted if he can see us or think about us atall;--don't you feel like that, mother?"

Yes, her mother agreed gently, and her heart was grateful and full ofhope. She had lost the father of her children and the dear companion ofher life, and that loss could never be made good. Still her mindacknowledged the riches she possessed in her children, so she confessedherself neither desolate nor forsaken, but something in a humble humanway that the Lord could take delight in. 

XIII

THE PINK OF PERFECTION

That was the only trouble with Allan Carey's little daughter Julia, agedthirteen; she was, and always had been, the pink of perfection. As ababy she had always been exemplary, eating heartily and sleepingsoundly. When she felt a pin in her flannel petticoat she deemed itdiscourteous to cry, because she knew that her nurse had at least triedto dress her properly. When awake, her mental machinery moved slowly andwithout any jerks. As to her moral machinery, the angels must have setit going at birth and planned it in such a way that it could neitherstop nor go wrong. It was well meant, of course, but probably the angelswho had the matter in charge were new, young, inexperienced angels, withvague ideas of human nature and inexact knowledge of God's intentions;because a child that has no capability of doing the wrong thing willhardly be able to manage a right one; not one of the big sort, anyway. 

At four or five years old Julia was always spoken of as "such a goodlittle girl. " Many a time had Nancy in early youth stamped her foot andcried: "Don't talk about Julia! I will not hear about Julia!" for shewas always held up as a pattern of excellence. Truth to tell she boredher own mother terribly; but that is not strange, for by a curious freakof nature, Mrs. Allan Carey was as flighty and capricious andirresponsible and gay and naughty as Julia was steady, limited, narrow, conventional, and dull; but the flighty mother passed out of the Careyfamily life, and Julia, from the age of five onward, fell into thecharge of a pious, unimaginative governess, instead of being turned outto pasture with a lot of frolicsome young human creatures; so atthirteen she had apparently settled--hard, solid, and firm--into amould. She had smooth fair hair, pale blue eyes, thin lips, and asomewhat too plump shape for her years. She was always tidy and wore herclothes well, laying enormous stress upon their material and style, thistrait in her character having been added under the fostering influenceof the wealthy and fashionable Gladys Ferguson. At thirteen, when Juliajoined the flock of Carey chickens, she had the air of belonging toquite another order of beings. They had been through a discipline seldomsuffered by "only children. " They had had to divide apples and toys, take turns at reading books, and learn generally to trot in doubleharness. If Nancy had a new dress at Christmas, Kathleen had a new hatin the spring. Gilbert heard the cry of "Low bridge!" very often afterKathleen appeared on the scene, and Kathleen's ears, too, grew wellaccustomed to the same phrase after Peter was born. 

"Julia never did a naughty thing in her life, nor spoke a wrong word, "said her father once, proudly. 

"Never mind, she's only ten, and there's hope for her yet, " CaptainCarey had replied cheerfully; though if he had known her a little later, in her first Beulah days, he might not have been so sanguine. She seemedto have no instinct of adapting herself to the family life, standingjust a little aloof and in an attitude of silent criticism. She was atrig, smug prig, Nancy said, delighting in her accidental muster ofthree short, hard, descriptive words. She hadn't a bit of humor, no fun, no gayety, no generous enthusiasms that carried her too far for safetyor propriety. She brought with her to Beulah sheaves of schoolcertificates, and when she showed them to Gilbert with their hundred percent deportment and ninety-eight and seven-eighths per cent scholarshipevery month for years, he went out behind the barn and kicked itsfoundations savagely for several minutes. She was a sort of continualSunday child, with an air of church and cold dinner and sermon-readingand hymn-singing and early bed. Nobody could fear, as for someimpulsive, reckless little creature, that she would come to a bad end. Nancy said no one could imagine her as coming to anything, not evenan end!

"You never let mother hear you say these things, Nancy, " Kathleenremarked once, "but really and truly it's just as bad to say them atall, when you know she wouldn't approve. "

"My present object is to be as good as gold in mother's eyes, but thereI stop!" retorted Nancy cheerfully. "Pretty soon I shall get virtuousenough to go a step further and endeavor to please the angels, --notJulia's cast-iron angels, but the other angels, who understand and arepatient, because they remember our frames and know that being dust weare likely to be dusty once in a while. Julia wasn't made of dust. Shewas made of--let me see--of skim milk and baked custard (the waterykind) and rice flour and gelatine, with a very little piece of overripebanana, --not enough to flavor, just enough to sicken. Stir this up withweak barley water without putting In a trace of salt, sugar, spice, orpepper, set it in a cool oven, take it out before it is done, and youwill get Julia. "

Nancy was triumphant over this recipe for making Julias, only regrettingthat she could never show it to her mother, who, if critical, was alwaysmost appreciative. She did send it in a letter to the Admiral, off inChina, and he, being "none too good for human nature's daily food, "enjoyed it hugely and never scolded her at all. 

Julia's only conversation at this time was on matters concerning GladysFerguson and the Ferguson family. When you are washing dishes in thesink of the Yellow House in Beulah it is very irritating to hear ofGladys Ferguson's mother-of-pearl opera glasses, her French maid, herbreakfast on a tray in bed, her diamond ring, her photograph in theSunday "Times, " her travels abroad, her proficiency in Frenchand German. 

"Don't trot Gladys into the kitchen, for goodness' sake, Julia!"grumbled Nancy on a warm day. "I don't want her diamond ring in mydishwater. Wait till Sunday, when we go to the hotel for dinner in ourbest clothes, if you must talk about her. You don't wipe the tumblersdry, nor put them in the proper place, when your mind is fullof Gladys!"

"All right!" said Julia gently. "Only I hope I shall always be able towipe dishes and keep my mind on better things at the same time. That'swhat Miss Tewksbury told me when she knew I had got to give up my homeluxuries for a long time. 'Don't let poverty drag you down, Julia, ' shesaid: 'keep your high thoughts and don't let them get soiled with thegrime of daily living. '"

It is only just to say that Nancy was not absolutely destitute ofself-control and politeness, because at this moment she had a reallyvicious desire to wash Julia's supercilious face and neat nose with thedishcloth, fresh from the frying pan. She knew that she could not graspthose irritating "high thoughts" and apply the grime of daily living tothem concretely and actually, but Julia's face was within her reach, andNancy's fingers tingled with desire. No trace of this savage impulseappeared in her behavior, however; she rinsed the dishpan, turned itupside down in the sink, and gave the wiping towels to Julia, asking herto wring them out in hot water and hang them on the barberry bushes, according to Mrs. Carey's instructions. 

"It doesn't seem as if I could!" whimpered Julia. "I have always been sosensitive, and dish towels are so disgusting! They do _smell_, Nancy!"

"They do, " said Nancy sternly, "but they will smell worse if they arenot washed! I give you the dish-wiping and take the washing, just tosave your hands, but you must turn and turn about with Kathleen and mewith some of the ugly, hateful things. If you were company of course wecouldn't let you, but you are a member of the family. Our principalconcern must be to keep mother's 'high thoughts' from grime; ours mustjust take their chance!"

Oh! how Julia disliked Nancy at this epoch in their common history; andhow cordially and vigorously the dislike was returned! Many an unhappymoment did Mother Carey have over the feud, mostly deep and silent, thatwent on between these two; and Gilbert's attitude was not much morehopeful. He had found a timetable or syllabus for the day's doings, overJulia's washstand. It had been framed under Miss Tewksbury's guidance, who knew Julia's unpunctuality and lack of system, and read asfollows:--

 _Syllabus_

 Rise at 6. 45. Bathe and dress. Devotional Exercises 7. 15. Breakfast 7. 45. Household tasks till 9. Exercise out of doors 9 to 10. Study 10 to 12. Preparations for dinner 12 to 1. Recreation 2 to 4. Study 4 to 5. Preparation for supper 5 to 6. Wholesome reading, walking, or conversation 7 to 8. Devotional exercises 9. Bed 9. 30. 

There was nothing wrong about this; indeed, it was excellentlyconceived; still it appeared to Gilbert as excessively funny, and withNancy's help he wrote another syllabus and tacked it overJulia's bureau. 

 _Time Card_

 On waking I can Pray for Gilly and Nan; Eat breakfast at seven. Or ten or eleven, Nor think when it's noon That luncheon's too soon. From twelve until one I can munch on a bun. At one or at two My dinner'll be due. At three, say, or four, I'll eat a bit more. When the clock's striking five Some mild exercise, Very brief, would be wise, Lest I lack appetite For my supper at night. Don't go to bed late, Eat a light lunch at eight, Nor forget to say prayers For my cousins downstairs. Then with conscience like mine I'll be sleeping at nine. 

Mrs. Carey had a sense of humor, and when the weeping Julia brought thetwo documents to her for consideration she had great difficulty inadjusting the matter gravely and with due sympathy for her niece. 

"The F-f-f-fergusons never mentioned my appetite, " Julia wailed. "Theywere always trying to g-g-get me to eat!"

"Gilbert and Nancy are a little too fond of fun, and a little too proneto chaffing, " said Mrs. Carey. "They forget that you are not used to it, but I will try to make them more considerate. And don't forget, my dear, that in a large family like ours we must learn to 'live and let live. '"

XIV

WAYS AND MEANS

It was late June, and Gilbert had returned from school, so the work ofmaking the Yellow House attractive and convenient was to move forward atonce. Up to now, the unpacking and distribution of the furniture, withthe daily housework and cooking, had been all that Mrs. Carey and thegirls could manage. 

A village Jack-of-all-trades, Mr. Ossian Popham, generally andfamiliarly called "Osh" Popham, had been called in to whitewash existingclosets and put hooks in them; also, with Bill Harmon's consent, to makenew ones here and there in handy corners. Dozens of shelves in oddspaces helped much in the tidy stowing away of household articles, bed-clothing, and stores. In the midst of this delightful and cheerysetting-to-rights a letter arrived from Cousin Ann. The family was allsitting together in Mrs. Carey's room, the announced intention being tohold an important meeting of the Ways and Means Committee, the Careysbeing strong on ways and uniformly short on means. 

The arrival of the letters by the hand of Bill Harmon's boy occurredbefore the meeting was called to order. 

"May I read Cousin Ann's aloud?" asked Nancy, who had her privatereasons for making the offer. 

"Certainly, " said Mrs. Carey unsuspectingly, as she took up theinevitable stocking. "I almost wish you had all been storks instead ofchickens; then you would always have held up one foot, and perhaps thatstocking, at least, wouldn't have had holes in it!"

"Poor Muddy! I'm learning to darn, " cried Kathleen, kissing her. 

 LONGHAMPTON, NEW JERSEY, _June 27th_. 

 MY DEAR MARGARET [so Nancy read], --The climate of this seaside place suits me so badly that I have concluded to spend the rest of the summer with you, lightening those household tasks which will fall so heavily on your shoulders. 

[Groans from the whole family greeted this opening passage, and Gilbertcast himself, face down, on his mother's lounge. ]

 It is always foggy here when it does not rain, and the cooking is very bad. The manager of the hotel is uncivil and the office clerks very rude, so that Beulah, unfortunate place of residence as I consider it, will be much preferable. 

 I hope you are getting on well with the work on the house, although I regard your treating it as if it were your own, as the height of extravagance. You will never get back a penny you spend on it, and probably when you get it in good order Mr. Hamilton will come back from Europe and live in it himself, or take it away from you and sell it to some one else. 

 Gilbert will be home by now, but I should not allow him to touch the woodwork, as he is too careless and unreliable. 

["She'll never forget that the bed came down with her!" exclaimedGilbert, his voice muffled by the sofa cushions. ]

 Remember me to Julia. I hope she enjoys her food better than when I was with you. Children must eat if they would grow. 

[Mother Carey pricked up her ears at this point, and Gilbert raisedhimself on one elbow, but Nancy went on gravely. ]

 Tell Kathleen to keep out of the sun, or wear a hat, as her complexion is not at all what it used to be. Without color and with freckles she will be an unusually plain child. 

[Kathleen flushed angrily and laid down her work. ]

 Give my love to darling Nancy. What a treasure you have in your eldest, Margaret! I hope you are properly grateful for her. Such talent, such beauty, such grace, such discretion--

But here the family rose _en masse_ and descended on the reader of thespurious letter just as she had turned the first page. In the amiablescuffle that ensued, a blue slip fell from Cousin Ann's envelope andGilbert handed it to his mother with the letter. 

Mrs. Carey, wiping the tears of merriment that came to her eyes in spiteof her, so exactly had Nancy caught Cousin Ann's epistolary style, readthe real communication, which ran as follows:--

 DEAR MARGARET, --I have had you much in mind since I left you, always with great anxiety lest your strength should fail under the unexpected strain you put upon it. I had intended to give each of you a check for thirty-five dollars at Christmas to spend as you liked, but I must say I have not entire confidence in your judgment. You will be likelier far to decorate the walls of the house than to bring water into the kitchen sink. I therefore enclose you three hundred dollars and beg that you will have the well piped _at once_, and if there is any way to carry the water to the bedroom floor, do it, and let me send the extra amount involved. You will naturally have the well cleaned out anyway, but I should prefer never to know what you found in it. My only other large gift to you in the past was one of ornaments, sent, you remember, at the time of your wedding!

["We remember!" groaned the children in chorus. ]

 I do not regret this, though my view of life, of its sorrows and perplexities, has changed somewhat, and I am more practical than I used to be. The general opinion is that in giving for a present an object of permanent beauty, your friends think of you whenever they look upon it. 

["That's so!" remarked Gilbert to Nancy. ]

 This is true, no doubt, but there are other ways of making yourself remembered, and I am willing that you should think kindly of Cousin Ann whenever you use the new pump. 

 The second improvement I wish made with the money is the instalment of a large furnace-like stove in the cellar, which will send up a little heat, at least, into the hall and lower rooms in winter. You will probably have to get the owner's consent, and I should certainly ask for a five years' lease before expending any considerable amount of money on the premises. 

 If there is any money left, I should suggest new sills to the back doors and those in the shed. I noticed that the present ones are very rotten, and I dare say by this time you have processions of red and black ants coming into your house. It seemed to me that I never saw so much insect life as in Beulah. Moths, caterpillars, brown-tails, slugs, spiders, June bugs, horseflies, and mosquitoes were among the pests I specially noted. The Mr. Popham who drove me to the station said that snakes also abounded in the tall grass, but I should not lay any stress on his remarks, as I never saw such manners in my life in any Christian civilized community. He asked me my age, and when I naturally made no reply, he inquired after a few minutes' silence whether I was unmarried from choice or necessity. When I refused to carry on any conversation with him he sang jovial songs so audibly that persons going along the street smiled and waved their hands to him. I tell you this because you appear to have false ideas of the people in Beulah, most of whom seemed to me either eccentric or absolutely insane. 

 Hoping that you can endure your life there when the water smells better and you do not have to carry it from the well, I am

 Yours affectionately, ANN CHADWICH. 

"Children!" said Mrs. Carey, folding the letter and slipping the checkinto the envelope for safety, "your Cousin Ann is really a verygood woman. "

"I wish her bed hadn't come down with her, " said Gilbert. "We couldnever have afforded to get that water into the house, or had the littlefurnace, and I suppose, though no one of us ever thought of it, that youwould have had a hard time doing the work in the winter in a cold house, and it would have been dreadful going to the pump. "

"Dreadful for you too, Gilly, " replied Kathleen pointedly. 

"I shall be at school, where I can't help, " said Gilbert. 

Mrs. Carey made no remark, as she intended the fact that there was nomoney for Gilbert's tuition at Eastover to sink gradually into his mind, so that he might make the painful discovery himself. His fees hadfortunately been paid in advance up to the end of the summer term, sothe strain on their resources had not been felt up to now. 

Nancy had disappeared from the room and now stood in the doorway. 

"I wish to remark that, having said a good many disagreeable thingsabout Cousin Ann, and regretting them very much, I have placed the fourblack and white marble ornaments on my bedroom mantelpiece, there to bea perpetual reminder of my sins. You Dirty Boy is in a hundred pieces inthe barn chamber, but if Cousin Ann ever comes to visit us again, I'llbe the one to confess that Gilly and I were the cause of the accident. "

"Now take your pencil, Nancy, and see where we are in point of income, at the present moment, " her mother suggested, with an approving smile. "Put down the pension of thirty dollars a month. "

"Down. --Three hundred and sixty dollars. "

"Now the hundred dollars over and above the rent of the Charlestownhouse. "

"Down; but it lasts only four years. "

"We may all be dead by that time. " (This cheerfully from Gilbert. )

"Then the interest on our insurance money. Four per cent on fivethousand dollars is two hundred; I have multiplied it twenty times. "

"Down. --Two hundred. "

"Of course if anything serious happens, or any great need comes, we havethe five thousand to draw upon, " interpolated Gilbert. 

"I will draw upon that to save one of us in illness or to bury one ofus, " said Mrs. Carey with determination, "but I will never live out ofit myself, nor permit you to. We are five, --six, while Julia is withus, " she added hastily, --"and six persons will surely have rainy dayscoming to them. What if I should die and leave you?"

"Don't, mother!" they cried in chorus, so passionately that Mrs. Careychanged the subject quickly. "How much a year does it make, Nancy?"

"Three hundred and sixty plus one hundred plus two hundred equals sixhundred and sixty, " read Nancy. "And I call it a splendid big lumpof money!"

"Oh, my dear, " sighed her mother with a shake of the head, "if you knewthe difficulty your father and I have had to take care of ourselves andof you on five and six times that sum! We may have been a littleextravagant sometimes following him about, --he was always so anxious tohave us with him, --but that has been our only luxury. "

"We saved enough out of exchanging the grand piano to pay all theexpenses down here, and all our railway fares, and everything so far, inthe way of boards and nails and Osh Popham's labor, " recalled Gilbert. 

"Yes, and we are still eating the grand piano at the end of two months, but it's about gone, isn't it, Muddy?" Nancy asked. 

"About gone, but it has been a great help, and our dear littleold-fashioned square is just as much of a comfort. --Of course there'sthe tapestry and the Van Twiller landscape Uncle gave me; they mayyet be sold. "

"Somebody'll buy the tapestry, but the Van Twiller'll go hard, " andGilbert winked at Nancy. 

"A picture that looks just the same upside down as the right way aboutwon't find many buyers, " was Nancy's idea. 

"Still it is a Van Twiller, and has a certain authentic value for alltime!"

"The landscapes Van Twiller painted in the dark, or when he had hisblinders on, can't be worth very much, " insisted Gilbert. "You rememberthe Admiral thought it was partridges nesting in the underbrush attwilight, and then we found Joanna had cleaned the dining room and hungthe thing upside down. When it was hung the other end up neither fathernor the Admiral could tell what it was; they'd lost the partridges andcouldn't find anything else!"

"We shall get something for it because it is a Van Twiller, " said Mrs. Carey hopefully; "and the tapestry is lovely. --Now we have been doingall our own work to save money enough to make the house beautiful; yet, as Cousin Ann says, it does not belong to us and may be taken away atany moment after the year is up. We have never even seen our landlord, though Mr. Harmon has written to him. Are we foolish? What do youthink, Julia?"

XV

BELONGING TO BEULAH

The Person without a Fault had been quietly working at her embroidery, raising her head now and then to look at some extraordinary Carey, whenhe or she made some unusually silly or fantastic remark. 

"I'm not so old as Gilbert and Nancy, and I'm only a niece, " she saidmodestly, "so I ought not to have an opinion. But I should get amaid-of-all-work at once, so that we shouldn't all be drudges as we arenow; then I should not spend a single cent on the house, but just livehere in hiding, as it were, till better times come and till we are oldenough to go into society. You could scrimp and save for Nancy's comingout, and then for Kathleen's. Father would certainly be well long beforethen, and Kathleen and I could debut together!"

"Who wants to 'debut' together or any other way, " sniffed Nancyscornfully. "I'm coming out right here in Beulah; indeed I'm not surebut I'm out already! Mr. Bill Harmon has asked me to come to the churchsociable and Mr. Popham has invited me to the Red Men's picnic atGreentown. Beulah's good for something better than a place to hide in!We'll have to save every penny at first, of course, but in three or fouryears Gilly and I ought to be earning something. "

"The trouble is, I _can't_ earn anything in college, " objected Gilbert, "though I'd like to. "

"That will be the only way a college course can come to you now, Gilbert, " his mother said quietly. "You know nothing of the expensesinvolved. They would have taxed our resources to the utmost if fatherhad lived, and we had had our more than five thousand a year! You and Itogether must think out your problem this summer. "

Gilbert looked blank and walked to the window with his hands in hispockets. 

"I should lose all my friends, and it's hard for a fellow to make hisway in the world if he has nothing to recommend him but his graduationfrom some God-forsaken little hole like Beulah Academy. "

Nancy looked as if she could scalp her brother when he alluded to herbeloved village in these terms, but her mother's warning look stoppedany comment. 

Julia took up arms for her cousin. "We ought to go without everythingfor the sake of sending Gilbert to college, " she said. "Gladys Fergusondoesn't know a single boy who isn't going to Harvard or Yale. "

"If a boy of good family and good breeding cannot make friends by hisown personality and his own qualities of mind and character, I shouldthink he would better go without them, " said Gilbert's mother casually. 

"Don't you believe in a college education, mother?" inquired Gilbert inan astonished tone. 

"Certainly! Why else should we have made sacrifices to send you? Tobegin with, it is much simpler and easier to be educated in college. Youhave a thousand helps and encouragements that other fellows have to getas they may. The paths are all made straight for the students. A stupidboy, or one with small industry or little originality, must have_something_ drummed into him in four years, with all the splendidteaching energy that the colleges employ. It requires a very high gradeof mental and moral power to do without such helps, and it may be thatyou are not strong enough to succeed without them;--I do not know yourpossibilities yet, Gilbert, and neither do you know them yourself!"

Gilbert looked rather nonplussed. "Pretty stiff, I call it!" hegrumbled, "to say that if you've got brains enough you can dowithout college. "

"It is true, nevertheless. If you have brains enough, and will enough, and heart enough, you can stay here in Beulah and make the universesearch you out, and drag you into the open, where men have need of you!"(Mrs. Carey's eyes shone and her cheeks glowed. ) "What we all want as afamily is to keep well and strong and good, in body and mind and soul;to conquer our weaknesses, to train our gifts, to harness our powers tosome wished-for end, and then _pull_, with all our might. Can't my girlsbe fine women, fit for New York or Washington, London or Paris, becausetheir young days were passed in Beulah? Can't my boys be anything thattheir brains and courage fit them for, whether they make their ownassociations or have them made for them? Father would never have flungthe burden on your shoulders, Gilbert, but he is no longer here. Youcan't have the help of Yale or Harvard or Bowdoin to make a man of you, my son, --you will have to fight your own battles and win yourown spurs. "

"Oh! mother, but you're splendid!" cried Nancy, the quick tears in hereyes. "Brace up, old Gilly, and show what the Careys can do without'advantages. ' Brace up, Kitty and Julia! We three will make BeulahAcademy ring next year!"

"And I don't want you to look upon Beulah as a place of hiding whileadversity lasts, " said Mother Carey. "We must make it home; as beautifuland complete as we can afford. One real home always makes others, I amsure of that! We will ask Mr. Harmon to write Mr. Hamilton and see if hewill promise to leave us undisturbed. We cannot be happy, or prosperous, or useful, or successful, unless we can contrive to make the YellowHouse a home. The river is our river; the village is our village; thepeople are our neighbors; Beulah belongs to us and we belong to Beulah, don't we, Peter?"

Mother Carey always turned to Peter with some nonsensical appeal whenher heart was full and her voice a trifle unsteady. You could bury yourhead in Peter's little white sailor jacket just under his chin, at whichhe would dimple and gurgle and chuckle and wriggle, and when youwithdrew your flushed face and presented it to the public gaze all thetears would have been wiped off on Peter. 

So on this occasion did Mrs. Carey repeat, as she set Peter down, "Don'twe belong to Beulah, dear?"

"Yes, we does, " he lisped, "and I'm going to work myself, pretty soonbimebye just after a while, when I'm a little more grown up, and thenI'll buy the Yellow House quick. "

"So you shall, precious!" cried Kathleen. 

"I was measured on Muddy this morning, wasn't I, Muddy, and I was halfway to her belt; and in Charlestown I was only a little farder up thanher knees. All the time I'm growing up she's ungrowing down! She'ssmallering and I'm biggering. "

"Are you afraid your mother'll be too small, sweet Pete?" asked Mrs. Carey. 

"No!" this very stoutly. "Danny Harmon's mother's more'n up to themantelpiece and I'd hate to have my mother so far away!" said Peter ashe embraced Mrs. Carey's knees. 

Julia had said little during this long conversation, though her mind wasfairly bristling with objections and negatives and different points ofview, but she was always more or less awed by her Aunt Margaret, andnever dared defy her opinion. She had a real admiration for her aunt'sbeauty and dignity and radiant presence, though it is to be feared shecared less for the qualities of character that made her personality soluminous with charm for everybody. She saw people look at her, listen toher, follow her with their eyes, comment on her appearance, herelegance, and her distinction, and all this impressed her deeply. As toCousin Ann's present her most prominent feeling was that it would havebeen much better if that lady had followed her original plan of sendingindividual thirty-five-dollar checks. In that event she, Julia, wasquite certain that hers never would have gone into a water-pipe or adoor-sill. 

"Oh, Kathleen!" sighed Nancy as the two went into the kitchen together. "Isn't mother the most interesting 'scolder' you ever listened to? Ilove to hear her do it, especially when somebody else is getting it. When it's I, I grow smaller and smaller, curling myself up like a littleworm. Then when she has finished I squirm to the door and wriggle out. Other mothers say: 'If you don't, I shall tell your father!' 'Do as Itell you, and ask no questions. ' 'I never heard of such behavior in mylife!' 'Haven't you any sense of propriety?' 'If this happens again Ishall have to do something desperate. ' 'Leave the room at once, ' and soon; but mother sets you to thinking. "

"Mother doesn't really scold, " Kathleen objected. 

"No, but she shows you how wrong you are, just the same. Did you noticehow Julia _withered_ when mother said we were not to look upon Beulah asa place of hiding?"

"She didn't stay withered long, " Kathleen remarked. 

"And she said just the right thing to dear old Gilly, for Fred Bascom isfilling his head with foolish notions. He needs father to sethim right. "

"We all need father, " sighed Kitty tearfully, "but somehow mother growsa little more splendid every day. I believe she's trying to fillfather's place and be herself too!"

XVI

THE POST BAG

Letter from Mr. William Harmon, storekeeper at Beulah Corner, to Hon. Lemuel Hamilton, American Consul at Breslau, Germany. 

 Beulah, _June 27th. _

 Dear Lem: The folks up to your house want to lay out money on it and don't dass for fear you'll turn em out and pocket their improvements. If you haint got any better use for the propety I advise you to hold on to this bunch of tennants as they are O. K. Wash goods, all wool, and a yard wide. I woodent like Mrs. Harmon _to know how I feel about the lady_, who is hansome as a picture and the children are a first class crop and no mistake. They will not lay out much at first as they are short of cash but if ever good luck comes along they will fit up the house like a pallis and your granchildren will reep the proffit. I'll look out for your interest and see they don't do nothing outlandish. They'd have hard work to beat that fool-job your boys did on the old barn, fixin it up so't nobody could keep critters in it, so no more from your old school frend

 BILL HARMON. 

 P. S. We've been having a spell of turrible hot wether in Beulah. How is it with you? I never framed it up jest what kind of a job an American Counsul's was; but I guess he aint never het up with overwork! There was a piece in a Portland paper about a Counsul somewhere being fired because he set in his shirt-sleeves durin office hours. I says to Col. Wheeler if Uncle Sam could keep em all in their shirtsleeves, hustlin for dear life, it wood be all the better for him and us!

 BILL. 

Letter from Miss Nancy Carey to the Hon. Lemuel Hamilton. 

 BEULAH, _June 27th_. 

