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"SOME SAY"

NEIGHBOURS IN CYRUS

BY

LAURA E. RICHARDS

Author of "Captain January, " "Melody, " "Queen Hildegarde, ""Five-Minute Stories, " "When I Was Your Age, ""Narcissa, " "Marie, " "Nautilus, " etc. 

TWELFTH THOUSAND

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BOSTONDANA ESTES & COMPANYPUBLISHERS

_Copyright, 1896_, BY ESTES & LAURIAT

_All rights reserved_

Colonial Press:

C. H. Simonds & Co. , Boston, Mass. , U. S. A. 

Electrotyped by Geo. C. Scott & Sons

"SOME SAY"

TO MYDear Sister, FLORENCE HOWE HALL, THIS VOLUMEIS AFFECTIONATELYDEDICATED

 * * * * *

"SOME SAY. "

Part I. 

"And some say, she expects to get him married to Rose Ellen before theyear's out!"

"I want to know if she does!"

"Her sister married a minister, and her father was a deacon, so mebbeshe thinks she's got a master-key to the Kingdom. But I don't feel sosure of her gettin' this minister for Rose Ellen. Some say he's sowropped up in his garden truck that he don't know a gal from agooseberry bush. He! he!"

The shrill cackle was answered by a slow, unctuous chuckle, as of afat and wheezy person; then a door was closed, and silence fell. 

The minister looked up apprehensively; his fair face was flushed, andhis mild, blue eyes looked troubled. He gazed at the broad back of hislandlady, as she stood dusting, with minute care, the china ornamentson the mantelpiece; but her back gave no sign. He coughed once ortwice; he said, "Mrs. Mellen!" tentatively, first low, then in hisordinary voice, but there was no reply. Was Mrs. Mellen deaf? he hadnot noticed it before. He pondered distressfully for a few moments;then dropped his eyes, and the book swallowed him again. Yet the stingremained, for when presently the figure at the mantelpiece turnedround, he looked up hastily, and flushed again as he met his hostess'gaze, calm and untroubled as a summer pool. 

"There, sir!" said Mrs. Mellen, cheerfully. "I guess that's done tosuit. Is there anything more I can do for you before I go?"

The minister's mind hovered between two perplexities; a glance at thebook before him decided their relative importance. 

"Have you ever noticed, Mrs. Mellen, whether woodcocks are more apt tofly on moonshiny nights, as White assures us?"

"Woodbox?" said Mrs. Mellen. "Why, yes, sir, it's handy by; and whenthere's no moon, the lantern always hangs in the porch. But I'll seethat Si Jones keeps it full up, after this. "

Decidedly, the good woman was deaf, and she had not heard. Could thoseharpies be right? If any such idea as they suggested were actually inhis hostess' mind, he must go away, for his work must not beinterfered with, and he must not encourage hopes, --the ministerblushed again, and glanced around to see if any one could see him. 

But he was so comfortable here, and Miss Mellen was so intelligent, sohelpful; and this seemed the ideal spot on which to compile his NewEngland "Selborne. "

He sighed, and thought of the woodcock again. Why should the birdprefer a moonshiny night? Was it likely that the creature had anyappreciation of the beauties of nature? Shakespeare uses the woodcockas a simile of folly, to express a person without brains. Ha!

The door opened, and Rose Ellen came in, her eyes shining withpleasure, her hands full of gold and green. 

"I've found the 'Squarrosa, ' Mr. Lindsay!" she announced. "See, thisis it, surely!"

The minister rose, and inspected the flowers delightedly. "This is it, surely!" he repeated. "Stem stout, hairy above; leaves large, oblong, or the lower spatulate-oval, and tapering into a marginal petiole, serrate veiny; heads numerous; seeds obtuse or acute; disk-flowers, 16x 24. This is, indeed, a treasure, for Gray calls it 'rare in NewEngland. ' I congratulate you, Miss Mellen. "

"Late, sir?" said Mrs. Mellen, calmly. "Oh, no, 'tisn't hardly fiveo'clock yet. Still, 'tis time for me to be thinkin' of gettin'supper. "

"Don't you want I should make some biscuit for supper, mother?" askedRose Ellen, coming out of her rapt contemplation of the goldenrod thatGray condescended to call rare, he to whom all things were common. 

Her mother made no answer. 

"Don't you want I should make a pan of biscuit?" Rose Ellen repeated. Still there was no reply, and the girl turned to look at her mother insome alarm. 

"Why, mother, what is the matter? why don't you answer me?"

"Your mother's deafness, " the minister put in, hurriedly, "seemssuddenly increased: probably a cold, --"

"Was you speakin' to me, Rose Ellen?" said Mrs. Mellen. 

"Why, yes!" said the girl, in distress. 

"Why, mother, how did you get this cold? you seemed all right when Iwent out. "

"Gettin' old!" cried Mrs. Mellen. "'Tis nothin' of the sort, RoseEllen! I've took a cold, I shouldn't wonder. I went out without myshawl just for a minute. I expect 'twas careless, but there! life istoo short to be thinkin' all the time about the flesh, 'specially whenthere's as much of it as I have. I've ben expectin' I should grow hardof hearin', though, these two years past. The Bowlers do, you know, Rose Ellen, 'long about middle life. There was your Uncle Lihu. I canhear him snort now, sittin' in his chair, like a pig for all theworld, and with no idea he was makin' a sound. "

"But it's come on so sudden!" cried Rose Ellen, in distress. 

"That's Bowler!" said her mother. "Bowler for all the world! They takethings suddin, whether it's hoarsin' up, or breakin' out, or what itis. There! you've heard me tell how my Aunt Phoebe 'Lizabeth come outwith spots all over her face, when she was standin' up to be married. Chicken-pox it was, and they never knew where she got it; but mygrand'ther said 'twas pure Bowler, wherever it come from. "

She gazed placidly at her daughter's troubled face; then, patting herwith her broad hand, pushed her gently out of the room before her. 

"Mr. Lindsay's heard enough of my bein' hard of hearin', I expect, "she said, cheerfully, as they passed into the kitchen. 

"Don't you fret, Rose Ellen! You won't have to get a fog-horn yetawhile. I don't know but it would be a good plan for you to mix up amess o' biscuit, if you felt to: Mr. Lindsay likes your biscuit realwell, I heard him say so. "

"That's what I was going to do, " said Rose Ellen, still depressed. "Iwish't you'd see the doctor, mother. I don't believe but he could helpyour hearing, if you take it before it's got settled on you. "

"Well, I won't, certain!" said Mrs. Mellen. "The idea, strong and wellas I be! Bowler blood's comin' out, that's all; and the only wonder isit hasn't come out before. "

All that day, and the next, the minister did not seem like himself. Hewas no more absent-minded than usual, perhaps, --that could hardly be. But he was grave and troubled, and the usual happy laugh did not comewhen Rose Ellen checked him gently as he was about to put pepper intohis tea. Several times he seemed about to speak: his eye dweltanxiously on the cream-jug, in which he seemed to be seekinginspiration; but each time his heart failed him, and he relapsed witha sigh into his melancholy reverie. 

Rose Ellen was silent, too, and the burden of the talk fell on hermother. At supper on the second day, midway between the ham and thegriddle-cakes, Mrs. Mellen announced:

"Rose Ellen, I expect you'd better go down to Tupham to-morrow, andstay a spell with your grandm'ther. She seems to be right poorly, andI expect it'd be a comfort to her to have you with her. I guess you'dbetter get ready to-night, and Calvin Parks can take you up as he goesalong. "

Rose Ellen and the minister both looked up with a start, and bothflushed, and both opened wide eyes of astonishment. 

"Why, mother!" said the girl. "I can't go away and leave you now, withthis cold on you. "

Her mother did not hear her, so Rose Ellen repeated the words in aclear, high-pitched voice, with a note of anxiety which brought amomentary shade to Mrs. Mellen's smooth brow. The next moment, however, the brow cleared again. 

"I guess you'd better go!" she said again. "It'd be a pity if Mr. Lindsay and I couldn't get along for a month or six weeks; and I wrotemother yesterday that you would be up along to-morrow, so she'll belooking for you. I don't like to have mother disappointed of a thingat her age, it gives her the palpitations. "

"You--wrote--that I was coming!" repeated Rose Ellen. "And you nevertold me you was writing, mother? I--I should have liked to have knownbefore you wrote. "

"Coat?" said Mrs. Mellen. "Oh, your coat'll do well enough, RoseEllen. Why, you've only just had it bound new, and new buttons put on. I should take my figured muslin, if I was you, and have Miss Turnerlook at it and see how you could do it over: she has good ideas, sometimes, and it'd be a little different from what the girls here wasdoin', maybe. Anyway, I'd take it, and your light sack, too. 'Twon'tdo no harm to have 'em gone over a little. "

Rose Ellen looked ready to cry, but she kept the tears backresolutely. 

"I--don't--want to leave you, with this deafness coming on!" sheshouted, her usually soft voice ringing like a bugle across thetea-table. 

"There! there! don't you grow foolish, " her mother replied, withabsolute calm. 

"Why, I can hear ye as well as ever, when you raise your voice a mite, like that. I should admire to know why you should stay at home on myaccount. I suppose I know my way about the house, if I be losin' myhearing just a dite. It isn't going to spoil my cooking, that I cansee; and I guess Mr. Lindsay won't make no opposition to your going, for any difference it'll make to him. "

Mr. Lindsay, thus appealed to, stammered, and blushed up to his eyes, and stammered again; but finally managed to say, with more or lessdistinctness, that of course whatever was agreeable to Mrs. And MissMellen was agreeable to him, and that he begged not to be consideredin any way in the formation of their plans. 

