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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m^thode. 1 2 3 i 1 2 3 4 5 6 V lie WHAT THEY COULDNT 7 •' ', A HOME STORY BT PA]SrSY (Mrs. g. R. Aldew) author of «« ester rien •• «« .>.>■. . li ti'f-V rtiATED nr ( run/./cs .v.^xre id ^l?« "^ I'ORONTO: William briggs, WESLEY BUILGINGS MONTREAL; C W. COATES. \ HAUFAX • c • 1 "AUFAX: S. P. HL'l-oTia Ei:!!l F.nt#reH. accortUng W th« Act of th« Partlaflient of Cannrtfl. In fhf .vi.if ««• tho,.saHd .ight hundred and ninety-ftve. bv WabUM linioos, m th- Ulbci of the MinittW Of Agriculture, ot Ottawa. CONTENTS. CfeAMEtt L Family PnoBLKMs .... II. Tryino to '•BtfiiiOifo'* . . III. BciiNs AND Heart-burns. IV. O Wi D Some Power . . V. Is TUB Gloom VI. "Isn't She a Terror!'* . VII. A "Peculiar" Man . . Vlll. A Lesson in Fanaticism . IX. Home Thrusts X. " How will It All end ? *' XI. " Out or His Sphere " . . XIL A New Dbparvurb . . . XIII. "A Good Fellow in Every XIV. A Kew Game XV. "Katherine Spelled with XVt. Being Weighed .... XVII. "Just Once" XVIII. A Troublesome Promise . XIX. A Startling Witness . . XX. The Shadows op Coming Events XXI. "Don't ask Me any Questions" XXII. A Persistent Friend .... XXIII. Borrowed (?) Money .... Way tr'» M rxots 1 16 31 40 61 76 02 106 123 137 152 166 179 194 208 222 237 251 262 276 290 304 318 % Hi' m !■■ 1 t 111 II m i iV CONTENTS, CHAPTER fAOK XXIV. "Mrs. Willis Kennedy?" 882 XXV. "A Nervous Shock" 846 XXVI. "What's in a Name?" 86P XXVII. Soul-Searchino 872 XXVIII. Re^jonst RUCTION 884 XXIX. The "Next Scene" 897 XXX. " Sprino Violets, After All " . . . . 410 332 346 35P 372 384 397 410 !( ^^^ 1 tho we] one for nev one any a t agai Mar Wh( toge takii "1 town WHAT THEY COULDN'T. CHAPTER I. FAMILY PROBLEMS. THE Camerons were moving. That was their chronic condition ; at least so the neighbors thought; and really it did seem as though they were always either just trying to get settled in one home, or planning to break up and get ready for another. "We move and more," would Lucia say, "and never get anywhere. I wish father would make one grand move, out West, or down South, or anywhere besides just here. I should like to go a thousand miles away, and begin all over again. " "That would take money," the elder sister, Mary, would reply. "Ever so much money. When do you suppose father would get enough together to take a journey, to say nothing of taking all our belongings along." "It costs money to move from one end of the town to the other," would Lucia retort; "a ruin- 1 1 $i ' It • ii WHAT tim:v ((tri.itx t. 0U8 amount; those funiituri* vans cliiirrre jnst frightfully. 1 don't womler thiit tulher was pule this morning, and ('ouldirt out iiiiy hnakt'ust after settling with them. It' we had all the money that we have spent in hreakin<,r up, and m()viii<^s and getting settled again, my! IM fnrnisli this house anew from attic to cellar, and take a j; f.. 'M- WHAT THEY COULPN'T. ■■'M a time, looking for the person who could afford to pay that amount of rent, and yet who would be wiUing to live on Seventh Street. You think, perhaps, there was a nuisance of some sort hidden away around the corner? Or at least that the place was inconvenient of access. Nothing of the sort. The lower end of Durand Avenue was but a block away from a suspicious vacant lot where nuisances did sometimes congregate, but the cor- ner house on Seventh Street stood high and dry, and had only rows of neat and comparatively new dwelling-houses all about it; and the Centre-street line of cars which connected with almost every down-town line in the city, wound around that very corner. Oh I do not ask for any explanation as to why some people could not live on Seventh Street; the Camerons knew, without reasoning, that it could not be done. There were other things they knew. This un- fortunate year it became absolutely necessary to have a new carpet. There was no dissenting voice, save from the boys; they declared that they did not see but the old carpet was good enough. But the boys were away in college; only home for vacations, and were having, the girls said, every earthly thing they wanted, and didn't care how shabby the folks at home were so that thei/ had plenty. The boys' opinion was counted out. Mr. Cameron, accustomed to leaving all such matters to his wife and daughtei"s, said only, if they must they must^ he supposed, but he M FAMILY PROBLEMS. IS un- .if iry to nting f I that m good M liege ; m 7, the M 1, and m were m n was M aving w , sai4 % )ut he M did not see where the money was to come from. However, Jamison & Burns would wait for their pay. So the new carpet was bought. Axmin- ster i't had to be. To be sure it cost more than a body Brussels; and Mra. Cameron, who remem- bered the days when body Brussels carpet was quite the thing to buy, voted in its favor, but she was tremendously overruled. " Nobody uses body Brussels in their parlors any more; it is simply for sitting-rooms and bedrooms." Mrs, Cameron argued vigorously, but submitted at last. "It is good economy to get the best while you are about it, I suppose," Mr. Cameron said with a troubled face, on being appealed to. Some- where in the dim recesses of his memory he had stored away certain aphorisms of that kind which he brought out on occasion. Nobody explained to him that good body Brussels had far more endur- ing qualities than cheap Axminster, so called. It is not even certain that any of this family knew the fact. It was in the midst of the miseries of getting settled that there came a letter which all the family, Mr. Cameron excepted, sat down in the half-regulated sitting-room to discuss. More or less excitement was evidently felt concerning it. Mary was the fiist to express herself, her cheeks unnaturally flushed the while. Mrs. Cameron was re-reading the letter. "I must say I think Mac and Rod are two of the most selfish creatures I ever heard of in my !, iHl lip fe »'!■ i' i' If I 8 WHAT THEY COULDN'T. life. Dress suits indeed 1 Why, they are nothing but boys!" Mrs. Cameron glanced up from the letter. "Don't be absurd, Mary; I believe you think boys never grow up. Mac is twenty-two, the time when most boys consider themselves men." •'It is the time when most boys are thinking about supporting themselves, and not depending on their fathers for dress suits and everything else. I say it is selfish. Sending for more things just now, when we are moving, and doing without everything Ave can, to help along. Look at those curtains — darned in half a dozen places. I have been ashamed of them for the last six months. Suppose I say we must have new ones ? I'm sure they would be as important as dress suits for the boys, and a great deal more sensible." "Still, Mary," interposed Lucia's quieter voice, "they say they cannot attend the president's re- ception without them." " Then I should think it would be a good plan for them to stay at home. The idea that college boys cannot appear at a reception unless they are dressed in the extreme of fashion! I cannot go to Mi's. Peterson's dinner-party next week unless I have my new silk dress that was promised me. Suppose I say so? At least three tongues would begin to tell me how entirely suitable my old blue dress is that I have worn wherever I've been for the last year. But because it is the boys who waiit things, we girls must give up of course." ■# I FAMILY PROBLEMS. 