 DEAR MR. HAMILTON, --I am Nancy, the oldest of the Carey children, who live in your house. When father was alive, he took us on a driving trip, and we stopped and had luncheon under your big maple and fell in love with your empty house. Father (he was a Captain in the Navy and there was never anybody like him in the world!)--Father leaned over the gate and said if he was only rich he would drive the horse into the barn and buy the place that very day; and mother said it would be a beautiful spot to bring up a family. We children had wriggled under the fence, and were climbing the apple trees by that time, and we wanted to be brought up there that very minute. We all of us look back to that day as the happiest one that we can remember. Mother laughs when I talk of looking back, because I am not sixteen yet, but I think, although we did not know it, God knew that father was going to die and we were going to live in that very spot afterwards. Father asked us what we could do for the place that had been so hospitable to us, and I remembered a box of plants in the carryall, that we had bought at a wayside nursery, for the flower beds in Charlestown. "Plant something!" I said, and father thought it was a good idea and took a little crimson rambler rose bush from the box. Each of us helped make the place for it by taking a turn with the luncheon knives and spoons; then I planted the rose and father took off his hat and said, "Three cheers for the Yellow House!" and mother added, "God bless it, and the children who come to live in it!"--There is surely something strange in that, don't you think so? Then when father died last year we had to find a cheap and quiet place to live, and I remembered the Yellow House in Beulah and told mother my idea. She does not say "Bosh!" like some mothers, but if our ideas sound like anything she tries them; so she sent Gilbert to see if the house was still vacant, and when we found it was, we took it. The rent is sixty dollars a year, as I suppose Bill Harmon told you when he sent you mother's check for fifteen dollars for the first quarter. We think it is very reasonable, and do not wonder you don't like to spend anything on repairs or improvements for us, as you have to pay taxes and insurance. We hope you will have a good deal over for your own use out of our rent, as we shouldn't like to feel under obligation. If we had a million we'd spend it all on the Yellow House, because we are fond of it in the way you are fond of a person; it's not only that we want to paint it and paper it, but we would like to pat it and squeeze it. If you can't live in it yourself, even in the summer, perhaps you will be glad to know we love it so much and want to take good care of it always. What troubles us is the fear that you will take it away or sell it to somebody before Gilbert and I are grown up and have earned money enough to buy it. It was Cousin Ann that put the idea into our heads, but everybody says it is quite likely and sensible. Cousin Ann has made us a splendid present of enough money to bring the water from the well into the kitchen sink and to put a large stove like a furnace into the cellar. We would cut two registers behind the doors in the dining-room and sitting-room floors, and two little round holes in the ceilings to let the heat up into two bedrooms, if you are willing to let us do it. [Mother says that Cousin Ann is a good and generous person. It is true, and it makes us very unhappy that we cannot really love her on account of her being so fault-finding; but you, being an American Consul and travelling all over the world, must have seen somebody like her. ]

 Mr. Harmon is writing to you, but I thought he wouldn't know so much about us as I do. We have father's pension; that is three hundred and sixty dollars a year; and one hundred dollars a year from the Charlestown house, but that only lasts for four years; and two hundred dollars a year from the interest on father's insurance. That makes six hundred and sixty dollars, which is a great deal if you haven't been used to three thousand, but does not seem to be enough for a family of six. There is the insurance money itself, too, but mother says nothing but a very dreadful need must make us touch that. You see there are four of us children, which with mother makes five, and now there is Julia, which makes six. She is Uncle Allan's only child. Uncle Allan has nervous prostration and all of mother's money. We are not poor at all, just now, on account of having exchanged the grand piano for an old-fashioned square and eating up the extra money. It is great fun, and whenever we have anything very good for supper Kathleen says, "Here goes a piano leg!" and Gilbert says, "Let's have an octave of white notes for Sunday supper, mother!" I send you a little photograph of the family taken together on your side piazza (we call it our piazza, and I hope you don't mind). I am the tallest girl, with the curly hair. Julia is sitting down in front, hemming. She said we should look so idle if somebody didn't do something, but she never really hems; and Kathleen is leaning over mother's shoulder. We all wanted to lean over mother's shoulder, but Kitty got there first. The big boy is Gilbert. He can't go to college now, as father intended, and he is very sad and depressed; but mother says he has a splendid chance to show what father's son can do without any help but his own industry and pluck. Please look carefully at the lady sitting in the chair, for it is our mother. It is only a snap shot, but you can see how beautiful she is. Her hair is very long, and the wave in it is natural. The little boy is Peter. He is the loveliest and the dearest of all of us. The second picture is of me tying up the crimson rambler. I thought you would like to see what a wonderful rose it is. I was standing in a chair, training the long branches and tacking them against the house, when a gentleman drove by with a camera in his wagon. He stopped and took the picture and sent us one, explaining that every one admired it. I happened to be wearing my yellow muslin, and I am sending you the one the gentleman colored, because it is the beautiful crimson of the rose against the yellow house that makes people admire it so. If you come to America please don't forget Beulah, because if you once saw mother you could never bear to disturb her, seeing how brave she is, living without father. Admiral Southwick, who is in China, calls us Mother Carey's chickens. They are stormy petrels, and are supposed to go out over the seas and show good birds the way home. We haven't done anything splendid yet, but we mean to when the chance comes. I haven't told anybody that I am writing this, but I wanted you to know everything about us, as you are our landlord. We could be so happy if Cousin Ann wouldn't always say we are spending money on another person's house and such a silly performance never came to any good. 

 I enclose you a little picture cut from the wall paper we want to put on the front hall, hoping you will like it. The old paper is hanging in shreds and some of the plaster is loose, but Mr. Popham will make it all right. Mother says she feels as if he had pasted laughter and good nature on all the walls as he papered them. When you open the front door (and we hope you will, sometime, and walk right in!) how lovely it will be to look into yellow hayfields! And isn't the boatful of people coming to the haymaking, nice, with the bright shirts of the men and the women's scarlet aprons? Don't you love the white horse in the haycart, and the jolly party picnicking under the tree? Mother says just think of buying so much joy and color for twenty cents a double roll; and we children think we shall never get tired of sitting on the stairs in cold weather and making believe it is haying time. Gilbert says we are putting another grand piano leg on the walls, but we are not, for we are doing all our own cooking and dishwashing and saving the money that a cook would cost, to do lovely things for the Yellow House. Thank you, dearest Mr. Hamilton, for letting us live in it. We are very proud of the circular steps and very proud of your being an American consul. 

 Yours affectionately, NANCY CAREY. 

 P. S. It is June, and Beulah is so beautiful you feel like eating it with sugar and cream! We do hope that you and your children are living in as sweet a place, so that you will not miss this one so much. We know you have five, older than we are, but if there are any the right size for me to send my love to, please do it. Mother would wish to be remembered to Mrs. Hamilton, but she will never know I am writing to you. It is my first business letter. 

 N. C. 

XVII

JACK OF ALL TRADES

Mr. Ossian (otherwise "Osh") Popham was covering the hall of the YellowHouse with the hayfield paper. Bill Harmon's father had leftconsiderable stock of one sort and another in the great unfinished atticover the store, and though much of it was worthless, and all of it wasout of date, it seemed probable that it would eventually be sold to theCareys, who had the most unlimited ingenuity in making bricks withoutstraw, when it came to house decoration. They had always moved from postto pillar and Dan to Beersheba, and had always, inside of a week, hadthe prettiest and most delightful habitation in the naval colony wherethey found themselves. Beulah itself, as well as all the surroundingcountry, had looked upon the golden hayfield paper and scorned it asugly and countrified; never suspecting that, in its day, it had beenmade in France and cost a dollar and a half a roll. It had been importedfor a governor's house, and only half of it used, so for thirty yearsthe other half had waited for the Careys. There always are Careys andtheir like, and plenty of them, in every generation, so old things, ifthey are good, need never be discouraged. 

Mr. Popham never worked at his bricklaying or carpentering or cabinetmaking or papering by the hour, but "by the job"; and a kind Providence, intent on the welfare of the community, must have guided him in thischoice of business methods, for he talked so much more than he worked, that unless householders were well-to-do, the rights of employer andemployee could never have been adjusted. If they were rich no one ofthem would have stopped Ossian's conversation for a second. In the firstplace it was even better than his work, which was always good, and inthe second place he would never consent to go to any one, unless hecould talk as much as he liked. The Careys loved him, all but Julia, whopronounced him "common" and said Miss Tewksbury told her never to listento anyone who said "I done it" or "I seen it. " To this Nancy replied(her mother being in the garden, and she herself not yet started on aline of conduct arranged to please the angels) that Miss Tewksbury andJulia ought to have a little corner of heaven finished off forthemselves; and Julia made a rude, distinct, hideous "face" at Nancy. Ihave always dated the beginning of Julia's final transformation fromthis critical moment, when the old Adam in her began to work. It wasgood for Nancy too, who would have trodden on Julia so long as she wasan irritating but patient, well-behaved worm; but who would have to usea little care if the worm showed signs of turning. 

"Your tongue is like a bread knife, Nancy Carey!" Julia exclaimedpassionately, after twisting her nose and mouth into terrifying anddreadful shapes. "If it wasn't that Miss Tewksbury told me ladies neverwere telltales, I could soon make trouble between you and yourblessed mother. "

"No, you couldn't, " said Nancy curtly, "for I'd reform sooner than letyou do that!--Perhaps I did say too much, Julia, only I can't bear tohave you make game of Mr. Popham when he's so funny and nice. Think ofhis living with nagging Mrs. Popham and his stupid daughter and son inthat tiny house, and being happy as a king. "

"If there wasn't something wrong with him he wouldn't _be_ happy there, "insisted Julia. 

Mr. Popham himself accounted for his contentment without insulting hisintelligence. "The way I look at it, " he said, "this world's all theworld we'll git till we git to the next one; an' we might's well smileon it, 's frown! You git your piece o' life an' you make what you can ofit;--that's the idee! Now the other day I got some nice soft wood thatwas prime for whittlin'; jest the right color an' grain an' all, an' Istarted in to make a little statue o' the Duke o' Wellington. Well, whenI got to shapin' him out, I found my piece o' wood wouldn't be longenough to give him his height; so I says, 'Well, I don't care, I'll cutthe Duke right down and make Napoleon Bonaparte. ' I'd 'a' been all rightif I'd cal'lated better, but I cut my block off too short, and Icouldn't make Napoleon nohow; so I says, 'Well, Isaac Watts was an awfulshort man, so I guess I'll make him!' But this time my wood split rightin two. Some men would 'a' been discouraged, but I wasn't, not a mite; Ijest said, 'I never did fancy Ike Watts, an' there's one thing thisblamed chip _will_ make, an' that's a button for the barn door!'"

Osh not only whittled and papered and painted, but did anythingwhatsoever that needed to be done on the premises. If the pump refusedto draw water, or the sink drain was stopped, or the gutters neededcleaning, or the grass had to be mowed, he was the man ordained byProvidence and his own versatility to do the work. While he was paperingthe front hall the entire Carey family lived on the stairs betweenmeals, fearful lest they should lose any incident, any anecdote, anystory, any reminiscence that might fall from his lips. Mrs. Carey tookher mending basket and sat in the doorway, within ear shot, while Peterhad all the scraps of paper and a small pasting board on the steps, where he conducted his private enterprises. 

Osh would cut his length of paper, lay it flat on the board, and applythe wide brush up and down neatly while he began his story. Sometimes ifthe tale were long and interesting the paste would dry, but in that casehe went over the surface again. At the precise moment of hanging, theflow of his eloquence stopped abruptly and his hearers had to wait untilthe piece was finished before they learned what finally became of LyddyBrown after she drove her husband ou' doors, or of Bill Harmon's bullterrier, who set an entire community quarreling among themselves. Hisracy accounts of Mrs. Popham's pessimism, which had grown prodigiouslyfrom living in the house with his optimism; his anecdotes of Lallie JoyPopham, who was given to moods, having inherited portions of herfather's incurable hopefulness, and fragments of her mother'sineradicable gloom, --these were of a character that made the finishingof the hall a matter of profound unimportance. 

"I ain't one to hurry, " he would say genially; "that's the reason Iwon't work by the hour or by the day. We've got one 'hurrier' in thefamily, and that's enough for Lallie Joy 'n' me! Mis' Popham doeseverything right on the dot, an' Lallie Joy 'n' me git turrible sick o'seein' that dot, 'n' hevin' our 'tention drawed to it if we _don't_ seeit. Mis' Bill Harmon's another 'hurrier, '--well, you jest ask Bill, that's all! She an' Mis' Popham hev been at it for fifteen years, butthe village ain't ready to give out the blue ribbon yet. Last week mywife went over to Harmon's and Mis' Harmon said she was goin' to makesome molasses candy that mornin'. Well, my wife hurried home, put on hermolasses, made her candy, cooled it and worked it, and took some over totreat Mis' Harmon, who was jest gittin' her kittle out from underthe sink!"

The Careys laughed heartily at this evidence of Mrs. Popham's celerity, while Osh, as pleased as possible, gave one dab with his paste brush andwent on:--

"Maria's blood was up one while, 'cause Mis' Bill Harmon alwayscontrives to git her wash out the earliest of a Monday morning. Yesterday Maria got up 'bout daybreak (I allers tell her if she was realforehanded she'd eat her breakfast overnight), and by half past five shehed her clothes in the boiler. Jest as she was lookin' out the kitchenwinder for signs o' Mis' Bill Harmon, she seen her start for her sidedoor with a big basket. Maria was so mad then that she vowed shewouldn't be beat, so she dug for the bedroom and slat some clean sheetsand piller cases out of a bureau drawer, run into the yard, and I'mblamed if she didn't get 'em over the line afore Mis' Harmon found herclothespins!"

Good old Osh! He hadn't had such an audience for years, for Beulah knewall its own stories thoroughly, and although it valued them highly itdid not care to hear them too often; but the Careys were absolutelyfresh material, and such good, appreciative listeners! Mrs. Carey lookedso handsome when she wiped the tears of enjoyment from her eyes that Oshtold Bill Harmon if 't wa'n't agin the law you would want to kiss herevery time she laughed. 

Well, the hall papering was, luckily, to be paid for, not by the hour, but by an incredibly small price per roll, and everybody was pleased. Nancy, Kathleen, and Julia sat on the stairs preparing a whiteweed andbuttercup border for the spare bedroom according to a plan of MotherCarey's. It was an affair of time, as it involved the delicate cuttingout of daisy garlands from a wider bordering filled with flowers ofother colors, and proved a fascinating occupation. 

Gilbert hovered on the outskirts of the hall, doing odd jobs of one sortand another and learning bits of every trade at which Mr. Pophamwas expert. 

"If we hadn't been in such a sweat to git settled, " remarked Osh with aclip of his big shears, "I really'd ought to have plastered this frontentry all over! 'T wa'n't callin' for paper half's loud as 't was forplaster. Old Parson Bradley hed been a farmer afore he turned minister, and one Sunday mornin' his parish was thornin' him to pray for rain, sohe says: 'Thou knowest, O Lord! it's manure this land wants, 'n' notwater, but in Thy mercy send rain plenteously upon us. '"

"Mr. Popham, " said Gilbert, who had been patiently awaiting hisopportunity, "the pieces of paper are cut for those narrow places eachside of the front door. Can't I paste those on while you talk to us?"

"'Course you can, handy as you be with tools! There ain't no trick toit. Most anybody can be a paperer. As Parson Bradley said when he wastalkin' to a Sunday-school during a presidential campaign: 'One of youboys perhaps can be a George Washington and another may rise to be aThomas Jefferson; any of you, the Lord knows, can be a James K. Polk!'"

"I don't know much about Polk, " said Gilbert. 

"P'raps nobody did very much, but the parson hated him like p'ison. Seehere, Peter, I ain't _made_ o' paste! You've used up 'bout a quarta'ready! What are you doin' out there anyway? I've heerd o' paintin' thetown, --I guess you're paperin' it, ain't you?"

Peter was too busy and too eager for paste to reply, the facts of thecase being that while Mr. Popham held the family spellbound by hisconversation, he himself was papering the outside of the house withscraps of assorted paper as high up as his short arms could reach. 

"There's another thing you can do, Gilbert, " continued Mr. Popham. "I'vemixed a pail o' that green paint same as your mother wanted, an' I'vebrought you a tip-top brush. The settin' room has a good nice floor;matched boards, no hummocks nor hollers, --all as flat's one of my wife'spancakes, --an' not a knot hole in it anywheres. You jest put your firstcoat on, brushin' lengthways o' the boards, and let it dry good. Don'tlet your folks go stepping on it, neither. The minute a floor's paintedwomen folks are crazy to git int' the room. They want their blackalpacky that's in the closet, an' the lookin' glass that's on themantelpiece, or the feather duster that's hangin' on the winder, an'will you jest pass out the broom that's behind the door? The nextmornin' you'll find lots o' little spots where they've tiptoed in to seeif the paint's dry an' how it's goin' to look. Where I work, they mostallers say it's the cat, --well! that answer may deceive some folks, but't wouldn't me. --Don't slop your paint, Gilbert; work quick an' neat an'even; then paintin' ain't no trick 't all. Any fool, the Lord knows, canpick up that trade!--Now I guess it's about noon time, an' I'll have tobe diggin' for home. Maria sets down an' looks at the clock from halfpast eleven on. She'll git a meal o' cold pork 'n' greens, cold stringbeans, gingerbread, 'n' custard pie on t' the table; then she'll stan'in the front door an' holler: 'Hurry up, Ossian! it's struck twelve more'n two minutes ago, 'n' everything 's gittin' overdone!'"

So saying he took off his overalls, seized his hat, and with a partingsalute was off down the road, singing his favorite song. I can give youthe words and the time, but alas! I cannot print Osh Popham's dauntlessspirit and serene content, nor his cheery voice as he travelled withtolerable swiftness to meet his waiting Maria. 

 Here comes a maid-en full of woe. Hi-dum-di-dum did-dy-i-o! Here comes a maid-en full of woe. Hi der-ry O! Here comes a maid-en full of woe, As full of woe as she can go! Hi dum did-dy i O! Hi der-ry O!

XVIII

THE HOUSE OF LORDS

The Carey children had only found it by accident. All their errands tookthem down the main street to the village; to the Popham's cottage at thefoot of a little lane turning towards the river, or on to thepost-office and Bill Harmon's store, or to Colonel Wheeler's house andthen to the railway station. One afternoon Nancy and Kathleen had walkedup the road in search of pastures new, and had spied down in a distanthollow a gloomy grey house almost surrounded by cedars. A grove ofpoplars to the left of it only made the prospect more depressing, and ifit had not been for a great sheet of water near by, floating with cowlilies and pond lilies, the whole aspect of the place would have beenunspeakably dreary. 

Nancy asked Mr. Popham who lived in the grey house behind the cedars, and when he told them a certain Mr. Henry Lord, his two children andhousekeeper, they fell into the habit of speaking of the place as theHouse of Lords. 

"You won't never see nothin' of 'em, " said Mr. Popham. "Henry Lord ain'tnever darkened the village for years, I guess, and the young ones ain'tnever been to school so far; they have a teacher out from PortlandTuesdays and Fridays, and the rest o' the week they study up for him. Henry's 'bout as much of a hermit's if he lived in a hut on a mounting, an' he's bringing up the children so they'll be jest as odd's he is. "

"Is the mother dead?" Mrs. Carey asked. 

"Yes, dead these four years, an' a good job for her, too. It's an awfulqueer world! Not that I could make a better one! I allers say, whenfolks grumble, 'Now if you was given the materials, could you turn out abetter world than this is? And when it come to that, what if you hed tofurnish your _own_ materials, same as the Lord did! I guess you'd be putto it!'--Well, as I say, it's an awful queer world; they clap all theburglars into jail, and the murderers and the wife-beaters (I've allersthought a gentle reproof would be enough punishment for a wife-beater, 'cause he probably has a lot o' provocation that nobody knows), and thefirebugs (can't think o' the right name--something like cendenaries), an' the breakers o' the peace, an' what not; an' yet the law has nothin'to say to a man like Hen Lord! He's been a college professor, but I wentto school with him, darn his picter, an' I'll call him Hen whenever Igit a chance, though he does declare he's a doctor. "

"Doctor of what?" asked Mrs. Carey. 

"Blamed if I know! I wouldn't trust him to doctor a sick cat. "

"People don't have to be doctors of medicine, " interrupted Gilbert. "Grandfather was Alexander Carey, LL. D. , --Doctor of Laws, that is. "

Mr. Popham laid down his brush. "I swan to man!" he ejaculated. "If youdon't work hard you can't keep up with the times! Doctor of Laws! Well, all I can say is they _need_ doctorin', an' I'm glad they've got roundto 'em; only Hen Lord ain't the man to do 'em any good. "

"What has he done to make him so unpopular?" queried Mrs. Carey. 

"Done? He ain't done a thing he'd oughter sence he was born. He keepsthe thou shalt not commandments first rate, Hen Lord does! He neglectedhis wife and froze her blood and frightened her to death, poor littleshadder! He give up his position and shut the family up in that tomb ofa house so 't he could study his books. My boy knows his boy, an' I tellyou the life he leads them children is enough to make your flesh creep. When I git roun' to it I cal'late to set the house on fire some night. Mebbe I'd be lucky enough to ketch Hen too, an' if so, nobody in thevillage'd wear mournin'! So fur, I can't get Maria's consent to be acendenary. She says she can't spare me long enough to go to jail; sheneeds me to work durin' the summer, an' in the winter time she'd hevnobody to jaw, if I was in the lockup. " This information was deliveredin the intervals of covering the guest chamber walls with a delightfulwhite moire paper which Osh always alluded to as the "white maria, "whether in memory of his wife's Christian name or because his Frenchaccent was not up to the mark, no one could say. 

Mr. Popham exaggerated nothing, but on the contrary left much unsaid inhis narrative of the family at the House of Lords. Henry Lord, with thedegree of Ph. D. To his credit, had been Professor of Zoology at a NewEngland college, but had resigned his post in order to write a series ofscientific text books. Always irritable, cold, indifferent, he had grownrapidly more so as years went on. Had his pale, timid wife been a rosy, plucky tyrant, things might have gone otherwise, but the only memoriesthe two children possessed were of bitter words and reproaches on theirfather's side, and of tears and sad looks on their mother's part. Thenthe poor little shadow of a woman dropped wearily into her grave, and acertain elderly Mrs. Bangs, with grey hair and firm chin, came to keephouse and do the work. 

A lonelier creature than Olive Lord at sixteen could hardly be imagined. She was a tiny thing for her years, with a little white oval face andpeaked chin, pronounced eyebrows, beautifully arched, and a mass oftangled, untidy dark hair. Her only interests in life were her youngerbrother Cyril, delicate and timid, and in continual terror of hisfather, --and a passion for drawing and sketching that was fairlydevouring in its intensity. When she was ten she "drew" the cat and thedog, the hens and chickens, and colored the sketches with the paints hermother provided. Whatever appealed to her sense of beauty wasstraightway transferred to paper or canvas. Then for the three yearsbefore her mother's death there had been surreptitious lessons from aPortland teacher, paid for out of Mr. Lord's house allowance; for one ofhis chief faults was an incredible parsimony, amounting almost tomiserliness. 

"Something terrible will happen to Olive if she isn't taught to use hertalent, " Mrs. Lord pleaded to her husband. "She is wild to know how todo things. She makes effort after effort, trembling with eagerness, andwhen she fails to reproduce what she sees, she works herself into afrenzy of grief and disappointment. "

"You'd better give her lessons in self-control, " Mr. Lord answered. "They are cheaper than instruction in drawing, and much more practical. "

So Olive lived and struggled and grew; and luckily her talent was such apassion that no circumstances could crush or extinguish it. She worked, discovering laws and making rules for herself, since she had no helpers. When she could not make a rabbit or a bird look "real" on paper, shesearched in her father's books for pictures of its bones. "If I couldonly know what it is like _inside_, Cyril, " she said, "perhaps its_outside_ wouldn't look so flat! O! Cyril, there must be some better wayof doing; I just draw the outline of an animal and then I put hairs orfeathers on it. They have no bodies. They couldn't run nor move; they'rejust pasteboard. "

"Why don't you do flowers and houses, Olive?" inquired Cyrilsolicitously. "And people paint fruit, and dead fish on platters, andpitchers of lemonade with ice in, --why don't you try things like those?"

"I suppose they're easier, " Olive returned with a sigh, "but who couldbear to do them when there are living, breathing, moving things; thingsthat puzzle you by looking different every minute? No, I'll keep ontrying, and when you get a little older we'll run away together and liveand learn things by ourselves, in some place where father can neverfind us!"

"He wouldn't search, so don't worry, " replied Cyril quietly, and the twolooked at each other and knew that it was so. 

There, in the cedar hollow, then, lived Olive Lord, an angry, resentful, little creature weighed down by a fierce sense of injury. Her gloomyyoung heart was visited by frequent storms and she looked as unlovableas she was unloved. But Nancy Carey, never shy, and as eager to giveherself as people always are who are born and bred in joy and love, Nancy hopped out of Mother Carey's warm nest one day, and fixing herbright eyes and sunny, hopeful glance on the lonely, frowning littleneighbor, stretched out her hand in friendship. Olive's mournful blackeyes met Nancy's sparkling brown ones. Her hand, so marvellously full ofskill, had never held another's, and she was desperately self-conscious;but magnetism flowed from Nancy as electric currents from a battery. Shedrew Olive to her by some unknown force and held her fast, not realizingat the moment that she was getting as much as she gave. 

The first interview, purely a casual one, took place on the edge of thelily pond where Olive was sketching frogs, and where Nancy went forcat-o'-nine-tails. It proved to be a long and intimate talk, and whenMrs. Carey looked out of her bedroom window just before supper she saw, at the pasture bars, the two girls with their arms round each other andtheir cheeks close together. Nancy's curly chestnut crop shone in thesun, and Olive's thick black plaits looked blacker by contrast. Suddenlyshe flung her arms round Nancy's neck, and with a sob darted under thebars and across the fields without a backward glance. 

A few moments later Nancy entered her mother's room, her arms filledwith treasures from the woods and fields. "Oh, Motherdy!" she cried, laying down her flowers and taking off her hat. "I've found such afriend; a real understanding friend; and it's the girl from the House ofLords. She's wonderful! More wonderful than anybody we've ever seenanywhere, and she draws better than the teacher in Charlestown! She'solder than I am, but so tiny and sad and shy that she seems like achild. Oh, mother, there's always so much spare room in your heart, --foryou took in Julia and yet we never felt the difference, --won't you makea place for Olive? There never was anybody needed you so much as shedoes, --never. "

Have you ever lifted a stone and seen the pale, yellow, stunted shootsof grass under it? And have you gone next day and next, and watched thelittle blades shoot upward, spread themselves with delight, grow greenand wax strong; and finally, warm with the sun, cool with the dew, vigorous with the flow of sap in their veins, seen them wave their greentips in the breeze? That was what happened to Olive Lord when she andCyril were drawn into a different family circle, and ran in and out ofthe Yellow House with the busy, eager group of Mother Carey's chickens. 

XIX

OLD AND NEW

The Yellow House had not always belonged to the Hamiltons, but had beenbuilt by a governor of the state when he retired from public office. Helived only a few years, and it then passed into the hands of LemuelHamilton's grandfather, who had done little or nothing in the way ofremodelling the buildings. 

Governor Weatherby had harbored no extraordinary ambition regardingarchitectural excellence, for he was not a rich man; he had simply builta large, comfortable Colonial house. He desired no gardens, no luxuriousstables, no fountains nor grottoes, no bathroom (for it was only theyear 1810), while the old oaken bucket left nothing to be desired as ameans of dispensing water to the household. He had one weakness, however, and that was a wish to make the front of the house asimpressive as possible. The window over the front door was as beautifula window as any in the county, and the doorway itself was celebratedthroughout the state. It had a wonderful fan light and side lights, green blind doors outside of the white painted one with its massivebrass knocker, and still more unique and impressive, it had for itsapproach, semi-circular stone steps instead of the usual oblong ones. The large blocks of granite had been cut so that each of the four stepsshould be smaller than the one below it; and when, after months ofgossip and suspense, they were finally laid in place, their straightedges towards the house and their expensive curved sides to the road, aprocession of curious persons in wagons, carryalls, buggies, and gigswound their way past the premises. The governor's "circ'lar steps"brought many pilgrims down the main street of Beulah first and last, andthe original Hamiltons had been very proud of them. Pride (of suchsimple things as stone steps) had died out of the Hamilton stock in thecourse of years, and the house had been so long vacant that no one butLemuel, the Consul, remembered any of its charming features; but OssianPopham, when he pried up and straightened the ancient landmarks, hadmuch to say of the wonderful steps. 

"There's so much goin' on now-a-days, " he complained, as he puffed andpried and strained, and rested in between, "that young ones won't amountto nothin', fust thing you know. My boy Digby says to me this mornin', when I asked him if he was goin' to the County Fair 'No, Pop, I ain'tgoin', ' he says, 'it's the same old fair every year. ' Land sakes! when Iwas a boy, 'bout once a month, in warm weather, I used to ask father ifI could walk to the other end o' the village and look at the governor'scirc'lar steps; that used to be the liveliest entertainment parentscould think up for their young ones, an' it _was_ a heap livelier thantwo sermons of a Sunday, each of 'em an hour and fifteen minutes long. "

Digby, a lad of eighteen and master of only one trade instead of adozen, like his father, had been deputed to paper Mother Carey's bedroomwhile she moved for a few days into the newly fitted guest room, whichwas almost too beautiful to sleep in, with its white satiny walls, itsyellow and green garlands hanging from the ceiling, its yellow floor, and its old white chamber set repainted by the faithful andclever Popham. 

The chintz parlor, once Governor Weatherby's study, was finished too, and the whole family looked in at the doors a dozen times a day withadmiring exclamations. It had six doors, opening into two entries, onesmall bedroom, one sitting room, one cellar, and one china closet; apassion for entrances and exits having been the whim of that generation. If the truth were known, Nancy had once lighted her candle and slippeddownstairs at midnight to sit on the parlor sofa and feast her eyes onthe room's loveliness. Gilbert had painted the white matting the colorof a ripe cherry. Mrs. Popham had washed and ironed and fluted the oldwhite ruffled muslin curtains from the Charlestown home, and theyadorned the four windows. It was the north room, on the left as youentered the house, and would be closed during the cold winter months, soit was fitted entirely for summer use and comfort. The old-fashionedsquare piano looked in its element placed across one corner, with thefour tall silver candlesticks and snuffer tray on the shining mahogany. All the shabbiest furniture, and the Carey furniture was mostly shabby, was covered with a cheap, gay chintz, and crimson Jacqueminot rosesclambered all over the wall paper, so that the room was a cool bowerof beauty. 