"That's just what I was thinking!" said his hostess. "A man don't wantno botheration of plans. So that's settled, Rose Ellen. "

Rose Ellen knew it was settled. She was a girl of character andresolution, but she had never resisted her mother's will, nor had anyone else, so far as she knew. She cried a good deal over her packing, and dropped a tear on her silk waist, the pride of her heart, and wassurprised to find that she did not care. "There's no one there to carewhether I look nice or not!" she said aloud; and then blushedfuriously, and looked around the room, fearfully, to be sure that shewas alone. 

Early next morning the crack of a whip was heard, and Calvin Parks'svoice, shouting cheerfully for his passenger. The minister, razor inhand, peeped between his shutters, and saw Rose Ellen come from thehouse, wiping her eyes, and looking back, with anxious eyes. A wave offeeling swept through him, and he felt, for the moment, that he hatedMrs. Mellen. He had never hated any one before in his innocent life;while he was pondering on this new and awful sensation, the pale, pretty face had sunk back in the depths of the old red-lined stage, the whip cracked, and Calvin drove away with his prey. 

Mrs. Mellen came out on the steps, and looked after the stage. Then, with a movement singularly swift for so stout a person, she made a fewpaces down the walk, and, turning, looked up at the windows of thehouses on either side of her own. In both houses a figure was leaningfrom a window, thrown half out over the sill, in an attitude of eagerinquiry. At sight of Mrs. Mellen they dodged back, and only a slightwaving of curtains betrayed their presence. The good woman folded herarms deliberately, and stood for five minutes, absorbed in the distantlandscape; then she turned, and went slowly back to the house. 

"There!" she said, as she closed the door behind her. "That'll keep'em occupied for one while!" and there was infinite content in hertone. 

Mr. Lindsay, coming in to breakfast, found his hostess beaming behindthe teakettle, placid and cheerful as usual. He still hated her, andfound difficulty in replying with alacrity to her remarks on thebeauty of the morning. 

"I expect you and me'll have a right cozy time together!" sheannounced. "You no need to put yourself out to talk to me, 'cause Ireelly don't seem to be hearing very good; and I won't talk to you, save and except when you feel inclined. I know an elder does love tohave a quiet house about him. My sister married a minister, and myfather was a deacon himself, so I'm accustomed to the ways of theministry. "

Mr. Lindsay stirred his tea, gloomily. The words recalled to his mindthose which had so disturbed him a day or two ago, just when all thisqueer business of the deafness had come on. He remembered the spitefultones of the two neighbours, and recalled how the words had hissed inhis ears. He had thought of going away himself, lest he shouldencourage false hopes in the breast of his gentle young friend--or hermother; surely Rose Ellen, --as he said the name to himself, he felthis ears growing pink, and knew that he had not said the name before, even to himself; straightway said it again, to prove the absurdity ofsomething, he was not sure what, and felt his throat dry and hot. NowRose Ellen herself was gone, and for an indefinite time. She had notgone willingly, of that he was sure; but it was equally evident thather mother had no such thoughts as those two harridans had suggested. He glanced up furtively, to meet a broad, beaming glance, and thequestion whether he felt feverish any. 

"You seem to flush up easy!" said Mrs. Mellen. "I should be careful, if I was you, Mr. Lindsay, and not go messing round ponds and such atthis season of the year. It's just this time we commonly look forsickness rising in the air. "

Mr. Lindsay stirred his tea again, and sighed. His mind seemedsingularly distracted; and that, too, when the most precious momentsof the year were passing. He must put all other matters out of hishead, and think only of his great work. 

Had the Blackburnian Warbler been seen in this neighbourhood, as hehad been told? He could hardly believe in such good fortune. The shy, mistrustful bird, hunting the thickest foliage of the tallest foresttrees, --how should his landlady's daughter have seen it when she wasseeking for ferns? yet her description had been exactly that of thebooks: "Upper parts nearly uniform black, with a whitish scapularstripe and a large white patch in the middle of the wing coverts; anoblong patch--" but she had not been positive about the head. No, butshe _was_ positive as to the bright orange-red on chin, throat, andforepart of the breast, and the three white tail-feathers. Ah! why wasshe gone? why was she not here to show him the way, as she promised, to the place where she had seen the rare visitor? He might possiblyhave found the nest, that rare nest which Samuels never saw, whichonly Audubon had described: "composed externally of differenttextures, and lined with silky fibres and thin, delicate strips ofbark, over which lies a thick bed of feathers and horsehair. "

It should be found in a small fork of a tree, should it? five or sixfeet from the ground, near a brook? well, he might still search, thenext time he went out; meanwhile, there were the ferns to analyze, andthat curious moss to determine, if might be. "But mosses are almosthopeless!" he said aloud, with an appealing glance across the table, where he was wont to look for sympathy and encouragement. 

"Soap dish?" said Mrs. Mellen, with alacrity. 

"Well, I don't wonder you ask, Mr. Lindsay. Why, I found it full offrogs' eggs this very morning, and I hove 'em away and scalt it out. It's drying in the sun this minute, and I'll bring it right up to yourroom directly. "

She beamed on him, and left the room. Mr. Lindsay groaned; lookedabout him for help, but found none, and retired, groaning, to hisstudy. 

Part II. 

The minister had had a delightful but exhausting afternoon. He hadgone to look for the nest of a marsh-hen, which he had some reason tothink might be in a certain swamp, about five miles from the village. He did not find the nest, but he found plenty of other things: hispockets bulged with mosses and roots, his hat was wound with a curiousvine that might possibly be Clematis Verticillaris, and both handswere filled with specimens of every conceivable kind. Incidentally themosquitoes and black flies had found him: his face was purple, and, like that of the lady at the Brick Lane Branch tea-party, "swellin'wisibly;" and blood was trickling down his well-shaped nose from abramble-scratch. He had fallen down once or twice in the bog, withresults to his clothes; and altogether he presented a singular figureto the view of his parishioners as he strode hastily through thestreet. Heads were thrust out of windows, staid eyes rolled in horror, but the minister saw nothing. He was tired, and absorbed in his newpossessions. It was good to sit down in his study, and spread histreasures out on the broad table, and gloat over them. A clump of dampmoss rested quietly on his new sermon, "The Slough of Despond, " but hetook no note. He was looking for a place to put this curious littlelizard in, and after anxious thought selected the gilt celluloid box, lined with pink satin, which the Mission Circle had given him onChristmas for his collars and cuffs. He felt, vaguely, that it was notthe right place for the lizard, but there seemed to be nothing else inreach, --except the flitter-work pen-box, and Rose Ellen had made thatfor him. Ah! if Rose Ellen were here now, how much she could help him!it was so much easier for two to analyze than one. He at themicroscope, and Rose Ellen corroborating, correcting from thetextbook, --it was a perfect arrangement. 

The minister sighed heavily. Mrs. Mellen brought in his tea, for itwas Wednesday evening, and he preferred an early cup of tea, and amodest supper after the meeting. Food distracted his mind, he was aptto say, from thought, a statement which his landlady treated withindulgent contempt, as she had never known him to remark thedifference between "riz" bread and the soda article. 

She set the cup down before him, and he promptly dipped a fern rootinto it; then started back with a cry of dismay. 

"Well indeed, sir!" said Mrs. Mellen, "I should think so, truly! Whatdid you do that for, and spoil your tea?"

"The--tea--a--that is, it is of no consequence about the tea!" saidMr. Lindsay, hastily. 

"I fear I have injured the root. I thought it was water. Dear! dear!Miss Mellen was in the habit of bringing me a glass of water when Ibrought plants home. "

Mrs. Mellen said nothing, but brought the water, and a fresh cup oftea; but Mr. Lindsay had fallen into the depths of the moss, and tookno notice of either. 

She left the room, but presently returned, knitting in hand, andstood, unnoticed, in the doorway, glancing from time to time at theminister. He certainly was "a sight to behold, " as she said toherself. She may have thought other things beside, but her face gaveno sign. Presently the bell began to ring for Wednesday eveningmeeting. Mrs. Mellen glanced again at the minister, but he heardnothing. The botany was open before him, and he was muttering strangewords that sounded like witch-talk. 

"Stamens six, hypogenous! anthers introrse! capsule cartilaginous, loculicidally three-valved, scurfy-leaved epiphytic!" What did it allmean? A slow flush crept over the woman's broad, placid face; hereyelids quivered, her eye roamed restlessly about the room. Sheshifted her weight from one foot to the other, and breathed heavily, as if in distress; and still her eyes came back to the slender figurein the great chair, bent in absorbed interest over the table. 

Ding! dong! ding! the notes came dropping through the air, clear andresonant. Even a deaf person might hear them, perhaps. Mrs. Mellen wasevidently struggling with herself. Once she opened her lips as if tospeak; once she stepped forward with outstretched hand, as if to shakethe man into wakefulness and attention; but she did not speak, and herhand dropped again; and presently the bell stopped, and SophroniaMellen went away to her sitting-room, hanging her head. 

Half an hour later there was knocking at the door, and the sound ofmany voices, anxious voices, pitched high and loud, on account of Mrs. Mellen's deafness. 

"How's Mr. Lindsay? When was he took sick? Have ye had the doctor?"