9 plan Lucia laughed over this. " There is some truth in what you are saying. We have been giving up things for those boys ever since they entered col- lege. If they appreciated it, I should feel differ- ently; but they take it so entirely as a matter of course, that I must say it is discouraging." "Well," said Mrs. Cameron, "do you want us then to write to the boys that they cannot have dress suits, and must stay at home from the reception ? " This was putting the matter blankly. Evi- dently the sisters were astonished; they were not accustomed to such direct questions from their mother. Neither of them desired to have such word sent to the boys. If it were true, as the boys said, that all the students in their set wore dress suits, why, certainly their brothers must have them. It was really a foregone conclusion, as they expected their mother to understand. It was hard that they could not have the privilege of grumbling, since they were to make the sacri- fice. It was a curious development of this entire family that they did their giving up with grum- bling. It was true, as the girls had said, that much had been sacrificed for their brothers. Mr. Cameron, who in certain respects was something of a cipher in his own home, constantly allowing himself to be overruled, and led whither his better judgment did not approve, could yet be firm on occasion. He had, as Mrs. Cameron expressed it, "set his foot down," that both his boj's should :^ii :»Ri iff m ■( ,1 1" :-i ( tl If' V 10 WHAT THKV COULDN T. hiive college educations. He was not one of tiiose who deemed the collegiate education as im- portant for the girls as the boys, although he had done his best for his daughters. The two elder ones had been sent to excellent and expensive schools; and Emilie, the yv>ungest, was still a school-girl. The father had had pride in his daughters' acquirements, but he had had deter- mination in regard to his sons. They were smart boys; they made fair records for themselves in preparatory schools, even excelling in certain studies; and to college they should go. It had been, and was still, a hard struggle. College life proved to be a much more expensive thing than it had been when Mr. Cameron was a young man ; and his sons were not of the sort to carefully curtail their expenses, although they thought they were models of prudence. The dress suits which had suddenly appeared before them as necessities will serve as illustrations of their mode of thought. Necessities were what other people in their set had. To have remained quietly away from dress occasions because to have what they judged to be suitable attire would burden the people at home was thought of, but cast aside as impracticable. It would be a discourteous way of treating the invitations of the faculty. To join the few quiet, scholarly students who frequented such places conspicuous in the suits which they wore for best, was not even thought of at all by the Camerons. Their home education had ii I FAMILY PROBLEMS. 11 developed no such heights of self-abnegation as that It would be worse than living on Seventh Street. Neither, strange to say, would Mary Cameron, >vho grumbled the loudest, have had them do any such thing. No one understood necessities of this kind better than she. "Why, of course notl " she said in answer to her mother's question. " They will have to have the suits, I suppose. All the same I think it is mean in them to send, doing it in such a lordly way. Why can't they at least show that they appreciate the sacrifices we shall have to make to gratify them ? " "I don't see anything very lordly about the letter. Mac writes that they cannot go to the receptions without dressing as others do, and of course they can't. You are always hard on your brothers, Mary." " I hard on them! Who gave up a silk dress for their sakes I should like to know? Talk about their having to dress like others when they appear in society! How do you think I will look in that horrid silk which I have worn until people can describe me as the girl in the old blue dress?" "O Mary!" said Lucia. "Do give us a rest about that silk dress. I am sure if you never mention it again, we shall none of us ever forget that you were going to have one and didn't ! We have heard so much about it." ■'h ; f i* M i-i 11 ,*(ij'.ii ft Urn ii 12 WHAT THF.V COULDN T. ill 11 Lucia spoke laughingly; she j^enerally did; nevertheless there was a sting in her words. Perhaps that phrase will descrilie the Came- ron habit. They stung one another. From the mother down to even Emilici who being only fifteen could still be told on occasion to say no more. They lov?d one another, this family — not one of them thought of doubting it. In times of ill- ness it would not be possible to conceive of ten- derness and self-abnegation greater than theirs. Long nights of weary watching were as nothing; long days of patient, persistent, gentle care-tak- ing were matters of roar.;o; yet directly tlu^ in- valid took on once moro ihj a^ipcarancc a:id habits of health the stinging proccsj commenced. It was as if the stock of patience which had seemed inexhaustible during illness had suddenly frozen, and left only irritable nerve.; over which to tread. Not that the Camerons were always in ill-humor; far from it. They had their merry hours and Iheir good times together. It was only that the too excitable nerves lay always near the surface, jind would not bear so much as a pin prick, 'i'liose dress suits were really more than a pin prick. Sixty additional dollars when the family purse was strained already to its utmost, was no small matter. "I declare," said Mr. Cameron at the dinner- table th:it evening, leaning his weary head on his ha:id. and giving over the attempt to eat t.lie not All !•!• FAMILY PROBLEMS. 18 too inviting dinner which had to be served in the kitchen as the only spot avaikble, "I don't know how to raise the money. The boys did not say anything about it when they went away, and 1 tried to phm for everything that would be wanted before Christmas. One would suppose if it were such an important item t? )y would have remem- bered, and spoken of it. When I was a young fellow, if I had a decent suit for Sunday, and a half-way decent one for every day, I considered myself well off. The boys had entirely new suits throughout only six weeks ago." "It isn't that their clothes are worn out, Ed- ward," said Mi's. Cameron, her tone showing that her nerves felt the pin-pricks. " They must wear what others do if they mingle with them* of course; don't you understand? Rodney says all the fellows, except two or three who are being helped through college, wear evening dress at the receptions. You wouldn't want your sons to ap- pear different from the other respectable young men, I suppose, would you^" "I don't know," said Mr. Cameron, and he tried to let a faint smile appear on his face to lessen the seeming harshness of the words; "I would like them to appear as honest men if they could; and I don't know how they are to have new suits this fall unless I borrow the money, with no prospect of paying for it so far as I can see. I don't know but they would better join the two or three who are being helped through I m •■ t ivi. .•' 14 WHAT THEY COULDN T. college. That is what it will amount to in the end." "Oh, nonsense!" said Mra. Cameron; and her voice was unmistakably sharp. " What is the use in talking such stuff as that? We are not paupers. A man who gets a two-thousand-dollar salary ought to be able to furnish his children with clothes, without having a fuss about it every time they need a pocket-handkerchief." "I know it," Mr. Cameron said; and he wore the perplexed look his face was sure to assume when any phase of this subject was before them. " I don't understand how it is. When 1 sit down with pencil and paper and calculate the year's expenditures, so much for living, and so much for extras, it all seems to come out reasonably well ; but when we get to the end of the quarter, we we behind every time; and something will come of it one of these days. I can't see how it is going to end." "I'll tell you what, father," said Emilie briskly. "I'll leave school if you will let me. Then there will be no bills to pay for all sorts of extras; music, you know, and books, and everything. That will make quite a difference in a year's time," It was a fortunate diversion; the entire Cam- eron family laughed. Emilie was, sometimes merrily and sometimes a bit sharply, called the family dunce. She hated study, and cared almost nothing for music, and would have been onl}' FAMILY Pltonr.EMS. 15 too glad to be relieved from the burden of botli. The intensely personal reasons for her magnan- imous offer were so entirely apparent that it needed no other answer than a laugh. It cleared the atmosphere somewhat, albeit Mr. Cameron sighed almost immediately; but lie said as he arose from his barely tasted dinner, "Oh, well, we shall j)ull through somehow, we always have. I'll ask Hosmer to let me have a little advance. The boys have got to be like othei*s, I suppose. Get the letter written, some of you, and I will have the money ready for the lii-st mail to-morrow." f ■ p I 4^ ;Ur' 'M ''1r^ i "f k f ■!