On the other side of the hall were the double parlors of the governor'stime, made into a great living room. Here was Gilbert's green paintedfloor, smooth and glossy, with braided rugs bought from neighbors inEast Beulah; here all the old-fashioned Gilbert furniture that theCareys had kept during their many wanderings; here all the quaint chairsthat Mr. Bill Harmon could pick up at a small price; here were two noblefireplaces, one with a crane and iron pot filled with flowers, the otherfilled sometimes with sprays of green asparagus and sometimes withfragrant hemlock boughs. The paper was one in which green rushes andcat-o'-nine-tails grew on a fawn-colored ground, and anything that theCareys did not possess for the family sitting room Ossian Popham wentstraight home and made in his barn. He could make a barrel-chair or anhour-glass table, a box lounge and the mattress to put on top of it, ora low table for games and puzzles, or a window seat. He could polish thepiano and then sit down to it and play "Those Tassels on Her Boots" or"Marching through Georgia" with great skill. He could paint bunches ofgold grapes and leaves on the old-fashioned high-backed rocker, and, assoon as it was dry, could sit down in it and entertain the whole familywithout charging them a penny. 

The housewarming could not be until the later autumn, Mrs. Carey haddecided, for although most of the living rooms could be finished, CousinAnn's expensive improvements were not to be set in motion until BillHarmon heard from Mr. Hamilton that his tenants were not to be disturbedfor at least three years. 

The house, which was daily growing into a home, was full of the busy humof labor from top to bottom and from morning till night, and there washardly a moment when Mother Carey and the girls were not transportingarticles of furniture through the rooms, and up and down the staircases, to see how they would look somewhere else. This, indeed, had been thediversion of their simple life for many years, and was just asdelightful, in their opinion, as buying new things. Any Carey, frommother down to Peter, would spring from his chair at any moment andassist any other Carey to move a sofa, a bureau, a piano, a kitchenstove, if necessary, with the view of determining if it would add a newzest to life in a different position. 

Not a word has been said thus far about the Yellow House barn, the barnthat the "fool Hamilton boys" (according to Bill Harmon's theories) hadconverted from a place of practical usefulness and possible gain, intosomething that would "make a cat laugh"; but it really needs a chapterto itself. You remember that Dr. Holmes says of certain majestic anddignified trees that they ought to have a Christian name, like otherfolks? The barn, in the same way, deserves more distinction than aparagraph, but at this moment it was being used as a storeroom and wasmerely awaiting its splendid destiny, quite unconscious of the future. The Hamilton boys were no doubt as extravagant and thriftless as theywere insane, but the Careys sympathized with their extravagance andthriftlessness and insanity so heartily, in this particular, that theycould hardly conceal their real feelings from Bill Harmon. Nothing couldso have accorded with their secret desires as the "fool changes" made bythe "crazy Hamilton boys"; light-hearted, irresponsible, and frivolouschanges that could never have been compassed by the Careys' slenderincome. They had no money to purchase horse or cow or pig, and no man inthe family to take care of them if purchased; so the removal of stallsand all the necessary appurtenances for the care of cattle was no sourceof grief or loss to them. A good floor had been laid over the old oneand stained to a dark color; the ceiling, with its heavy hand-hewnbeams, was almost as fine as some old oak counterpart in an Englishhall. Not a new board met the eye;--old weathered lumber everywhere, even to the quaint settle-shaped benches that lined the room. There wasa place like an old-fashioned "tie-up" for musicians to play for acountry dance, or for tableaux and charades; in fine, there would be, with the addition of Carey ideas here and there, provision for frolicsand diversions of any sort. You no sooner opened the door and peeped in, though few of the Beulah villagers had ever been invited to do so by thegay young Hamiltons, than your tongue spontaneously exclaimed: "What aplace for good times!"

"I shall 'come out' here, " Nancy announced, as the three girls stood inthe centre of the floor, surrounded by bedsteads, tables, bureaus, andstoves. "Julia, you can 'debut' where you like, but I shall 'come out'here next summer!"

"You'll be only seventeen; you can't come out!" objected Juliaconventionally. 

"Not in a drawing room, perhaps, but perfectly well in a barn. Even youand Kitty, youthful as you will still be, can attend my coming outparty, in a barn!"

"It doesn't seem proper to think of giving entertainments when everybodyknows our circumstances, --how poor we are!" Julia said rebukingly. 

"We are talking of next summer, my child! Who can say how rich we shallbe next summer? A party could be given in this barn with mother to playthe piano and Mr. Popham the fiddle. The refreshments would beincredibly weak lemonade, and I think we might 'solicit' the cake, asthey do for church sociables!"

Julia's pride was wounded beyond concealment at this humorously intendedsuggestion of Nancy's. 

"Of course if Aunt Margaret approves, I have nothing to say, " sheremarked, "but I myself would never come to any private party whererefreshments were 'solicited. ' The very idea is horrible. "

"I'm 'coming out' in the barn next summer, Muddy!" Nancy called to hermother, who just then entered the door. "If we are poorer than ever, wecan take up a collection to defray the expenses; Julia and Kitty wouldlook so attractive going about with tambourines! I want to do what I canquickly, because I see plainly I shall have to marry young in order tohelp the family. The heroine always does that in books; she makes aworldly marriage with a rich nobleman, in order that her sister Kittyand her cousin Julia may have a good education. "

"I don't know where you get your ideas, Nancy, " said her mother, smilingat her nonsense. "You certainly never read half a dozen novels inyour life!"

"No, but Joanna used to read them by the hundred and tell me thestories; and I've heard father read aloud to you; and the older girlsand the younger teachers used to discuss them at school;--oh! I know alot about life, --as it is in books, --and I'm just waiting to see if anyof it really happens!"

"Digby Popham is the only rich nobleman in sight for you, Nancy!" Kittysaid teasingly. 

"Or freckled Cyril Lord, " interpolated Julia. 

"He looks like an unbaked pie!" This from Kitty. 

Nancy flushed. "He's shy and unhappy and pale, and no wonder; but he'sas nice and interesting as he can be. "

"I can't see it, " Julia said, "but he never looks at anybody, or talksto anybody but you, so it's well you like him; though you like all boys, for that matter!"

"The boys return the compliment!" asserted Kitty mischievously, "whilepoor you and I sit in corners!"

"Come, come, dears, " and Mrs. Carey joined in the conversation as shepicked up a pillow before returning to the house. "It's a little earlyfor you to be talking about rich noblemen, isn't it?"

Nancy followed her out of the door, saying as she thoughtfully chewed astraw, "Muddy, I do believe that when you're getting on to sixteen therich nobleman or the fairy prince or the wonderful youngest son doescross your mind now and then!"

XX

THE PAINTED CHAMBER

Matters were in this state of forwardness when Nancy and Kathleen lookedout of the window one morning and saw Lallie Joy Popham coming down thestreet. She "lugged" butter and milk regularly to the Careys (lugging isher own word for the act), and helped them in many ways, for she wasfairly good at any kind of housework not demanding brains. Nobody couldsay why some of Ossian Popham's gifts of mind and conversation had notdescended to his children, but though the son was not really stupid atpractical work, Lallie Joy was in a perpetual state of coma. 

Nancy, as has been intimated before, had a kind of tendency to reformthings that appeared to her lacking in any way, and she had early seizedupon the stolid Lallie Joy as a worthy object. 

"There she comes!" said Nancy. "She carries two quarts of milk in onehand and two pounds of butter in the other, exactly as if she wasbending under the weight of a load of hay. I'll run down into thekitchen and capture her for a half hour at five cents. She can peel thepotatoes first, and while they're boiling she can slice applesfor sauce. "

"Have her chop the hash, do!" coaxed Julia for that was her specialwork. "The knife is dull beyond words. "

"Why don't you get Mr. Popham to sharpen it? It's a poor workman thatcomplains of his tools; Columbus discovered America in an open boat, "quoted Nancy, with an irritating air of wisdom. 

"That may be so, " Julia retorted, "but Columbus would never havediscovered America with that chopping-knife, I'm sure of that. --IsLallie Joy about our age?"

"I don't know. She must have been at least forty when she was born, andthat would make her fifty-five now. What _do_ you suppose would wake herup? If I could only get her to stand straight, or hold her head up, orlet her hair down, or close her mouth! I believe I'll stay in thekitchen and appeal to her better feelings a little this morning; I canseed the raisins for the bread pudding. "

Nancy sat in the Shaker rocker by the sink window with the yellow bowlin her lap. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes were bright, her lips werered, her hair was goldy-brown, her fingers flew, and a high-neckedgingham apron was as becoming to her as it is to all nice girls. She wasthoroughly awake, was Nancy, and there could not have been a greatercontrast than that between her and the comatose Lallie Joy, who sat on awooden chair with her feet on the side rounds. She had taken off herTurkey red sunbonnet and hung it on the chair-back, where its colorviolently assaulted her flaming locks. She sat wrong; she held thepotato pan wrong, and the potatoes and the knife wrong. There seemed tobe no sort of connection between her mind and her body. As she peeledpotatoes and Nancy seeded raisins, the conversation was somethinglike this. 

"How did you chance to bring the butter to-day instead of to-morrow, Lallie Joy?"

"Had to dress me up to go to the store and get a new hat. "

"What colored trimming did you get?"

"Same as old. "

"Don't they keep anything but magenta?"

"Yes, blue. "

"Why didn't you try blue for a change?"

"Dunno; didn't want any change, I guess. "

"Do you like magenta against your hair?"

"Never thought o' my hair; jest thought o' my hat. "

"Well, you see, Lallie Joy, you can't change your hair, but you needn'twear magenta hats nor red sunbonnets. Your hair is handsome enough, ifyou'd only brush it right. "

"I guess I know all 'bout my hair and how red 't is. The boys ask me ifPop painted it. "

"Why do you strain it back so tight?"

"Keep it out o' my eyes. "

"Nonsense; you needn't drag it out by the roots. Why do you tie thebraids with strings?"

"'Cause they hold, an' I hain't got no ribbons. "

"Why don't you buy some with the money you earn here?"

"Savin' up for the Fourth. "

"Well, I have yards of old Christmas ribbons that I'll give you ifyou'll use them. "

"All right. "

"What do you scrub your face with, that makes those shiny knobs stickright out on your forehead and cheek bones?"

"Sink soap. "

"Well, you shouldn't; haven't you any other?"

"It's upstairs. "

"Aren't your legs in good working order?"

Uncomprehending silence on Lallie Joy's part and then Nancy returned tothe onslaught. 

"Don't you like to look at pretty things?"

"Dunno but I do, an' dunno as I do. "

"Don't you love the rooms your father has finished here?"

"Kind of. "

"Not any more than that?"

"Pop thinks some of 'em's queer, an' so does Bill Harmon. "

Long silence, Nancy being utterly daunted. 

"How did you come by your name, Lallie Joy?"

"Lallie's out of a book named Lallie Rook, an' I was born on the Joysteamboat line going to Boston. "

"Oh, I thought Joy was _Joy_!"

"Joy Line's the only joy I ever heard of!"

There is no knowing how long this depressing conversation would havecontinued if the two girls had not heard loud calls from Gilbertupstairs. Lallie Joy evinced no surprise, and went on peeling potatoes;she might have been a sister of the famous Casabianca, and she certainlycould have been trusted not to flee from any burning deck, whatever theprovocation. 

"Come and see what we've found, Digby and I!" Gilbert cried. "Come, girls; come, mother! We were stripping off the paper because Mr. Pophamsaid there'd been so many layers on the walls it would be a good time toget to the bottom of it and have it all fresh and clean. So just now, asI was working over the mantel piece and Digby on the long wall, look inand see what we uncovered!"

Mrs. Carey had come from the nursery, Kitty and Julia from the garden, and Osh Popham from the shed, and they all gazed with joy and surpriseat the quaint landscapes that had been painted in water colors beforethe day of wall paper had come. 

Mr. Popham quickly took one of his tools and began on another side ofthe room. They worked slowly and carefully, and in an hour or two thepictures stood revealed, a little faded in color but beautifully drawn, with almost nothing of any moment missing from the scenes. 

"Je-roosh-y! ain't they handsome!" exclaimed Osh, standing in the middleof the room with the family surrounding him in various attitudes ofecstasy. "But they're too faced out to leave's they be, ain't they, Mis'Carey? You'll have to cover 'em up with new paper, won't you, or shallyou let me put a coat of varnish on 'em?"

Mrs. Carey shuddered internally. "No, Mr. Popham, we mustn't have any'shine' on the landscapes. Yes, they are dreadfully dim and faded, but Isimply cannot have them covered up!"

"It would be wicked to hide them!" said Nancy. "Oh, Muddy, _is_ it ourduty to write to Mr. Hamilton and tell him about them? He wouldcertainly take the house away from us if he could see how beautiful wehave made it, and now here is another lovely thing to tempt him. Couldanybody give up this painted chamber if it belonged to him?"

"Well, you see, " said Mr. Popham assuringly, "if you want to use thispainted chamber much, you've got to live in Beulah; an' Lem Hamiltonain't goin' to stop consullin' at the age o' fifty, to come here an'rust out with the rest of us;--no, siree! Nor Mis' Lem Hamilton wouldn'tstop over night in this village if you give her the town drinkin' troughfor a premium!"

"Is she fashionable?" asked Julia. 

"You bet she is! She's tall an' slim an' so chuck full of airs she'dblow away if you give her a puff o' the bellers! The only time she comehere she stayed just twenty-four hours, but she nearly died, we was allso 'vulgar. ' She wore a white dress ruffled up to the waist, and a whiteAlpine hat, an' she looked exactly like the picture of Pike's Peak in mystereopticon. Mis' Popham overheard her say Beulah was full o' savagesif not cannibals. 'Well, ' I says to Maria, 'no matter where she goes, nobody'll ever want to eat _her_ alive!'--Look at that meetin' houseover the mantel shelf, an' that grassy Common an' elm trees! 'T wa'n'tno house painter done these walls!"

"And look at this space between the two front windows, " cried Kathleen. "See the hens and chickens and the Plymouth Rock rooster!"

"And the white calf lying down under the maple; he's about the prettiestthing in the room, " said Gilbert. 

"We must just let it be and think it out, " said Mother Carey. "Don't putany new paper on, now; there's plenty to do downstairs. "

"I don't know 's I should particularly like to lay abed in this room, "said Osh, his eyes roving about the chamber judicially. "I shouldn't hevno comfort ondressin' here, nohow; not with this mess o' live stocklookin' at me every minute, whatever I happened to be takin' off. Is'pose that rooster'd be right on to his job at sun-up! Well, hecouldn't git ahead of Mis' Popham, that's one thing; so 't I shouldn'tbe any worse off 'n I be now! I don't get any too much good sleep as 'tis! Mis' Popham makes me go to bed long afore I'm ready, so 't she cangit the house shut up in good season; then 'bout 's soon's I've settleddown an' bed one short nap she says, 'It's time you was up, Ossian!"'

"Mother! I have an idea!" cried Nancy suddenly, as Mr. Popham took hisleave and the family went out into the hall. "Do you know who could makethe walls look as they used to? My dear Olive Lord!"

"She's only sixteen!" objected Mrs. Carey. 

"But she's a natural born genius! You wait and see the things she does!"

"Perhaps I could take her into town and get some suggestions or someinstruction, with the proper materials, " said Mrs. Carey, "and I supposeshe could experiment on some small space behind the door, first?"

"Nothing that Olive does would ever be put behind anybody's door, " Nancyanswered decisively. "I'm not old enough to know anything aboutpainting, of course (except that good landscapes ought not to bereversible like our Van Twiller), but there's something about Olive'spictures that makes you want to touch them and love them!"

So began the happiest, most wonderful, most fruitful autumn of OliveLord's life, when she spent morning after morning in the paintedchamber, refreshing its faded tints. Whoever had done the original workhad done it lovingly and well, and Olive learned many a lesson while shewas following the lines of the quaint houses, like those on old china, renewing the green of the feathery elms, or retracing and coloring thecurious sampler trees that stood straight and stiff like sentinels inthe corners of the room. 

XXI

A FAMILY RHOMBOID

The Honorable Lemuel Hamilton sat in the private office of the AmericanConsulate in Breslau, Germany, one warm day in July. The post had beenbrought in half an hour before, and he had two open letters on the deskin front of him. It was only ten o'clock of a bright morning, but helooked tired and worn. He was about fifty, with slightly grey hair andsmoothly shaven face. He must have been merry at one time in his life, for there were many nice little laughing-wrinkles around his eyes, butsomehow these seemed to have faded out, as if they had not been used foryears, and the corners of his mouth turned down to increase the look ofweariness and discontent. 

A smile had crept over his face at his old friend Bill Harmon's spellingand penmanship, for a missive of that kind seldom came to the AmericanConsulate. When the second letter postmarked Beulah first struck hiseye, he could not imagine why he should have another correspondent inthe quaintly named little village. He had read Nancy's letter twice now, and still he sat smoking and dreaming with an occasional glance at thegirlish handwriting, or a twinkle of the eye at the re-reading of someparticular passage. His own girls were not ready writers, and theirmother generally sent their messages for them. Nancy and Kitty did notyet write nearly as well as they talked, but they contrived to expresssomething of their own individuality in their communications, which werefree and fluent, though childlike and crude. 

"What a nice girl this Nancy Carey must be!" thought the AmericanConsul. "This is such a jolly, confidential, gossipy, winsome littleletter! Her first 'business letter' she calls it! Alas! when she learnshow, a few years later, there will be no charming little confidences; nodetails of family income and expenditures; no tell-tale glimpses of'mother' and 'Julia. ' I believe I should know the whole family evenwithout this photograph!--The lady sitting in the chair, to whom thephotographer's snapshot has not done justice, is worthy of Nancy'spraise, --and Bill Harmon's. What a pretty, piquant, curly head Nancyhas! What a gay, vivacious, alert, spirited expression. The boy ishandsome and gentlemanly, but he'll have to wake up, or Nancy will bethe man of the family. The girl sitting down is less attractive. She'sUncle Allan's daughter, and" (consulting the letter) "Uncle Allan hasnervous prostration and all of mother's money. " Here Mr. Hamilton gavevent to audible laughter for the third time in a quarter of an hour. "Nancy doesn't realize with what perfection her somewhat imperfectEnglish states the case, " he thought. "I know Uncle Allan like a book, from his resemblance to certain other unfortunate gentlemen who havenervous prostration in combination with other people's money. Let's see!I know Nancy; friendly little Nancy, about fifteen or sixteen, I shouldjudge; I know Uncle Allan's 'Julia, ' who hems in photographs, but nototherwise; I know Gilbert, who is depressed at having to make his ownway; the small boy, who 'is the nicest of us all'; Kitty, who beat allthe others in getting to mother's shoulder; and the mother herself, whois beautiful, and doesn't say 'Bosh' to her children's ideas, andrefuses to touch the insurance money, and wants Gilbert to show what'father's son' can do without anybody's help, and who revels in thecolor and joy of a yellow wall paper at twenty cents a roll! Bless theirsimple hearts! They mustn't pay any rent while they are bringing waterinto the kitchen and making expensive improvements! And what Hamiltoncould be persuaded to live in the yellow house? To think of any one'swanting to settle down in that little deserted spot, Beulah, where theonly sound that ever strikes one's ear is Osh Popham's laugh or thetinkle of a cow bell! Oh! if my own girls would write me letters likethis, letting me see how their minds are growing, how they are takinghold of life, above all what is in their hearts! Well, little Miss NancyCarey! honest, outspoken, confidential, clever little Nancy, who callsme her 'dearest Mr. Hamilton' and thanks me for letting her live in myyellow house, you shall never be disturbed, and if you and Gilbert everearn enough money to buy it, it shall go to you cheap! There's not oneof my brood that would live in it--except Tom, perhaps--for afterspending three hundred dollars, they even got tired of dancing in thebarn on Saturday nights; so if it can fall into the hands of some onewho will bring a blessing on it, good old Granny Hamilton will restpeacefully in her grave!"

We have discoursed in another place of family circles, but it cannot betruthfully said that at any moment the Lemuel Hamiltons had ever assumedthat symmetrical and harmonious shape. Still, during the first eight orten years of their married life, when the children were young, they hadat least appeared to the casual eye as, say, a rectangularparallelogram. A little later the cares and jolts of life wrenched theright angles a trifle "out of plumb, " and a rhomboid was the result. Mrs. Hamilton had money of her own, but wished Lemuel to amass enoughfame and position to match it. She liked a diplomatic life if herhusband could be an ambassador, but she thought him strangely slow inachieving this dignity. No pleasure or pride in her husband's ability toserve his country, even in a modest position, ever crossed her mind. Shehad no desire to spend her valuable time in various poky Continentaltowns, and she had many excuses for not doing so; the proper educationof her children being the chief among them. Luckily for her, good anddesirable schools were generally at an easy distance from the jewellers'shops and the dressmakers' and milliners' establishments her soul loved, so while Mr. Hamilton did his daily task in Antwerp, Mrs. Hamiltonresided mostly in Brussels or Paris; when he was in Zittau, in Saxony, she was in Dresden. If he were appointed to some business city sheremained with him several months each year, and spent the others in amore artistic and fashionable locality. The situation was growingdifficult because the children were gradually getting beyond school age, although there still remained to her the sacred duty of settling themproperly in life. Agnes, her mother's favorite, was still at school, andwas devoted to foreign languages, foreign manners, and foreign modes oflife. Edith had grown restless and developed an uncomfortable fondnessfor her native land, so that she spent most of her time with hermother's relatives in New York, or in visiting school friends here orthere. The boys had gone far away; Jack, the elder, to Texas, where hehad lost what money his father and mother had put into his firstbusiness venture; Thomas, the younger, to China, where he was woefullylonely, but doing well in business. A really good diplomatic appointmentin a large and important city would have enabled Mr. Hamilton to collectsome of his scattered sons and daughters and provide them with thebackground for which his wife had yearned without ceasing (and veryaudibly) for years. But Mr. Hamilton did not get the covetedappointment, and Mrs. Hamilton did not specially care for Mr. Hamiltonwhen he failed in securing the things she wanted. This was the time whenthe laughing-wrinkles began to fade away from Mr. Hamilton's eyes, justfor lack of daily use; and it was then that the corners of his mouthbegan to turn down; and his shoulders to stoop, and his eye to grow lesskeen and brave, and his step less vigorous. It may be a commonplaceremark, but it is not at these precise moments in life that tired, depressed men in modest positions are wafted by Uncle Sam to great anddesirable heights; but to Mrs. Hamilton it appeared that her husband wassimply indolent, unambitious, and unlucky; not at all that he needed tobe believed in, or loved, or comforted, or helped, or braced! It mighthave startled her, and hurt her wifely pride, if she had seen her lonelyhusband drinking in little Nancy Carey's letter as if it were dew to athirsty spirit; to see him set the photograph of the Carey group on hisdesk and look at it from time to time affectionately, as if he had foundsome new friends. It was the contentment, the hope, the unity, thepluck, the mutual love, the confidence, the ambition, of the group thattouched his imagination and made his heart run out to them. "Airs fromthe Eden of youth awoke and stirred in his soul" as he took his pen toanswer Nancy's first business communication. 

Having completed his letter he lighted another cigar, and leaning backin his revolving chair clasped his hands behind his head and fell into areverie. The various diplomatic posts that might be opened to himcrossed his mind in procession. If A or B or C were possible, his wifewould be content, and their combined incomes might be sufficient tobring the children together, if not quite under one roof, then to pointsnot so far separated from each other but that a speaking acquaintancemight be developed. Tom was the farthest away, and he was the dearest;the only Hamilton of the lot; the only one who loved his father. 

Mr. Hamilton leaned forward abstractedly, and fumbling through onedrawer of his desk after another succeeded in bringing out a photographof Tom, taken at seventeen or eighteen. Then by a little extra search hefound his wife in her presentation dress at a foreign court. There wasno comfort or companionship in that, it was too furbelowed to beanybody's wife, --but underneath it in the same frame was one taken justafter their marriage. That was too full of memories to hold much joy, but it stirred his heart, and made it beat a little; enough at any rateto show it was not dead. In the letter case in his vest pocket was analmost forgotten picture of the girls when they were children. This withthe others he stood in a row in front of him, reminding himself that hedid not know the subjects much more intimately than the photographerswho had made their likenesses. He glanced from one family to the otherand back again, several times. The Careys were handsomer, there was nodoubt of that; but there was a deeper difference that eluded him. TheHamiltons were far more stylishly dressed, but they all looked a littleconscious and a little discontented. That was it; the Careys werehappier! There were six of them, living in the forgotten Hamilton housein a half-deserted village, on five or six hundred dollars a year, anddoing their own housework, and they were happier than his own brood, spending forty or fifty times that sum. Well, they were grown up, hissons and daughters, and the only change in their lives now would comefrom wise or unwise marriages. No poverty-stricken sons-in-law wouldever come into the family, with Mrs. Hamilton standing at the bars, hewas sure of that! As for the boys, they might choose their mates inTexas or China; they might even have chosen them now, for aught he knew, though Jack was only twenty-six and Tom twenty-two. He must write tothem oftener, all of them, no matter how busy and anxious he might be;especially to Tom, who was so far away. 

He drew a sheet of paper towards him, and having filled it, another, andyet another. Having folded and slipped it into an envelope and addressedit to Thomas Hamilton, Esq. , Hong Kong, China, he was about to seal itwhen he stopped a moment. "I'll enclose the little Carey girl's letter, "he thought. "Tom's the only one who cares a penny for the old house, andI've told him I have rented it. He's a generous boy, and he won't grudgea few dollars lost to a good cause. Besides, these Careys will increasethe value of the property every year they live in it, and without themthe buildings would gradually have fallen into ruins. " He added apostscript to his letter, saying: "I've sent you little Miss Nancy'sletter, the photograph of her tying up the rambler rose, and the familygroup; so that you can see exactly what influenced me to write her (andBill Harmon) that they should be undisturbed in their tenancy, and thattheir repairs and improvements should be taken in lieu of rent. " Thisdone and the letters stamped, he put the photographs of his wife andchildren here and there on his desk and left the office. 

Oh! it is quite certain that Mother Carey's own chickens go out over theseas and show good birds the way home; and it is quite true, as shesaid, "One real home always makes another, I am sure of that!" It caneven send a vision of a home across fields and forests and lakes andoceans from Beulah village to Breslau, Germany, and on to HongKong, China. 

XXII

CRADLE GIFTS

Mrs. Henry Lord sent out a good many invitations to the fairies forCyril's birthday party, but Mr. Lord was at his critical point in thefirst volume of his text book, and forgot that he had a son. Where bothparents are not interested in these little affairs, something is sure tobe forgotten. Cyril's mother was weak and ill at the time, and theupshot of it was that the anger of The Fairy Who Wasn't Invited wasvisited on the baby Cyril in his cradle. In the revengeful spirit ofthat fairy who is omitted from these functions, she sent a threatinstead of a blessing, and decreed that Cyril should walk in fear allthe days of his life. Of course, being a fairy, she knew very well that, if Cyril, or anybody very much interested in Cyril, went to declare thatthere was no power whatever behind her curse, she would not be able togratify her spite; but she knew also, being a fairy, that if Cyril gotinto the habit of believing himself a coward, he would end by being one, so she stood a good chance of winning, after all. 

Cyril, when he came into the world, had come with only half a welcome. No mother and father ever met over his cradle and looked at himtogether, wondering if it were "well with the child. " When he was oldenough to have his red-gold hair curled, and a sash tied around his babywaist, he was sometimes taken downstairs, but he always fled to hismother's or his nurse's knee when his father approached. How many timeshe and his little sister Olive had hidden under the stairs when fatherhad called mother down to the study to scold her about the grocer'sbill! And there was a nightmare of a memory concerning a certainbirthday of father's, when mother had determined to be gay. It was justbefore supper. Cyril, clad in his first brief trousers, was to knock atthe study door with a little purple nosegay in his hand, to show hisfather that the lilac had bloomed. Olive, in crimson cashmere, was tostand near, and when the door opened, present him with her own pictureof the cat and her new kittens; while mother, looking so pretty, withher own gift all ready in her hand, was palpitating on the staircase tosee how the plans would work. Nothing could have been worse, however, inthe way of a small domestic tragedy, than the event itself when itfinally came off. 

Cyril knocked. "What do you want?" came from within, in tones thatbreathed vexation at being interrupted. 

"Knock again!" whispered Mrs. Lord. "Father doesn't remember that it'shis birthday, and he doesn't know that it's you knocking. "

Cyril knocked again timidly, but at the first sound of his father'sirritable voice as he rose hurriedly from his desk, the boy turned andfled through the kitchen to the shed. 

Olive held the fort, picture in hand. 

"It's your birthday, father, " she said. "There's a cake for supper, andhere's my present. " There was no love in the child's voice. Her heart, filled with passionate sympathy for Cyril, had lost all zest for itstask, and she handed her gift to her father with tightly closed lips andheaving breast. 

"All right; I'm much obliged, but I wish you would not knock at thisdoor when I am writing, --I've told you that before. Tell your mother Ican't come to supper to-night, but to send me a tray, please!"

As he closed the door Olive saw him lay the picture on a table, neverlooking at it as he crossed the room to one of the great book-cases thatlined the walls. 

Mrs. Lord had by this time disappeared forlornly from the upper hall. Olive, aged ten, talked up the stairs in a state of mind ferocious inits anger. Entering her mother's room she tore the crimson ribbon fromher hair and began to unbutton her dress. "I hate him! I _hate_ him!"she cried, stamping her foot. "I will never knock at his door again! I'dlike to take Cyril and run away! I'll get the birthday cake and fling itinto the pond; nothing shall stop me!". Then, seeing her mother's whiteface, she wailed, as she flung herself on the bed: "Oh, mother, mother, --why did you ever let him come to live with us? Did we _have_ tohave him for a father? Couldn't you _help_ it, mother?"