"Do you think it's ketchin', Mis' Mellen? Think of all the youngchildren in this parish, if anythin' should get the rounds! My! it'sawful!"

"How does he look? Some say he was pupple in the face when they seehim coming home through the street. Most everybody did see him, and hewas a sight! Apoplexy, most likely!"

"Has he ever had fits, think? he don't look fitty, but you never cantell. "

"Have ye sent for his folks? You'd feel better to, I sh'd think, ifhe's taken; some say he has a mother rollin' in wealth, down Brunswickway. "

"Well, some say he ain't nothin' of the sort. Christiana Bean saw anaunt of his once, and she hadn't flesh enough on her to bait amouse-trap with, Christiana said so. "

"Does he know you, Mis' Mellen? it's awful to see folks out of theirheads; I don't know how any one kin bear to see it; you'd better letme come in and spell you a bit; you look clean tuckered out with thefright you've had. "

Mrs. Mellen stood and looked quietly at the crowd of "members" thatsurged and cackled about her. 

"I could hear better if one'd speak at a time!" she said, mildly. 

"Did you want to see Elder Lindsay? it--it must be gettin' nearmeetin'-time, isn't it?"

"Meetin'-time! meetin's over, and Mr. Lindsay never come nigh. Do youmean to say he ain't sick? do you mean to say--"

"What _do_ you mean to say, Mis' Mellen?"

Mrs. Mellen held the door in her hand, and still gazed quietly at theexcited throng. At length, --

"Whatever's the matter with Mr. Lindsay, " she said, in clear incisivetones, "I ain't going to let in no lunatic asylum to drive him cleanout of his mind. Deacon Strong and Deacon Todd, if you'll step thisway, I presume Mr. Lindsay'll be pleased to see you. And if the restof you 'ud go home quiet, mebbe it might seem more consistent. Therehas been a meetin', you say? the Baptists will be just about comin'out now. "

An hour later, the two deacons were taking their leave of Mr. Lindsay. They stood, hat in hand, and were looking at the young man withpitying eyes. They were elderly men, of kind disposition. 

"Well, Mr. Lindsay, " Mr. Todd was saying; "I guess we've said aboutall there is to say. Of course 'twas a pity, and such things maketalk; but 'twon't occur again, I dare say. Some say--"

"It _may_ occur again, " cried the young minister. He was sitting withhis head in his hand, and despair in his face. 

"It may occur again! I seem to have no mind, no memory! I am unfit tobe a minister of the Christian Church. My brethren, what shall I do?"

The elder men exchanged glances: then Deacon Strong stepped forwardand laid his hands on the young man's shoulder, for he loved him. 

"Mr. Lindsay, " he said, kindly, "so far as I can see, there's only onething the matter with you; you want a wife!"

"A wife!" repeated Charles Lindsay. His tone suggested that he hadnever heard of the article. 

"A wife!" the deacon said again, with emphasis; and his fellow deaconnodded assent. 

"A sensible, clever young woman, who will help you in parish matters, and be a comfort to you in every way, --a--hem! yes, in every way. " Thedeacon reddened through his beard, and glanced at Deacon Todd; but thelatter was a kind man, and knew Mrs. Strong, and gazed out of thewindow. 

"And--and tell you when it was time for meeting. I don't know as you'dhave to look more'n a hundred miles for the very young woman thatwould make the right kind of helpmeet for you, but you know best aboutthat. Anyway, Mr. Lindsay, it is not good for man to be alone, we haveScripture for that: and it's quite evident that it's particularly badfor you to be alone, with your--a--your love of nature" (the deaconcaught sight of the lizard, peering disconsolately out of the giltcelluloid box, and brought his remarks to a hasty conclusion). "And sowe'll be going, Mr. Lindsay, and don't you fret about to-night'smeeting, for we'll make it all right. "

Mr. Lindsay bowed them out, with vague thanks, and mutteredexpressions of regret. He hardly heard their adieux; the words thatwere saying themselves over and over in his head were, --

"You want a wife!"

Did he want a wife? Was that what was the matter with him? Was thatwhy he went about all day and every day, these last weeks, feeling asif half of him were asleep? He had always been a strong advocate ofthe celibacy of the clergy, as far as his own case went. Nothing, hehad always assured himself, should ever come between him and his work. A wife would be a perpetual distraction: she would want money, andamusement, and a thousand things that he never thought about; and shewould interfere with his sermons, and with his collections, and--andaltogether, he would never marry. But now, --

And what was it that happened only the other day, here in the village?A man and his wife had been quarrelling, to the scandal of the wholecongregation. They were an elderly couple, and when it came tosmashing crockery and emptying pails of water over each other, theminister felt it his duty to interfere. So he called on the wife, intending to reason with her first alone, and then, when she wassoftened and convinced, to call in the husband and reconcile them, andperhaps pray with them, since both were "members. " But before he hadspoken a dozen of his well-arranged and logical sentences, he wasinterrupted by loud and tearful outcries. 

The lady never thought it would come to this, no, never! Some thoughtshe had enough to bear without this, but she knew how to submit tothe will of Providence, and no one should say she struv nor hollered. She knew what was due to a minister, even if he was only just inpants; she only hoped Mr. Lindsay wouldn't see fit to say anything toher husband. Take Reuben Meecher when he was roused, and tigers wastame by him: and if he should know that his wife was spoke to so, bythem as wasn't born or thought of when they was married, and nobodycouldn't say but they had lived respectable for forty years, and nowto come to this! The lady was well used to ministers, and some of themost aged in the country, and she knew what was due to them; but forher part, she thought 'twas well for ministers, as well as others, tospeak of what they'd had exper'ence in, and then there would be nofeeling!

The visit was not a success, nor did it cheer the minister to hear theold couple chuckling to each other as he went sadly away, and to feelthat they were laughing at him. 

But he was very humble, and he laid the spiteful words to heart. 

What did he know? What had he to say to his people, when it came tothe real, terrible things of life? What had he had in his whole life, save kindness and a sheltered home, and then study, and a littledivinity, and a little science? He sat and gazed at the image ofhimself in his mind's glass, and found it a gibbering phantom, withemptiness where should be eyes, and dry dust where should be livingwaters. 

As he sat thus sadly pondering, the sound of voices struck upon hisear. The window was open, and now that his mind was awake, there wasno question of his hearing, when the two next-door neighbours leanedout of their back windows, across Mrs. Mellen's back yard. He hadgrown to loathe the sound of those two voices, the shrill cacklingone, and the fat chuckle that was even more hateful. What were theysaying now?

"You don't tell me she wants to git him for herself? speak jest a ditelouder! She can't hear ye, and he's so muddled up he never heard thebell for meetin', some say; but there's others think he'd bendrinkin', and Deacon Strong and Deacon Todd jest leagued together withSophrony Mellen to hide it. He was black in the face when he camehome, and reelin' in his walk, for I see him with these eyes. "

Charles Lindsay started as if stung by a venomous snake. He put outhis hand to the window, but now the sharp voice broke in, anxious tohave its turn. 

"Well, I shouldn't be a mite surprised if 'twas so, Mis' Bean, andyou've had experience, I'm sure, in such matters, after what yousuffered with Mr. Bean. But what I was sayin', some do say PhronyMellen's bound to have the minister for herself, and that's why shesent Rose Ellen off, traipsin' way down to Tupham, when her grandma'amdon't need her no more'n a toad needs a tail. "

"I want to know if they say that!" replied Mrs. Bean. "But you know, some say Rose Ellen's got a beau down to Tupham, and that's why shewent off without askin' leave or license, and her ma deef and all. Isee her go myself, and she went off early in the mornin', and if everI see a person what you may call slink away secret, like she'd donesomethin' to be 'shamed of, 'twas that girl. _She_ knew what she wasgoin' for, well enough. Rose Ellen ain't no fool, for all she's assmooth as baked custard. Now you mark my words, Mis' Peake, --"

At this moment, the back door opened with a loud clang. Mrs. Mellenstood on the doorstep, and her eyes were very bright. She saidnothing, but gazed calmly up and down the yard, as if considering thebeauty of the night. Then, after a few minutes, she turned andscrutinized her neighbours' windows. Nothing was to be seen, only awhite muslin curtain waved gently in the moonlight: nothing was to beheard, only a faint rustle, probably of the same curtain. 

"It's an elegant night!" said Mrs. Mellen, aloud. "I thought I heardvoices, but my hearin' does play me such tricks, these days. "

Her calm, sensible voice fell like balm on the distracted ears of theminister. He was soothed, he knew not why. The horrors that thoseharpies suggested, --could there be truth in them? Rose Ellen witha--his mind refused to frame the detestable word! Was there anythingtrue in the world? Was it all scandal and hatefulness and untruth?

He rose and paced his study in anguish of mind, but his ears werestill awake, --he thought he never should regain the joy of losinghimself, --and now another sound came to them, the sound of wheels. Whydid his heart stop, and then beat violently? What was there in thesound of wheels? It was the late stage, of course, and Calvin Parkswas driving fast, as usual, to get to his home, five miles away, before ten o'clock at night. But that stage came from Tupham, andTupham meant Rose Ellen. Rose Ellen, who was as smooth as bakedcustard, and who had a--the wheels were slacking; the steady beat ofthe horses' feet stopped; the stage had paused at the Widow Mellen'sdoor. 