■ 16 WHAT TllliV C0ULDI4 T. CHAPTER II. TRYING TO "belong." IT was while they were piecing the dining-room carpet that the next subject for discussion and annoyance came before the Camerons. Those two words, "discussion" and "annoyance," might almost be called the keynotes of their lives, so frequent had they become ; the one seeming to be a sequence of the other. It is very probable that sewing on the old carpet helped to irritate the nerves; it is not particularly soothing work, and Lucia hated sewing. "I wish we had sold this old thing to the rag man," she said gloomily. "The last time we patched it I remember we said it would not hold together for another move." "Then you would have had bare floor for the dining-room, I can tell you," said Mrs. Cameron. "I am not going to ask your father for another thing this fall that can be done without. He hasn't slept for two nights, worrying about the extra money needed for the boys." "What is the use in father's worrying? That will not pay any bills. I should think it would be a good deal more sensible for him to get his sleep, and save his strength." TRYixf; TO *• ni':i.f)N(j.*' 17 "Don't criticiso your f.illier," said Mrs. Cam- eroii sharply; *' I \\'\\i not hear it." The jxior wife ci'itici.sed iiiin herself sometimes with j^reat Hitarpness, and in the presence of his ehildren, hut she would not permit them tt> follow her example. Like many other nervous, overstrained women, her thought of the husband of her youth was always tenderness, but her words to him were often tinged with whatever feeling rasped the hour. "Why, dear me!'* began Lueia, "what did X say? I am sure that I pity father as much a^ anybody can, and I think " — Here Mary's en- trance from the kitchen interrupted the sentence. "Mother," she began, "Bet*«ey says she cannot make another pudding until she has a new pud- ding-dish; the old one leaks." "Then we will go without pudding," said Mrs. Cameron with emphasis. " I am not going to get a new pudding-dish nor a new anything for Bet- sey. She is careless with the dishes or they would last longer. She is always wanting some- thing — asked for a new bread-bowl only this morning." "Well, mother, the bread-bowl got broken in the moving. It wasn't Betsey's fault. I do not think she should be made to suffer. You packed the bowl yourself, you remember." "For pity's sake don't talk about the bread- bowl I It is quite likely I remember that I packed it without being told. If you had not hurried me .':v w. J J i m % ^'iiiii 18 WHAT TIIKV f'OULDN T. II IliilllM liiii ;l i IP mai almost to distnictioii over lliat last load, I could have packed it more securely."' "I'm sure 1 don't want to talk about bread- bowls," said Maiv, brinijintr needle and thread and prei)aring to do lier share of the long seam which was to be sewed in the mended carjjet. "I have something of more importance to .-.ay. I saw Jessie Lee just now when I was sweeping the leaves from the porch, and she says the Denhams are going home next Tuesday. What shall we do about that? " "Congratulations to Mis. Lee would be in or- der, I should say," replied Lucia. "I hope we shall never have any friends who will think it their duty to make us as long a visit as the Den- hams have been making." "Long as they have been here," said Mar}', "we have not invited them even to lunch witli us, and we have been everywhere with them. Three times out to formal dinners, four or five times to lunches, and to evening gatherings innu- merable. Mother, we shall certainly be obliged to have them here, shall we not?" "Oh, dear me!" said Mrs. Cameron; and she dropped the patch she was deftly fitting into the carpet, and looked her utter dismay. "Marv Cameron, what can you be thinking about, with all that we have on hand now!" " I am thinking about the fact that the Denhamsl are going on Tuesday^ as I said, and that therel are just four days left in which to show theiu anyi : ft" TIIYING TO ''BELONG." 19 .5* courtesy; unless, indeed, we have lost all sense of propriety, and are going to let them leave with- out having received any attention from us. You have l)een out to dinner once with them yourself, mother." "I know it," said Mrs. Cameron, her face a stT\dy. "I wish we hadn't accepted one of their invitations, for t really do not see how we can entertain them now." "I don't know why not. We can't give a party for them, I suppose, as we leally ought to do. We are under ohligations to so many people that I am ashamed to meet some of them; but we are equal to a plain lunch I should ho[)e. Russell Denham is going back to college as soon a-; he has taken his mother and sister home; and Mac and Rod will be with him a good deal this winter I suppose. They wouldn't like it if they knew we had not shown their friends any attention." "Oh, well! I suppose we shall have to do something; but I declare it worries me dreadfully, so unsettled as we are, and this little bit of a house to have company in. I wish we didn't have anything to do with society." "We have extremely little," Mary replied coldly. "I sometimes think with Emilie, that it would be better if we just said squarely that we are nobodies, and do not expect to be invited, or to belong." • The mother winced: she wanted her children to "belong;" her ambition for them in society, find evervwhere else, was limitless. i' Mi i t. »! iffy 20 WHAT THKY COULDN'T. 'ii!! "Of course we must do something," she said briskly. " What shall it be ? We can get up a lunch, as you say, more economically than a din- ner or a regular evening gathering. It would be less burdensome to your father too; for they will know that he cannot get away irom business for luncheon, and he is so tired nowadays that he shrinks from seeing company. But you must be content with having everything very simple. We cannot undertake any expense, remember." Their ideas of simplicity would have bewildered some people. A lunch without salads was not to be thought of, of course ; and chicken salads were the best No matter if chicken was very expensive just now, it did nol take a great deal for a salad. Then oysters were just getting nice, and, after the long summer, seemed so new; raw oysters were the verj* thing with which to begin a lunch. Served on the half-shell and properly garnished, there was no simple dish which looked more in- viting. As for the creams, they must have them from Alburgh's of course. Oh, positively, there were none fit to eat after having had his. No matter if he did charge seventy-five cents a quart; it would be much better not to have cream at all than to have an inferior quality. They could afford to pay a little extra for creams and ices, because they would make their own cake. Very few of the girls did that when they had company. They just ordered from some first-class caterer. Lucia sighed, and wished that they could afford to ilk. i iii TRYING TO "BELONG. »» 21 said up a I din- ild be y will jss for lat lie lUst be . We ildered not to Is were pensive I salad, ter the 8 were lunch, inished, ore in- e them , there s. No quart ; at all could id ices, Very ipany. caterer, ford to do so ; it would be only pleasure to have company if they could give orders as other people did, and have trained servants to attend to everything at home. At the mention of servants, Mrs. Cameron could not suppress a groan of anxiety. How could they hope to serve guests properly with only Betsey to depend upon? She was a new recruit, and a cheap one, therefore not much could be expected of her. "I shall just have to stay in the kitchen and attend to things myself," she said. "That will be the only way to avoid distressing failures ; and as it is, I tremble for the serving. I wish I could [be in two places at once." "O mother! " said Lucia, dismayed, "you can- Jnot be in the kitchen. What a ridiculous way to ^ave company, with the lady of the house invisi- ble ! Mary, you surely do not think anything of that kind can be done ? " " It is like e ^ arything else, " said Mary drearily. " Of course we cannot have company like other people ; we never can. We have been invited and invited, just as I said, until I am ashamed to meet my acquaintances, and j'^et the very thought of paying some of our obligations sets us all into a tremor. If we could hire a professional waiter for one day to help Betsey out, we cou«ld hope to lave things decent." Mrs. Cameron caught at the idea. Perhaps they could do that; it would lot be such a very heavy expense for one day, a )art of a day indeed. They would save the prico '■ii m I, ,1- A 'if i-«l F oo WHAT THEY COULDN T. 