Mrs. Lord grew paler, put her hand to her heart, wavered, caughtherself, wavered again, and fell into the great chair by the window. Hereyes closed, and Olive, frightened by the apparent effect of her words, ran down the back stairs and summoned the cook. When she returned, panting and breathless, her mother was sitting quite quietly by thewindow, looking out at the cedars. 

"It was only a sudden pain, dear! I am all well again. Nothing is reallythe matter, Bridget. Mr. Lord will not be down to supper; spread a trayfor him, please. "

"I'd like to spread a tray for him at the bottom of the Red Sea; that'swhere he belongs!" muttered Bridget, as she descended to the kitchen tocomfort Cyril. 

"Was it my fault, mother?" asked Olive, bending over her anxiously. 

Her mother drew the child's head down and leaned her own against itfeebly. "No, dear, " she sighed. "It's nobody's fault, unless it's mine!"

"Is the pain gone?"

"Quite gone, dear. "

Nevertheless the pain was to prove the final wrench to a heart that hadbeen on the verge of breaking for many a year, and it was not longbefore Olive and Cyril were motherless. 

Mr. Lord did not have the slightest objection to the growing intimacybetween his children and the new family in the Yellow House, so long ashe was not disturbed by it, and so long as it cost him nothing. They hadstrict orders not to play with certain of their village acquaintances, Mr. Lord believing himself to be an aristocrat; the fact being that hewas almost destitute of human sympathy, and to make a neighbor of himyou would have had to begin with his grandfather and work for threegenerations. He had seen Nancy and Gilbert at the gates of his place, and he had passed Mrs. Carey in one of his infrequent walks to thepost-office. She was not a person to pass without mental comment, andMr. Lord instantly felt himself in the presence of an equal, an unusualfact in his experience; he would not have known a superior if he had metone ever so often!

"A very fine, unusual woman, " he thought. "She accounts for thathandsome, manly boy. I wish he could knock some spirit into Cyril!"

The process of "knocking spirit" into a boy would seem to beinconsistent with educational logic, but by very different methods, Gilbert had certainly given Cyril a trifling belief in himself, andMother Carey was gradually winning him to some sort of self-expressionby the warmth of her frequent welcomes and the delightful faculty shepossessed of making him feel at ease. 

"Come, come!" said the petrels to the molly-mocks in "Water Babies. ""This young gentleman is going to Shiny Wall. He is a plucky one to havegone so far. Give the little chap a cast over the ice-pack for MotherCarey's sake. "

Gilbert was delighted, in a new place, to find a boy friend of his ownage, and Cyril's speedy attachment gratified his pride. Gilbert wasdoing well these summer months. The unceasing activity, the authoritygiven him by his mother and sisters, his growing proficiency in allkinds of skilled labor, as he "puttered" about with Osh Popham or BillHarmon in house and barn and garden, all this pleased his enterprisingnature. Only one anxiety troubled his mother; his unresigned andmutinous attitude about exchanging popular and fashionable Eastover forBeulah Academy, which seat of learning he regarded with unutterablescorn. He knew that there was apparently no money to pay Eastover fees, but he was still child enough to feel that it could be found, somewhere, if properly searched for. He even considered the education of CaptainCarey's eldest son an emergency vital enough to make it proper to dipinto the precious five thousand dollars which was yielding them a partof their slender annual income. Once, when Gilbert was a little boy, hehad put his shoulder out of joint, and to save time his mother took himat once to the doctor's. He was suffering, but still strong enough towalk. They had to climb a hilly street, the child moaning with pain, hismother soothing and encouraging him as they went on. Suddenly hewhimpered: "Oh! if this had only happened to Ellen or Joanna or Addy orNancy, I could have borne it _so_ much better!"

There was a good deal of that small boy left in Gilbert still, and heendured best the economies that fell on the feminine members of thefamily. It was the very end of August, and although school opened thefirst Monday in September, Mrs. Carey was not certain whether Gilbertwould walk into the old-fashioned, white painted academy with thedespised Beulah "hayseeds, " or whether he would make a scene, andauthority would have to be used. 

"I declare, Gilly!" exclaimed Mother Carey one night, after an argumenton the subject; "one would imagine the only course in life open to a boywas to prepare at Eastover and go to college afterwards! Yet you maytake a list of the most famous men in America, and I dare say you willfind half of them came from schools like Beulah Academy or infinitelypoorer ones. I don't mean the millionaires alone. I mean the merchantsand engineers and surgeons and poets and authors and statesmen. Go aheadand try to stamp your school in some way, Gilly!--don't sit down feeblyand wait for it to stamp you!"

This was all very well as an exhibition of spirit on Mother Carey'spart, but it had been a very hard week. Gilbert was sulky; Peter had hada touch of tonsillitis; Nancy was faltering at the dishwashing andwishing she were a boy; Julia was a perfect barnacle; Kathleen had anaching tooth, and there being no dentist in the village, Was applyingPopham remedies, --clove-chewing, roasted raisins, and disfiguring breadpoultices; Bill Harmon had received no reply from Mr. Hamilton, and whenMother Carey went to her room that evening she felt conscious of alassitude, and a sense of anxiety, deeper than for months. As Gilbertwent by to his own room, he glanced in at her door, finding it slightlyajar. She sat before her dressing table, her long hair flowing over hershoulders, her head bent over her two hands. His father's picture was inits accustomed place, and he heard her say as she looked at it: "Oh, mydear, my dear! I am so careworn, so troubled, so discouraged! Gilbertneeds you, and so do I, more than tongue can tell!" The voice was so lowthat it was almost a whisper, but it reached Gilbert's ears, and therewas a sob strangled in it that touched his heart. 

The boy tiptoed softly into his room and sat down on his bed in themoonlight. 

"Dear old Mater!" he thought. "It's no go! I've got to give up Eastoverand college and all and settle down into a country bumpkin! No fellowcould see his mother look like that, and speak like that, and go his owngait; he's just got to go hers!"

Meantime Mrs. Carey had put out the lamp and lay quietly thinking. Thelast words that floated through her mind as she sank to sleep were thoseof a half-forgotten verse, learned, she could not say how manyyears before:--

 You can glad your child or grieve it! You can trust it or deceive it; When all's done Beneath God's sun You can only love and leave it. 

XXIII

NEARING SHINY WALL

Another person presumably on the way to Shiny Wall and Peacepool, butputting small energy into the journey, was that mass of positivelyglaring virtues, Julia Carey. More than one fairy must have beenforgotten when Julia's christening party came off. No heart-to-hearttalk in the twilight had thus far produced any obvious effect. She hadnever, even when very young, experienced a desire to sit at the feet ofsuperior wisdom, always greatly preferring a chair of her own. Sheseldom did wrong, in her own opinion, because the moment she entertainedan idea it at once became right, her vanity serving as a pair ofblinders to keep her from seeing the truth. The doctors did not permitany one to write to poor Allan Carey, so that Julia's heart could not besoftened by continual communication with her invalid father, who, withGladys Ferguson, constituted the only tribunal she was willing torecognize. Her consciousness of superiority to the conditions thatsurrounded her, her love of luxury, the silken selfishness with whichshe squirmed out of unpleasant duties, these made her an unlikable andundesirable housemate, and that these faults could exist with what Nancycalled her "everlasting stained-glass attitude" made it difficult forMother Carey to maintain a harmonious family circle. It was an outburstof Nancy's impetuous temper that Mrs. Carey had always secretly dreaded, but after all it was poor Kathleen who precipitated an unforgettablescene which left an influence behind it for many months. 

The morning after Mother Carey's interview with Gilbert she looked up asher door was pushed open, and beheld Julia, white and rigid with temper, standing on the threshold. 

"What is the matter, child?" exclaimed her aunt, laying down her work inalarm. 

Close behind Julia came Kathleen, her face swollen with tears, herexpression full of unutterable woe. 

Julia's lips opened almost automatically as she said slowly and withbitter emphasis, "Aunt Margaret, is it true, as Kathleen says, that myfather has all your money and some of Uncle Peter's?"

Something snapped in Mother Carey! One glance at Kathleen showed onlytoo well that she had committed the almost unpardonable sin of tellingJulia what had been carefully and tenderly kept from her. Before shecould answer Kathleen had swept past Julia and flung herself on thefloor near her mother. 

"Oh, mother, I can't say anything that will ever make you understand. Julia knows, she knows in her heart, what she said that provoked me! Shedoes nothing but grumble about the work, and how few dresses we have, and what a drudge she is, and what common neighbors we have, and howMiss Tewksbury would pity her if she knew all, and how Uncle Allan wouldsuffer if he could see his daughter living such a life! And this morningmy head ached and my tooth ached and I was cross, and all at oncesomething leaped out of my mouth!"

"Tell her what you said, " urged Julia inexorably. 

Sobs choked Kathleen's voice. "I said--I said--oh! how can I tell it! Isaid, if her father hadn't lost so much of my father's and my mother'smoney we shouldn't have been so poor, any of us. "

"Kathleen, how could you!" cried her mother. 

If Julia wished to precipitate a tempest she had succeeded, and her faceshowed a certain sedate triumph. 

"Oh! mother! don't give me up; don't give me up!" wailed Kathleen. "Itwasn't me that said it, it was somebody else that I didn't know livedinside of me. I don't expect you to forgive it or forget it, Julia, butif you'll only try, just a little bit, I'll show you how sorry I feel. I'd cut myself and make it bleed, I'd go to prison, if I could get backto where I was before I said it! Oh! what shall I do, mother, if youlook at me like that again or say 'How could you!'"

There was no doubting Kathleen's remorse; even Julia saw that. 

"Did she tell the truth, Aunt Margaret?" she repeated. 

"Come here, Julia, and sit by me. It is true that your Uncle Peter and Ihave both put money into your father's business, and it is true that hehas not been able to give it back to us, and perhaps may never do so. There is just enough left to pay your poor father's living expenses, butwe trust his honor; we are as sorry for him as we can be, and we lovehim dearly. Kathleen meant nothing but that your father has beenunfortunate and we all have to abide by the consequences; but I amamazed that my daughter should have so forgotten herself as to speak ofit to you!" (Renewed sobs from the prostrate Kathleen). 

"Especially, " said Julia, "when, as Gladys Ferguson says, I haven'tanybody in the world but you, to turn to in my trouble. I am afatherless girl" (her voice quivered here), "and I am a guest inyour house. "

Mrs. Carey's blood rose a little as she looked at poor Kitty's shakenbody and streaming eyes, and Julia's unforgiving face. "You are wrongthere, Julia. I fail to see why you should not take your full share ofour misfortunes, and suffer as much as we, from our too small income. Itis not our fault, it is not yours. You are not a privileged guest, youare one of the family. If you are fatherless just now, my children arefatherless forever; yet you have not made one single burden lighter byjoining our forces. You have been an outsider, instead of puttingyourself loyally into the breach, and working with us heart to heart. Iwelcomed you with open arms and you have made my life harder, muchharder, than it was before your coming. To protect you I have had todiscipline my own children continually, and all the time you wereputting their tempers to quite unnecessary tests! I am not extenuatingKathleen, but I merely say you have no right to behave as you do. Youare thirteen years old, quite old enough to make up your mind whetheryou wish to be loved by anybody or not; at present you are not!"

Never had the ears of the Paragon heard such disagreeably plain speech. She was not inclined to tears, but moisture began to appear in her eyesand she looked as though a shower were imminent. Aunt Margaret wasmagnificent in her wrath, and though Julia feared, she admired her. Notto be loved, if that really were to be her lot, rather terrified Julia. She secretly envied Nancy's unconscious gift of drawing people to herinstantly; men, women, children, --dogs and horses, for that matter. Shenever noticed that Nancy's heart ran out to meet everybody, and that shewas overflowing with vitality and joy and sympathy; on the contrary, sheconsidered the tribute of affection paid to Nancy as a part of Nancy'sluck. Virtuous, conscientious, intelligent, and well-dressed as she feltherself to be, she emphatically did not wish to be disliked, and it wasa complete surprise to her that she had not been a successfulCarey chicken. 

"Gladys Ferguson always loved me, " she expostulated after a briefsilence, and there was a quiver in her voice. 

"Then either Gladys has a remarkable gift of loving, or else you are adifferent Julia in her company, " remarked Mother Carey, quietly, raisingJulia's astonishment and perturbation to an immeasurable height. 

"Now, Kathleen, " continued Mother Carey, "Mrs. Godfrey has often askedyou to spend a week with Elsie, and you can go to Charlestown on theafternoon train. Go away from Julia and forget everything but that youhave done wrong and you must find a way to repair it. I hope Julia willlearn while you are away to make it easier for you to be courteous andamiable. There is a good deal in the Bible, Julia, about the sin ofcausing your brother to offend. Between that sin and Kathleen's offence, there is little, in my mind, to choose!"

"Yes, there is!" cried Kathleen. "I am much, much worse than Julia. Father couldn't bear to know that I had hurt Julia's feelings and hurtyours too. I was false to father, and you, and Uncle Allan, and Julia. Nothing can be said for me, _nothing_! I am so ashamed of myself that Ishall never get over it in the world. Oh, Julia, could you shake handswith me, just to show me you know how I despise myself?"

Julia shook hands considerably less like a slug or a limpet than usual, and something very queer and unexpected happened when her hand met poorKitty's wet, feverish little paw and she heard the quiver in her voice. She suddenly stooped and kissed her cousin, quite without intention. Kathleen returned the salute with grateful, pathetic warmth, and thenthe two fell on Mother Carey's neck to be kissed and cried over for afull minute. 

"I'll go to the doctor and have my ugly tooth pulled out, " exclaimedKathleen, wiping her eyes. "If it hadn't been for that I never couldhave been so horrible!"

"That would be all very well for once, " answered her mother with a tiredsmile, "but if you pluck out a supposed offending member every time youdo something wrong, I fear you will not have many left when you are anold lady!"

"Mother!" said Kathleen, almost under her breath and not daring to lookup, "couldn't I stay at home from Charlestown and show you and Julia, here, how sorry I am?"

"Yes, let her, Aunt Margaret, and then I can have a chance to try too, "pleaded Julia. 

Had the heavens fallen? Had the Paragon, the Pink of Propriety andPerfection, confessed a fault? Had the heart of the smug one, the prig, melted, and did she feel at last her kinship to the Carey chickens? Hadshe suffered a real grievance, the first amongst numberless deeds oftenderness, and having resented it like an "old beast, " forgiven it likea "new" one? It certainly seemed as if Mother Carey that week were ather old trade of making things make themselves. Gilbert, Kathleen, andJulia had all fought their way under the ice-pack and were getting aglimpse of Shiny Wall. 

XXIV

A LETTER PROM GERMANY

Mother Carey walked down the village street one morning late in August, while Peter, milk pail in hand, was running by her side and makingfrequent excursions off the main line of travel. Beulah lookedenchanting after a night of rain, and the fields were greener than theyhad been since haying time. Unless Mr. Hamilton were away from hisconsular post on a vacation somewhere on the Continent, he should havereceived, and answered, Bill Harmon's letter before this, she wasthinking, as she looked at the quiet beauty of the scene that had soendeared itself to her in a few short months. 

Mrs. Popham had finished her morning's work and was already sitting ather drawing-in frame in the open doorway, making a very purple rose witha very scarlet centre. 

"Will you come inside, Mis' Carey?" she asked hospitably, "or do youwant Lallie Joy to set you a chair on the grass, same as you hadlast time?"

"I always prefer the grass, Mrs. Popham, " smiled Mrs. Carey. "As it'sthe day for the fishman to come I thought we'd like an extra quart ofmilk for chowder. "

"I only hope he'll make _out_ to come, " was Mrs. Popham's curt response. "If I set out to _be_ a fishman, I vow I'd _be_ one! Mr. Tubbs stays tohome whenever he's hayin', or his wife's sick, or it's stormy, or thechildren want to go to the circus!"

Mrs. Carey laughed. "That's true; but as your husband reminded me lastweek, when Mr. Tubbs disappointed us, his fish is always fresh-caught, and good. "

"Oh! of course Mr. Popham would speak up for him!" returned his wife. "Idon't see myself as it makes much diff'rence whether his fish is good orbad, if he stays to home with it! Mebbe I look on the dark side a littlemite; I can't hardly help it, livin' with Mr. Popham, and heso hopeful. "

"He keeps us all very merry at the Yellow House, " Mrs. Carey ventured. 

"Yes, he would, " remarked Mrs. Popham drily, "but you don't git itstiddy; hopefulness at meals, hopefulness evenin's, an' hopefulnessnights!--one everlastin' stiddy stream of hopefulness! He was jest so asa boy; always lookin' on the bright side whether there was any or not. His mother 'n' father got turrible sick of it; so much sunshine in thehouse made a continual drouth, so old Mis' Popham used to say. For herpart, she said, she liked to think that, once in a while, there was acloud that was a first-class cloud; a thick, black cloud, clean throughto the back! She was tired to death lookin' for Ossian's silver linin's!Lallie Joy's real moody like me; I s'pose it's only natural, livin' witha father who never sees anything but good, no matter which way he looks. There's two things I trust I shan't hear any more when I git toheaven, --that's 'Cheer up Maria!' an' 'It's all for the best!' As forMr. Popham, he says any place'll be heaven to him so long as I ain'tthere, callin' 'Hurry up Ossian!' so we have it, back an' forth!"

"It's a wonderful faculty, seeing the good in everything, " sighed Mrs. Carey. 

"Wonderful tiresome, " returned Mrs. Popham, "though I will own up it'sOssian's only fault, and he can't see his own misfortunes any clearerthan he can see those of other folks. His new colt run away with himlast week and stove the mowin' machine all to pieces. 'Never mind, Maria!' he says, 'it'll make fust-rate gear for a windmill!' He's out inthe barn now, fussin' over it; you can hear him singin'. They was allhere practicin' for the Methodist concert last, night, an' I didn'tsleep a wink, the tunes kep' a-runnin' in my head so! They always gitOssian to sing 'Fly like a youthful hart or roe, over the hills wherespices grow, ' an' I tell him he's too old; youthful harts an' roes don'tfly over the hills wearin' spectacles, I tell him, but he'll go right onsingin' it till they have to carry him up on the platform in awheeled chair!"

"You go to the Congregational church, don't you, Mrs. Popham?" askedMrs. Carey. "I've seen Lallie and Digby at Sunday-school. "

"Yes, Mr. Popham is a Methodist and I'm a Congregationalist, but I saylet the children go where they like, so I always take them with me. "

Mrs. Carey was just struggling to conceal her amusement at thisreligious flexibility on Mrs. Popham's part, when she espied Nancyflying down the street, bareheaded, waving a bit of paper in the air. 

"Are you 'most ready to come home, Muddy?" she called, without comingany nearer. 

"Yes, quite ready, now Lallie has brought the milk. Good morning, Mrs. Popham; the children want me for some new enterprise. "

"You give yourself most too much to 'em, " expostulated Mrs. Popham; "youdon't take no vacations. "

"Ah, well, you see 'myself' is all I have to give them, " answered Mrs. Carey, taking Peter and going to meet Nancy. 

"Mother, " said that young person breathlessly, "I must tell you what Ididn't tell at the time, for fear of troubling you. I wrote to Mr. Hamilton by the same post that Mr. Harmon did. Bill is so busy and sucha poor writer I thought he wouldn't put the matter nicely at all, and Ididn't want you, with all your worries, brought into it, so I wrote tothe Consul myself, and kept a copy to show you exactly what I said. Ihave been waiting at the gate for the letters every day for a week, butthis morning Gilbert happened to be there and shouted, 'A letter fromGermany for you, Nancy!' So all of them are wild with curiosity; Oliveand Cyril too, but I wanted you to open and read it first because it maybe full of awful blows. "

Mrs. Carey sat down on the side of a green bank between the Pophams'corner and the Yellow House and opened the letter, --with somemisgivings, it must be confessed. Nancy sat close beside her and heldone edge of the wide sheets, closely filled. 

"Why, he has written you a volume, Nancy!" exclaimed Mrs. Carey. "Itmust be the complete story of his life! How long was yours to him?" "Idon't remember; pretty long; because there seemed to be so much to tell, to show him how we loved the house, and why we couldn't spend CousinAnn's money and move out in a year or two, and a lot about ourselves, tolet him see we were nice and agreeable and respectable. "

"I'm not sure all that was strictly necessary, " commented Mrs. Careywith some trepidation. 

This was Lemuel Hamilton's letter, dated from the office of the AmericanConsul in Breslau, Germany. 

 MY DEAR MISS NANCY, --As your letter to me was a purely "business" communication I suppose I ought to begin my reply: "Dear Madam, Your esteemed favor was received on the sixth inst. And contents noted, " but I shall do nothing of the sort. I think you must have guessed that I have two girls of my own, for you wrote to me just as if we were sitting together side by side, like two friends, not a bit as landlord and tenant. 

Mother Carey's eyes twinkled. She well knew Nancy's informal epistolarystyle, and her facile, instantaneous friendliness!

 Every word in your letter interested me, pleased me, touched me. I feel that I know you all, from the dear mother who sits in the centre--

"What does he mean by that?"

"I sent him a snap shot of the family. "

"_Nancy_! What for?"

"So that he could see what we were like; so that he'd know we were fitto be lifelong tenants!"

Mrs. Carey turned resignedly to the letter again. 

 From the dear mother who sits in the centre, to the lovable little Peter who looks as if he were all that you describe him! I was about his age when I went to the Yellow House to spend a few years. Old Granny Hamilton had lived there all her life, and when my mother, who was a widow, was seized with a serious illness she took me home with her for a long visit. She was never well enough to go away, so my early childhood was passed in Beulah, and I only left the village when I was ten years old, and an orphan. 

"Oh, dear!" interpolated Nancy. "It seems, lately, as if nobody had bothfather and mother!"

 Granny Hamilton died soon after my mother, and I hardly know who lived in the house for the next thirty years. It was my brother's property, and a succession of families occupied it until it fell to me in my turn. I have no happy memories connected with it, so you can go ahead and make them for yourselves. My only remembrance is of the west bedroom, where my mother lived and died. 

"The west bedroom; that isn't the painted one; no, of course it is theone where I sleep, " said Mrs. Carey. "The painted one must always havebeen the guest chamber. "

 She could only move from bed to chair, and her greatest pleasure was to sit by the sunset window and look at the daisies and buttercups waving in that beautiful sloping stretch of field with the pine woods beyond. After the grass was mown, and that field was always left till the last for her sake, she used to sit there and wait for Queen Anne's lace to come up; its tall stems and delicate white wheels nodding among the grasses. 

"Oh! I do _like_ him!" exclaimed Nancy impetuously. "Can't you _see_him, mother? It's so nice of him to remember that they always mowed thehayfield last for his mother's sake, and so nice of him to think ofQueen Anne's lace all these years!"

 Now as to business, your Cousin Ann is quite right when she tells you that you ought not to put expensive improvements on another person's property lest you be disturbed in your tenancy. That sort of cousin is always right, whatever she says. Mine was not named Ann; she was Emma, but the principle is the same. 

"Nancy!" asked Mrs. Carey, looking away from the letter again, "did yousay anything about your Cousin Ann?"

"Yes, some little thing or other; for it was her money that we couldn'tspend until we knew we could stay in the house. I didn't describe her, of course, to Mr. Hamilton; I just told him she was very businesslike, and yes, I remember now, I told him you said she was a very fine person;that's about all. But you see how clever he is! he just has 'instinks, 'as Mr. Popham says, and you don't have to tell him much about anything. "

 If you are intending to bring the water from the well into the house and put a large stove in the cellar to warm some of the upper rooms; if you are papering and painting inside, and keeping the place in good condition, you are preserving my property and even adding to its value; so under the circumstances I could not think of accepting any rent in money. 

"No rent! Not even the sixty dollars!" exclaimed Nancy. 

"Look; that is precisely what he says. "

"There never was such a dear since the world began!" cried Nancyjoyously. "Oh! do read on; there's a lot more, and the last maycontradict the first. "

 Shall I tell you what more the Careys may do for me, they who have done so much already?

"So much!" quoted Nancy with dramatic emphasis. "Oh, he _is_ a dear!"

 My son Tom, when he went down to Beulah before starting for China, visited the house and at my request put away my mother's picture safely. He is a clever boy, and instead of placing the thing in an attic where it might be injured, he tucked it away, --where do you think, --in the old brick oven of the room that is now, I suppose, your dining room. It is a capital hiding-place, for there had been no fire there for fifty years, nor ever will be again. I have other portraits of her with me, on this side of the water. Please remove the one I speak of from its wrappings and hang it over the mantel shelf in the west bedroom. 

"My bedroom! I shall love to have it there, " said Mother Carey. 

 Then, once a year, on my mother's birthday, --it is the fourth of July and an easy date to remember, --will my little friend Miss Nancy, or any of the other Careys, if she is absent, pick a little nosegay of daisies and buttercups (perhaps there will even be a bit of early Queen Anne's lace) and put it in a vase under my mother's picture? That shall be the annual rent paid for the Yellow House to Lemuel Hamilton by the Careys!

Tears of joy sprang to the eyes of emotional Nancy. She rose to her feetand paced the greensward excitedly. 

"Oh, mother, I didn't think there could be another such man afterknowing father and the Admiral. Isn't it all as wonderful as a fairystory?"

"There's a little more; listen, dear. "

 As to the term of your occupancy, the Careys may have the Yellow House until the day of my death, unless by some extraordinary chance my son Tom should ever want it as a summer home. 

"Oh, dear! there comes the dreadful 'unless'! 'My son Tom' is our onlyenemy, then!" said Nancy darkly. 

"He is in China, at all events, " her mother remarked cheerfully. 

 Tom is the only one who ever had a bit of sentiment about Beulah, and he was always unwilling that the old place should be occupied by strangers. The curious thing about the matter is that you and yours do not seem to be strangers to me and mine. Do you know, dear little Miss Nancy, what brought the tears to my eyes in your letter? The incident of your father's asking what you could do to thank the Yellow House for the happy hour it had given you on that summer day long ago, and the planting of the crimson rambler by the side of the portico. I have sent your picture tying up the rose, --and it was so charming I was loath to let it go, --with your letter, and the snap shot of the family group, all out to my son Tom in China. He will know then why I have let the house, to whom, and all the attendant circumstances. Trust him never to disturb you when he sees how you love the old place. The planting of that crimson rambler will fix Tom, for he's a romantic boy. 

"The planting of the rose was a heavenly inspiration if it does 'fixTom!' We'll call Tom the Chinese Enemy. No, we'll call him the YellowPeril, " laughed Nancy in triumph. 

 I am delighted with the sample of paper you have chosen for the front hall. 

"I don't see why you didn't go over to Germany yourself, Nancy, and takea trunk of samples!" cried Mrs. Carey, wiping the tears of merrimentfrom her eyes. "I can't think what the postage on your letter must havebeen. "

"Ten cents, " Nancy confessed, "but wasn't it worth it, Muddy?--Come, read the last few lines, and then we'll run all the way home to tell theothers. "

 Send me anything more, at any time, to give me an idea of the delightful things you are doing. I shall be proud if you honor me with an occasional letter. Pray give my regards to your mother, whom I envy, and all the "stormy petrels, " whom I envy too. 

 Believe me, dear Miss Nancy, Yours sincerely, LEMUEL HAMILTON. 

"I can't remember why I told him about Mother Carey's chickens, " saidNancy reflectively. "It just seemed to come in naturally. The YellowPeril must be rather nice, as well as his father, even if he is ourenemy. That was clever of him, putting his grandmother in the brickoven!" And here Nancy laughed, and laughed again, thinking how her lastremark would sound if overheard by a person unacquainted with thecircumstances. 

"A delightful, warm, kind, friendly letter, " said Mother Carey, foldingit with a caressing hand. "I wish your father could have read it. "

"He doesn't say a word about his children, " and Nancy took the sheetsand scanned them again. 

"You evidently gave him the history of your whole family, but heconfines himself to his own life. "

"He mentions 'my son Tom' frequently enough, but there's not a word ofMrs. Hamilton. "

"No, but there's no reason there should be, especially!"

"If he loved her he couldn't keep her out, " said Nancy shrewdly. "Shejust isn't in the story at all. Could any of us write a chronicle of anyhouse we ever lived in, and leave you out?"

Mrs. Carey took Nancy's outstretched hands and was pulled up from thegreensward. "You have a few 'instinks' yourself, little daughter, " shesaid with a swift pat on the rosy cheek. "Now, Peter, put your marblesin the pocket of your blue jeans, and take the milk pail from under thebushes; we must hurry or there'll be no chowder. "

As they neared Garden Fore-and-Aft the group of children rushed out tomeet them, Kitty in advance. 

"The fish man didn't come, " she said, "and it's long past his time, sothere's no hope; but Julia and I have the dinner all planned. Therewasn't enough of it to go round anyway, so we've asked Olive and Cyrilto stay, and we've set the table under the great maple, --do you care?"

"Not a bit; we'll have a real jollification, because Nancy has some goodnews to tell you!"

"The dinner isn't quite appropriate for a jollification, " Kitty observedanxiously. "Is the news good enough to warrant opening a jar or a can ofanything?"

"Open all that doth hap to be closed, " cried Nancy, embracing Oliveexcitedly. "Light the bonfires on the encroaching hills. Set casksa-tilt, and so forth. "

"It's the German letter!" said Gilbert at a venture. 