"Here we be!" said Calvin Parks. "Take my hand, Rosy! so, thar shegoes! Hope ye'll find yer ma right smart! Give her my respects andtell her, --wal, I swan!"

For the door flew open, and out ran the minister, torn and stained andcovered with dust, and caught Rose Ellen by both hands and drew heralmost forcibly into the house. 

"Mother!" cried the girl. "How is she? I--I got so scared, not hearingfrom her, I couldn't stay another day, Mr. Lindsay!"

"Oh, --your mother?" said Mr. Lindsay, incoherently. "She--a--she seemsto be in excellent health, except for her deafness. It is I who amill, Rose Ellen: very ill, and wanting you more than I could bear!"

"Wanting me?" faltered Rose Ellen, with lips wide, with blue eyesbrimming over. "You, Mr. Lindsay, wanting me?"

"Yes, Rose Ellen!" cried the minister. They were still standing in thepassage, and he was still holding her hands, and it was quite absurd, only neither of them seemed to realize it. 

"I have always wanted you, but I have only just found it out. I cannotlive at all without you: I have been only half alive since you wentaway. I want you for my own, for always. "

"Oh, you can have me!" cried Rose Ellen, and the blue eyes brimmedover altogether with happy shining tears. "Oh, I was yours all thetime, only I didn't know you--I didn't know--"

She faltered, and then hurried on. "It--it wasn't only that I wasscared about mother, Mr. Lindsay. I couldn't stay away from--oh, somesaid--some said you were going to be married, and I couldn't bear it, no, I couldn't!"

But when Charles Lindsay heard that, he drew Rose Ellen by both handsinto the study, and shut the door. And only the lizard knew whathappened next. 

 * * * * *

It was a month later. 

There had been a wedding, the prettiest wedding that the village hadever seen. The whole world seemed turned to roses, and the sweetestrose of all, Rose Ellen Lindsay, had gone away on her husband's arm, and Deacon Strong and Deacon Todd were shaking hands very hard, andblowing peals of joy with their pocket-handkerchiefs. Mrs. Mellen hadpreserved her usual calm aspect at the wedding, and looked youngenough to be her own daughter, "some said, " in her gray silk and whitestraw bonnet. But when it was all over, the wedding party gone, andthe neighbours scattered to their homes again, Sophronia Mellen did astrange thing. She went round deliberately, and opened every window ofher house. The house stood quite apart, with only the two houses closebeside it on either hand, and no others till you came quite into thestreet itself. She opened every window to its utmost. Then she took atin pan, and a pair of tongs, and leaned out of the front parlourwindow, and screamed three times, at the top of her lungs, beatingmeanwhile with all her might upon the pan. Then she went to the nextwindow, and screamed and banged again, and so on all over the house. There were twenty windows in her house, and by the time she had gonethe round, she was crimson and breathless. Nevertheless, she managedto put her last breath into a shriek of such astounding volume thatthe windows fairly rang. One last defiant clang of the tongs on thetin pan and then she sat down quietly by the back parlour window, andsettled herself well behind the curtain, and prepared to enjoy herselfthoroughly. "They shall have their fill this time!" she murmured toherself; "and I shall get all the good of it. "

For some minutes there was dead silence: the event had been too awfulto be treated lightly. At length a rustling was heard, and verycautiously a sharp nose, generously touched with colour, was protrudedfrom the window of the left-hand house. 

"Mis' Bean, " said the owner of the nose. "Be you there?"

"Well, I should say I was!" was the reply; and Mrs. Bean's fat curlsshook nervously out of her window. 

"Maria Peake, what do you s'pose this means? Ain't it awful? Why, I'vegot palpitations to that degree, --don't s'pose there's a robber inthe house, do ye? with all them weddin' presents about, 'twould be adreadful thing! 'Tain't likely he would spare her life, and she tryin'to give the alarm like that! Most likely she's layin' dead thisminute, and welterin' in her--"

"Sssssssh!" hissed Mrs. Peake, in a deadly whisper. "Melissa Bean, youwon't let a person hear herself think. 'Tain't no robber, I tell ye!She's gone out of her mind, Phrony Mellen has, as sure as you're abreathin' woman!"

"You don't tell me she has!" Mrs. Bean leaned further out, her eyesdistended with awful curiosity, her fat lips dropping apart. She wasnot a pleasant object, the hidden observer thought; but she was noworse than the skinny cabbage-stalk which now stretched itself far outfrom the opposite window. 

"I tell ye, " Mrs. Peake hissed, still in that serpent-whisper, themost penetrating sound that ever broke stillness, "She's as crazy as aclo'esline in a gale o' wind. Some say she's wore an onsettled eye forsix weeks past, and she glared at me yesterday, when I run in to borryan egg, same as if I was one wild animal and she was another. Ssssh!'Tis Bowler, I tell ye! They go that way, jest as often as they git achance! I call it an awful jedgment on Elder Lindsay, bein' marriedinto that family. Some say his mother besought him on her bendedknees, but he was clean infatooated. I declare to you, Mis' Bean, I'mterrified most to death, to think of you and me alone here, so near toa ravin' lunatic. I don't think nothin' of robbers, alongside o'madness. She might creep in while you're standin' there, --your houseis more handy by than mine, 'count of there bein' no fence, and--"

"Yah! bah! ha! ha! ha! hurrah!" sounded in sharp, clear tones fromMrs. Mellen's window. Two ghastly faces, white with actual terror, gazed at each other for an instant, then disappeared; and immediatelyafter was heard a sound of bolts being driven home, and of heavyfurniture being dragged about. 

But Mrs. Mellen sat and fanned herself, being somewhat heated, andgazed calmly at the beauty of the prospect. 

"I've enjoyed myself real well!" she said. "I couldn't free my mind, not while Rosy and Mr. Lindsay was round; I've had a real good time. "

She fanned herself placidly, and then added, addressing the universein general, with an air of ineffable good will:

"I shouldn't wonder if my hearin' improved, too, kind o' suddin, sameas it came on. That's Bowler, too! It's real convenient, bein' aBowler!"

 * * * * *

NEIGHBOURS IN CYRUS

NEIGHBOURS IN CYRUS. 

"Hi-Hi!" said Miss Peace, looking out of the window. "It is reallyraining. Isn't that providential, now?"

"Anne Peace, you are enough to provoke a saint!" replied a peevishvoice from the furthest corner of the room. "You and your providencesare more than I can stand. What do you mean this time, I _should_ liketo know? the picnic set for to-day, and every soul in the villagelottin' on goin', 'xcept those who _would_ like best to go and can't. I've been longin' for these two years to go to a picnic and it's neverben so's I could. And now, jest when I _could_ ha' gone, thisaffliction must needs come to me. And then to have you rejoicin''cause it rains!"

The speaker paused for breath, and Miss Peace answered mildly: "I'mreal sorry for you, Delia, you know I am; and if the' was any way ofgetting you to the grove, --but what I was thinking of, you know Icouldn't finish Jenny Miller's dress last night, do what I could; andseeing it raining now, thinks I, they'll have to put off the picnictill to-morrow or next day, and then Jennie can go as nice as therest. She does need a new dress, more than most of the girls who hasthem. And she's so sweet and pretty, it's a privilege to do for her. That's all I was thinking, Delia. "

Mrs. Delia Means sniffed audibly, then she groaned. 

"Your leg hurting you?" cried Miss Peace, with ready sympathy. 

"Well, I guess you'd think so, " was the reply. "If _you_ had red-hotneedles run into your leg. Not that it's any matter to anybody. "

"Hi-hi, " said Miss Peace, cheerily. "It's time the bandages waschanged, Delia. You rest easy just a minute, and I'll run and fetchthe liniment and give you a rub before I put on the new ones. "

Mrs. Means remaining alone, it is proper to introduce her to thereader. She and Miss Peace were the rival seamstresses of CyrusVillage; that is, they would have been rivals, if Mrs. Means had hadher way; but rivalry was impossible where Anne Peace was one of theparties. She had always maintained stoutly that Delia Means neededwork a sight more than she did, having a family, and her husband soweakly and likely to go off with consumption 'most any time. Many andmany a customer had Anne turned from her door, with her pleasantsmile, and "I don't hardly know as I could, though I should be pleasedto accommodate you; but I presume likely Mis' Means could do it foryou. She doos real nice work, and I don't know as she's so much drovejust now as I am. "

Delia Case had been a schoolmate of Anne Peace's. She was a prettygirl, with a lively sense of her own importance and a chronic tastefor a grievance. She had married well, as every one thought, but inthese days her husband had lost his health and Delia was obliged toput her shoulder to the wheel. She sewed well, but there was a sighevery time her needle went into the cloth, and a groan when it cameout. 

"A husband and four children, and have to sew for a living!"--this wasthe burden of her song; and it had become familiar to her neighbourssince David Means had begun to "fail up, " as they say in Cyrus. 

Anne Peace had always been the faithful friend of "Delia Dumps. " (Itwas Uncle Asy Green who had given her the name which stuck to herthrough thick and thin--Uncle Asy believed in giving people their due, and thought "Anne made a dreffle fool of herself, foolin' round withthat woman at all. ") Anne had been her faithful friend, and neverallowed people to make fun of her if she were present. 

A week before my story opens, when Mrs. Means fell down and broke herleg, just as she was passing Miss Peace's house, the latter ladydeclared it to be a special privilege. 