'id \] of it in the end, because professional helpers knew how to manage without spoiling anything. It was curious what a relief this professional assistant was, and how many things grew out of her proposed services. It was Mrs. Cameron her- self who said that since they were to have help, she did not know but they would better make it an occasion for asking a few others; the expense would not be materially increased, and, as Mary said, they were indebted to so many people. There were the Westbrooks, for instance, and the Overmans, and Mrs. Lorimer. Why not make a clean sweep of it and ask them all? "But, mother, think what it will cost to get ready for so many," objected Lucia. "What will father say?" "It would not cost so very much more," Mrs. Cameron argued, strong for the time being in the thought of that professional helper. "We shall not have to pay any more for help than we would if we had just three or four; and I really do not see how we can have anybody without inviting those I have mentioned ; we have been entertained by them so many times." It was too true; and there were found to be others quite as alarming as the ones mentioned, until Mary, who finally went tor pencil and paper, and began to consider them numerically and sys- tematically, declared that it was not possible to get along without inviting seventeen. "Then we might as well make it nineteen," TRYING TO '* RELONCf. 23 said Lucia composedly, "and ask thai Miss Landis and her brother. We shall never have a better opportunity to return their kindness." "The idea!" said Mary. "Why in the world should we ask them? Thev will not know a person who will be here, and we know them very little ourselves." "I can't help it. We can make them acquainted with the others. They have certainly been very kind to us. We never had neitjhhors before, in our lives. They must be fi'om the countiy, they have such friendly, uncititied ways. I like them very well indeed; and I think it would be bad manners, to say the least, to have company and not invite them, when thev are almost in the same house, one may say, and when we have all been in there to have tea with them." Lucia may or may not have understood what a troublesome subjecc she had introduced. To Mary it seemed to be a positively irritatinjr one. She expressed herself so decidedly, and with such an- noying sharpness, that Lucia, who at tirst made it as only a passing suggestion, grew obstinate, de- claring that she had had nothing to say about the other guests, and it was strange if she could not select two. Then Mary re[>lied that of course, if Lucia had adopted Professor Landis as her partic- ular friend, nothing more was to be said. She had not imagined so great a degree of intimacy on such short acquaintance. Then Lucia, her face aglow with indignation, appealed to her mother :.i^il5< 4 ■■It- ► I; tr. 24 WHAT THEY COULDN T. ; ;i as to whether it was necessary for Mary, because she was less than two years the elder, to insult her in that manner. Mrs. Cameron hastened to the rescue, assuring both girls that she was ashamed of them. Why couldn't they talk things over together without always having some sort of a fuss? As for the* Landis young p-^ple, she thought it would be very prop'^r to invite them. They were not exactly in their set, perhaps; she thought with Lucia that they were probably from the country; but they were nice, pleasant persons, and had been very kind and thoughtful to them. Two more \vould make very little difference, and their father would be pleased to have them show kindness to his neighbors. He had spoken of them several times. Jt ended by an invitation being sent to the I^andis brother and sister, and to several others whom it became imperative to remember. It is quite safe to say that not a Cameron among them had any idea whereunto this thing would grow or they would certainly not have begun. Mr. Cameron was bewildered. "I thought you said" — he began to his half- distracted wife when she -assayed to explain, "that we would make a special effort to economize, to help meet the extras for the boys and for the moving?" " Well, I wonder if I am not doing it ? " she replied irritably. "You know very little about it, Edward, or you would understand that I am straining every nerve. I ironed all the afternoon TRYING TO " BELONG. 25 in order to save extra help. Betsey would never have gotten the ironing done if I hadn't. She is a stroke of econo?ny lierself. I never had such poor lielp. Oh, nobody knows how I twist and contrive in order to help! It is hard to have to he blamed when I am doing my best." "1 am not bl.iming you, Rachel," Mr. Cameron said, and he tried to speak quietly, *'^l am only asking questions. I don't understand. We all felt, 1 supposed, the need for special care this fall, and here we have a party on our hands! There has not been a season in ten years when we could not have afforded it better." "A party!" repeated Mrs. Cameron in intense annoyance. "Now, Edward, I call that being very disagreeable. I have explained to you that it is only the plainest possible luncheon served to a few of our most intimate friends; and I told you the special necessity of it at this time too. I don't believe even you, careless as you are, would be willing to have the Denhams leave without showing them so much attention, when they have been here for two months, and have been more intimate with our young people than with any others. Russell Denham has certainly paid Mary a great deal of attention. I think she is inter- ested in him. It is for her sake that I want to be courteous. I thought you would appreciate that.'* A little note of injured innocence was added to the tone. Mr. Cameron still tried to understand. »:'! .,■■!. iii!. ■I. {! f I'm V, 1 ■y^ 26 WHAT THKY COULDN T. "Why not invite the Denhams and the Lees in to have a comfortable, quiet dinner with us, and make no fuss about it? If the young people enjoy one anotlier's society, I sliouhl think that would be a pleasanter way to secure it, and the expense would be less, certainly, to say nothing of tlie work. You are hardly able to take any more care upon yourself." "O Edward, you don't understand such things! One would suppose you were from the country yourself to hear you go on sometimes. Fancy Mary singling out tlie Denhams from all her ac- quaintances, and inviting them to a family gather- ing! I should not like to have her even know that such an idea had been mentioned. It would be the same as asking the young man if he did not want to belong to the family. There is nothing special between them, Edward, and, of course, we do not want to act as though we expected there would be." "Well, well!" said Mr. Cameron, "there is no use in talking about it I suppose. I was brought up in the country, and I wish sometimes that I still lived there. I like country ways best. We had a friend in to take supper with us whenever we wanted to, and thought nothing of it. What I want to know is how much this thing is going to cost. I want it in black and white." He drew out note-book and pencil, and looked determined. "Come, now, I'm not going to run into a thing in the dark; at least, I'll act as though I meant to ■I 1 J TUYINCl TO '• nKLONG. n 27 l)e honest, just as loii^ as I can. How many people are there to be?" Mrs. Cameron hesitated and faltered. "Why, the girls thought they ought to ask the Porters if they did the Lees; and I myself suggested the Overmans, we have been there so much. And Ijucia thought our next-door neighbors, the girl and her brother, ought to be asked; you know they had us in there for tea that first evening we were in the house, and weie very kind. You spoke of offerinff them some attention." "How many does it all make?" asked Mr. Cameron with the air of a martyr. "Why, 1 think it counts up twenty-three. I'm sure I did not imagine when we began, that there would be half so many. But the girls feel really embarrassed about accepting invitations and not making any returns." "Twenty-three outsiders and four of our own make twenty -seven ; and cream to be ordered from Alburgh's I suppose? Yes, I was sure of it. Seventy-five cents a quart; say two gallons, that is the least you can get along with; eight times seventy-five, that makes six dollars just for cream! What next?" That inexorable