"What is the dinner, Kitty?" Mother Carey asked. 

"New potatoes and string beans from the aft garden. Stale bread madeinto milk toast to be served as a course. Then, not that it has anythingto do with the case, but just to give a style to the meal, Julia hasmade a salad out of the newspaper. "

Nancy created a diversion by swooning on the grass; a feat which hadgiven her great fame in charades. 

"It was only the memory of Julia's last newspaper salad!" she murmuredwhen the usual restoratives had been applied. "Prithee, poppet, whathast dropped into the dish to-day?"

Julia was laughing too much to be wholly intelligible, but read from ascrap in her apron pocket: "'Any fruit in season, cold beans or peas, minced cucumber, English walnuts, a few cubes of cold meat left fromdinner, hard boiled eggs in slices, flecks of ripe tomatoes and radishesto perfect the color scheme, a dash of onion juice, dash of paprika, dash of rich cream. ' I have left out the okra, the shallot, theestragon, the tarragon, the endive, the hearts of artichoke, theHungarian peppers and the haricot beans because we hadn't any;--do youthink it will make any difference, Aunt Margaret?"

"It will, " said Nancy oracularly, "but all to the good. "

"Rather a dull salad I call it, " commented Gilbert. "Lacks the snap ofthe last one. No mention of boned sprats, or snails in aspic, calves'foot jelly, iced humming birds, pickled edelweiss, or any of thosethings kept habitually in the cellars of families like ours. No dash ofJamaica ginger or Pain-killer or sloe gin or sarsaparilla to give itpiquancy. Unless Julia can find a paper that gives more up-to-dateadvice to its country subscribers, we'll have to transfer her from thekitchen department to the woodshed. "

Julia's whole attitude, during this discussion of her recent culinaryexperiments, was indicative of the change that was slowly taking placein her point of view. The Careys had a large sense of humor, from motherdown as far as Peter, who was still in the tadpole stage of it. Theychaffed one another on all occasions, for the most part courteously andwith entire good nature. Leigh Hunt speaks of the anxiety of certainpersons to keep their minds quiet lest any motion be clumsy, and Julia'sconcern had been of this variety; but four or five months spent in ahousehold where mental operations, if not deep, were incredibly quick, had made her a little more elastic. Mother Carey had always said that ifJulia had any sense of humor she would discover for herself what asolemn prig she was, and mend her ways, and it seemed as if this mightbe true in course of time. 

"What'll we do with all the milk?" now demanded Peter, who had carriedit all the way from the Pophams', and to whom it appeared therefore ofexaggerated importance. 

"Angel boy!" cried Nancy, embracing him. "The only practical member ofthe family! What wouldst thou suggest?"

"Drink it, " was the terse reply. 

"And so't shall be, my liege! Fetch the beaker, lackey, " identifyingCyril with a royal gesture. "Also crystal water from the well, which bythe command of our Cousin Ann will speedily flow in a pipe within thecastle walls. There are healths to be drunk this day when we assembleunder the Hamilton maple, and first and most loyally the health of ourAmerican Consul at Breslau, Germany!"

XXV

"FOLLOWING THE GLEAM"

If the summer months had brought many changes to the dwellers in theYellow House and the House of Lords, the autumn was responsible for manymore. Cousin Ann's improvements were set in motion and were promised tobe in full force before cold weather set in, and the fall term at BeulahAcademy had opened with six new, unexpected, and interesting students. Happily for the Careys and happily for Beulah, the old principal, afaithful but uninspired teacher, had been called to Massachusetts tofill a higher position; and only a few days before the beginning of theterm, a young college man, Ralph Thurston, fresh from Bowdoin andneeding experience, applied for and received the appointment. The thrillof rapture that ran like an electric current through the persons of thefeminine students when they beheld Ralph Thurston for the firsttime, --dignified, scholarly, unmistakably the gentleman, --beheld himmount the platform in the assembly room, and knew him for their own, this can better be imagined than described! He was handsome, he wasyoung, he had enough hair (which their principals seldom had possessed), he did not wear spectacles, he had a pleasing voice, and a manner ofspeaking that sent tremors of delight up and down a thirteen-year-oldspine. He had a merry wit and a hearty laugh, but one had only to lookat him closely to feel that he had borne burdens and that hisattainments had been bought with a price. He was going to be difficultto please, and the girls of all ages drew deep breaths of anticipationand knew that they should study as never before. The vice-principal, alady of fine attainments, was temporarily in eclipse, and such anastounding love for the classics swept through young Beulah that nobodycould understand it. Ralph Thurston taught Latin and Greek himself, butparents did not at first observe the mysterious connection between causeand effect. It was all very young and artless and innocent; helpful andstimulating too, for Thurston was no budding ladies' man, but athoroughly good fellow, manly enough to attract the boys and holdtheir interest. 

The entrance of the four Careys and two Lords into the list of studentshad an inspiring effect upon the whole school. So far as scholarship wasconcerned they were often outstripped by their country neighbors, butthe Careys had seen so much of the world that they had a great deal ofgeneral culture, and the academy atmosphere was affected by it. Olive, Nancy, and Gilbert went into the highest class; Kathleen, Julia, andCyril into the one below. 

The intimacy of Nancy and Olive was a romantic and ardent one. Olive hadnever had a real companion in her life; Nancy's friends dotted theuniverse wherever she had chanced to live. Olive was uncommunicative, shy, and stiff with all but a chosen few; Nancy was at ease in allassemblies. It was Nancy's sympathy and enthusiasm and warmth thatattracted Olive Lord, and it was the combination of Olive's genius andher need of love, that held Nancy. 

Never were two human creatures more unlike in their ways of thought. Olive had lived in Beulah seven years, and knew scarcely any one becauseof her father's eccentricities and his indifference to the world; buthad you immured Nancy in a convent she would have made a large circle ofacquaintances from the window of her cell, before a month passed overher head. She had an ardent interest in her fellow creatures, andwhenever they strayed from the strict path of rectitude, she wasconsumed with a desire to set them straight. If Olive had seen a drunkenman lying in a ditch, she would scarcely have looked at him, much lessinquired his name. Nancy would have sat by until he recovered himself, if possible, or found somebody to take him to his destination. As forthe delightful opportunity of persuading him of his folly, she wouldhave jumped at the chance when she was fifteen or sixteen, but as shegrew older she observed a little more reticence in these delicatematters, at least when she was endeavoring to reform her elders. She hadsucceeded in making young Nat Harmon stop cigarette smoking, but he wasprivately less convinced of the error of his ways than he was bewitchedby Nancy. She promised readily to wear a blue ribbon and sit on theplatform in the Baptist Chapel at the Annual Meeting of the JuniorTemperance League. On the eve of the affair she even would gladly havemade a speech when the president begged her to do so, but thehorror-stricken Olive succeeded in stopping her, and her mother firmlystood by Olive. 

"Oh! all right; I don't care a bit about it, Muddy, " she answerednonchalantly. "Only there is something splendid about rising from a bandof blue-ribboned girls and boys and addressing the multitude for a greatcause. " "What do you know about this great cause, Nancy dear, atyour age?"

"Oh, not much! but you don't have to know much if you say it loud andclear to the back settees. I've watched how it goes! It was thrillingwhen we gave 'Esther the Beautiful Queen' in the Town Hall; when wewaved our hands and sang 'Haman! Haman! Long live Haman!' I almostfainted with joy. "

"It was very good; I liked it too; but perhaps if you 'faint with joy'whenever your feet touch a platform, it will be more prudent for you tokeep away!" and Mother Carey laughed. 

"Very well, madam, your will is my law! When you see the youth of Beulahtreading the broad road that leadeth to destruction, and looking on thewine when it is red in the cup, remember that you withheld my handand voice!"

Gilbert and Cyril were much together, particularly after Cyril'sstanding had been increased in Beulah by the news that Mr. Thurstonthought him a remarkable mathematician and perhaps the leading studentin his class. Cyril himself, too pale for a country boy of fourteen, narrow-shouldered, silent, and timid, took this unexpected fame withabsolute terror, but Olive's pride delighted in it and she positivelybloomed, in the knowledge that her brother was appreciated. She herselfsecretly thought books were rather a mistake when paints and brusheswere at hand, and it was no wonder that she did not take high rank, seeing that she painted an hour before school, and all day Saturday, alternating her work on the guest chamber of the Yellow House with herportrait of Nancy for Mother Carey's Christmas present. 

Kathleen and Julia had fallen into step and were good companions. Kathleen had never forgotten her own breach of good manners and familyloyalty; Julia always remembered the passion of remorse that Kathleenfelt, a remorse that had colored her conduct to Julia ever since. Juliawas a good plodder, and Mr. Thurston complimented her on the excellenceof her Latin recitations, when he had his wits about him and couldremember that she existed. He never had any difficulty in rememberingNancy. She was not, it must be confessed, especially admirable as a_verbatim et literatim_ "reciter. " Sometimes she forgot entirely whatthe book had said on a certain topic, but she usually had some originalobservation of her own to offer by way of compromise. At first Mr. Thurston thought that she was trying to conceal her lack of realknowledge, and dazzle her instructor at the same time, so that he shouldnever discover her ignorance. Later on he found where her weakness andher strength lay. She adapted, invented, modified thingsnaturally, --embroidered all over her task, so to speak, and delivered itin somewhat different shape from the other girls. (When she was twelveshe pricked her finger in sewing and made a blood-stain on the littlewhite mull apron that she was making. The stuff was so delicate that shedid not dare to attempt any cleansing process, and she was in a greathurry too, so she embroidered a green four leaf clover over thebloodstain, and all the family exclaimed, "How like Nancy!") Grammarteased Nancy, algebra and geometry routed her, horse, foot, anddragoons. No room for embroidery there! Languages delighted her, map-drawing bored her, and composition intoxicated her, although she wasbetter at improvising than at the real task of setting down her thoughtsin black and white. The class chronicles and prophecies and songs andpoems would flow to her inevitably, but Kathleen would be the one whowould give new grace and charm to them if she were to read them toan audience. 

How Beulah Academy beamed, and applauded, and wagged its head in prideon a certain day before Thanksgiving, when there were exercises in theassembly room. Olive had drawn The Landing of the Pilgrims on thelargest of the blackboards, and Nancy had written a merry little storythat caused great laughter and applause in the youthful audience. Gilbert had taken part in a debate and covered himself with glory, andKathleen closed the impromptu programme by reciting Tennyson's--

 O young Mariner, You from the haven Under the sea-cliff, You that are watching The gray Magician With eyes of wonder, ... Follow the Gleam. 

 Great the Master, And sweet the Magic, When over the valley, In early summers, Over the mountain, On human faces, And all around me, Moving to melody Floated the Gleam. 

 O young Mariner, Down to the haven, Call your companion, Launch your vessel And crowd your canvas, And, ere it vanishes Over the margin, After it, follow it, Follow the Gleam. 

Kathleen's last year's brown velveteen disclosed bronze slippers andstockings, --a novelty in Beulah, --her hair fell in such curls as Beulahhad rarely beheld, and her voice was as sweet as a thrush's note; soperhaps it is not strange that the poem set a kind of fashion at theacademy, and "following the gleam" became a sort of text by which tostudy and grow and live. 

Thanksgiving Day approached, and everybody was praying for a flurry ofsnow, just enough to give a zest to turkey and cranberry sauce. On thetwentieth it suddenly occurred to Mother Carey that this typical NewEngland feast day would be just the proper time for the housewarming, sothe Lord children, the Pophams, and the Harmons were all bidden to comeat seven o'clock in the evening. Great preparations ensued. Rows of Jacko' Lanterns decorated the piazza, and the Careys had fewer pumpkin piesin November than their neighbors, in consequence of their extravagantinroads upon the golden treasures of the aft garden. Inside were a fewlate asters and branches of evergreen, and the illumination suggestedthat somebody had been lending additional lamps and candles for theoccasion. The original equipment of clothes possessed by the Careys ontheir arrival in Beulah still held good, and looked well by lamplight, so that the toilettes were fully worthy of so important a function. 

Olive's picture of Nancy was finished, and she announced the absoluteimpossibility of keeping it until Christmas, so it reached the YellowHouse on Thanksgiving morning. When it was unwrapped by Nancy anddisplayed for the first time to the family, Mother Carey's lips parted, her eyes opened in wonder, but no words came for an instant, in thebewilderment of her mind. Olive had written the title "Young April"under the picture. Nancy stood on a bit of dandelion-dotted turf, abudding tree in the background, her arm flung over the neck of a Jerseycalf. The calf had sat for his portrait long before, but Nancy had beenadded since May. Olive, by a clever inspiration, had turned Nancy's faceaway and painted her with the April breeze blowing her hair across hercheek. She was not good at painting features, her art was too crude, butsomehow the real thing was there; and the likeness to Nancy, in figure, pose, and hair, was so unmistakable that her mother caught her breath. As for the calf, he, at least, was distinctly in Olive's line, and hewas painted with a touch of genius. 

"It is better of the calf than it is of you, Nancy, " said Gilbertcritically. 

"Isn't Mr. Bossy lovely?" his sister responded amiably. "Wouldn't he putany professional beauty out of countenance? I am proud to be paintedbeside him! Do you like it, Muddy dear?"

"Like it?" she exclaimed, "it is wonderful! It must be sent to Bostonfor criticism, and we must invent some way of persuading Mr. Lord togive Olive the best instruction to be had. This picture is even betterthan anything she has done in the painted chamber. I shouldn't wonder abit, Nancy, if little Beulah were to be very proud of Olive in theyears to come!"

Nancy was transported at her mother's praise. "I felt it, I knew it! Ialways said Olive was a genius, " she cried, clapping her hands. "Oliveis 'following the gleam'! Can't you feel the wind blowing my hair anddress? Don't you see that the calf is chewing his cud and is going tomove in just a minute? Olive's animals are always just going tomove!--Oh, Muddy dear! when you see Olive nowadays, smiling and busy andhappy, aren't you glad you stretched your wings and took her under themwith the rest of us? And don't you think you could make a 'new beast'out of Mr. Henry Lord, or is he too old a beast even for Mother Carey?"

XXVI

A ZOOLOGICAL FATHER

That was just what Mother Carey was wondering when Nancy spoke, and asthe result of several hours' reflection she went out for a walk justbefore dusk and made her way towards The Cedars with a package underher cloak. 

She followed the long lane that led to the house, and knocked at thefront door rather timidly. In her own good time Mrs. Bangs answered theknock and admitted Mrs. Carey into the dreariest sitting room she hadever entered. 

"I am Mrs. Carey from the Hamilton house, " she said to Mrs. Bangs. "Willyou ask Mr. Lord if he will see me for a moment?"

Mrs. Bangs was stupefied at the request, for, in her time, scarcely asingle caller from the village had crossed the threshold, although therehad been occasional visitors from Portland or Boston. 

Mrs. Carey waited a few moments, silently regarding the unequalledbareness, ugliness, and cheerlessness of the room. "Olive has a sense ofbeauty, " she thought, "and Olive is sixteen; it is Olive who ought tomake this place different from what it is, and she can, unless herfather is the stumbling-block in the way. "

At this moment the possible stumbling-block, Henry Lord, Ph. D. , came inand greeted her civilly. His manner was never genial, for there wasneither love in his heart nor warm blood in his veins; but he wascourteous, for he was an educated fossil, of good birth and up-bringing. He had been dissecting specimens in his workroom, and he looked capableof dismembering Mother Carey; but bless your heart, she had weapons inher unseen armory that were capable of bringing confusion to his paltryapparatus!--among others a delicate, slender little sword that pierceddeep on occasion. 

Henry Lord was of medium height; spare, clean-shaven, thin-lipped, withscanty auburn hair, high forehead, and small keen eyes, especiallyadapted to the microscope, though ill fitted to use in friendlyconversation. 

"We are neighbors, Professor Lord, though we have never met, " said Mrs. Carey, rising and giving him her hand. 

"My children know you better than I, " he answered, "and I feel it verykind in you to allow them to call on you so frequently. " They had livedat the Yellow House for four months save at meal times, but as theirfather was unaware of the number and extent of their visits Mrs. Careythought it useless to speak of them, so she merely said:

"It is a great pleasure to have them with us. My children have left manyfriends behind them in Massachusetts and elsewhere, and might have beenlonely in Beulah; besides, I often think the larger the group (withincertain limits), the better chance children have of learning howto live. "

"I should certainly not have permitted Olive and Cyril to attend thelocal academy but for your family, " said Professor Lord. "These countryschools never have any atmosphere of true scholarliness, and the speechand manners of both teachers and pupils are execrable. "

"I dare say that is often the case. If the academies could furnish suchteachers as existed fifty years ago; and alas! if we parents couldfurnish such vigorous, determined, ambitious, self-denying pupils asused to be sent out from country homes, we should have less to complainof. Of course we are peculiarly fortunate here in Beulah. "

Mr. Lord looked faintly amused and infinitely superior. "I am afraid, mydear lady, " he remarked, "that you have not had long enough experienceto comprehend the slenderness of Mr. Philpot's mental equipment. "

"Oh, Mr. Philpot resigned nearly three months ago, " said Mrs. Careyeasily, giving Henry Lord, Ph. D. , her first stab, and a look ofamusement on her own behalf. "Ralph Thurston, the present principal, isa fine, unusual fellow. "

"Really? The children have never mentioned any change, but I regret tosay I am absent-minded at meals. The death of my wife left many gaps inthe life of the household. "

"So that you have to be mother and father in one!" (Stab two: verydelicately delivered. )

"I fear I am too much of a student to be called a good family man. "

"So I gathered. " (Stab three. She wanted to provoke curiosity. )

Mr. Lord looked annoyed. He knew his unpopularity, and did not wish anyvillage gossip to reach the ears of strangers. "You, my dear madam, arecapable of appreciating my devotion to my life work, which the neighborsnaturally wholly misunderstand, " he said. 

"I gathered nothing from the neighbors, " responded Mrs. Carey, "but awoman has only to know children well to see at a glance what they need. You are so absorbed in authorship just now, that naturally it is alittle hard for the young people; but I suppose there are breathingplaces, 'between books'?"

"There are no breathing places between mine; there will be six volumes, and I am scarcely half through the third, although I have given sevenyears to the work. Still, I have an excellent housekeeper who attends toall our simple needs. My children are not fitted for society. "

"No, not quite. " (Stab four). "That is the reason they ought to see agood deal of it, but they are very fine children and very clever. "

"I am glad you think so, but they certainly write bad English and haveno general knowledge whatsoever. "

"Oh, well, that will come, doubtless, when you have more time withthem. " (Stab five. ) "I often think such mysterious things as good speechand culture can never be learned in school. I shouldn't wonder if thatwere our department, Dr. Lord!" (Stab six. ) "However, you will agree, modest parent as you are, that your Olive is a genius?"

"I have never observed it, " replied her father. "I cannot, of course, allow her to practice on any musical instrument, because my studiesdemand quiet, but I don't think she cares for music. "

"She draws and paints, however, in the most astonishing way, and she hasa passionate energy, and concentration, and devotion to her work that Ihave never seen coupled with anything but an extraordinary talent. Sheis destined to go very far, in my opinion. "

"Not too far, I hope, " remarked Mr. Lord, with an icy smile. "Olive canpaint on plush and china as much as she likes, but I am not partial to'careers' for young women. "

"Nor am I; save when the gift is so commanding, so obvious, that it hasto be reckoned with;--but I must not delay my business any longer, norkeep you from your work. We are having a housewarming this evening atseven. Olive and Cyril are there now, helping in the preparations, and Iwant to know if they may stay to supper, and if you can send for them athalf past nine or ten. "

"Certainly they may stay, though I should think your supper table couldhardly stand the strain. "

"Where there are five already, two more make no difference, save inbetter appetite for all, " said Mother Carey, smiling and rising. 

"If you will allow me to get my hat and coat I will accompany you to themain road, " said Mr. Lord, going to the front hall, and then opening thedoor for Mrs. Carey. "Let me take your parcel, please. "

He did not know in the least why he said it and why he did it. The ladyhad interfered with his family affairs to a considerable extent, and hadmade several remarks that would have appeared impertinent, had they notissued from a very winsome, beautiful mouth. Mrs. Ossian Popham or Mrs. Bill Harmon would have been shown the door for saying less, yet here wasHenry Lord, Ph. D. , ambling down the lane by Mother Carey's side, thinking to himself what a burden she lifted from his shoulders by herunaccountable interest in his unattractive children. He was alsothinking how "springy" was the lady's step in her short black dress, howbrilliant the chestnut hair looked under the black felt hat, and howwhite the skin gleamed above the glossy lynx boa. A kind of mucilaginousfluid ran in his veins instead of blood, but Henry Lord, Ph. D. , had hisassailable side nevertheless, and he felt extraordinarily good natured, almost as if the third volume were finished, with public and publishersclamoring for its appearance. 

"I don't know where Olive could have got any such talent as youdescribe, " he said, as they were walking along the lane. "She had somelessons long ago, I remember, and her mother used to talk of her amusingherself with pencil and paint, but I have heard nothing of itfor years. "

"Ask to see her sketches when you are talking with her about her worksome day, " suggested Mother Carey. (Stab seven. ) "As a matter of factshe probably gets her talent from you. "

"From me!" Printed letters fail to register the amazement in ProfessorLord's tone. 

"Why not, when you consider her specialty?"

"_What_ specialty?"

Really, a slender sword was of no use with this man; a bludgeon was theonly instrument, yet it might wound, and she only wanted to prick. Hadthe creature never seen Olive sketching, nor noted her choiceof subjects?

"She paints animals; paints nothing else, if she can help it; though shedoes fairly well with other things. Is it impossible that your study ofzoology--your thought, your absorption for years and years, in theclassification, the structure, the habits of animals--may have beenstamped on your child's mind? She has an ardor equal to your own, onlyshowing itself in a different manner. You may have passed on, in somemysterious way, your knowledge to Olive. She may have unconsciouslyblended it with some instinct for expression of her own, and it comesout in pictures. Look at this, Professor Lord. Olive gave it tome to-day. "

They stood together at the gate leading out into the road, and Mrs. Carey unwrapped the painting and poised it against the top of the gate. 

Olive's father looked at it for a moment and then said, "I am no judgeof these things, technically or otherwise, but it certainly seems verycreditable work for a girl of Olive's age. "

"Oh, it is surely more than that! My girl Nancy stands there in theflesh, though her face is hidden. Look at the wind blowing, look at thedelightful, the enchanting calf; above all look at the title! Who in theworld but a little genius could have composed that sketch, breathingyouth in every inch of it, --and called it 'Young April'! Oh! ProfessorLord, I am very bold, because your wife is not living, and it is womenwho oftenest see these budding tendencies in children; forgive me, butdo cherish and develop this talent of Olive's. "

The eyes the color of the blue velvet bonnet were turned full upon HenryLord, Ph. D. They swam in tears and the color came and went in her cheek;she was forty, but it was a lovely cheek still. 

"I will think it over, " he replied with some embarrassment as he wrappedthe picture again and handed it to her. "Meantime I am certainly verymuch obliged to you. You seem to have an uncommon knowledge of youngpeople. May I ask if you are, or have been, a teacher?" "Oh, no!" Mrs. Carey remarked with a smile, "I am just a mother, --that's all!Good night. "

XXVII

THE CAREY HOUSEWARMING

The housewarming was at its height, and everybody agreed once in everyten minutes that it was probably the most beautiful party that had everhappened in the history of the world. 

Water flowed freely through Cousin Ann's expensive pipes, that had beenburied so deep in their trenches that the winter frosts could not affectthem. Natty Harmon tried the kitchen pump secretly several times duringthe evening, for the water had to run up hill all the way from the wellto the kitchen sink, and he believed this to be a continual miracle thatmight "give out" at any moment. The stove in the cellar, always alludedto by Gilbert as the "young furnace, " had not yet been used, save by wayof experiment, but it was believed to be a perfect success. To-nightthere was no need of extra heat, and there were great ceremonies to beobserved in lighting the fires on the hearthstones. They began with theone in the family sitting room; Colonel Wheeler, Ralph Thurston, Mr. AndMrs. Bill Harmon with Natty and Rufus, Mr. And Mrs. Popham with Digbyand Lallie Joy, all standing in admiring groups and thrilling withdelight at the order of events. Mother Carey sat by the fireplace;little Peter, fairly radiant with excitement, leaning against her kneeand waiting for his own great moment, now close at hand. 

"_When ye come into a house, salute it; and if the house be worthy, letyour peace come upon it_. 

"_To all those who may dwell therein from generation to generation mayit be a house of God, a gate of heaven_. 

"_For every house is builded by some man, but he that built all thingsis God, seeing that he giveth to every one of us life and breath and allgood things_. "

Mother Carey spoke these words so simply and naturally, as she lookedtowards her neighbors one after another, with her hand resting onPeter's curly head, that they hardly knew whether to keep quiet orsay Amen. 

"Was that the Bible, Osh?" whispered Bill Harmon. 

"Don't know; 'most everything she says sounds like the Bible orShakespeare to me. "

In the hush that followed Mother Carey's salutation Gilbert approachedwith a basket over his arm, and quickly and neatly laid a little firebehind the brass andirons on the hearth. Then Nancy handed Peter aloosely bound sheaf, saying: "To light this fire I give you a torch. Init are herbs of the field for health of the body, a fern leaf for grace, a sprig of elm for peace, one of oak for strength, with evergreen toshow that we live forever in the deeds we have done. To these we haveadded rosemary for remembrance and pansies for thoughts. "

Peter crouched on the hearth and lighted the fire in three places, thenhanded the torch to Kathleen as he crept again into his mother's lap, awed into complete silence by the influence of his own mystic rite. Kathleen waved the torch to and fro as she recited some beautiful lineswritten for some such purpose as that which called themtogether to-night. 

 "Burn, fire, burn! Flicker, flicker, flame! Whose hand above this blaze is lifted Shall be with touch of magic gifted, To warm the hearts of chilly mortals Who stand without these open portals. The touch shall draw them to this fire, Nigher, nigher, By desire. Whoso shall stand on this hearth-stone, Flame-fanned, Shall never, never stand alone. Whose home is dark and drear and old, Whose hearth is cold, This is his own. Flicker, flicker, flicker, flame! Burn, fire, burn!"[1]

[Footnote 1: Florence Converse. ]

Next came Olive's turn to help in the ceremonies. Ralph Thurston hadfound a line of Latin for them in his beloved Horace: _Tibi splendetfocus_ (For you the hearth-fire shines). Olive had painted the motto ona long narrow panel of canvas, and, giving it to Mr. Popham, stood bythe fireside while he deftly fitted it into the place prepared for it. The family had feared that he would tell a good story when he foundhimself the centre of attraction, but he was as dumb as Peter, and forthe same reason. 

"Olive has another lovely gift for the Yellow House, " said Mother Carey, rising, "and to carry out the next part of the programme we shall haveto go in procession upstairs to my bedroom. "

"Guess there wan't many idees to give round to other folks after theLord made _her_!" exclaimed Bill Harmon to his wife as they went throughthe lighted hall. 

Gilbert, at the head of the procession, held Mother Hamilton's picture, which had been taken from the old brick oven where "my son Tom" hadhidden it. Mother Carey's bedroom, with its bouquets of field flowers onthe wall paper, was gaily lighted and ready to receive the gift. Nancystood on a chair and hung the portrait over the fireplace, saying, "Weplace this picture here in memory of Agatha, mother of Lemuel Hamilton, owner of the Yellow House. Underneath it we lay a posy of presseddaisies, buttercups, and Queen Anne's lace, the wild flowers sheloved best. "

Now Olive took away a green garland covering the words "_Mater Cara_, "that she had painted in brown letters just over the bricks of thefireplace. The letters were in old English text, and a riot ofbuttercups and grasses twined their way amongst them. 

"_Mater Cara_ stands for 'mother dear, '" said Nancy, "and thus this roomwill be full of memories of two dear mothers, an absent and apresent one. "

Then Kathleen and Gilbert and Julia, Mother Carey and Peter bowed theirheads and said in chorus: "_O Thou who dwellest in so many homes, possess thyself of this. Thou who settest the solitary in families, bless the life that is sheltered here. Grant that trust and peace andcomfort may abide within, and that love and light and usefulness may goout from this house forever. Amen_. "

There was a moment's silence and then all the party descended the stairsto the dining room. 

"Ain't they the greatest?" murmured Lallie Joy, turning to her father, but he had disappeared from the group. 

The dining room was a blaze of glory, and great merriment ensued as theytook their places at the table. Mother Carey poured coffee, Nancychocolate, and the others helped serve the sandwiches and cake, doughnuts and tarts. 

"Where is Mr. Popham?" asked Nancy at the foot of the table. "We cannotbe happy without Mr. Popham. "

At that moment the gentleman entered, bearing a huge object concealed bya piece of green felt. Approaching the dining table, he carefully placedthe article in the centre and removed the cloth. 

It was the Dirty Boy, carefully mended!

The guests naturally had no associations with the Carey Curse, and theCareys themselves were dumb with amazement and despair. 

"I've seen this thing layin' in the barn chamber in a thousand piecesall summer!" explained Mr. Popham radiantly. "It wan't none o' mybusiness if the family throwed it away thinkin' it wan't no more good. Thinks I to myself, I never seen anything Osh Popham couldn't mend if hetook time enough and glue enough; so I carried this little feller homein a bushel basket one night last month, an' I've spent eleven evenin'sputtin' him together! I don't claim he's good 's new, 'cause he ain't;but he's consid'able better'n he was when I found him layin' in thebarn chamber!"