"I can take care of her, " she explained to the doctor, when heexpressed regret at being obliged to forbid the sufferer's being movedfor some weeks, "just as well as not and better. David isn't fit tohave the care of her, and--well, doctor, I can say to you, who know itas well as I do, that Delia mightn't be the best person for David tohave round him just now, when he needs cheering up. Then, too, I cando her sewing along with my own, as easy as think; work's slack now, and there's nothing I'm specially drove with. I've been wishing rightalong that I could do something to help, now that David is so poorly. I'm kin to David, you know, so take it by and large, doctor, it doosseem like a privilege, doesn't it?"

The doctor growled. He was not fond of Mrs. Means. 

"If you can get her moved out of Grumble Street and into ThanksgivingAlley, " he said, "it'll be a privilege for this village; but you can'tdo it, Anne. However, there's no use talking to you, you incorrigibleoptimist. You're the worst case I ever saw, Anne Peace, and I haven'tthe smallest hope of curing you. Put the liniment on her leg as Itold you, and I'll call in the morning. Good day!"

"My goodness me, what was he saying to you?" Mrs. Means asked as Annewent back into the bedroom. "You've got something that you'll neverget well of? Well, Anne Peace, that does seem the cap sheaf on thehull. Heart complaint, I s'pose it is; and what would become of me, ifyou was to be struck down, as you might be any minute of time, and mehelpless here, and a husband and four children at home and he failin'up. You did look dretful gashly round the mouth yisterday, I noticedit at the time, but of course I didn't speak of it. Why, here I shouldlay, and might starve to death, and you cold on the floor, for all thehelp I should get. " Mrs. Means shed tears, and Anne Peace answeredwith as near an approach to asperity as her soft voice could command. 

"Don't talk foolishness, Delia. I'm not cold yet, nor likely to be. Here, let me 'tend to your leg; it's time I was getting dinner on thisminute. "

It continued to rain on the picnic day; no uncertain showers, to keepup a chill and fever of fear and hope among the young people, but agood, honest downpour, which everybody past twenty must recognize asbeing just the thing the country needed. Jenny Miller came in, smilingall over, though she professed herself "real sorry for them as wasdisappointed. " "Tudie Peaslee sat down and cried, when she saw 'twasrainin', " she said, as she prepared to give her dress the finaltrying-on. "There, Miss Peace. I did try to feel for her, but I justcouldn't, seems though. Oh, ain't that handsome? that little puff istoo cute for anything! I do think you've been smart, Miss Peace. Notthat you ever was anything else. "

"You've a real easy figure to fit, Jenny, " Miss Peace replied, modestly. "I guess that's half the smartness of it. It doos set good, though, I'm free to think. The styles is real pretty this summer, anyhow. Don't that set good, Delia?"

She turned to Mrs. Means, who was lying on the sofa (they call it al'unge in Cyrus), watching the trying-on with keenly critical eyes. 

"Ye-es, " she said. "The back sets good enough, but 'pears to methere's a wrinkle about the neck that I shouldn't like to see in anywork of mine. I've always ben too particklar, though; it's time thrownaway, but I can't bear to send a thing out 'cept jest as it shouldbe. "

"It _don't_ wrinkle, Mis' Means!" cried Jenny, indignantly. "Not amite. I was turning round to look at the back of the skirt, and thatpulled it; there ain't a sign of a wrinkle, Miss Peace, so don't youthink there is. "

Mrs. Means sniffed, and said something about the change in youngfolks' manners since she was a girl. "If I'd ha' spoke so to myelders--I won't say betters, for folks ain't thought much of when theyhave to sew for a livin', with a husband and four children to keerfor--I guess I should ha' found it out in pretty quick time. "

"Hi-hi!" said Miss Peace, soothingly. "There, Delia, Jenny didn't meananything. Jenny, I guess I'll have to take you into the bedroom, so'sI can pull this skirt out a little further. This room doos get socluttered with all my things round. " She hustled Jenny, swelling likean angry partridge, into the next room, and closed the door carefully. 

"You don't want to anger Mis' Means, dear, " she said gently, takingthe pins out of her mouth for freer speech. "She may be jest a scrappudgicky now and again, but she's seen trouble, you know, and she doosfeel it hard to be laid up, and so many looking to her at home. Turnround, dear, jest a dite--there!"

"I can't help it, Miss Peace, " said Jenny. "There's no reason why Mis'Means should speak up and say the neck wrinkled, when anybody can seeit sets like a duck's foot in the mud. I don't mind what she says tome, but I ain't goin' to see you put upon, nor yet other folks ain't. I should like to know! and that wrapper she cut for Tudie Peaslee setso bad, you'd think she'd fitted it on the pump in the back yard, Mis' Peaslee said so herself. "

"Hi-hi!" cried Anne Peace, softly, with an apprehensive glance towardthe door; "don't speak so loud, Jennie. Tudie ain't so easy a form tofit as you, not near. And you say she was real put about, do ye, atthe picnic being put off?"

"She was so!" Jenny assented, seeing that the subject was to bechanged. "She'd got her basket all packed last night, she made so sure'twas goin' to be fine to-day. Chicken sandwiches, she had, and bakeda whole pan of sponge-drops, jest because some one--you know who--isfond of 'em. " Miss Peace nodded sagely, with her mouth full of pins, and would have smiled if she could; "and now they've put it off tillSaturday, 'cause the minister can't go before then, and every livin'thing will be spoiled. "

"Dear, dear!" cried Miss Anne, her kind face clouding over; "that doesseem too bad, don't it? all those nice things! and Tudie makes thebest sponge-cakes I ever eat, pretty nigh. "

Jenny smiled, and stretched her hand toward a basket she had brought. "They won't really be wasted, Miss Peace, " she said. "Tudie thoughtyou liked 'em, and I've got some of 'em here for you, this veryminute. You was to eat 'em for your own supper, Tudie told me to tellyou so. "

"Well, I do declare, if that isn't thoughtful!" exclaimed Miss Peace, looking much gratified. "Tudie is a sweet girl, I must say. Delia isreal fond of cake, and she's been longing for some, but it doos seemas if I couldn't find time to make it, these days. "

"I should think not!" cried Jenny (who was something of a pepper-pot, it must be confessed), "I should think not, when you have her to takecare of, and her work and yours to do, and all. And, MissPeace, --Tudie meant the sponge-drops for _you_, every one. She told meso. "

"Yes, dear, to be sure she did, and that's why I feel so pleased, justas much as if I had eaten them. But bread _is_ better for me, and--why! if she hasn't sent a whole dozen. One, two, three--yes, adozen, and one over, sure as I stand here. Now, that I call generous. And, I'll tell you what, dearie! Don't say a word, for I wouldn't forworlds have Tudie feel to think I was slighting her, or didn'tappreciate her kindness; but--well, I _have_ wanted to send somelittle thing round to that little girl of Josiah Pincher's, that hasthe measles, and I do suppose she'd be pleased to death with some ofthese sponge-drops. Hush! don't say a word, Jenny! it would be a realprivilege to me, now it would. And you know it isn't that I don'tthink the world of Tudie, and you, too; now, don't you?"

Jenny protested, half-laughing, and half-crying; for Tudie Peaslee haddeclared herself ready to bet that Miss Peace would not eat a singleone of the sponge-drops, and Jenny had vowed she should. But would sheor would she not, before ten minutes were over she had promised toleave the sponge-drops at the Pinchers' door as she went by, forlittle Geneva. There was no resisting Miss Peace, Tudie was right; butsuddenly a bright idea struck Jenny, just as she was putting on herhat and preparing to depart. Seizing one of the sponge-drops, shebroke off a bit, and fairly popped it into Miss Peace's mouth, as thegood lady was going to speak. "It's broke, now, " she cried, in highglee, "it's broke in two, and you can't give it to nobody. Set rightdown, Miss Peace, and let me feed you, same as I do my canary bird. "She pushed the little dressmaker into a chair, and the bits followedeach other in such quick succession that Miss Peace could make noprotest beyond a smothered, "Oh, don't ye, dear; now don't! that'senough!--my stars, Jenny, what do you think my mouth's made of?"(Crunch!) "There, dear, there! It is real good--oh, dear! not so fast. I _shall_ choke! Tell Tudie--no, dearie, not another morsel!"(Crunch. ) "Well, Jenny Miller, I didn't think you would act so, now Ididn't. "

The sponge-cake was eaten, and Jenny, with a triumphant kiss on thelittle rosy, withered-apple cheek, popped her head in at the parlourdoor to cry, "Good day, Mis' Means!" and flew laughing away with hervictory and her cakes. 

"Well, Anne Peace, " was Mrs. Means's greeting, as her hostess cameback, looking flushed and guilty, and wiping her lips on her apron, "how you can stand havin' that Miller girl round here passes me. She'dbe the death of me, I know that; but it's lucky other folks ain't sofeelin' as I am, I always say. Of all the forward, up-standin' tykesever I see--but there! it ain't to be supposed anybody cares whetherI'm sassed or whether I ain't. "

Saturday was bright and fair, and Anne Peace stood at the window witha beaming smile, watching the girls troop by on their way to thepicnic. She had moved Mrs. Means's sofa out of the corner, so that shecould see, too, and there was a face at each window. Miss Peace was alittle plump, partridge-like woman, with lovely waving brown hair, andtwinkling brown eyes. She had never been a beauty, but people alwaysliked to look at her, and the young people declared she grew prettierevery year. Mrs. Means was tall and weedy, with a figure that used tobe called willowy, and was now admitted to be lank; her once faircomplexion had faded into sallowness, and her light hair had beenfrizzed till there was little left of it. Her eyebrows had gone up, and the corners of her mouth had gone down, so that her general effectwas depressing in the extreme. 