pencil scribbled and figured; and Mrs. Cameron, growing each moment more perturbed, made reluctant admissions to searching questions, and at last in a shamefaced way ad- mitted that they could hardly hope to get through with the plainest possible luncheon for less than i. J i; i m III 28 WHAT thp:y couldn t. an outlay of thirty dollars, including the extra help which it was necessary to have. "I would get along Avithout that if it were possihle," she explained humbly. *M am willing to work my fingers to the bone in order to give the girls half a chance in the world ; but I know perfectly well that Betsey will blunder in some way if I leave lier to herself for a moment; and I ca7i''t be in two places at once." "Exactly the price of one of the dress suits,'* said Mr. Cameron, re-adding his hateful figures. "Now put down ten dollars for the things we have forgotten, and for the smashes in crockery and the like that will result, and for the new things here and there to be added, and we shall do well if we escape with forty dollai-s. Doesn't that seem rather hard on our creditoi-s, Rachel? We are a hundred dollars behind this quarter already, you know." But at this point Mrs. Cameron's nerves would bear no more. She sank in a limp heap on the chair before which she had been standing, gath- ered her housekeeper's apron to her eyes, and cried outright. Mr. Cameron looked appalled and helpless. His wife rarely cried; almost never in his presence. He essayed to comfort, bunglingly yet sincerely. He didn't know much about such things. Of course she Avas doing the best she could; he was sure of that. The girls must be like others, he supposed. She must not think he meant to blame her; he was harassed about ■'is? f "> TUYINO TO ** nKI.OXO. M 29 money a good duiil of tlio time, and it made him less caivt'ul <»f liis words, ijeilmps, than he ouglit to Ikj. She was not to worry ; and of course she oouhl not give up the sclieme now; he did not mean that; in fact, he did not mean anything. Slie must not think any more ah(mt it, but just go on as siie had phmned. He went away k)oking troubled. Something he must have said to cause his wife's tears. A man wiis a brute who made a woman cry; and infinitely more a brute when that woman was his wife, the mother of his chihlren. But what had he said to bring the tears to Kachel's eyes? He had seen them a trifle red on rare occasions, as though something might have tmubled her; but he did not remember ever before having seen her break down in a burst of weeping. He ought to be cai-eful. Perhaps this eternal fret and worry about money matters was making him hard. He did not want to be a man who seemed to think only of money. When he was young he had never expected to develop into such a man. There were many things he had thought in his youth which had not matured with his years. And he sighed heavily, and asked himself, as he had done a hundred times in the last few years, whether there were not some quick way of mak- ing money. There were Jones and Osborne who were making it by speculating. Only the other day Osborne told him about gaining a thoUiand dollai-s in a few hours of time. And Osborne had :'i I r 4 i !M 80 WHAT TriKV roff.DN T. no family to 8upi)ort. VVliat would not a thou- sand dollars be to him, with sons and daughteiH to think abouti If he only had a little money to start with, there Wiis no reason why he should not be as successful as OslMinie or Jones. All the wa}' to the otliee he thought alnjut it, and tried to c(»nti'ive ways of seeming a few hundreds with which to try his — "skill. lie hesitated for a word and Hnally chose skill; he did not like the sound of luck. It w.as not the fu-st time that the harassed father h.id thought in these lines. That man Osborne was always offering to invest for him in a way that would bring at least twelve per cent — Oh, twelve per cent was nothing! — in a way that would l)e sure to double his money in a few years' time. BUIINS ANI» IIKAIlT-nrUNS. 31 CHAPTER ril. BURNS AND HKAKT-BUIlNS. THROUGH trials iiuuiifold tlie Cameron family [)resse(l tlieir way to the 'Mi *>> W <|M f i ^ BURNS AND HEART-BURNS. 33 produced before her mental vision a smiling- faced, deft-handed young woman who would know just what to do without being told, and who yet would do her bidding on occasion swiftly and well, felt utterly cowed before the majes- tic personage in immaculate necktie, who gazed about him on the diminutive quarters where he was expected to reign, with something very like a sneer on his face, and asked where the trays were, and if they had none larger than that, and how many sets of spoons were there, and where were the relays of napkins to be found, and where were the coffee spoons, and the oyster forks? Where were., indeed, all those fine, queer-shaped, costly little extras which he was accustomed to see ? The Camerons did not possess them. Mary, as she listened to the professional's abundant questions, realized perhaps as never before what poverty meant; and felt for a moment the utter folly of trying to do what they could not. Never mind, it must be lived through now; the guests were almost at the door; it would never do to flinch. She helped her mother answer the em- bari-assing questions as best she could ; she put on an air of superiority, and tried to give the majes- tic person an order or two; but faltered, and crim- soned to her very forehead, when he only stared, and told her he "couldn't do that sort of thing, of course ; " he had never been in the habit of doing it; she must call upon some under-servant. After that, Mary went to receive her guests, leaving ' ' -sX 1 t » \ A \i Vf 84 WHAT THKV cori.nN r. !i H her mother to cope with llic iiiiportant stmiig-er. There proved to be a number of things i'or which he had been depended upon tlutt w ere entirely out of his province; and at the hist moment IJetsey had to be further bewihleied \)y receiving- minute instructions concerniiij^ matters of whicli she was as ignorant as a child. "I shall have to stay out here and direct things," declared Mrs. Cameron in excited tones to her two elder daugliters, as they lingered for a moment in the kitchen for a last word together before the ordeal commenced ; " there is no use in trying to plan dift'erently; that honid iV^mw *' — as she spoke she looked about her nervously to make sure that he was far enough away at the moment not to hear her opinion of him, and siink her voice to a whisper — "that horrid fellow will do only the things which liave Ik'cu expected of him before ; and they aie very fc;w indeed appar- ently; and he asks for some new-fangled dish or spoon or fork every minute. I wish he wei(^ where he came from, I could get along Ixttter withotit him. But 1 shall have to sta}' and wii' ii Betsey; she doesn*t know the ic^e-pitcher ir< iu the cream-jug to-day; she blunders all the time. "O mother, don't do that! Let her blunder. Let them both manage. The fellow will behave l)etter perhaps when we are all away, 'i'ell liim to direct Betsey. Whatever you do, don't st.-iy in the kitchen and leave us to ]ook after llio guests. That is something I have never seen I BURNS AND HKAllT-BURNS. 