"Thank you, Mr. Popham!" said Mrs. Carey, her eyes twinkling as shelooked at the laughing children. "It was kind of you to spend so muchtime in our behalf. "

"Well, I says to myself there's nothin' too good for 'em, an' when itcomes Thanksgivin' I'll give 'em one thing more to be thankful for!"

"Quit talkin', Pop, will yer?" whispered Digby, nudging his father. "You've kep' us from startin' to eat 'bout five minutes a'ready, an' I'mas holler as a horn!"

It was as cheery, gay, festive, neighborly, and friendly a supper asever took place in the dining room of the Yellow House, althoughGovernor Weatherby may have had some handsomer banquets in his time. When it was over all made their way into the rosy, bowery, summerparlor. Soon another fire sparkled and snapped on the hearth, and therewere songs and poems and choruses and Osh Popham's fiddle, to saynothing of the supreme event of the evening, his rendition of "Fly likea youthful hart or roe, over the hills where spices grow, " to MotherCarey's accompaniment. He always slipped up his glasses during thisperformance and closed his eyes, but neither grey hairs nor "specs"could dim the radiant smile that made him seem about fifteen years oldand the junior of both his children. 

Mrs. Harmon thought he sang too much, and told her husband privatelythat if he was a canary bird she should want to keep a table cover overhis head most of the time, but he was immensely popular with the rest ofhis audience. 

Last of all the entire company gathered round the old-fashioned pianofor a parting hymn. The face of the mahogany shone with delight, and whynot, when it was doing everything (almost everything!) within the scopeof a piano, and yet the family had enjoyed weeks of good nourishingmeals on what had been saved by its exertions. Also, what rationalfamily could mourn the loss of an irregularly shaped instrument standingon three legs and played on one corner? The tall silver candle sticksgleamed in the firelight, the silver dish of polished Baldwins blushedrosier in the glow. Mother Carey played the dear old common metre tune, and the voices rang out in Whittier's hymn. The Careys all sang likethrushes, and even Peter, holding his hymn book upside down, put inlittle bird notes, always on the key, whenever he caught afamiliar strain. 

 "Once more the liberal year laughs out O'er richer stores than gems or gold; Once more, with harvest-song and shout Is Nature's bloodless triumph told. "

 "We shut our eyes, the flowers bloom on; We murmur, but the corn-ears fill; We choose the shadow, but the sun That casts it shines behind us still. "

 "O favors every year made new! O gifts with rain and sunshine sent! The bounty overruns our due, The fulness shames our discontent. "

XXVIII

"TIBI SPLENDET FOCUS"

There was one watcher of all this, and one listener, outside of theYellow House, that none of the party suspected, and that was HenryLord, Ph. D. 

When he left Mrs. Carey at the gate at five o'clock, he went back to hisown house and ordered his supper to be brought him on a tray in hisstudy. He particularly liked this, always, as it freed him from allresponsibility of serving his children, and making an occasional remark;and as a matter of fact everybody was as pleased as he when he atealone, the occasional meals Olive and Cyril had by themselves being theonly ones they ever enjoyed or digested. 

He studied and wrote and consulted heavy tomes, and walked up and downthe room, and pulled out colored plates from portfolios, all with greatsatisfaction until he chanced to look at the clock when it struck ten. He had forgotten to send for the children as he had promised MotherCarey! He went out into the hall and called Mrs. Bangs in a stentorianvoice. No answer. Irritated, as he always was when crossed in theslightest degree, he went downstairs and found the kitchen empty. 

"Her cub of a nephew has been staying to supper with her, guzzling andcramming himself at my expense, " he thought, "and now she has walkedhome with him! It's perfect nonsense to go after a girl of sixteen and aboy of thirteen. As if they couldn't walk along a country road at teno'clock! Still, it may look odd if some one doesn't go, and I can't lockthe house till they come, anyway. "

He drew on his great coat, put on his cap, and started down the lane inno good humor. It was a crisp, starlight night and the ground wasfreezing fast. He walked along, his hands in his pockets, his head bent. As he went through the gate to the main road he glanced up. The YellowHouse, a third of a mile distant, was a blaze of light! There must havebeen a candle or a lamp in every one of its windows, he thought. Theground rose a little where the house stood, and although it could not beseen in summer because of the dense foliage everywhere, the trees werenearly bare now. 

"My handsome neighbor is extravagant, " he said to himself with a grimsmile. "Is the illumination for Thanksgiving, I wonder? Oh, no, Iremember she said the party was in the nature of a housewarming. "

As he went up the pathway he saw that the shades were up and no curtainsdrawn anywhere. The Yellow House had no intention of hiding its lightsunder bushels that evening, of all others; besides, there were noneighbors within a long distance. 

Standing on the lowest of the governor's "circ'lar steps" he could seethe corner where the group stood singing, with shining faces:--

 "Once more the liberal year laughs out O'er richer stores than gems or gold. "

Mother Carey's fine head rose nobly from her simple black dress, and herthroat was as white as the deep lace collar that was her only ornament. 

Nancy he knew by sight, and Nancy in a crimson dress was singing herthankful heart out. Who was the dark-haired girl standing by her side, the two with arms round each other's waists, --his own Olive! He hadalways thought her unattractive, but her hair was smoothly braided andher eyes all aglow. Cyril stood between Gilbert and Mother Carey. Cyril, he knew, could not carry a tune to save his life, but he seemed to beopening his lips and uttering words all the same. Where was the timideye, the "hangdog look, " the shrinking manner, he so disliked in hisson? Great Heavens! the boy laid his hand on Mrs. Carey's shoulder andbeat time there gently with a finger, as if a mother's shoulder could beused for any nice, necessary sort of purpose. 

If he knocked at the door now, he thought, he should interrupt theparty; which was seemingly at its height. He, Henry Lord, Ph. D. , certainly had no intention of going in to join it, not with OssianPopham and Bill Harmon as fellow guests. 

He made his way curiously around the outside of the house, looking in atall the windows, and by choosing various positions, seeing as much as hecould of the different rooms. Finally he went up on the little backpiazza, attracted by the firelight in the family sitting room. There wasa noble fire, and once, while he was looking, Digby Popham stole quietlyin, braced up the logs with a proprietary air, swept up the hearth, replaced the brass wire screen, and stole out again as quickly aspossible, so that he might not miss too much of the party. 

"They seem to feel pretty much at home, " thought Mr. Lord. 

The fire blazed higher and brighter. It lighted up certain words paintedin dark green and gold on the white panel under the mantelpiece. Hepressed his face quite close to the window, thinking that he must bemistaken in seeing such unconnected letters as T-i-b-i, but graduallythey looked clearer to him and he read distinctly "Tibi splendet focus. "

"Somebody knows his Horace, " thought Henry Lord, Ph. D. , as he stumbledoff the piazza. "'For you the hearth-fire glows, ' I shan't go in; notwith that crew; let them wait; and if it gets too late, somebody elsewill walk home with the children. "

"For you the hearth-fire glows. "

He picked his way along the side of the house to the front, every windowsending out its candle gleam. 

"For you the hearth-fire glows. "

From dozens of windows the welcome shone. Its gleams and sparklespositively pursued him as he turned his face towards the road and hisown dark, cheerless house. Perhaps he had better, on the whole, keep onelamp burning in the lower part after this, to show that the place wasinhabited?

"For you the hearth-fire glows. "

He had "bricked up" the fireplace in his study and put an air-tightstove in, because it was simply impossible to feed an open fire andwrite a book at the same time. He didn't know that you could write twiceas good a book in half the time with an open fire to help you! He didn'tknow any single one of the myriad aids that can come to you from suchcheery, unexpected sources of grace and inspiration!

"For you the hearth-fire glows. "

Would the words never stop ringing in his ears? Perhaps, after all, itwould look queer to Mrs. Carey (he cared nothing for Popham or Harmonopinion) if he left the children to get home by themselves. Perhaps--

"FOR YOU THE HEARTH-FIRE GLOWS. "

Henry Lord, Ph. D. , ascended the steps, and plied the knocker. DigbyPopham came out of the parlor and opened the front door. 

Everybody listened to see who was the late comer at the party. 

"Will you kindly tell Miss Olive and Master Cyril Lord that their fatherhas called for them?"

Mr. Lord's cold, severe voice sounded clearly in the parlor, and everyword could be distinctly heard. 

Gilbert and Nancy were standing together, and Gilbert whisperedinstantly to his sister: "The old beast has actually called for Oliveand Cyril!"

"Hush, Gilly! He must be a 'new beast' or he wouldn't have come at all!"answered Nancy. 

XXIX

"TH' ACTION FINE"

December, January, and February passed with a speed that had somethingof magic in it. The Careys had known nothing heretofore of the rigors ofa State o' Maine winter, but as yet they counted it all joy. They wereyoung and hearty and merry, and the air seemed to give them all newenergy. Kathleen's delicate throat gave no trouble for the first time inyears; Nancy's cheeks bloomed more like roses than ever; Gilbert, growing broader shouldered and deeper chested daily, simply revelled inskating and coasting; even Julia was forced into an activity whollyalien to her nature, because it was impossible for her to keep warmunless she kept busy. 

Mother Carey and Peter used to look from a bedroom window of a clearcold morning and see the gay little procession start for the academy. Over the dazzling snow crust Olive and Cyril Lord would be skimming tomeet the Careys, always at the same point at the same hour. There wererough red coats and capes, red mittens, squirrel caps pulled well downover curly and smooth heads; glimpses of red woolen stockings; thickshoes with rubbers over them; great parcels of books in straps. Theylooked like a flock of cardinal birds, Mother Carey thought, as theupturned faces, all aglow with ruddy color, smiled their morninggood-bye. Gilbert had "stoked" the great stove in the cellar full ofhard wood logs before he left, and Mrs. Carey and Peter had a busymorning before them with the housework. The family had risen at seven. Julia had swept and dusted; Kathleen had opened the bedroom windows, made the washstands tidy, filled the water pitchers, and changed thetowels. Gilbert had carried wood and Peter kindlings, for the fires thathad to be laid on the hearths here and there. Mother had cooked theplain breakfast while Nancy put the dining room in order and set thetable, and at eight o'clock, when they sat down to plates piled highwith slices of brown and white bread, to dishes of eggs or picked-up codfish, or beans warmed over in the pot, with baked potatoes sometimes, and sometimes milk toast, or Nancy's famous corn muffins, no family ofyoung bears ever displayed such appetites! On Saturday mornings therewere griddle cakes and maple syrup from their own trees; for Osh Pophamhad shown them in the spring how to tap their maples, and collect thegreat pails of sap to boil down into syrup. Mother Carey and Peter madethe beds after the departure of the others for school, and it was prettyto see the sturdy Peter-bird, sometimes in his coat and mittens, standing on the easiest side of the beds and helping his mother tospread the blankets and comforters smooth. His fat legs carried him upand downstairs a dozen times on errands, while his sweet piping voicewas lifted in a never ending stream of genial conversation, as he toldhis mother what he had just done, what he was doing at the presentmoment, how he was doing it, and what he proposed to do in a minute ortwo. Then there was a lull from half past ten to half past eleven, shortened sometimes on baking days, when the Peter-bird had his lessons. The old-fashioned kitchen was clean and shining by that time. The stoveglistened and the fire snapped and crackled. The sun beamed in at thesink window, doing all he could for the climate in the few hours he waspermitted to be on duty in a short New England winter day. Peter sat ona cricket beside his mother's chair and clasped his "Reading withoutTears" earnestly and rigidly, believing it to be the key to theuniverse. Oh! what an hour of happiness to Mother Carey when the boywould lift the very copy of his father's face to her own; when thewell-remembered smile and the dear twinkle of the eyes in Peter's facewould give her heart a stab of pain that was half joy after all, it wasso full to the brim of sweet memories. In that warm still hour, when shewas filling the Peter-bird's mind and soul with heavenly learning, howmuch she learned herself! Love poured from her, through voice and lipsand eyes, and in return she drank it in thirstily from the littlecreature who sat there at her knee, a twig growing just as her bendinghand inclined it; all the buds of his nature opening out in themother-sunshine that surrounded him. Eleven thirty came all too soon. Then before long the kettle would begin to sing, the potatoes to bubblein the saucepan, and Mother Carey's spoon to stir the good things thathad long been sizzling quietly in an iron pot. Sometimes it was bits ofbeef, sometimes mutton, but the result was mostly a toothsome mixture ofturnips and carrots and onions in a sea of delicious gravy, withsurprises of meat here and there to vary any possible monotony. Once ortwice a week dumplings appeared, giving an air of excitement to themeal, and there was a delectable "poor man's stew" learned from Mrs. Popham; the ingredients being strips of parsnip, potatoes cut inquarters, a slice or two of sweet browned pork for a flavor, and a quartof rich milk, mixed with the parsnip juices into an appetizing sauce. The after part of the dinner would be a dish of baked apples with warmgingerbread, or sometimes a deep apple pandowdy, or the baked Indianpudding that was a syrupy, fragrant concoction made of corn meal andbutter and molasses baked patiently in the oven for hours. 

Mother had the dishes to wash after she had tucked the Peter-bird underthe afghan on the sitting room sofa for his daily nap, but there wasnever any grumbling in her heart over the weary days and theunaccustomed tasks; she was too busy "making things make themselves. " Ifonly there were a little more money! That was her chief anxiety; for theunexpected, the outside sources of income were growing fewer, and in ayear's time the little hoard would be woefully small. Was she doing allthat she could, she wondered, as her steps flew over the Yellow Housefrom attic to cellar. She could play the piano and sing; she could speakthree languages and read four; she had made her curtsy at two foreigncourts; admiration and love had followed her ever since she couldremember, and here she was, a widow at forty, living in a half-desertedNew England village, making parsnip stews for her children's dinner. Well, it was a time of preparation, and its rigors and self-denials mustbe cheer fully faced. She ought to be thankful that she was able to geta simple dinner that her children could eat; she ought to be thankfulthat her beef and parsnip stews and cracker puddings and corn bread werebeing transmuted into blood and brawn and brain-tissue, to help theworld along somewhere a little later! She ought to be grateful that itwas her blessed fortune to be sending four rosy, laughing, vigorousyoung people down the snowy street to the white-painted academy; that itwas her good luck to see four heads bending eagerly over their booksaround the evening lamp, and have them all turn to her for help andencouragement in the hard places. Why should she complain, so long asthe stormy petrels were all working and playing in Mother Carey's watergarden where they ought to be; gathering strength to fly over or diveunder the ice-pack and climb Shiny Wall? There is never any gate in thewall; Tom the Water Baby had found that out for himself; so it is onlythe plucky ones who are able to surmount the thousand difficulties theyencounter on their hazardous journey to Peacepool. How else, if they hadnot learned themselves, could Mother Carey's chickens go out over theseas and show good birds the way home? At such moments Mrs. Carey wouldlook at her image in the glass and say, "No whimpering, madam! You can'thave the joys of motherhood without some of its pangs! Think of yourblessings, and don't be a coward!--

 "Who sweeps a room as by God's laws Makes that and th' action fine. "

Then her eyes would turn from blue velvet to blue steel, and strengthwould flow into her from some divine, benignant source and transmute herinto father as well as mother!

Was the hearth fire kindled in the Yellow House sending its glow throughthe village as well as warming those who sat beside it? There wereChristmas and New Year's and St. Valentine parties, and by that timeBill Harmon saw the woodpile in the Carey shed grow beautifully less. Heknew the price per cord, --no man better; but he and Osh Popham winked ateach other one windy February day and delivered three cords for two, knowing that measurement of wood had not been included in Mother Carey'seducation. Natty Harmon and Digby Popham, following examples a millionper cent better than parental lectures, asked one afternoon if theyshouldn't saw and chop some big logs for the fireplaces. 

Mrs. Carey looked at them searchingly, wondering if they could possiblyguess the state of her finances, concluded they couldn't and saidsmilingly: "Indeed I will gladly let you saw for an hour or two ifyou'll come and sit by the fire on Saturday night, when we are going toplay spelling games and have doughnuts and root beer. "

The Widow Berry, who kept academy boarders, sent in a luscious mince pienow and then, and Mrs. Popham and Mrs. Harmon brought dried apples orpumpkins, winter beets and Baldwin apples. It was little enough, theythought, when the Yellow House, so long vacant, was like a beacon lightto the dull village; sending out its beams on every side. 

"She ain't no kind of a manager, I'm 'fraid!" said Bill Harmon. "I giveher 'bout four quarts and a half of kerosene for a gallon every time shesends her can to be filled, but bless you, she ain't any the wiser! Itry to give her as good measure in everything as she gives my children, but you can't keep up with her! She's like the sun, that shines on thejust 'n' on the unjust. Hen Lord's young ones eat their lunch or theirsupper there once or twice a week, though the old skinflint's got fiftythousand dollars in the bank. "

"Never mind, Bill. " said Osh Popham; "there's goin' to be an everlastin'evenupness somewheres! Probably God A'mighty hez his eye on that woman, and He'll see her through. The young ones are growin' up, and theteacher at the academy says they beat the devil on book learnin'! Theboy'll make a smart man, pretty soon, and bring good wages home to hismother. The girls are handsome enough to pick up husbands as soon asthey've fully feathered out, so it won't be long afore they're all onthe up grade. I've set great store by that family from the outset, andI'm turrible glad they're goin' to fix up the house some more when itcomes spring. I'm willin' to work cheap for such folks as them. "

"You owe 'em somethin' for listenin' to you, Osh! Seems if they movedhere jest in time to hear your stories when you'd 'bout tuckered out therest o' the village!"

"It's a pity you didn't know a few more stories yourself, Bill, "retorted Mr. Popham; "then you'd be asked up oftener to put on theback-log for 'em, and pop corn and roast apples and pass the evenin'. Iain't hed sech a gay winter sence I begun settin' up with Maria, twentyyears ago. "

"She's kept you settin' up ever since, Osh!" chuckled Bill Harmon. 

"She has so!" agreed Osh cheerfully, "but you ain't hardly the one totwit me of it; bein' as how you've never took a long breath yourselfsence you was married! But you don't ketch me complainin'! It's a poorrule that won't work both ways! Maria hurried me into poppin' thequestion, and hurried me into marryin' her, an' she ain't let up on me aminute sence then; but she'll railroad me into heaven the same way, yousee if she don't. She'll arrive 'head o' time as usual and stan' rightthere at the bars till she gits Dig 'n' Lallie Joy 'n' me under cover!"

"She's a good woman, an' so's my wife, " remarked Bill sententiously;"an' Colonel Wheeler says good women are so rigged inside that theycan't be agreeable all the time. The couple of 'em are workin' theirfingers to the bone for the school teacher to-day; fixin' him up for allthe world as if he was a bride. He's got the women folks o' this villagekind o' mesmerized, Thurston has. "

"He's a first-rate teacher; nobody that ain't hed experience in theschool room is fitted to jedge jest how good a teacher Ralph Thurstonis, but I have, an' I know what I 'm talkin' about. "

"I never heard nothin' about your teachin' school, Osh. "

"There's a good deal about me you never heard; specially about the timeafore I come to Beulah, 'cause you ain't a good hearer, Bill! I taughtthe most notorious school in Digby once, and taught it to a finish; Inamed my boy Digby after that school! You see my father an' mother wasdetermined to give me an education, an' I wa'n't intended for it. I wasa great big, strong, clumsy lunkhead, an' the only thing I could do, even in a one-horse college, was to play base ball, so they kep' mealong jest for that. I never got further than the second class, an' Iwouldn't 'a' got there if the Faculty hadn't 'a' promoted me jest forthe looks o' the thing. Well Prof. Millard was off in the countrylecturin' somewheres near Bangor an' he met a school superintendent whotold him they was awful hard up for a teacher in Digby. He said they'dhed three in three weeks an' had lost two stoves besides; for the boyshad fired out the teachers and broke up the stoves an' pitched 'em outthe door after 'em. When Prof. Millard heard the story he says, 'I'vegot a young man that could teach that school; a feller named OssianPopham. ' The superintendent hed an interview with me, an' I says: 'I'llagree to teach out your nine weeks o' school for a hundred dollars, an'if I leave afore the last day I won't claim a cent!' 'That's the rightsperit, ' says the Supe, an' we struck a bargain then an' there. I wasglad it was Saturday, so 't I could start right off while my blood wasup. I got to Digby on Sunday an' found a good boardin' place. Thetrustees didn't examine me, an' 't was lucky for me they didn't. Thelast three teachers hed been splendid scholars, but that didn't save thestoves any, so they just looked at my six feet o' height, an' the musclein my arms, an' said they'd drop in sometime durin' the month. 'Look inany time you like after the first day, ' I says. 'I shall be turriblebusy the first day!'

"I went into the school house early Monday mornin' an' built a good firein the new stove. When it was safe to leave it I went into the nexthouse an' watched the scholars arrive. The lady was a widder with onegreat unruly boy in the school, an' she was glad to give me a winder tolook out of. It was a turrible cold day, an' when 't was ten minutes tonine an' the school room was full I walked in as big as Cuffy. There wasfive rows of big boys an' girls in the back, all lookin' as if they wasloaded for bear, an' they graded down to little ones down in front, allof 'em hitchin' to an' fro in their seats an' snickerin'. I give 'em asurprise to begin with, for I locked the door when I come in, an' putthe key in my pocket, cool as a cucumber. 

"I never said a word, an' they never moved their eyes away from me. Itook off my fur cap, then my mittens, then my overcoat, an' laid 'em inthe chair behind my desk. Then my undercoat come off, then my necktiean' collar, an' by that time the big girls begun to look nervous; they'd been used to addressin', but not undressin', in the school room. ThenI wound my galluses round my waist an' tied 'em; then I says, clear an'loud:' I'm your new teacher! I'm goin' to have a hundred dollars forteachin' out this school, an' I intend to teach it out an' git my money. It's five minutes to nine. I give you just that long to tell me whatyou're goin' to do about it. Come on now!' I says, 'all o' you big boys, if you're comin', an' we'll settle this thing here an' now. We can't hevfights an' lessons mixed up together every day, more 'n 's necessary;better decide right now who's boss o' this school. The stove's new an'I'm new, an' we call'ate to stay here till the end o' the term!'

"Well, sir, not one o' that gang stirred in their seats, an' not one of'em yipped! I taught school in my shirt sleeves consid'able the firstweek, but I never hed to afterwards. I was a little mite weak onmathematics, an' the older boys an' girls hed to depend on their studybooks for their information, --they never got any from me, --but everyscholar in that Digby school got a hundred per cent in deportment thenine weeks I taught there!"

XXX

THE INGLENOOK

It was a wild Friday night in March, after days of blustering storms anddrifting snow. Beulah was clad in royal ermine; not only clad, indeed, but nearly buried in it. The timbers of the Yellow House creaked, andthe wreaths of snow blew against the windows and lodged there. KingFrost was abroad, nipping toes and ears, hanging icicles on the eaves ofhouses, and decorating the forest trees with glittering pendants. Thewind howled in the sitting room chimney, but in front of the greatback-log the bed of live coals glowed red and the flames danced high, casting flickering shadows on the children's faces. It is possible tobring up a family by steam heat, and it is often necessary, but nobodycan claim that it is either so simple or so delightful as by anopen fire!

The three cats were all nestled cosily in Nancy's lap or snuggled by herside. Mother Carey had demurred at two, and when Nancy appeared one dayafter school with a third, she spoke, with some firmness, of refusing ita home. "If we must economize on cats, " cried Nancy passionately, "don'tlet's begin on this one! She doesn't look it, but she is a heroine. Whenthe Rideout's house burned down, her kittens were in a basket by thekitchen stove. Three times she ran in through the flames and brought outa kitten in her mouth. The tip of her tail is gone, and part of an ear, and she's blind in one eye. Mr. Harmon says she's too homely to live;now what do you think?"

"I think nobody pretending to be a mother could turn her back on anothermother like that, " said Mrs. Carey promptly. "We'll take a pint moremilk, and I think you children will have to leave something in yourplates now and then, you polish them until it really is indecent. "

To-night an impromptu meeting of the Ways and Means Committee was takingplace by the sitting room fire, perhaps because the family plates hadbeen polished to a terrifying degree that week. 

"Children, " said Mother Carey, "we have been as economical as we knewhow to be; we have worked to the limit of our strength; we have spentalmost nothing on clothing, but the fact remains that we have scarcelymoney enough in our reserve fund to last another six months. Whatshall we do?"

Nancy leaped to her feet, scattering cats in every direction. 

"Mother Carey!" she exclaimed remorsefully. "You haven't mentioned moneysince New Year's, and I thought we were rubbing along as usual. Thebills are all paid; what's the matter?"

"That is the matter!" answered Mrs. Carey with the suspicion of a tearin her laughing voice, "The bills _are_ paid, and there's too littleleft! We eat so much, and we burn so much wood, and so many gallonsof oil'"

"The back of the winter's broken, mother dear!" said Gilbert, as aterrific blast shook the blinds as a terrier would a rat. "Don't listento that wind; it 's only a March bluff! Osh Popham says snow is the poorman's manure; he says it's going to be an early season and a grand haycrop. We'll get fifty dollars for our field. "

"That will be in July, and this is March, " said his mother. "Still, thesmall reversible Van Twiller will carry us through May, with our otherincome. But the saving days are over, and the earning days have come, dears! I am the oldest and the biggest, I must begin. "

"Never!" cried Nancy. "You slave enough for us, as it is, but you shallnever slave for anybody else; shall she, Gilly?"

"Not if I know it!" answered Gilbert with good ringing emphasis. 

"Another winter I fear we must close the Yellow House and--"

The rest of Mother Carey's remark was never heard, for at Nancy's givensignal the four younger Careys all swooned on the floor. Nancy hadsecretly trained Peter so that he was the best swooner of the family, and his comical imitation of Nancy was so mirth-compelling that MotherCarey laughed and declared there was no such thing as talking seriouslyto children like hers. 

"But, Muddy dear, you weren't in earnest?" coaxed Nancy, bending herbright head over her mother's shoulder and cuddling up to her side;whereupon Gilbert gave his imitation of a jealous puppy; barking, snarling, and pushing his frowzly pate under his mother's arm to crowdNancy from her point of vantage, to which she clung valiantly. Of courseKitty found a small vacant space on which she could festoon herself, andPeter promptly climbed on his mother's lap, so that she was coveredwith--fairly submerged in--children! A year ago Julia used to creep awayand look at such exhibitions of family affection, with a curling lip, but to-night, at Mother Carey's outstretched hand and smothered cry of"Help, Judy!" she felt herself gathered into the heart of the laughing, boisterous group. That hand, had she but known it, was stretched out toher because only that day a letter had come, saying that Allan Carey wasmuch worse and that his mental condition admitted of no cure. He wasbright and hopeful and happy, so said Mr. Manson;--forever sounding thepraises of the labor-saving device in which he had sunk his lastthousands. "We can manufacture it at ten cents and sell it for tendollars, " he would say, rubbing his hands excitedly. "We can pay fiftydollars a month office rent and do a business of fifty thousand dollarsa year!" "And I almost believe we could!" added Mr. Manson, "if we hadfaith enough and capital enough!"

"Of course you know, darlings, I would never leave Beulah save for thecoldest months; or only to earn a little money, " said Mrs. Carey, smoothing her dress, flattening her collar, and pinning up the braidsthat Nancy's hugs had loosened. 

"I must put my mind on the problem at once, " said Nancy, pacing thefloor. "I've been so interested in my Virgil, so wrapped up in myrhetoric and composition, that I haven't thought of ways and means for amonth, but of course we will never leave the Yellow House, and of coursewe must contrive to earn money enough to live in it. We must think aboutit every spare minute till vacation comes; then we'll have nearly fourmonths to amass a fortune big enough to carry us through the next year. I have an idea for myself already. I was going to wait till myseventeenth birthday, but that's four months away and it's too long. I'mold enough to begin any time. I feel old enough to write myReminiscences this minute. "

"You might publish your letters to the American Consul in Breslau;they'd make a book!" teased Gilbert. 

"Very likely I shall, silly Gilly, " retorted Nancy, swinging her manehaughtily. "It isn't every girl who has a monthly letter from an Admiralin China and a Consul in Germany. "

"You wouldn't catch me answering the Queen of Sheba's letters or theEmpress of India's, " exclaimed Gilbert, whose pen was emphatically lessmighty than his sword. "Hullo, you two! what are you whispering about?"he called to Kathleen and Julia, who were huddled together in a farcorner of the long room, gesticulating eloquently. 

"We've an idea! We've an idea! We've found a way to help!" sang the twogirls, pirouetting back into the circle of firelight. "We won't telltill it's all started, but it's perfectly splendid, and practical too. "

"And so ladylike!" added Julia triumphantly. 

"How much?" asked Gilbert succinctly. 

The girls whispered a minute or two, and appeared to be multiplyingtwenty-five first by fifteen, and then again by twenty. 

"From three dollars and seventy-five cents to four dollars and a half aweek according to circumstances!" answered Kathleen proudly. 

"Will it take both of you?"

"Yes. "

"All your time?"

More nods and whispers and calculation. 

"No, indeed; only three hours a day. "

"Any of my time?"

"Just a little. "

"I thought so!" said Gilbert loftily. "You always want me and my hammeror my saw; but I'll be busy on my own account; you'll have to paddleyour own canoe!"

"You'll be paid for what you do for us, " said Julia slyly, givingKathleen a poke, at which they both fell into laughter only possible tothe very young. 