"There go Tudie and Jenny!" cried Miss Peace, in delight. "If theyain't a pretty pair, then I never saw one, that's all. Jenny's dressdoos set pretty, if I do say it; and after all, it's her in it thatmakes it look so well. There comes the minister, Delia. Now I'm gladthe roses are out so early. He doos so love roses, Mr. Goodnow does. And the honeysuckle is really a sight. Why, this is the first time youhave fairly seen the garden, Delia, since you came. Isn't it lookingpretty?"

"I never did see how you could have your garden right close 't ontothe street that way, Anne, " was the reply. "Everybody 't comes bystoppin' and starin', and pokin' their noses through the fence. Lookat them boys, now! why, if they ain't smellin' at the roses, theboldfaced brats. Knock at the winder, Anne, and tell 'em to git out. Shoo! be off with you!" She shook her fist at the window, but, fortunately, could not reach it. 

"Hi-hi!" said Anne Peace. "You don't mean that, Delia. What's rosesfor but to smell? I do count it a privilege, to have folks takepleasure in my garden. " She threw up the window, and nodded pleasantlyto the children. "Take a rose, sonny, if you like 'em, " she said. "Take two or three, there's enough for all. Whose little boys areyou?" she added, as the children, in wondering delight, timidly brokeoff a blossom or two. "Mis' Green's, over to the Corners! Now I wantto know! have you grown so 't I didn't know you? and how's yourmother? Jest wait half a minute, and I'll send her a little posy. There's some other things besides roses, perhaps she'd like to have afew of. "

She darted out, and filled the boys' hands with pinks and mignonette, pansies and geraniums. 

It was not a large garden, this of Anne Peace's, but every inch ofspace was made the most of. The little square and oblong beds layclose to the fence, and from tulip-time to the coming of frost theywere ablaze with flowers. Nothing was allowed to straggle, or to takeup more than its share of room. The roses were tied firmly to theirneat green stakes; the crown-imperials nodded over a spot of groundbarely large enough to hold their magnificence; while the phlox andsweet-william actually had to fight for their standing-room. 

It was a pleasant sight, at all odd times of the day, to see MissPeace bending over her flowers, snipping off dead leaves, pruning, andtending, all with loving care. 

Many flower-lovers are shy of plucking their favourites, and I recallone rose-fancier, whose gifts, like those of the Greeks, were dreadedby his neighbours, as the petals were always ready to drop before hecould make up his mind to cut one of the precious blossoms; but thiswas not the case with Anne Peace. Dozens of shallow baskets hung inher neat back entry, and they were filled and sent, filled and sent, all summer long, till one would have thought they might almost findtheir way about alone. It is a positive fact that her baskets werealways brought back, "a thing imagination boggles at;" but perhapsthis was because the neighbours liked them better full than empty. 

"Makin' flowers so cheap, " Mrs. Means would say, "seems to take thewuth of 'em away, to my mind; but I'm too feelin', I know that wellenough. Anne, she's kind o' callous, and she don't think of thingsthat make me squinch, seem's though. "

Weeks passed on, the broken leg was healed, and Mrs. Means departed toher own house. "I s'pose you'll miss me, Anne, " she said, at parting, "I shall you; and you have ben good to me, if 't _has_ ben kind o'dull here, so few comin' and goin'. " (Miss Peace's was generally thefavourite resort of all the young people of the village, and half theold ones, but the "neighbouring" had dropped off, since Mrs. Meanshad been there. ) "Good-by, Anne, and thank you for all you've done. Ifeel to be glad I've been company for you, livin' alone as you do, with no husband nor nothin' belongin' to you. "

"Good-by, Delia, " replied Anne Peace, cheerfully. "Don't you fretabout me. I'm used to being alone, you know; and it's been aprivilege, I'm sure, to do what I could for you, so long as we've beenacquainted. My love to David, and don't forget to give him the syrup Iput in the bottom of your trunk for him. "

"'Twon't do him any good!" cried Mrs. Means, as the wagon drove away, turning her head to shout back at her hostess. "He's bound to die, David is. He'll never see another spring, I tell him, and then I shallbe left a widder, with four children and--"

"Oh, gerlang! gerlang, _up_!" shouted Calvin Parks, the stage-driver, whose stock of patience was small; the horse started, and Mrs. Means'swails died away in the distance. 

In this instance the predictions of the doleful lady seemed likely tobe verified; for David Means continued to "fail up. " Always a slightman, he was now mere skin and bone, and his cheerful smile grewpathetic to see. He was a distant cousin of Anne Peace's, and hadsomething of her placid disposition; a mild, serene man, bearing histroubles in silence, finding his happiness in the children whom heloved almost passionately. He had married Delia Case because she waspretty, and because she wanted to marry him; had never known, andwould never know, that he might have had a very different kind ofwife. Perhaps Anne Peace hardly knew herself that David had been theromance of her life, so quickly had the thought been put away, soearnestly had she hoped for his happiness; but she admitted franklythat she "set by him, " and she was devoted to his children. 

"Can nothing be done?" she asked the good doctor one day, as they cameaway together from David's house, leaving Delia shaking her head fromthe doorsteps. "Can nothing be done, doctor? it doos seem as if Icouldn't bear to see David fade away so, and not try anything to stopit. "

Doctor Brown shook his head thoughtfully. "I doubt if there's muchchance for him, Anne, " he said kindly. "David is a good fellow, and ifI saw any way--it might be possible, if he could be got off to Floridabefore cold weather comes on--there is a chance; but I don't supposeit could be managed. He has no means, poor fellow, save what hecarries in his name. "

"Florida?" said Anne Peace, thoughtfully; and then she straightwayforgot the doctor's existence, and hurried off along the street, withhead bent and eyes which saw nothing they rested on. 

Reaching her home, where all the flowers smiled a bright welcome, unnoticed for once, her first action was to take out of a drawer alittle blue book, full of figures, which she studied with ardour. Thenshe took a clean sheet of paper, and wrote certain words at the top ofit; then she got out her best bonnet. 

Something very serious was on hand when Miss Peace put on her bestbonnet. She had only had it four years, and regarded it still as asacred object, to be taken out on Sundays and reverently looked at, then put back in its box, and thought about while she tied the stringsof the ten-year-old velvet structure, which was quite as good as new. Two weddings had seen the best bonnet in its grandeur, and threefunerals; but no bells, either solemn or joyous, summoned her to-day, as she gravely placed the precious bonnet on her head, and surveyedher image with awestruck approval in the small mirror over themantelpiece. 

"It's _dreadful_ handsome!" said Miss Peace, softly. "It's toohandsome for me, a great sight, but I want to look my best now, ifever I did. "

It was at Judge Ransom's door that she rang first; a timid, apologeticring, as if she knew in advance how busy the judge would be, and howwrong it was of her to intrude on his precious time. But the judgehimself opened the door, and was not at all busy, but delighted tohave a chance to chat with his old friend, whom he had not seen for amonth of Sundays. He made her come in, and put her in the biggestarmchair (which swallowed her up so that hardly more than the bonnetwas visible), and drew a footstool before her little feet, whichdangled helplessly above it; then he took his seat opposite, inanother big chair, and said it was a fine day, and then waited, seeingthat she had something of importance to say. 

Miss Peace's breath came short and quick, and she fingered herreticule nervously. She had not thought it would be quite so dreadfulas this. "Judge, " she said--and paused, frightened at the sound of hervoice, which seemed to echo in a ghostly manner through the big room. 

"Well, Miss Peace!" said the judge, kindly. "Well, Anne, what is it?How can I serve you? Speak up, like a good girl. Make believe we areback in the little red schoolhouse again, and you are prompting me inmy arithmetic lesson. "

Anne Peace laughed and coloured. "You're real kind, judge, " she said. "I wanted--'twas only a little matter"--she stopped to clear herthroat, feeling the painful red creep up her cheeks, and over herbrow, and into her very eyes, it seemed; then she thought of David, and straightway she found courage, and lifted her eyes and spoke outbravely. "David Means, you know, judge; he is failing right along, andit doos seem as if he couldn't last the winter. But Doctor Brownthinks that if he should go to Florida, it might be so 't he could bespared. So--David hasn't means himself, of course, what with his poorhealth and his large family, and some thought that if we could raise asubscription right here, among the folks that has always known David, it might be so 't he could go. What do you think, judge?"

The judge nodded his head, thoughtfully. 

"I don't see why it couldn't be done, Miss Peace, " he said, kindly. "David is a good fellow, and has friends wherever he is known; Ishould think it might very well be done, if the right person takes itup. "

"I--I've had no great experience, " faltered Anne Peace, looking down, "but I'm kin to David, you know, and as he has no one nearer living, Itook it upon myself to carry round a paper and see what I could raise. I came to you first, judge, as you've always been a good friend toDavid. I've got twenty-five dollars already--"

"I thought you said you came to me first, " said the judge, holding outhis hand for the paper. "What's this? A friend, twenty-five dollars?"