35 done; and when father isn't here either, it will look horrid. I think father might have come home for a little while." "Well, he couldn't," said Mrs. Cameron sharply; "and once for all, Lucia, stop criticising your father. You do altogether too much of that sort of thing, and I tell you I will not have it." The voices of coming guests broke up this fam- ily conclave suddenly. Lucia went to receive them with a heightened color on her cheeks. Her mother's reprimand hurt. She was lond of her father, and knew she had meant only to express a desire for his presence among their guests. Mi's. Cameron returned to her arduous duties, resolved to put everything in as good train as she could, and then leave the helpei-s to themselves, since the girls felt so badly about her not being in the parlor. She would do almost anything rather than add to their annoyance. The guests were very gay. They had no anxi- eties concerning the feast, and were prepared to enjoy themselves. Most of them were old ac- quaintances, accustomed to meeting one another at all sorts of gatherings. Had the Camerons been at their ease they might have enjoyed the hour which intervened before lunch was an- nounced. As it was, visions of Betsey's blun- dering, or of Selmser's obstinacy, kept constantly floating before their mental vision. It was a relief when the summons to the dining-room came; at least the suspense would soon be over h ^■■Sih' 4' <■ Hii ;!1 86 WHAT THEY COULDN T. now. But it was not; it seemed to draw itself out endlessly. Whether his majesty, called Selm- ser, essayed to teach them the folly of trying to serve so pretentious a luncheon with their re- sources, or whether he was so carefully trained to run in a particular groove that he really could not step out of it, will not he known. Certain it is, that the courses were so long in being served as to lead one almost to forget what had last ap- peared. Several of the guests had no forks for their salads until after the others were ready f(M' the next course. This, Selmser explained after- wards to the annoyed hostess, was unavoidable because there were not forks enough for the dif- ferent sets; some had to be washed and waited for, a thing unknown before in all his experience of serving. It seemed also to take an unaccount- able time to replenish the cream-pitchers and cake plates; and when the coffee and chocolate began to come in so slowly that part of the company s.at with empty cups before the other part had been leached, it was with difficulty that Mary Cam- eron restrained herself from rushing out to the kitchen to express her mind to both Betsey and his majesty. It is perhaps a pity that she did! not. For some unknown reason Selmser had at| that moment rebelled; the ices needed his atten-l tion, he declared, and Betsey must serve the rest of the chocolate. In vain she protested that she could never carry that great awkward tray; itj would slip out of her hands, she knew it would,! j '"''J'ilWnMa. I WJ i OMi't i W» « » i ui i iMu>a wwM^| BUnS'S AND HliAUT-BUUKS. 37 He assured her tliat she would have to carry it if it went; and added that she would better step lively, for some of them would be getting too old to drink it bv this time, he should think I What could they expect, with a houseful and only one person to do it all ? So Betsey, who had all day been honestly doing the best she could, seized the chocolate-pot in both her red, nervous hands, and made a dash for the dining-room. She might have done well, l)ut for a miserable mend in the dining-i'oom carpet, covered for this occasion by a rng from one of the chambers. Over this rug Betsey stumbled; lier feet had not grown accus- tomed to expecting it at that place. A mojnent more and there was a confused ma^ss of Betsey, chocolate-pot, rug, and a scalding hot fluid. The I pain which this latter 0(^casioned rose above eveiy other consideration, at least for Betsey, and she howled. There were people present who had been acquaintances of the Camerons for years, but someway it was Dorothy Landis who sprang to Betsey's assistance. It was her brother who said kindly to Lucia, that alt!iough he was only a teacher, he had once been a medical student, and knew exactly what and how to do for a scald; they might safely leave Betsey's hand to him. Meantime, Dorothy Landis had with haste and skill assisted in removing the dSbris^ and had ac- complished one thing more for which Mrs. Cam- eron's heart went out in gratitude. "Let me open this side window and call our "11 • t : ■ ■J ■VI' ■i\*\ t mm 38 WHAT THEV COtJLDN T. Annie; she is really very good at serving table. I thought of offering to lend her. I wish now we had yielded to our neighborly feeling." While she spoke she raised the sash and called. In a very few minutes Annie came, white-aproned, low-voiced, swift and silent of movement, the very perfection of a maid. From that moment the table service went on smoothly; even his majesty seeming to discover that in the keen- eyed, swift-moving Annie he had met his peer. **If only that Landis girl had offered her be- fore! " It was Mary Cameron who thought this, feeling almost indignant the while over such a breach of neighborliness as the dela}^ suggested. Nor did she at the moment realize that had the offer been made before, it would probably have been declined with stiff dignity, and have been commented upon as a specimen of country igno- rancfc. It was all over at last; the chocolate stain had been washed out as well as it could be, Emilie lamenting the while that it covered the only bright breadth of carpeting in the room. The "picked- up " dinner had been served by the united efforts of the weary mother and her equally weary girls, Betsey being still in the depths of misery with her scalded wrist and hand. Emilie had vexed them all, and brought a sharp reprimand on her- self, by announcing suddenly at tlie dreary dinner, that the chickens for the salad co.5t two dollars and forty cents; the grocer called to her and gave BUllNS AND HKAIIT-IU KNS. 89 her the bill as she passed ; and that " hired fellow " threw a whole iiiue bowl full of it away; and did they know he broke the largest meat-dish ? "Do for pity's sake let us eat a few mouth- fuls," Mary had said angrily, "without having bills and broken dishes thrown at us." • Then Emilie had told her that she was cross, and that she was most of the time. She saved all her pleasant words for other people, a:)d never had anv for her own folks. Of course the mother had to interfere then; and because she was over- tire i - i ':'K > i " v^f '■ . I.' '4 il I, ■^ 1 1 1 iiiijl^fl 1 :'\\\m i t >l 42 WHAT TIIKY CorLDN T. Thero is souu'iliing iHuniUiirly trying to some nerves in tlii.s r»^j>titition of the last woi'd they have spoken. It ulvvays tried Mr. Cameron, he conhl not iiave tohl wliy. Moreover, tlie qnestion wa-j inane. She eonld come on tlie cars of conrse, just as any otlier person wouhl," lie replicMl, more testily than lie was in the habit of 8[)eakinc clone. If we are to frive Innolies, and buy new carpets and china and oven silver in order to do it. we must let our relatives go to the poorhouso f suppose." "O father I " said Lucia; while Mary spoke rapidly and in excited tones, — "I must say I don't think that is quite fair. We haven't had any company before, to speak of, in two years; and father talks as though we gave lunches every other day. As for new carpets, we had to have that one ; the company had nothing to do with it. Three pieces of china to replace broken ones, and a half-dozen plated spoons, was every article that we bought on account of the company; and we had to manage in a M'ay that will humiliate us forever, in order to get along without the things which with other people are matters of course. I am suie / do not want any more company. I thought to-day if I lived through the humiliation of this attempt I should never ask to make another. Hereafter I am going to decline all invitations, to be spared the mortifi- cation of never being able to return courtesies." *' Mary !" said her mother as soon as her voice could be heard. " Mary, hush I You forget your- self." But Mr. Cameron had already attained to the self-control which he usually had. "I am hard on you I suppose," he said wearily; "I am harassed to the point of despair in many ways. 1 know you have to do without many ■'! 'kl i '' '^ii li! M 'ill" 44 WHAT Tfli:V roULDN T. IS;:. IK things that othei-H have, and it Ininiiliates mo that it is so. But I it. I do my best. I muHt write to Knnice, I »ui){)o.-;e, tliat we have no j)lace for Imm*. Jf Hhe cannotttind a home amonnf any of hcM* ohl a;.'qnaint inecs and wo; k for lier hoard, she must go — where shall I say?'* The sudden revulsion ot feeling in his family, if he liad not been accustomed to it, would have astonished him. *•() father I " Lucia tai>l, "you wouldn't do that I" " Father 1" Riid Em i lie, "that would he per- fectly dreadful. Why, she iioar own auntiiji " Anion;; the girls poor Mivy was the r ^y idl^nt one. She was strufrgling to ki!ep hac "u.di of tears, and could have fl[)oken no word, v/hatever had happe;ied. Nor were t!i j t-jirs pushing their way for her own sake. She wa.4 already utterly miserable because of the way in which she h id spoken to her father. She had not meant to cen- sure him. She was often so grieved for his em- barrassments as to lie awake at night wondering what could be done. It was terrible in her to add to his burden by speaking as she had. Mi's. Cam- eron glanced at her and was sony for her. " I don't see, Edward, what is to be gained by talking in that way. The girls do not menu to complain. They are generally very patient, I am sure. Mary has, of her own accord, given up things which she wa.