Then suddenly there came a knock at the front door; a stamping of feeton the circular steps, and a noise of shaking off snow. 

"Go to the door, Gilbert; who can that be on a night likethis, --although it is only eight o'clock after all! Why, it's Mr. Thurston!"

Ralph Thurston came in blushing and smiling, glad to be welcomed, fearful of intruding, afraid of showing how much he liked to be there. 

"Good-evening, all!" he said. "You see I couldn't wait to thank you, Mrs. Carey! No storm could keep me away to-night. "

"What has mother been doing, now?" asked Nancy. "Her right hand isforever busy, and she never tells her left hand a thing, so we childrenare always in the dark. "

"It was nothing much, " said Mrs. Carey, pushing the young man gentlyinto the high-backed rocker. "Mrs. Harmon, Mrs. Popham, and I simplytried to show our gratitude to Mr. Thurston for teaching our troublesomechildren. "

"How did you know it was my birthday?" asked Thurston. 

"Didn't you write the date in Lallie Joy's book?"

"True, I did; and forgot it long ago; but I have never had my birthdaynoticed before, and I am twenty-four!"

"It was high time, then!" said Mother Carey with her bright smile. 

"But what did mother do?" clamored Nancy, Kathleen and Gilbert inchorus. 

"She took my forlorn, cheerless room and made it into a home for me, "said Thurston. "Perhaps she wanted me to stay in it a little more, andbother her less! At any rate she has created an almost possible rival tothe Yellow House!"

Ralph Thurston had a large, rather dreary room over Bill Harmon's store, and took his meals at the Widow Berry's, near by. He was an orphan andhad no money to spend on luxuries, because all his earnings went to paythe inevitable debts incurred when a fellow is working his waythrough college. 

Mrs. Carey, with the help of the other two women, had seized upon thisstormy Friday, when the teacher always took his luncheon with him to theacademy, to convert Ralph's room into something comfortable andcheerful. The old, cracked, air-tight stove had been removed, and BillHarmon had contributed a second-hand Franklin, left with him for a baddebt. It was of soapstone and had sliding doors in front, so that theblaze could be disclosed when life was very dull or discouraging. Thestraw matting on the floor had done very well in the autumn, but Mrs. Carey now covered the centre of the room with a bright red drugget leftfrom the Charlestown house-furnishings, and hung the two windows withcurtains of printed muslin. Ossian Popham had taken a clotheshorse andcovered it with red felting, so that the screen, so evolved could bemade to hide the bed and washstand. Ralph's small, rickety table hadbeen changed for a big, roomy one of pine, hidden by the half of an oldcrimson piano cloth. When Osh had seen the effect of this he hurriedback to his barn chamber and returned with some book shelves that he hadhastily glued and riveted into shape. These he nailed to the wall andfilled with books that he found in the closet, on the floor, on the footof the bed, and standing on the long, old-fashioned mantel shelf. 

"Do you care partic'larly where you set, nights, Ossian?" inquired Mrs. Popham, who was now in a state of uncontrolled energy bordering ondelirium. "Because your rockin' chair has a Turkey red cushion and itwould look splendid in Mr. Thurston's room. You know you fiddle 'bouthalf the time evenin's, and you always go to bed early. "

"Don't mind me!" exclaimed Ossian facetiously, starting immediately forthe required chair and bringing back with it two huge yellow sea shells, which he deposited on the floor at each end of the hearth rug. 

"How do you like 'em?" he inquired of Mrs. Carey. 

"Not at all, " she replied promptly. 

"You don't?" he asked incredulously. "Well, it takes all kinds o' folksto make a world! I've been keepin' 'em fifteen years, hopin' I'd getenough more to make a border for our parlor fireplace, and now you don'ttake to 'em! Back they go to the barn chamber, Maria; Mis' Carey'sbossin' this job, and she ain't got no taste for sea shells. Would youlike an old student lamp? I found one that I can bronze up in about twominutes if Mis' Harmon can hook a shade and chimbly out of Bill's stock. "

They all stayed in the room until this last feat was accomplished;stayed indeed until the fire in the open stove had died down to ruddycoals. Then they pulled down the shades, lighted the lamp, gave one lastadmiring look, and went home. 

It had meant only a few hours' thought and labor, with scarcely a pennyof expense, but you can judge what Ralph Thurston felt when he enteredthe door out of the storm outside. To him it looked like a room conjuredup by some magician in a fairy tale. He fell into the rocking-chair andlooked at his own fire; gazed about at the cheerful crimson glow thatradiated from the dazzling drugget, in a state of puzzled ecstasy, tillhe caught sight of a card lying near the lamp, --"A birthday presentfrom three mothers who value your work for their boys and girls. "

He knew Mrs. Carey's handwriting, so he sped to the Yellow House as soonas his supper was over, and now, in the presence of the whole family, hefelt tongue-tied and wholly unable to express his gratitude. 

It was bed time, and the young people melted away from the fireside. 

"Kiss your mother good-night, sweet Pete, " said Nancy, taking thereluctant cherub by the hand. "'_Hoc opus, hic labor est_, ' Mr. Thurston, to get the Peter-bird upstairs when once he is down. Shakehands with your future teacher, Peter; no, you mustn't kiss him; littleboys don't kiss great Latin scholars unless they are asked. "

Thurston laughed and lifted the gurgling Peter high in the air. "Goodnight, old chap!" he said "Hurry up and come to school!"

"I'm 'bout ready now!" piped Peter. "I can read'Up-up-my-boy-day-is-not-the-time-for-sleep-the-dew-will-soon-be-gone'with the book upside down, --can't I, Muddy?"

"You can, my son; trot along with sister. "

Thurston opened the door for Nancy, and his eye followed her for asecond as she mounted the stairs. She glowed like a ruby to-night in herold red cashmere. The sparkle of her eye, the gloss of her hair, thesoft red of her lips, the curve and bend of her graceful young bodystruck even her mother anew, though she was used to her daughter'sbeauty. "She is growing!" thought Mrs. Carey wistfully. "I see it all atonce, and soon others will be seeing it!"

Alas! young Ralph Thurston had seen it for weeks past! He was notperhaps so much in love with Nancy the girl, as he was with Nancy thepotential woman. Some of the glamour that surrounded the mother hadfallen upon the daughter. One felt the influences that had rained uponNancy ever since she had come into the world, One could not look at her, nor talk with her, without feeling that her mother--like a vine in theblood, as the old proverb says--was breathing, growing, budding, blossoming in her day by day. 

The young teacher came back to the fireplace, where Mother Carey wasstanding in a momentary brown study. 

"I've never had you alone before, " he stammered, "and now is my chanceto tell you what you've been to me ever since I came to Beulah. "

"You have helped me in my problems more than I can possibly have aidedyou, " Mrs. Carey replied quietly. "Gilbert was so rebellious aboutcountry schools, so patronizing, so scornful of their merits, that Ifully expected he would never stay at the academy of his own free will. You have converted him, and I am very grateful. "

"Meantime I am making a record there, " said Ralph, "and I have thisfamily to thank for it! Your children, with Olive and Cyril Lord, haveset the pace for the school, and the rest are following to the best oftheir ability. There is not a shirk nor a dunce in the whole roll ofsixty pupils! Beulah has not been so proud of its academy for thirtyyears, and I shall come in for the chief share in the praise. I amtrying to do for Gilbert and Cyril what an elder brother would do, but Ishould have been powerless if I had not had this home and this firesideto inspire me!"

"_Tibi splendet focus_!" quoted Mrs. Carey, pointing to Olive'sinscription under the mantelpiece. "For you the hearth fire glows!"

"Have I not felt it from the beginning?" asked Ralph. "I never knew mymother, Mrs. Carey, and few women have come into my life; I have beentoo poor and too busy to cultivate their friendship. Then I came toBeulah and you drew me into your circle; admitted an unknown, friendlessfellow into your little group! It was beautiful; it was wonderful!"

"What are mothers for, but to do just that, and more than all, for themotherless boys?"

"Well, I may never again have the courage to say it, so just believe mewhen I say your influence will be the turning-point in my life. I willnever, so help me God, do anything to make me unworthy to sit in thisfireglow! So long as I have brains and hands to work with, I will keepstriving to create another home like this when my time comes. Any girlthat takes me will get a better husband because of you; any children Imay be blessed with will have a better father because I have known you. Don't make any mistake, dear Mrs. Carey, your hearth fire glows a long, long distance!"

Mother Carey was moved to the very heart. She leaned forward and tookRalph Thurston's young face, thin with privation and study, in her twohands. He bent his head instinctively, partly to hide the tears that hadsprung to his eyes, and she kissed his forehead simply and tenderly. Hewas at her knees on the hearth rug in an instant; all his boyishaffection laid at her feet; all his youthful chivalry kindled at thehonor of her touch. 

And there are women in the world who do not care about being mothers!

XXXI

GROOVES OF CHANGE

The winter passed. The snow gradually melted in the meadows and thefields, which first grew brown and then displayed patches of green hereand there where the sun fell strongest. There was deep, sticky mud inthe roads, and the discouraged farmers urged their horses along with thewheels of their wagons sunk to the hub in ooze. Then there were wetdays, the wind ruffling the leaden surface of the river, the sound ofthe rain dripping from the bare tree-boughs, the smell of the wet grassand the clean, thirsty soil. Milder weather came, then blustery days, then chill damp ones, but steadily life grew, here, there, everywhere, and the ever-new miracle of the awakening earth took place once again. Sap mounted in the trees, blood coursed in the children's veins, mothersbegan giving herb tea and sulphur and molasses, young human nature wasrestless; the whole creation throbbed and sighed, and was tremulous, andhad growing pains. 

April passed, with all its varying moods of sun and shower, and settledweather came. 

 All the earth was gay. Land and sea Gave themselves up to jollity And with the heart of May Did every Beast keep holiday. 

The Carey girls had never heard of "the joy of living" as a phrase, butoh! they knew a deal about it in these first two heavenly springs inlittle Beulah village! The sunrise was so wonderful; the trees and grassso marvellously green; the wild flowers so beautiful! Then the river onclear days, the glimpse of the sea from Beulah's hill tops, the walks inthe pine woods, --could Paradise show anything to compare?

And how good the food tasted; and the books they read, how fresh, howmoving, how glorious! Then when the happy day was over, sleep camewithout pause or effort the moment the flushed cheek touched thecool pillow. 

"These, " Nancy reflected, quoting from her favorite Wordsworth as shedressed beside her open window, "These must be

 "The gifts of morn, Ere life grows noisy and slower-footed thought Can overtake the rapture of the sense. 

"I was fifteen and a half last spring, and now, though it is only a yearago, everything is different!" she mused. "When did it get to bedifferent, I wonder? It never was all at once, so it must have been alittle every day, so little that I hardly noticed it until just now. "

A young girl's heart is ever yearning for and trembling at the future. In its innocent depths the things that are to be are sometimes rustlingand whispering secrets, and sometimes keeping an exquisite, hauntingsilence. In the midst of the mystery the solemn young creature issighing to herself, "What am I meant for? Am I everything? Am I nothing?Must I wait till my future comes to me, or must I seek it?"

This was all like the sound of a still, small voice in Nancy's mind, butit meant that she was "growing up, " taking hold on life at more pointsthan before, seeing new visions, dreaming new dreams. Kathleen and Juliaseemed ridiculously young to her. She longed to advise them, but hersense of humor luckily kept her silent. Gilbert appeared crude, raw;promising, but undeveloped; she hated to think how much experience hewould have to pass through before he could see existence as it reallywas, and as she herself saw it. Olive's older view of things, her sad, strange outlook upon life, her dislike of anything in the shape of man, her melancholy aversion to her father, all this fascinated and puzzledNancy, whose impetuous nature ran out to every living thing, revellingin the very act of loving, so long as she did not meet rebuff. 

Cyril perplexed her. Silent, unresponsive, shy, she would sometimesraise her eyes from her book in school and find him gazing steadily ather like a timid deer drinking thirstily at a spring. Nancy did not likeCyril, but she pitied him and was as friendly with him, in her offhand, boyish fashion, as she was with every one. 

The last days of the academy term were close at hand, and the air wasfull of graduation exercises and white muslin and ribbon sashes. Junebrought two surprises to the Yellow House. One morning Kathleen burstinto Nancy's room with the news: "Nancy! The Fergusons offer to adoptJudy, and she doesn't want to go. Think of that! But she's afraid to askmother if she can stay. Let's us do it; shall we?"

"I will; but of course there is not enough money to go around, Kitty, even if we all succeed in our vacation plans. Julia will never have anypretty dresses if she stays with us, and she loves pretty dresses. Whydidn't the Fergusons adopt her before mother had made her over?"

"Yes, " chimed in Kathleen. "Then everybody would have been glad, but nowwe shall miss her! Think of missing Judy! We would never havebelieved it!"

"It's like seeing how a book turns out, to watch her priggishness andsmuggishness all melting away, " Nancy said. "I shouldn't like to see herslip back into the old Judyisms, and neither would mother. Mother'llprobably keep her, for I know Mr. Manson thinks it's only a matter of afew months before Uncle Allan dies. "

"And mother wouldn't want a Carey to grow up into an imitation GladysFerguson; but that's what Judy would be, in course of time. "

Julia took Mrs. Ferguson's letter herself to her Aunt Margaret, showingmany signs of perturbation in her usually tranquil face. 

Mrs. Carey read it through carefully. "It is a very kind, generousoffer, Julia. Your father cannot be consulted about it, so you mustdecide. You would have every luxury, and your life would be full ofchange and pleasure; while with us it must be, in the nature of things, busy and frugal for a long time to come. "

"But I am one more to feed and clothe, Aunt Margaret, and there is solittle money!"

"I know, but you are one more to help, after all. The days are sooncoming when Nancy and Gilbert will be out in the world, helpingthemselves. You and Kathleen could stay with Peter and me, awaiting yourturn. It doesn't look attractive in comparison with what the Fergusonsoffer you!"

Then the gentle little rivers that had been swelling all the past yearin Julia's heart, rivers of tenderness and gratitude and sympathy, suddenly overflowed their banks and, running hither and thither, softened everything with which they came in contact. Rocky placesmelted, barren spots waked into life, and under the impulse of a newmood that she scarcely understood Julia cried, "Oh! dear Aunt Margaret, keep me, keep me! This is home; I never want to leave it! I want to beone of Mother Carey's chickens!"

The child had flung herself into the arms that never failed anybody, andwith tears streaming down her cheeks made her plea. 

"There, there, Judy dear; you are one of us, and we could not let you gounless you were to gain something by it. If you really want to stay weshall love you all the better, and you will belong to us more than youever did; so dry your eyes, or you will be somebody's duckling insteadof my chicken!"

The next surprise was a visit from Cousin Ann Chadwick, who drove up tothe door one morning quite unannounced, and asked the driver of thedepot wagon to bring over her two trunks immediately. 

"Two trunks!" groaned Gilbert. "That means the whole season!"

But it meant nothing of the kind; it meant pretty white dresses for thethree girls, two pairs of stockings and two of gloves for the wholefamily, a pattern of black silk for Mrs. Carey, and numberless smallthings to which the Carey wardrobe had long been a stranger. 

Having bestowed these offerings rather grimly, as was her wont, andhaving received the family's grateful acknowledgments with her usuallack of grace, she proceeded in the course of a few days to make herselffar more disagreeable than had been the case on any previous visit ofher life. She had never seen such dusty roads as in Beulah; so manymosquitoes and flies; such tough meat; such a lack of fruit, suchtalkative, over-familiar neighbors, such a dull minister, such aninattentive doctor, such extortionate tradesmen. 

"What shall we do with Cousin Ann!" exclaimed Mrs. Carey to Nancy indespair. "She makes us these generous presents, yet she cannot possiblyhave any affection for us. We accept them without any affection for her, because we hardly know how to avoid it. The whole situation ispositively degrading! I have borne it for years because she was good toyour father when he was a boy, but now that she has grown so much moredifficult I really think I must talk openly with her. "

"She talked openly enough with me when I confessed that Gilbert and Ihad dropped and broken the Dirty Boy!" said Nancy, "and she has beenvery cross with me ever since. "

"Cousin Ann, " said Mrs. Carey that afternoon on the piazza, "it is veryeasy to see that you do not approve of the way we live, or the way wethink about things in general. Feeling as you do, I really wish youwould not spend your money on us, and give us these beautiful andexpensive presents. It puts me under an obligation that chafes me andmakes me unhappy. "

"I don't disapprove of you, particularly, " said Miss Chadwick. "Do I actas if I did?"

"Your manner seems to suggest it. "

"You can't tell much by manners, " replied Cousin Ann. "I think you'reentirely too soft and sentimental, but we all have our faults. I don'tthink you have any right to feed the neighbors and burn up fuel and oilin their behalf when you haven't got enough for your own family. I thinkyou oughtn't to have had four children, and having had them you needn'thave taken another one in, though she's turned out better than Iexpected. But all that is none of my business, I suppose, and, wrong-headed as you are, I like you better than most folks, which isn'tsaying much. "

"But if you don't share my way of thinking, why do you keep frettingyourself to come and see us? It only annoys you. "

"It annoys me, but I can't help coming, somehow. I guess I hate otherplaces and other ways worse than I do yours. You don't grudge me bed andboard, I suppose?"

"How could I grudge you anything when you give us so much, --so much morethan we ought to accept, so much more than we can ever thank you for?"

"I don't want to be thanked; you know that well enough; but there's somuch demonstration in your family you can't understand anybody's keepingthemselves exclusive. I don't like to fuss over people or have them fussover me. Kissing comes as easy to you as eating, but I never could abideit. A nasty, common habit, I call it! I want to give what I like andwhere and when I like, and act as I'm a mind to afterwards. I don't givebecause I see things are needed, but because I can't spend my incomeunless I do give. If I could have my way I'd buy you a good house inBuffalo, right side of mine; take your beggarly little income and manageit for you; build a six-foot barbed wire fence round the lot so 't theneighbors couldn't get in and eat you out of house and home, and in acouple of years I could make something out of your family!"

Mrs. Carey put down her sewing, leaned her head back against the crimsonrambler, and laughed till the welkin rang. 

"I suppose you think I'm crazy?" Cousin Ann remarked after a moment'spause. 

"I don't know, Cousin Ann, " said Mrs. Carey, taking up her work again. "Whatever it is, you can't help it! If you'll give up trying tounderstand my point of view, I won't meddle with yours!"

"I suppose you won't come to Buffalo?"

"No indeed, thank you, Cousin Ann!"

"You'll stay here, in this benighted village, and grow old, --you thatare a handsome woman of forty and might have a millionaire husband totake care of you?"

"My husband had money enough to please me, and when I meet him again andshow him the four children, he will be the richest man in Paradise. "

Cousin Ann rose. "I'm going to-morrow, and I shan't be back this year. I've taken passage on a steamer that's leaving for Liverpool next week!"

"Going abroad! Alone, Cousin Ann?"

"No, with a party of Cook's tourists. "

"What a strange idea!" exclaimed Mrs. Carey. 

"I don't see why; 'most everybody's been abroad. I don't expect to likethe way they live over there, but if other folks can stand it, I guess Ican. It'll amuse me for a spell, maybe, and if it don't, I've got moneyenough to break away and do as I'm a mind to. "

The last evening was a pleasant, friendly one, every Carey doing his orher best to avoid risky subjects and to be as agreeable as possible. Cousin Ann Chadwick left next day, and Mrs. Carey, bidding the strangecreature good-bye, was almost sorry that she had ever had anyarguments with her. 

"It will be so long before I see you again, Cousin Ann, I was on thepoint of kissing you, --till I remembered!" she said with a smile as shestood at the gate. 

"I don't know as I mind, for once, " said Miss Chadwick. "If anybody'sgot to kiss me I'd rather it would be you than anybody!"

She drove away, her two empty trunks in the back of the wagon. Shesailed for Liverpool the next week and accompanied her chosen party tothe cathedral towns of England. There, in a quiet corner of YorkMinster, as the boy choir was chanting its anthems, her heart, an organshe had never been conscious of possessing, gave one brief suddenphysical pang and she passed out of what she had called life. Neitherher family affairs nor the names of her relations were known, and thenews of her death did not reach far-away Beulah till more than twomonths afterward, and with it came the knowledge that Cousin AnnChadwick had left the income of five thousand dollars to each of thefive Carey children, with five thousand to be paid in cash to MotherCarey on the settlement of the estate. 

XXXII

DOORS OF DARING

Little the Careys suspected how their fortunes were mending, duringthose last days of June! Had they known, they might almost have beendisappointed, for the spur of need was already pricking them, and theirvaliant young spirits longed to be in the thick of the fray. Plans hadbeen formed for the past week, many of them in secret, and the very nextday after the close of the academy, various business projects wouldburst upon a waiting world. One Sunday night Mother Carey had read tothe little group a poem in which there was a verse that struck on theirears with a fine spirit:--

 "And all the bars at which we fret, That seem to prison and control, Are but the doors of daring set Ajar before the soul. "

They recited it over and over to themselves afterwards, and two or threeof them wrote it down and pinned it to the wall, or tucked it in theframe of the looking glass. 

Olive Lord knocked at her father's study door the morning of thetwenty-first of June. Walking in quietly she said, "Father, yesterdaywas my seventeenth birthday. Mother left me a letter to read on thatday, telling me that I should have fifty dollars a month of my own whenI was seventeen, Cyril to have as much when he is the same age. "

"If you had waited courteously and patiently for a few days you wouldhave heard this from me, " her father answered. 

"I couldn't be sure!" Olive replied. "You never did notice a birthday;why should you begin now?"

"I have more important matters to take up my mind than the considerationof trivial dates, " her father answered. "You know that very well, andyou know too, that notwithstanding my absorbing labors, I haveendeavored for the last few months to give more of my time to youand Cyril. "

"I realize that, or I should not speak to you at all, " said Olive. "Itis because you have shown a little interest in us lately that I consultyou. I want to go at once to Boston to study painting. I will denymyself everything else, if necessary, but I will go, and I will study!It is the only life I care for, the only life I am likely to have, and Iam determined to lead it. "

"You must see that you are too young to start out for yourself anywhere;it is simply impossible. "

"I shall not be alone. Mrs. Carey will find me a good home inCharlestown, with friends of hers. You trust her judgment, if noone else's. "

"If she is charitable enough to conduct your foolish enterprises as wellas those of her own children, I have nothing to say. I have talked withher frequently, and she knows that as soon as I have finished my lastvolume I shall be able to take a more active interest in your affairsand Cyril's. "

"Then may I go?"

"When I hear from the person in Charlestown, yes. There is an expeditionstarting for South America in a few months and I have been asked toaccompany the party. If you are determined to leave home I shall be freeto accept the invitation. Perhaps Mrs. Carey would allow Cyril to staywith her during my absence. "

"I dare say, and I advise you to go to South America by all means; youwill be no farther away from your family than you have always been!"With this parting shot Olive Lord closed the study door behind her. 

"That girl has the most unpleasant disposition, and the sharpest tongue, I ever met in the course of my life!" said Henry Lord to himself as heturned to his task. 

Mother Carey's magic was working very slowly in his blood. It had rousedhim a little from the bottomless pit of his selfishness, but muchmischief had been done on all sides, and it would be a work of timebefore matters could be materially mended. Olive's nature was alreadywarped and embittered, and it would require a deal of sunshine to make aplant bloom that had been so dwarfed by neglect and indifference. 

Nancy's door of daring opened into an editorial office. An hour here, anhour there, when the Yellow House was asleep, had brought about a storythat was on its way to a distant city. It was written, with incrediblecare, on one side of the paper only; it enclosed a fully stampedenvelope for a reply or a return of the manuscript, and all day longNancy, trembling between hope and despair, went about hugging her firstsecret to her heart. 

Gilbert had opened his own particular door, and if it entailed no moredaring than that of Nancy's effort, it required twice the amount ofself-sacrifice. He was to be, from June twenty-seventh till Augusttwenty-seventh, Bill Harmon's post-office clerk and delivery boy, andthe first that the family would know about it would be his arrival atthe back door, in a linen jacket, with an order-book in his hand. Bravo, Gilly! One can see your heels disappearing over the top of Shiny Wall!

The door of daring just ready to be opened by Kathleen and Julia was ofa truly dramatic and unexpected character. 

Printed in plain letters, twenty-five circulars reposed in the folds ofJulia's nightdresses in her lower bureau drawer. The last thing to bedone at night and the first in the morning was the stealthy, whisperedreading of one of these documents, lest even after the hundredth time, something wrong should suddenly appear to the eye or ear. They wereaddressed, they were stamped, and they would be posted to twenty-fivefamilies in the neighborhood on the closing day of the academy. 

 SUMMER VACATION SCHOOL

 The Misses Kathleen and Julia Carey announce the opening of classes for private instruction on July 1st, from two to four o'clock daily in the

 Hamilton Barn. 

 Faculty. 

 Miss Kathleen Carey Reading & Elocution 2 P. M. Miss Julia Carey Dancing, Embroidery 2-30 P. M. Mrs. Peter Carey Vocal Music, Part Singing 3 P. M. Miss Nancy Carey Composition 4 P. M. Mr. Gilbert Carey Wood carving, Jig Sawing, Manual Training from 4 to 5 Fridays only. 

 Terms cash. 25 cents a week. 

 N. B. Children prepared for entrance to the academy at special prices. 

Meantime the Honorable Lemuel Hamilton had come to America, and wasopening doors of daring at such a rate of speed that he hardly realizedthe extent of his own courage and what it involved. He accepted anofficial position of considerable honor and distinction in Washington, rented a house there, and cabled his wife and younger daughter to comeover in September. He wrote his elder daughter that she might go withsome friends to Honolulu if she would return for Christmas. ("It'seleven years since we had a Christmas tree, " he added, "and the firstthing you know we shall have lost the habit!")

To his son Jack in Texas he expressed himself as so encouraged by thelast business statement, which showed a decided turn for the better, that he was willing to add a thousand dollars to the capital andirrigate some more of the unimproved land on the ranch. 

"If Jack has really got hold out there, he can come home every two orthree years, " he thought. "Well, perhaps I shall succeed in getting partof them together, part of the time, if I work hard enough; all but Tom, whom I care most about! Now that everything is in train I'll take alittle vacation myself, and go down to Beulah to make the acquaintanceof those Careys. If I had ever contemplated returning to America Isuppose I shouldn't have allowed them to settle down in the old house, still, Eleanor would never have been content to pass her summers there, so perhaps it is just as well. "

The Peter-bird was too young to greatly dare; still it ought perhaps tobe set down that he sold three dozen marbles and a new kite to BillyHarmon that summer, and bought his mother a birthday present with themoney. All Peter's "doors of daring" had hitherto opened into placesfrom which he issued weeping, with sprained ankles, bruised hands, skinned knees or burned eyelashes. 

XXXIII

MOTHER HAMILTON'S BIRTHDAY

It was the Fourth of July; a hot, still day when one could fairly seethe green peas swelling in their pods and the string beans climbingtheir poles like acrobats! Young Beulah had rung the church bell atmidnight, cast its torpedoes to earth in the early morning, flung itsfire-crackers under the horses' feet, and felt somewhat relieved of itssuperfluous patriotism by breakfast time. Then there was a parade ofAntiques and Horribles, accompanied by the Beulah Band, which, thoughnot as antique, was fully as horrible as anything in the procession. 

From that time on, the day had been somnolent, enlivened in the Careyhousehold only by the solemn rite of paying the annual rent of theYellow House. The votive nosegay had been carefully made up, and laidlovingly by Nancy under Mother Hamilton's portrait, in the presence notonly of the entire family, but also of Osh Popham, who had called topresent early radishes and peppergrass. 

"I'd like to go upstairs with you when you get your boquet tied up, " hesaid, "because it's an awful hot day, an' the queer kind o' things youdo 't this house allers makes my backbone cold! I never suspicioned thatLena Hamilton hed the same kind o' fantasmic notions that you folkshave, but I guess it's like tenant, like landlord, in this case! Anyhow, I want to see the rent paid, if you don't mind. I wish't you'd askedthat mean old sculpin of a Hen Lord over; he owns my house an' it mightput a few idees into his head!"

In the afternoon Nancy took her writing pad and sat on the circularsteps, where it was cool. The five o'clock train from Boston whistled atthe station a mile away as she gathered her white skirts daintily up andsettled herself in the shadiest corner. She was unconscious of thepassing time, and scarcely looked up until the rattling of wheels caughther ear. It was the station wagon stopping at the Yellow House gate, anda strange gentleman was alighting. He had an unmistakable air of thetown. His clothes were not as Beulah clothes and his hat was not asBeulah hats, for it was a fine Panama with a broad sweeping brim. Nancyrose from the steps, surprise dawning first in her eyes, then wonder, then suspicion, then conviction; then two dimples appeared inher cheeks. 

The stranger lifted the foreign-looking hat with a smile and said, "Mylittle friend and correspondent, Nancy Carey, I think?"

"My American Consul, I do believe!" cried Nancy joyously, as she randown the path with both hands outstretched. "Where did you come from?Why didn't you tell us beforehand? We never even heard that you were inthis country! Oh! I know why you chose the Fourth of July! It's pay day, and you thought we shouldn't be ready with the rent; but it's allattended to, beautifully, this morning!"

"May I send my bag to the Mansion House and stay a while with you?"asked Mr. Hamilton. "Are the rest of you at home? How are Gilbert andKathleen and Julia and Peter? How, especially, is Mother Carey?"