"Yes, " said Anne Peace, breathlessly. "They--they didn't wish theirname mentioned--"

"Oh, they didn't, didn't they?" muttered the judge, looking at herover his spectacles. Such a helpless look met his--the look ofhopeless innocence trying to deceive and knowing that it was notsucceeding--that a sudden dimness came into his own eyes, and he wasfain to take off his spectacles and wipe them, just as if he had beenlooking through them. And through the mist he seemed to see--not MissAnne Peace, in her best bonnet and her cashmere shawl, but anotherAnne Peace, a little, brown-eyed, slender maiden, sitting on a brownbench, looking on with rapture while David Means ate her luncheon. 

It was the judge's turn to clear his throat. 

"Well, Anne, " he said, keeping his eyes on the paper, "this--thisunknown friend has set a good example, and I don't see that I can doless than follow it. You may put my name down for twenty-five, too. "

"Oh, judge, " cried Miss Peace, with shining eyes. "You are too good. Ididn't expect, I'm sure--well, you _are_ kind!"

"Not at all! not at all!" said the judge, gruffly (and indeed, twenty-five dollars was not so much to him as it was to "them, " whohad made the first contribution). 

"You know I owe David Means something, for licking him when he--"

"Oh, don't, Dan'el--judge, I should say, " cried Anne Peace, inconfusion. "Don't you be raking up old times. I'm sure I thank you athousand times, and so will Delia, when she--"

"No, she won't, " said the judge. "Tell the truth, Anne Peace! Deliawill say I might have given fifty and never missed it. There! I won'tdistress you, my dear. Good day, and all good luck to you!" and soended Miss Peace's first call. 

With such a beginning, there was no doubt of the success of thesubscription. Generally, in Cyrus, people waited to see what JudgeRansom and Lawyer Peters gave to any charity, before making their owncontribution. "Jedge Ransom has put down five dollars, has he? Wellhe's wuth so much, and I'm wuth so much. Guess fifty cents will beabout the right figger for me:" this is the course of reasoning inCyrus. But with an unknown friend starting off with twenty-fivedollars and Judge Ransom following suit, it became apparent to everyone that David Means must go to Florida, whatever happened. The dollarand five-dollar subscriptions poured in rapidly, till, one happy day, Anne Peace stood in her little room and counted the full amount out onthe table, and then sat down (it was not her habit to kneel, and shewould have thought it too familiar, if not actually popish) andthanked God as she had never found it necessary to thank Him for anyof the good things of her own life. 

So David Means went to Florida, and his wife and two children wentwith him. This had been no part of the original plan, but at the bareidea of his going without her, Mrs. Means had raised a shrill cry ofprotest. "What? David go down there, and she and the children stayperishing at home? she guessed not. If Florida was good for David, itwas good for her, too, and she laid up ever sence spring, as she mightsay, and with no more outing than a woodchuck in January. Besides, whowas to take care of David, she'd like to know? Mis' Porter's folks, who had a place there? She'd like to know if she was to be beholden toJane Porter's folks for taking care of her lawful husband, and likeenough laying him out, for she wasn't one to blind herself, nor yet toset herself against the will of Providence. " Doctor Brown stormed andfumed, but Anne Peace begged him to be quiet, and "presumed likely"she could raise enough to cover the expenses for Delia and the twoolder children. 'Twas right and proper, of course, that his wifeshould go with him, and David wouldn't have any pleasure in the tripif he hadn't little Janey and Willy along. He did set so by thosechildren, it was a privilege to see them together; he was always oneto make of children, David was. 

She did raise the extra money, this sweet saint, but she ate no meatfor a month, finding it better for her health. Joey and Georgie Means, however, never wanted for their bit of steak at noon, and grew fat androsy under Miss Peace's kindly roof. 

It was a pathetic sight when the sick man took leave of the littlegroup of friends and neighbours that gathered on the platform at thestation to bid him farewell. He had lost courage, poor David; perhapshe had not very much to start with, and things had gone hard with himfor a long time. He knew he should never see these faces again, thishomely, friendly place. He gazed about with wistful eyes, noting everyspot in the bare little station. He had known it all by heart, eversince he was a child, for his father had been station-master. He couldhave built the whole thing over, with his eyes shut, he thought, andnow he should never see it again. Yet he was glad to go, in a way, glad to think, at least, that he should die warm, as his wifeexpressed it, and that his tired eyes were going to look on green andblossoming things, instead of the cold, white beauty which meantwinter to him. 

He had scarcely ever left Cyrus for more than a day or two; he had avague idea that it was not creditable to go to the other world, and beable to give so little account of this one. Now, at least, he shouldbe able to look his seafaring grandfather and his roving uncle in theface, if so be he should happen to meet them "over yender. "

He stood on the platform with his youngest child clasped close in hisarms. This was the hardest part of all, to leave the children. Hiswife and the two older children had already taken their places in thecar, and the good-natured conductor stood with his watch in his hand, willing to give David every second he conscientiously could. He camefrom East Cyrus himself, and was a family man. 

Anne Peace stood close by, holding fast the hand of little Joey. Strange sounds were in her ears, which she did not recognize as thebeating of her own heart; she kept looking over her shoulder, to seewhat was coming. Her eyes never left David's face, but they werehopeful, even cheerful eyes. She thought he would come back muchbetter, perhaps quite well. Doctor had said there was a chance, andshe did hear great things of Florida. 

And now the conductor put up his watch and hardened his heart. "Come, David, better step inside now. All aboard!"

"Good-by, David!" cried Doctor Brown, waving a friendly hand. 

"Good-by, David!" cried Anne Peace, lifting little Joey in her arms, though he was far too heavy for her. 

"Look at father, Joey dear, throw a kiss to father; good-by, good-by, David!" The train moved out of the station, but David Means, his eyesfixed on the faces of his children, had forgotten to look at AnnePeace. 

Winter came, and a bitter winter it was. No one in Cyrus couldremember such steady cold, since the great winter of sixty years ago, when the doctor's grandfather was frozen to death, driving across theplains to visit a poor woman. The horse went straight to the place, his head being turned that way and his understanding being good; butwhen the farmer came out with his lantern, there sat the old doctorstiff and dead in his sleigh. Those were the days when people, evendoctors, had not learned how to wrap up, and would drive about allwinter with high, stiff hats and one buffalo robe, not tucked in, aswe have them nowadays, but dropping down at their feet. There wassmall chance of our Doctor Brown's freezing to death, in hiswell-lined sleigh, with his fur cap pulled down over his nose and hisfur coat buttoned up to his chin and the great robes tucked round himin a scientific manner. Still, for all that, it was a bitter winter, and a good many people in Cyrus and elsewhere, who had no fur coats, went cold by day and lay cold by night, as one good lady patheticallyexpressed it. There was little snow, and what there was fell inwonderful crystals, fairy studies in geometry, which delighted theeyes of Joey and Georgie Means, as they trotted to school, with MissPeace's "nuby" over one little head and her shawl over the other. Every morning the sun rose in a clear sky, shining like steel; everyevening the same sky glowed with wonderful tints of amethyst andtender rose, fading gradually, till all was blue once more, and thestars had it all their own way, throbbing with fierce, cold light. 

It was a great winter for Joey and Georgie! They never thought of itsbeing too cold, for every morning their toes were toasted over thefire before schooltime, as if they had been muffins, and they weresent off nice and hot, with a baked potato in each pocket, in casetheir hands should be cold through the two pairs of thick mittenswhich Aunt Peace had provided. 

Then, when they came home, dinner was waiting, such a dinner as theywere not in the habit of having; a little mutton pie, or a smokingIrish stew, with all the dumplings and gravy they wanted (and theywanted a great deal), and then pancakes, tossed before their veryeyes, with a spoonful of jam in the middle of each, or blanc-mangemade in the shape of a cow, which tasted quite different from anyother blanc-mange that ever was. Also, they had the freedom of thecorn-popper, and might roast apples every evening till bedtime. Doctor Brown shook his head occasionally, and told Anne Peace shewould unfit those children for anything else in life than eating goodthings; but it was very likely that was jealousy, he added, forcertainly his medicines had never given the children these rosy cheeksand sparkling eyes. 

And when bedtime came, and the two little brown heads were nestleddown in the pillows of the big four-poster in the warm room, AnnePeace would humbly give thanks that they had been well and happythrough another day, and then creep off to the cold, little room whichshe had chosen this winter, "because it was more handy. " Often, whenawakened in the middle of the night by the sharp, cracking frostnoises, which tell of intensest cold, she would creep in to feel ofthe children, and make sure that they were as warm as two littledormice, which they always were. I do not know how many times she tooka blanket or comforter off her own bed to add to their store; but I doknow that she would not let Jenny Miller go into her room to see. Shealmost rejoiced in the excessive cold, saying to herself withexultation, "Fifteen below! well, there! and I s'pose it's like summerin Florida, this minute of time!" And then she fancied David sittingunder an orange-tree, fanning himself, and smiled, and went meekly towork to break the ice in her water-butt. 

Every week letters came from David Means to his children, telling themof the beauty all around him and wishing they were there. He saidlittle of his health, but always assured them that Janey and Willywere real smart, and sent his love to Anne Peace and his remembranceto all friends at home. 

The letters were short, and each time they grew a little shorter, tillby and by it was only a postal card, written in a faint and tremblinghand, but saying that the weather was fine, and father was so glad toget their little letter, and he would write more next time, but wasvery busy just now. When she read one of these, Anne Peace would goaway into her little cold room for a while, and then would come backsmiling and say that now they must write a real _good_ letter tofather, and tell him how well they were doing at school. 