-j to have, in order to save expense. As for Eunice going to the poorhouse, that u nonsense! She will come here, of course. BITIINS AND HEAUT-nURNS. 45 if there is no otlier way. We shall manage it somehow." "Of course, " said Lucia quickly. ** Mary and I wouldn't think of having anything else done, would we, Mary? She can have the room that Kod and Mac were to have. They won't he home until tlie holidays, and some way can he planned for them." "And I can leave school now certainly," chimed in Emilie, triumnh in her voice. "If I give up my music it will save thirty doUara a term; I think it is dreadful to spend so much money just on piano lessons. Thirty dollars is worth saving, isn't it, father?" Hut even this offer could not lighten the har- assed father's burden. Perhaps he realized better than, in the excitement of the moment, any of the others did, what a burden he was about to add to the family through his maiden sister. Still, what else was to be done ? It was hard on a man if he could not make room in his home for his only sister. After the first exclamations, they had all known how it would end. Not a Cameron among them would have had the father do other than write by the morning's mail to Aunt Eunice to come to them as soon as she could make aiTangements to do so. Nevertheless, they left the dinner-table that evening so overwhelmed with this new calamity as to almost forget even the trials of the luncheon- party. i^"l 46 WHAT THEY COULDN T. CHAPTER IV. O WAD SOME POWER. " O wad some power the giftie gio us, To see oursel's as ithers see us! " THAT last sentence does not apply to Mary. Aunt Eunice's coming was dreadful enough, but it could not overshadow the miseries of that humiliatirg luncheon. When the hated dishes were fairly out of sight for the night, the girl threw a light wrap about her, and went out to the side porch to be alone with her gloomy thoughts. The evening was crisp even for October ; so much so that Lucia called after her, that if she was go- ing to " moon " out there she would better put on a heavier shawl. She vouchsafed no reply to this, and felt sure that tlie light wrap which she had chosen would be all-sufficient. To be sure her hands were cold; she could feel that they were like ice, but her head was hot and throbbing, and to get where it was cool and still and dark had become her necessity. Let it not be supposed that Mary Came] on was so weak a young womar as to have worked her- self into this state of misery over the annoyances and embarrassments attendant upon the day's ex- I on was O WAn rOMK POWER. 47 perience. It was trying, of couive, to have had a series of mishaps, and linally an accident— all of which were the evident result of incompetent help and insufficient means ; but such possibilities had been taken into consideration when the lunch was planned, and the ^irl had strength of character to rise above such petty trials after the first excite- ment was over. There was a dee})er cause for her gloom. There had come to her that day a revela- tion concerning the character of one of her guests; one which, though slight in itself, revealed much to her, and hurt her as she had not before under- stood that she could be hurt. It was when Hetsey lay prone upon the floor, "howling," ni Emilie expressed it, "f(n- all she was worth," and the distress of the hostess was at its climax, that Mary's eyes chanced to make a swift journey to the corner where Russell Denham wjcs enjoying himself with a charming y<>ii"g hidy at either side. Of course their atrention was arrested by the accident, — as whose was not, thanks to Bet- sey's effective voice? — but it Avas the look on Russell Deiiham's face which lingered with Mary and stabbyd her. An unmistakable smile dis- figured his handsome features. Now, it is sup- posable that a man may smile, even under j-uch circumstances, if he have no special interest in the immediate sufferer, — certainly Betsey's ap- pearance and tones had their ludicrous side, — -and it was not probable that she was very seriously injured; but there are smiles and smiles. This , ' i ■ -.1 ^r;i ■ft ;■•' liilj 'I : 'Mill.,. 'ill. '0 ;i ,. IT^ 48 WHAT THEY COULDN T. I'lU'i' w Mi ! :f:«h 'N| Wi 1 rii one had in it a hint of a sneer; an amused sneer it is true, but still a sneer; not so much at Betsey, as over the whole miserable attempt at doing things as other people did, and failing. At least Mary, though she tried her utmost to do so, could not translate it otherwise. It was almost as though she had heard his voice in amused sarcasm turning the whole thing into ridicule. In vain she told herself she was unjust, unreasonable, to so translate a passing glance on the face of a man who spoke not a word; but in her inmost heart she felt that the smile was not one which would have lingered on his face had he been in hearty sympathy with the people who were trying to entertain him. The contrast between his manner and that of Mr. Landis, for instance, was suffi- ciently marked to impress itself upon her. It was of no use to tell herself that Mr. Landis was offi- cious, that it would have been in better taste for him to have kept his seat, and appeared not to notice the accident, as the other well-bred persons did. Marv Cameron knew she was not true to her own convictions when she did so. Poor Betsey was at this moment blessing the man for his prompt and efficient help. Still it was folly to contrast the two. Not every young man is an apprentice in a drug-store long enough to know- how to succor scalded hands. She did not know anything about it, but she presumed this was the ease with Mr. ^^andis. Certainly she had not expected nor desired Mr. Denham to rush to O WAD SOME POWKK. 49 Betsey's help. But — yes, there came constantly l):u'k to her that tantalizing, "but," it stood for so many things. He had not even said to her the well-bred nothings with which the others had made their adieus: "Such a charming time," "So sorry that poor girl had to hurt herself," "The only mar to a pleasant occasion." "A unique lunch-party," Russell Denham had said as he ex- tended his hand ; and there was still that lurking smile which she hated, curving his lips. When Jessie Lee had essayed to express civilly her re- gret that poor Betsey had suffered, he had said gayly, "Oh, we cannot afford to regret that; it added a touch of uniqueness to the whole. I as- sure you she looked quite picturesque reclining there; it was after the manner of an Eastern salaam," and he laughed again; while his sister added, "There was an Eastern bowl at least. Wasn't she terrific. Miss Cameron? I knew by the strength of her lungs that she could not be fatally injured." It had all been hateful. It was not so much the words as the undefined subtle something be- hind them which Mary Cameron felt; the some- thing which made her ask herself now, as she threw back even her small wrap and let the night wind blow about her throbbing temples, what Russell Denham had meant by the attentions he had lavished upon her during the past two months. Why had he several times in a marked manner singled her out from others, and given ' I, V '. m iit \w 1? mm liisi HI Hi 50 WHAT THEY COULDN T. m ■I exclusive thought apparently to her, since he could wear that smile and speak tliose indifferent words when he must have known she was suffer- ing humiliation ? Only a night or two ago lie had said to her, "To think that I have been lingering here for more than seven weeks when I half expected to limit my stay to as many days ! 1 am afraid you do not understand who is to blame for this dere- liction from duty." And he had looked at her in such a way that she could not but understand that he was casting the sweet blame upon her. Then immediately he liad added, " I confess that they are the shortest seven weeks of my life ; but per- haps they have seemed long to you; sometimes I fear so." She had been on the eve of cvmfessing that they did not, that she had enjoyed them more than she was wont to enjoy the society of her friends; but that irrepressible Emilie, who was always where she ought not to be, had burst in upon them at that moment with some gay news gleaned from "the girls," and they two had chat- tered together constantly thereafter, so there was no opportunity for reply. As she thought of it now, was she glad or sorry that she had not told him she had enjoyed the weeks? VVhat might he not have said in reply? But then, if he meant none of it -^ and could he have meant anything and have jjmiled aiul sneered as he did to-day? The blood seemed to roll in waves over her face as she wondered if he had insulted her by saying soft O WAD SOME POWER. 