"What a memory you have!" exclaimed Nancy. "Take Mr. Hamilton's bag, please, Mr. Bennett, and tell them at the hotel that he won't be thereuntil after supper. "

It was a pleasant hour that ensued, for Nancy had broken the ice andthere was plenty of conversation. Then too, the whole house had to beshown, room by room, even to Cousin Ann's stove in the cellar and thepump in the kitchen sink. 

"I never saw anything like it!" exclaimed Hamilton. "It is like magic! Iought to pay you a thousand dollars on the spot! I ought to try and buythe place of you for five thousand! Why don't you go into the businessof recreating houses and selling them to poor benighted creatures likeme, who never realize their possibilities?"

"If we show you the painted chamber will you promise not to be toounhappy?" asked Nancy. "You can't help crying with rage and grief thatit is our painted chamber, not yours; but try to bear up until you getto the hotel, because mother is so soft-hearted she will be giving itback to you unless I interfere. "

"You must have spent money lavishly when you restored this room, " saidthe Consul; "it is a real work of art. "

"Not a penny, " said Mrs. Carey. "It is the work of a great friend ofNancy's, a seventeen-year-old girl, who, we expect, will make Beulahfamous some day. Now will you go into your mother's room and find yourway downstairs by yourself? Julia, will you show Mr. Hamilton the barn alittle later, while Nancy and I get supper? Kitty must go to thePophams' for Peter; he is spending the afternoon with them. "

Nancy had enough presence of mind to intercept Kitty and hiss into herear: "Borrow a loaf of bread from Mrs. Popham, we are short; and see ifyou can find any way to get strawberries from Bill Harmon's; it was tohave been a bread-and-milk supper on the piazza, to-night, and it mustbe hurriedly changed into a Consular banquet! _Verb. Sap. _ Fly!"

Gilbert turned up a little before six o'clock and was introduced proudlyby his mother as a son who had just "gone into business. "

"I'm Bill Harmon's summer clerk and delivery boy, " he explained. "It'sgreat fun, and I get two dollars and a half a week. "

Nancy and her mother worked like Trojans in the kitchen, for they agreedit was no time for economy, even if they had less to eat for a weekto come. 

"Mr. Hamilton is just as nice as I guessed he was, when his first lettercame, " said Nancy. "I went upstairs to get a card for the supper menu, and he was standing by your mantelpiece with his head bent over hisarms. He had the little bunch of field flowers in his hand, and I knowhe had been smelling them, and looking at his mother's picture, andremembering things!"

What a merry supper it was, with a jug of black-eyed Susans in thecentre of the table and a written bill of fare for Mr. Hamilton, "because he was a Consul, " so Nancy said. 

Gilbert sat at the head of the table, and Mr. Hamilton thought he hadnever seen anything so beautiful as Mrs. Carey in her lavender challie, sitting behind the tea cups; unless it was Nancy, flushed like a rose, changing the plates and waiting on the table between courses. He hadnever exerted himself so much at any diplomatic dinner, and he won thehearts of the entire family before the meal was finished. 

"By the way, I have a letter of introduction to you all, but especiallyto Miss Nancy here, and I have never thought to deliver it, " he said. "Who do you think sent it, --all the way from China?"

"My son Tom!" exclaimed Nancy irrepressibly; "but no, he couldn't, because he doesn't know us. "

"The Admiral, of course!" cried Gilbert. 

"You are both right, " Mr. Hamilton answered, drawing a letter from hiscoat pocket. "It is a Round Robin from the Admiral and my son Tom, whohave been making acquaintance in Hong Kong. It is addressed:

 "FROM THE YELLOW PERIL, IN CHINA

 "to

 "THE YELLOW HOUSE, IN BEULAH, "_Greeting_!"

Nancy crimsoned. "Did the Admiral tell your son Tom I called him theYellow Peril? It was wicked of him! I did it, you know, because youwrote me that the only Hamilton who cared anything for the old house, orwould ever want to live in it, was your son Tom. After that I alwayscalled him the Yellow Peril, and I suppose I mentioned it in a letter tothe Admiral. "

"I am convinced that Nancy's mind is always empty at bedtime, " said hermother, "because she tells everything in it to somebody during the day. I hope age will bring discretion, but I doubt it. "

"My son Tom is coming home!" said his father, with unmistakable delightin his voice. 

Nancy, who was passing the cake, sat down so heavily in her chair thateverybody laughed. 

"Come, come, Miss Nancy! I can't let you make an ogre of the boy, " urgedMr. Hamilton. "He is a fine fellow, and if he comes down here to look atthe old place you are sure to be good friends. "

"Is he going back to China after his visit?" asked Mrs. Carey, who felta fear of the young man something akin to her daughter's. 

"No, I am glad to say. Our family has been too widely separated for thelast ten years. At first it seemed necessary, or at least convenient anddesirable, and I did not think much about it. But lately it has beencontinually on my mind that we were leading a cheerless existence, and Iam determined to arrange matters differently. "

Mrs. Carey remembered Ossian Popham's description of Mrs. LemuelHamilton and forebore to ask any questions with regard to herwhereabouts, since her husband did not mention her. 

"You will all be in Washington then, " she said, "and your son Tom withyou, of course?"

"Not quite so near as that, " his father replied. "Tom's firm is openinga Boston office and he will be in charge of that. When do you expect theAdmiral back? Tom talks of their coming together on the Bedouin, if itcan be arranged. "

"We haven't heard lately, " said Mrs. Carey; "but he should return withina month or two, should he not, Nancy? My daughter writes all the lettersfor the family, Mr. Hamilton, as you know by this time. "

"I do, to my great delight and satisfaction. Now there is one thing Ihave not seen yet, something about which I have a great deal ofsentiment. May I smoke my cigar under the famous crimson rambler?"

The sun set flaming red, behind the Beulah hills. The frogs sang in thepond by the House of Lords, and the grasshoppers chirped in the longgrass of Mother Hamilton's favorite hayfield. Then the moon, round anddeep-hued as a great Mandarin orange, came up into the sky from whichthe sun had faded, and the little group still sat on the side piazza, talking. Nothing but their age and size kept the Carey chickens out ofMr. Hamilton's lap, and Peter finally went to sleep with his headagainst the consul's knee. He was a "lappy" man, Nancy said nextmorning; and indeed there had been no one like him in the family circlefor many a long month. He was tender, he was gay, he was fatherly, hewas interested in all that concerned them; so no wonder that he heardall about Gilbert's plans for earning money, and Nancy's accepted story. No wonder he exclaimed at the check for ten dollars proudly exhibited inpayment, and no wonder he marvelled at the Summer Vacation School in thebarn, where fourteen little scholars were already enrolled under thetutelage of the Carey Faculty. "I never wanted to go to anything in mylife as much as I want to go to that school!" he asserted. "If I couldwrite a circular as enticing as that, I should be a rich man. I wishyou'd let me have some new ones printed, girls, and put me down forthree evening lectures; I'd do almost anything to get into thatFaculty. " "I wish you'd give the lectures for the benefit of theFaculty, that would be better still, " said Kitty. "Nancy's coming-outparty was to be in the barn this summer; that's one of the things we'reearning money for; or at least we make believe that it is, because it'sso much more fun to work for a party than for coal or flour or meat!"

A look from Mrs. Carey prevented the children from making any furtherallusions to economy, and Gilbert skillfully turned the subject bygiving a dramatic description of the rise and fall of The Dirty Boy, from its first appearance at his mother's wedding breakfast to its last, at the house-warming supper. 

After Lemuel Hamilton had gone back to the little country hotel he satby the open window for another hour, watching the moonbeams shimmeringon the river and bathing the tip of the white meeting-house steeple in aflood of light. The air was still and the fireflies were rising abovethe thick grass and carrying their fairy lamps into the lower branchesof the feathery elms. "Haying" would begin next morning, and he would bewakened by the sharpening of scythes and the click of mowing machines. He would like to work in the Hamilton fields, he thought, knee-deep indaisies, --fields on whose grass he had not stepped since he was a boyjust big enough to _go_ behind the cart and "rake after. " What anevening it had been! None of them had known it, but as a matter of factthey had all scaled Shiny Wall and had been sitting with Mother Carey inPeacepool; that was what had made everything so beautiful! Mr. Hamilton's last glimpse of the Careys had been the group at the YellowHouse gate. Mrs. Carey, with her brown hair shining in the moonlightleaned against Gilbert, the girls stood beside her, their arms locked inhers, while Peter clung sleepily to her hand. 

"I believe they are having hard times!" he thought, "and I can't thinkof anything I can safely do to make things easier. Still, one cannotpity, one can only envy them! That is the sort of mother I would havemade had I been Nature and given a free hand! I would have put a labelon Mrs. Carey, saying: 'This is what I meant a woman to be!'"

XXXIV

NANCY COMES OUT

Nancy's seventeenth birthday was past, and it was on the full of theAugust moon that she finally "came out" in the Hamilton barn. It was thebarn's first public appearance too, for the villagers had not beeninvited to the private Saturday night dances that took place during thebrief reign of the Hamilton boys and girls. Beulah was more excitedabout the barn than it was about Nancy, and she was quite in sympathywith this view of things, as the entire Carey family, from mother toPeter, was fairly bewitched with its new toy. Day by day it had grownmore enchanting as fresh ideas occurred to one or another, andespecially to Osh Popham, who lived, breathed, and had his being in thebarn, and who had lavished his ingenuity and skill upon its fittings. Not a word did he vouchsafe to the general public of the extraordinarynature of these fittings, nor of the many bewildering features of theentertainment which was to take place within the almost sacredprecincts. All the Carey festivities had heretofore been in the housesave the one in honor of the hanging of the weather vane, which had beenan out-of-door function, attended by the whole village. Now thecommunity was all agog to disport itself in pastures new; its curiositybeing further piqued by the reception of written invitations, aconvention not often indulged in by Beulah. 

The eventful day dawned, clear and cool; a day with an air like liquidamber, that properly belonged to September, --the weather prophet reallyshifting it into August from pure kindness, having taken a sticky dogdayout and pitchforked it into the next month. 

The afternoon passed in various stages of plotting, planning, andpalpitation, and every girl in Beulah, of dancing age, was in herbedroom, trying her hair a new way. The excitement increased a thousandfold when it was rumored that an Admiral (whatever that might be) hadarrived at the hotel and would appear at the barn in full uniform. Afterthat, nobody's braids or puffs would go right!

Nancy never needed to study Paris plates, for her hair dressed itselfafter a fashion set by all the Venuses and Cupids and little Loves sincethe world began. It curled, whether she would or no, so the only methodwas to part the curls and give them a twist into a coil, from whichvagrant spirals fell to the white nape of her neck. Or, if she felt gayand coquettish as she did tonight, the curls were pinned high to thecrown of her head and the runaways rioted here and there, touching hercheek, her ear, her neck, never ugly, wherever they ran. 

Nancy had a new yellow organdy made "almost to touch, " and a twist ofyellow ribbon in her hair. Kathleen and Julia were in the white dressesbrought them by Cousin Ann, and Mrs. Carey wore her new black silk, madewith a sweeping little train. Her wedding necklace of seed pearls wasaround her neck, and a tall comb of tortoise shell and pearls rose fromthe low-coiled knot of her shining hair. 

The family "received" in the old carriage house, and when everybody hadassembled, to the number of seventy-five or eighty, the door into thebarn was thrown open majestically by Gilbert, in his character as headof the house of Carey. Words fail to describe the impression made by thebarn as it was introduced to the company, Nancy's debut sinking intopositive insignificance beside it. 

Dozens of brown japanned candle-lanterns hung from the beamed ceiling, dispensing little twinkles of light here and there, while larger onesswung from harness pegs driven into the sides of the walls. The softgray-brown of the old weathered lumber everywhere, made a lovelybackground for the birch-bark brackets, and the white birch-bark vasesthat were filled with early golden-rod, mixed with tall Queen Anne'slace and golden glow. The quaint settles surrounding the sides of theroom were speedily filled by the admiring guests. Colonel Wheeler's tinyupright piano graced the platform in the "tie up. " Miss Susie Bennett, the church organist, was to play it, aided now and then by Mrs. Carey orJulia. Osh Popham was to take turns on the violin with a cousin fromWarren's Mills, who was reported to be the master fiddler of the county. 

When all was ready Mrs. Carey stood between the master fiddler and SusieBennett, and there was a sudden hush in the room. "Friends andneighbors, " she said, "we now declare the Hall of Happy Hours open forthe general good of the village. If it had not been for the generosityof our landlord, Mr. Lemuel Hamilton, we could never have given you thispleasure, and had not our helpers been so many, we could never have madethe place so beautiful. Before the general dancing begins there will bea double quadrille of honor, in which all those will take part who havedriven a nail, papered or painted a wall, dug a spadeful of earth, ordone any work in or about the Yellow House. "

"Three cheers for Mrs. Carey!" called Bill Harmon, and everybodycomplied lustily. 

"Three cheers for Lemuel Hamilton!" and the rafters of the barn rangwith the response. 

Just then the Admiral changed his position to conceal the moisture thatwas beginning to gather in his eyes; and the sight of a personage sounspeakably magnificent in a naval uniform induced Osh Popham to cryspontaneously: "Three cheers for the Admiral! I don't know what he everdone, but he looks as if he could, all right!" at which everybodycheered and roared, and the Admiral to his great surprise made a speech, during which the telltale tears appeared so often in his eyes and in hisvoice, that Osh Popham concluded privately that if the naval hero everdid meet an opposing battleship he would be likelier to drown the enemythan fire into them!

The double quadrille of honor passed off with much elegance, everybodynot participating in it being green with envy because he was not. Mrs. Carey and the Admiral were partners; Nancy danced with Mr. Popham, Kathleen with Digby, Julia with Bill Harmon. The other couples were Mrs. Popham and Gilbert, Lallie Joy and Cyril Lord, Olive and Nat Harmon, while Mrs. Bill led out a very shy and uncomfortable gentleman who haddug the ditches for Cousin Ann's expensive pipes. 

Then the fun and the frolic began in earnest. The girls had beenpractising the old-fashioned contra dances all summer, and training theyounger generation in them at the Vacation School. The old folks neededno rehearsal! If you had waked any of them in the night suddenly theycould have called the changes for Speed the Plough, The Soldier's Joy, The Maid in the Pump Room, or Hull's Victory. 

Money Musk brought Nancy and Mr. Henry Lord on to the floor as headcouple; a result attained by that young lady by every means, fair orfoul, known to woman; at least a rudimentary, budding woman of seventeensummers! His coming to the party at all was regarded by Mother Carey, who had spent the whole force of her being in managing it, as nothingshort of a miracle. He had accepted partly from secret admiration of hishandsome neighbor, partly to show the village that he did not choosealways to be a hermit crab, partly out of curiosity to see the unusualgathering. Having crawled out of his selfish shell far enough to gracethe occasion, he took another step when Nancy asked him to dance. It waspretty to see her curtsey when she put the question, pretty to see theair of triumph with which she led him to the head of the line, andpositively delightful to the onlookers to see Hen Lord doing right andleft, ladies' chain, balance to opposite and cast off, at a girl's beckand call. He was not a bad dancer, when his sluggish blood once got intocirculation; and he was considerably more limber at the end of MoneyMusk, considerably less like a wooden image, than at the beginningof it. 

In the interval between this astounding exhibition and the RochesterSchottisch which followed it, Henry Lord went up to Mrs. Carey, who wassitting in a corner a little apart from her guests for the moment. 

"Shall I go to South America, or shall I not?" he asked her in anundertone. "Olive seems pleasantly settled, and Cyril tells me you willconsent to take him into your family for six months; still, I would likea woman's advice. "

Mother Carey neither responded, "I should prefer not to take theresponsibility of advising you, " nor "Pray do as you think best"; shesimply said, in a tone she might have used to a fractious boy:

"I wouldn't go, Mr. Lord! Wait till Olive and Cyril are a little older. Cyril will grow into my family instead of into his own; Olive will learnto do without you; worse yet, you will learn to do without yourchildren. Stay at home and have Olive come back to you and her brotherevery week end. South America is a long distance when there are onlythree of you!"

Prof. Lord was not satisfied with Mrs. Carey's tone. It was so maternalthat he expected at any moment she might brush his hair, straighten hisnecktie, and beg him not to sit up too late, but his instinct told himit was the only tone he was ever likely to hear from her, and so he saidreluctantly, "Very well; I confess that I really rely on your judgment, and I will decline the invitation. "

"I think you are right, " Mrs. Carey answered, wondering if the man wouldever see his duty with his own eyes, or whether he had deliberatelyblinded himself for life. 

XXXV

THE CRIMSON RAMBLER

While Mrs. Carey was talking with Mr. Lord, Nancy skimmed across thebarn floor intent on some suddenly remembered duty, went out into thegarden, and met face to face a strange young man standing by the rosetrellis and looking in at the dance through the open door. 

He had on a conventional black dinner-coat, something never seen inBeulah, and wore a soft travelling cap. At first Nancy thought he was afriend of the visiting fiddler, but a closer look at his merry dark eyesgave her the feeling that she had seen him before, or somebody very likehim. He did not wait for her to speak, but taking off his cap, put outhis hand and said: "By your resemblance to a photograph in my possessionI think you are the girl who planted the crimson rambler. "

"Are you 'my son Tom'?" asked Nancy, open astonishment in her tone. "Imean my Mr. Hamilton's son Tom?"

"I am _my_ Mr. Hamilton's son Tom; or shall we say _our_ Mr. Hamilton's?Do two 'mys' make one 'our'?"

"Upon my word, wonders will never cease!" exclaimed Nancy. "The Admiralsaid you were in Boston, but he never told us you would visit Beulahso soon!"

"No, I wanted it to be a secret. I wanted to appear when the ball was atits height; the ghost of the old regime confronting the new, soto speak. "

"Beulah will soon be a summer resort; everybody seems to be cominghere. "

"It's partly your fault, isn't it?"

"Why, pray?"

"'The Water Babies' is one of my favorite books, and I know all aboutMother Carey's chickens. They go out over the seas and show good birdsthe way home. "

"Are _you_ a good bird?" asked Nancy saucily. 

"I'm _home_, at all events!" said Tom with an emphasis that made Nancyshiver lest the young man had come to Beulah with a view of taking uphis residence in the paternal mansion. 

The two young people sat down on the piazza steps while the music ofThe Sultan's Polka floated out of the barn door. Old Mrs. Jenks wasdancing with Peter, her eighty-year-old steps as fleet as his, her whiteside-curls bobbing to the tune. Her withered hands clasped his dimpledones and the two seemed to be of the same age, for in the atmosphere oflaughter and goodwill there would have been no place for the old inheart, and certainly Mrs. Jenks was as young as any one at the party. 

"I can't help dreading you, nice and amiable as you look, " said Nancycandidly to Tom Hamilton; "I am so afraid you'll fall in love with theYellow House and want it back again. Are you engaged to be married to alittle-footed China doll, or anything like that?" she asked with ateasing, upward look and a disarming smile that robbed the question ofany rudeness. 

"No, not engaged to anything or anybody, but I've a notion I shall be, soon, if all goes well! I'm getting along in years now!"

"I might have known it!" sighed Nancy. "It was a prophetic instinct, mycalling you the Yellow Peril. "

"It isn't a bit nice of you to dislike me before you know me; I didn'tdo that way with you!"

"What do you mean?"

"Why, in the first letter you ever wrote father you sent your love toany of his children that should happen to be of the right size. Ichanced to be _just_ the right size, so I accepted it, gratefully; I'vegot it here with me to-night; no, I left it in my other coat, " he saidmerrily, making a fictitious search through his pockets. 

Nancy laughed at his nonsense; she could not help it. 

"Will you promise to get over your foolish and wicked prejudices if I onmy part promise never to take the Yellow House away from you unless youwish?" continued Tom. 

"Willingly, " exclaimed Nancy joyously. "That's the safest promise Icould make, for I would never give up living in it unless I had to. First it was father's choice, then it was mother's, now all of us seemto have built ourselves into it, as it were. I am almost afraid to careso much about anything, and I shall be so relieved if you do not turnout to be really a Yellow Peril after all!"

"You are much more of a Yellow Peril yourself!" said Tom, "with thatdress and that ribbon in your hair! Will you dance the next dance withme, please?"

"It's The Tempest; do you know it?"

"No, but I'm not so old but I may learn. I'll form myself on thatwonderful person who makes jokes about the Admiral and playsthe fiddle. "

"That's Ossian Popham, principal prop of the House of Carey!"

"Lucky dog! Have you got all the props you need?"

Nancy's hand was not old or strong or experienced enough to keep thisstrange young man in order, and just as she was meditating someblighting retort he went on:--

"Who is that altogether adorable, that unspeakably beautiful lady inblack?--the one with the pearl comb that looks like a crown?"

"That's mother, " said Nancy, glowing. 

"I thought so. At least I didn't know any other way to account for her. "

"Why does she have to be accounted for?" asked Nancy, a littlebewildered. 

"For the same reason that you do, " said the audacious youth. "Youexplain your mother and your mother explains you, a little, at any rate. Where is the celebrated crimson rambler, please?"

"You are sitting on it, " Nancy answered tranquilly. 

Tom sprang away from the trellis, on which he had been half reclining. "Bless my soul!" he exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me? I have a greataffection for that rambler; it was your planting it that first mademe--think favorably of you. Has it any roses on it? I can't see inthis light. "

"It is almost out of bloom; there may be a few at the top somewhere;I'll look out my window to-morrow morning and see. "

"At about what hour?"

"How should I know?" laughed Nancy. 

"Oh! you're not to be depended on!" said Tom rebukingly. "Just give meyour hand a moment; step on that lowest rung of the trellis, now onestep higher, please; now stretch up your right hand and pick that littlecluster, do you see it?--That's right; now down, be careful, there youare, thank you! A rose in the hand is worth two in the morning. "

"Put it in your button hole, " said Nancy. "It is the last; I gave yourfather one of the first a month ago. "

"I shall put this in my pocket book and send it to my mother in aletter, " Tom replied. ("And tell her it looks just like the girl whoplanted it, " he thought; "sweet, fragrant, spicy, graceful, vigorous, full of color. ")

"Now come in and meet mother, " said Nancy. "The polka is over, and soonthey will be 'forming on' for The Tempest. "

Tom Hamilton's entrance and introduction proved so interesting that itdelayed the dance for a few moments. Then Osh Popham and the masterfiddler tuned their violins and Mrs. Carey assisted Susie Bennett at thepiano, so that there were four musicians to give fresh stimulus to theimpatient feet. 

Tom Hamilton hardly knew whether he would rather dance with Nancy orstand at the open door and watch her as he had been doing earlier in theevening. He could not really see her now, although he was her partner, his mind was so occupied with the intricate figures, but he could feelher, in every fibre of his body, the touch of her light hand was socharged with magnetism. 

Somebody swung the back doors of the barn wide open. The fields, latelymown, sloped gently up to a fringe of pines darkly green against thesky. The cool night air stirred the elms, and the brilliant moonappeared in the very centre of the doorway. The beauty of the wholescene went to Tom Hamilton's head a little, but he kept his thoughtssteadily on the changes as Osh Popham called them. 

To watch Nancy Carey dance The Tempest was a sight to stir the blood. The two head couples joined hands and came down the length of the barnfour abreast; back they went in a whirl; then they balanced to the nextcouple, then came four hands round and ladies' chain, and presently theycame down again flying, with another four behind them. The first fourwere Nancy and Tom, Ralph Thurston and Kathleen, the last two among thebest dancers in Beulah; but while Kitty was slim and straight andgraceful as a young fawn, Nancy swept down the middle of the barn floorlike a flower borne by the breeze. She was Youth, Hope, Joy incarnate!She had washed the dishes that night, would wash them again in themorning, but what of that? What mattered it that the years just ahead(for aught she knew to the contrary) were full of self-denial andeconomy? Was she not seventeen? Anything was possible at seventeen! Whatif the world was to be a work-a-day world? There was music and laughterin it as well as work, and there was love in it, too, oceans of love, sowhy not trip and be merry and guide one's young partner safely throughthe difficult mazes of the dance and bring him out flushed andtriumphant, to receive mother's laughing compliments?

Everybody was dancing The Tempest in his or her own fashion, thought theAdmiral, looking on. Mrs. Popham was grave, even gloomy from the waistup, but incredibly lively from the waist down, moving with the precisionof machinery, while her partner, a bricklayer from Beulah Centre, engaged the attention of the entire company by his wonderful steps. Shewas fully up to time too, you may be sure, as her rival, Mrs. BillHarmon, was opposite her in the set. Lallie Joy, clad in one ofKathleen's dresses, her hair dressed by Julia, was a daily attendant atthe Vacation School, but five weeks of steady instruction had notsufficed to make her sure of ladies' grand chain. Olive moved like a shylittle wild thing, with a bending head and a grace all her own, whileGilbert had great ease and distinction. 

There was a brief interval for ice cream, accompanied by marble cake, gold cake, silver cake, election cake, sponge cake, cup cake, citroncake, and White Mountain cake, and while it was being eaten, SusieBennett played The Sliding Waltz, The Maiden's Prayer, and Listen to theMocking Bird with variations; variations requiring almostsupernatural celerity. 

"I guess there ain't many that can touch Sutey at the piano!" said OshPopham, who sat beside the Admiral. "Have you seen anybody in the citiesthat could play any faster'n she can? And Jo you ever ketch her landin'on a black note when she started for a white one? I guess not!"

"You are right!" replied the Admiral, "and now there seems to be ageneral demand for you. What are they requesting you to do, --fly?"

"That's it, " said Osh. "Mis' Carey, will you play for me? Maria, you cango into the carriage house if you don't want to be disgraced. "

 "Come, my beloved, haste away, Cut short the hours of thy delay. Fly like a youthful hart or roe Over the hills where spices grow. "

At length the strains of the favorite old tune faded on the ears of thedelighted audience. Then they had The Portland Fancy and The IrishWasherwoman and The College Hornpipe, and at last the clock in thecarriage house struck midnight and the guests departed in groups of twosand threes and fours, their cheerful voices sounding far down thevillage street. 

Osh Popham stayed behind to cover the piano, put out the lanterns, closethe doors and windows, and lock the barn, while Mrs. Carey and theAdmiral strolled slowly along the greensward to the side door ofthe house. 

"Good-night, " Osh called happily as he passed them a few minutes later. "I guess Beulah never see a party such as ourn was, this evenin'! Iguess if the truth was known, the State o' Maine never did, neither!Good-night, all! Mebbe if I hurry along I can ketch up with Maria!"

His quick steps brushing the grassy pathway could be heard for someminutes in the clear still air, and presently the sound of his mellowtenor came floating back:--

 "Come, my beloved, haste away, Cut short the hours of thy delay. Fly like a youthful hart or roe Over the hills where spices grow. "

Julia had gone upstairs with the sleepy Peter-bird, who had beenenjoying his first experience of late hours on the occasion of Nancy'scoming out; the rest of the young folks were gathered in a group underthe elms, chatting in couples, --Olive and Ralph Thurston, Kathleen andCyril Lord, Nancy and Tom Hamilton. Then they parted, Tom Hamiltonstrolling to the country hotel with the young school teacher forcompanion, while Olive and Cyril walked across the fields to theHouse of Lords. 

It was a night in a thousand. The air was warm, clear, and breathlesslystill; so still that not a leaf stirred on the trees. The sky wascloudless, and the moon, brilliant and luminous, shone as it seldomshines in a northern clime. The water was low in Beulah's shining riverand it ran almost noiselessly under the bridge. While Kathleen and Juliawere still unbraiding their hair, exclaiming at every twist of the handas to the "loveliness" of the party, Nancy had kissed her mother andcrept silently into bed. All night long the strains of The Tempest ranthrough her dreams. There was the touch of a strange hand on hers, analtogether new touch, warm and compelling. There was the gay troopingdown the centre of the barn in fours, --some one by her side who hadnever been there before, --and a sensation entirely new and intoxicating, that whenever she met the glance of her partner's merry dark eyes shefound herself at the bottom of them. 

Was she a child when she heard Osh Popham cry: "Take your partners forThe Tempest!" and was she a woman when he called: "All promenade toseats!" She hardly knew. Beulah was a dream; the Yellow House was adream, the dance was a dream, the partner was a dream. At one moment shewas a child helping her father to plant the crimson rambler, at anothershe was a woman pulling a rose from the topmost branch and giving it tosome one who steadied her hand on the trellis; some one who said "Thankyou" and "Good-night" differently from the rest of the world. 

Who was the young stranger? Was he the Knight of Beulah Castle, theOverlord of the Yellow House, was he the Yellow Peril, was he a goodbird to whom Mother Carey's chicken had shown the way home? Still thedream went on in bewildering circles, and Nancy kept hearing mysteriousphrases spoken with a new meaning, --"Will you dance with me?" "Doesn'tthe House of Carey need another prop?" "Won't you give me a rose?" andabove all: "You sent your love to any one of the Hamilton children whoshould be of the right size; I was just the right size, and I took it!"

"Love couldn't be sent in a letter!" expostulated Nancy in the dream;and somebody, in the dream, always answered, "Don't be so sure! Verystrange things happen when Mother Carey's messengers go out over theseas. Don't you remember how they spoke to Tom in 'The WaterBabies'?--Among all the songs that came across the water one was moresweet and clear than all, for it was the song of a young girl'svoice.... And what was the song that she sung?... Have patience, keepyour eye single and your hands clean, and you will learn some day tosing it yourself, without needing any man to teach you!"