At last came a week when there was no postal card; another week, andthere came a letter edged with black and written in Mrs. Means's hand. The children were at school when it came, and Jenny Miller, coming inby chance to bring a pot of head-cheese of her mother's making, foundMiss Peace crouching in the corner of the sofa, weeping quietly, withthe letter lying on her lap. 

"Why, Miss Peace, " cried Jenny, frightened at the sight of tears inthose steadfast eyes, "What is the matter? Do tell me, dear! Why, you're real cold in here. I do believe the fire has gone out. You'vehad bad news, Miss Peace, have you? Do tell me, that's a dear soul, and don't cry. "

"Yes, " said Anne Peace. "The fire is out, Jenny, and David is dead. "

She held out the letter, saying something about"privilege--think--rest;" but Jenny Miller was already on her knees, putting kindlings into the stove at a reckless rate. Then, when thefire was crackling merrily, she ran to fetch a shawl and wrapped itround the poor trembling shoulders, and chafed the cold hands in herown warm, young fingers. But soon Miss Peace grew uneasy; she was notused to being "done for, " having only the habit of doing for others. She pointed eagerly to the letter. "Read it, Jenny, " she said, anxiously. "I--I am all right, dear. It's come rather sudden, that'sall, and those poor little children--but read the letter. " The wordsdied away, and Jenny, sitting down beside her, took the paper andread. 

It began "Friend Anne, " and went on to say that the writer's poorhusband died yesterday, and she was left, as she always knew sheshould be, a widow with four children. It did seem to her as if hemight have been let die to home, instead of being carted all the waydown there and then have to send the remains back. She had to promisehim she would send them back, though it did seem a pity with thebeautiful "semetary" they had there, and full of Northern folks as itwould hold and the undertaker a perfect gentleman, if she ever sawone. But the widow hoped she knew her duty, and she would not wish tobe thought wanting in anything. 

Now she supposed they would want to know how David passed away, thoughshe had no "strenth" to write, not having had her clothes off for daysor, you might say, weeks, nor slep' one consektive hour the last tennights. Well, he had seemed to gain a little when they first came, butit wasn't no real gain, for he lost it all again and more too. Thepounds just fell off from that man, it seemed as if you could see themgo. The last month he fairly pined away, and she thought right to letthe folks at home know that he was called to depart, but he wouldn'thear to it. "He said, Delia, he said, if you want me to die easy, hesaid, don't let on to no one at home but what I'm doing all right. " Soshe set by and held her peace, though it went against her conscience. Last Monday he couldn't leave his bed, and she said, "David, she said, you never will leave it till you're carried, " and he said, p'raps'twas so, but yet he wouldn't allow it, for fear of scaring thechildren. So that night he sat up in bed and his arms went out and hesaid "Home!" just that word, two or three times over, and droppedback and was gone. There she was, a widow with four small children, and what she should do she didn't know. 

Away there in a strange land as you might say, if it _was_ all onecountry, it did seem as if them as sent them might have thought ofthat and let them stay at home among their own folks. Not but whatthere was elegant folks there. Everybody hed been as kind as could be;one lady who was in "morning" herself had lent her a bonnet to wear tothe funeral (for she wasn't one to send the remains off withoutanything being said over them); it was a real handsome bonnet, and shehad taken a pattern of it, to have one made for herself. The lady wasfrom New York way, and real stylish. 

Mrs. Means intended to stay on a spell, as the money was not all gone, and her strength needed setting up, after all she had been through. Mr. Tombs, the undertaker, said he never saw any one bear afflicktionso; she told him she was used to it. He was a perfect gentleman, and awidower himself, so he could feel for her. Miss Peace might bethankful that she was never called on to bear afflicktion, with no onebut herself to look out for; not but what 'twas lonesome for her, andMrs. Means supposed she'd be glad enough to keep Georgie and Joey ona spell longer for company. Tell them they are poor orphans now, withno father to earn their bread. The writer wished her husband's remainsto be buried in his father's lot, as she had no money to buy one. MissPeace might see if any one felt to put up a moniment for David; hehadn't an enemy in the world, and he never begredged a dollar when hehad it to give, for anything there was going. If he had thought alittle more about her, and less about everybody's cat and dog, shemight have something now to put bread in her children's mouths, letalone her own. Not that she had any appetite, a flea wouldn't fattenon what she ate. Lawyer Peters was his mother's third cousin if shewas living. He spent more on those girls of his than would clothe thewriter and her children for a year. 

The remains went by the same boat with this letter, so Miss Peacewould know when to expect them. Mrs. Means looked to her to see thatDavid had a decent funeral; a handsome one she couldn't expect, folksin Cyrus were close enough about all that didn't go on their ownbacks, though she shouldn't wish it said. 

So now there was no more, from Miss Peace's unfortunate friend, "theWidow Means. "

After reading this precious epistle, Jenny Miller found herself, perhaps for the first time in her life, with nothing to say. Shecould only sit and press her friend's hand, and thrill, as a girlwill, at the touch of a sorrow which she only now began dimly toguess. It was Miss Peace who broke the silence, speaking in her usualquiet tone. 

"Thank you, Jenny, dear! I'm sure it was a privilege, having you comein just now. David Means was kin to me, you know, and I always set byhim a great deal; and then the poor little children!" she falteredagain for an instant, but steadied her voice and went on: "You'dbetter go home now, dear, for the fire is going beautiful, and I don'tneed anything. I--I shall have to see to things for the funeral, youknow. And don't forget to thank your mother for the cheese. It looksreal good, and Georgie doos like it the best of anything forbreakfast. I guess I'll get on my bonnet, and go to see Abel Mound, the sexton. "

But here Jenny found her voice, and protested. Miss Peace should nothave anything at all to do with all that. 'Twasn't fitting she should, as the nearest kin poor Mr. Means had in Cyrus. Her father would seeto it all, Jenny knew he would, and Doctor Brown would help him. Shewould go herself and speak to the doctor this minute. Miss Peace wouldhave to be here to tell the children when they came home from school, poor little things! and that was all she should do about it. 

Anne Peace hesitated; and then Jenny had an inspiration, or, as sheput it in telling Tudie Peaslee afterwards, "a voice spoke to her. "

"Miss Peace, " she said timidly, "I--I don't suppose you would feel topick those flowers you were going to send over to Tupham for theSunday-school festival? I know they kind o' lot on the flowers yousend, 'cause they're always so fresh, and you do them up so pretty. But if you don't feel to do it, I can send them word, or ask some oneelse"--

"The idea!" cried Anne Peace, brightening up. "I forgot the flowers, Jenny, I did so! I should be pleased to pick them, and I'll do it thisminute. There--there isn't anything I should like so well. And I dothank you, dear, and if you really think your father wouldn't mindseeing--I am sure it is a privilege to have such neighbours, I alwayssay. There couldn't anybody be more blessed in neighbours than I havealways been. "

In ten minutes Miss Peace was at work in her garden, cutting, trimming, tying up posies, and finding balm for her inward wound inthe touch of the rose-leaves, and in the smell of mignonette, David'sfavourite flower. No one in Cyrus had such mignonette as Miss Peace, and people thought she had some special receipt for making it grow andblossom luxuriantly; but she always said no, it was only because sheset by it. Folks could most always grow the things they set moststore by, she thought. 

So the Sunday-school festival at Tupham Corner was a perfect blaze offlowers, and the minister in his speech made allusion to generousfriends in other parishes, who sent of their wealth to swell ourrejoicings, and of their garden produce to gladden our eyes; but whilethe eyes of Tupham were being gladdened, Anne Peace was brushingJoey's and Georgie's hair, and tying black ribbons under their littlechins, smiling at them through her tears, and bidding them be bravefor dear father's sake, who was gone to the best home now, and wouldnever be sick any more, or tired, or--or sad. 

It was a quiet funeral: almost a cheerful one, the neighbours said, asthey saw the little room filled with bright flowers (they all seemedto smell of mignonette, there was so much of it hidden among theroses), and the serene face of the chief mourner, who stood at thehead of the coffin, with a child in either hand. It was an unusualthing, people felt. Generally, at Cyrus funerals, the mourners stayedup-stairs, leaving the neighbours to gather round the coffin in theflower-scented room below; but it did not seem strange in Anne Peace, somehow, and, after the first glance, no one could fancy any one elsestanding there. The old minister, who had christened both David andAnne on the same day, said a few gentle, cheering words, and the choirsang "Lead, kindly Light;" then the procession went its quiet way tothe churchyard, and all was over. 

Jenny Miller and the doctor followed Miss Peace home from thechurchyard, but made no attempt to speak to her. She seemedunconscious of any one save the children, to whom she was talking inlow, cheerful tones. The doctor caught the words "rest, " "home, ""happiness;" and as she passed into the house he heard her saydistinctly: "Blessed privilege! My children now, my own! my own!"

"So they are!" said Doctor Brown, taking off his glasses to clearthem. "So they are, and so they will remain. I don't imagine Deliawill ever come back, do you, Jenny?"

"No, " said Jenny, "I don't. She'll marry the undertaker before theyear is out. "

And she did. 

THE END. 

 * * * * *

Transcriber's Notes

Original spelling and punctuation have been preserved except for thejoining of common contractions. 

Page 8: Added closing quotes: (you seemed all right when I went out. ")

Page 9: Phoebe had oe ligature in original book. (you've heard me tellhow my Aunt Phoebe 'Lizabeth)

Page 56: Removed extra quotation mark before I: ("You are too good. Ididn't expect, I'm sure--well, you are kind!")