51 ■'M i' nothings to her I He was not a boy to play at offering special attentions, as some idiotic boys might do, just to see if they knew how to use the language of their elders. True, he was on the eve of a return to college ; but it was for a post-grad- uate course, and taken because he was fond of study, and had abundant means and abundant leisure. He was twenty-six. She had discovered - it when they were comparing dates in regard to * certain past experiences. "Why, I was at that very concert I " he had said, in almost boyish de- light. "I remember it was my twenty-fourth birthday, and I indulged myself in a rare musical treat in order to celebrate the event. To think that you were in the same row of boxes and I never knew it! How shall I account for such unparalleled stupidity on my part?" Even while she laughed gleefully over his pretended disgust at not recognizing a person of whom he had never even heard, she had felt at her heart a little thrill of satisfaction. Then he was twenty-six years old now, and she had but passed her twenty-fourth birthday. An eminently proper age were they for being intimate friends, even the most intimate. He had seemed younger than that; she had thought liini possibly a trifle younger than herself, and had caught herself won- dering whether people would discover it some day, and make unpleasant remarks thereupon. No, they were neither of them young simpletons playing at life. It made the pain all the sharper I ! . 1 , ' '! , 1 1 f: ' ; ■• F ' i 1 > i 'i \\ '. i' ', a ■ I ^i; li m ; ,j4 52 WHAT THEY couldn't. for Mary Cameron to remember this. She had not been a girl who was especiall} fond of the society of young men. She had almost no inti- mate friendships with them. Lucia was in- clined to have at least half a dozen very good friends among "the boys;" friends with whom she corresponded in a happy-go-lucky sort of way, writing when she felt like it, and wlien she did not, letting weeks, even months, slip by witli an occasional statement that she supposed she ought to answer Charlie's letter, or she was afraid Dick would think she had forgotten how to write; but Mary had not interested herself enough in any of their acquaintances to write to them, save when business or some courtesy called for it. She had often wondered whether she were different from other girls; why they cared, some of them, so much for the attentions of the young men of their set, and whether she ever should care in the least about these things. Perhaps her very indifference heretofore made the sting deeper when she discovered that she had grown to have a feeling which, to say the least, was not indif- ference for this young man who could smile when she was troubled, and who was going away to- morrow, and had left her that day with a genial, "Well, I suppose this is good-by? You will hardly allow me to call in the morning, since I must leave at twelve. The Eastern princess will demand some of your morning perhaps? I shall net soon forget mv pleasant visit to your city." O WAD SOME POWER. 53 Did he really mean that that was good-by ? She had thouglit that even letter-writing, of wliich she was not fond, as her brotliers could testify, would be pleasant, if the letters were to be addressed to him. But he made no mention of lettei-s, although when he offered to mail for her one evening a letter to her brother, he had glanced at the address and said, " Has it become natural for you to ad- dress letters to the university, so that your friends who beg for them one of these days will not have to wait for you to get in the habit of it ? " She had laughed in reply, and also blushed, as she remembered that his post-graduate course was to be taken at the university where her brothers were. After that she had expected to be asked to correspond with him, and had gone over in her mind the reply she would make. She blushed under cover of the darkness as she thought of it now. Aside from the fact that her interest in this man had been unusual from the first, and liad steadily increased with acquaintance, it was Iniiniliating to have it see a as though her friend- ship had been trifled with. In truth she did not admit it, after a little. It suggested itself, and she put it away as unworthy of her and of him. No opportunity had offered itself for him to say the words he meant to say. That ridiculous affair of Betsey and the chocolate had made it im- 'ii ' I, \L . ' ■ 1 ' I ! i A ip li 'Ijliijljiji 54 WHAT THEY COULDN T. possible to plan for any real conversation after- wards. Then Em i lie was at hand, of course ; she always was when she was not desired. Girls of fifteen ought to be sent to boarding-school until they could learn common-sense and good manners. Mr. Denham would call in the morn- ing, despite his hint to the contrary ; she had not told him he could not. From nine until twelve was ample time for a call, provided he wished to make it. Or, even if lie should be detained from that, he could write ; she had not told him she would not address letters to him. It was foolish for her to condemn him as a trifier merely be- cause lie had laughed when she did not feel like it. The quiet and coolness of the front porch suggested this train of thought. Was it fortu- nate or otherwise that she could not hear a con- versation which was taking place at this moment at the extreme upper end of Durand Aveirae? Russell Denham was taking his sister home from an evening visit, and the two were discussing the luncheon-party. After a moment's silence the young man broke forth afresh, prefacing his sentence with a light laugh. " What a ridiculous tableau that whole thing made ? The howling girl with chocolate pouring serenely over her, the faces of the guests, and above all the faces of our hostess and her two older daughters. It would have been more hu- mane not to have laughed, but really I don't see how a fellow was to prevent it. The whole thing matched somehow." O WAD SOME POWER. 55 " Matched what, Russell ? " " Why, the effort at style and elegance ; and the effort to appear at ease when the entire family were undoubtedly far from ease. One could see tiiiit affairs were in jeopardy all the while. Miss Ciitneron conversed with one eye on the kitchen door, so to speak, even before the luncheon was juniounced ; and even that rollicking Miss Lucia was subdued and nervous." " Y"et the Canierons are used to good society, and always have been ; we have met them every- where." "• Thev are more used to iroinjj than to en- tertaining evidently," said her brother. " The question is, why could they not have been con- tent with an effort which was within their means, and in correspondence with their surroundings ? A man would have known better than to place himself in a position where such embarrassments as they labored under were possible. Fancy wait- ing ten minutes by the clock for an extra spoon for the coffee ! " Whereupon he laughed again. " Do you know," said his sister, " that you re- lieve my mind immensely? I really thought, or feared, until to-day, that you had a very special interest in Miss Mary Cameron. I am sure you have shown her more attention than is your habit, and it seemed to me several times that I joined you when you were on the verge of a conversation which might end dangerously." Mr. Denham did not laugh this time ; instead, ■i!f I'Mmii >r' If':"' I'M ! M 56 WHAT THKV COULDN T. illiil'' he was silent for several seconds ; then lie said in a cliaiiged tone, — " To be entirely frank with you, Miss Cameion has interested me more than young women gen- erally do. Possibly, had I not been strangely in- terrupted more than once, I might have said something which would need to be repented of. I have not been entirely sure of my own mind at any time, but I thought perhaps on a closer acquaintance I should grow to be. I will con- fess that the farce we have been through to-day opened my eyes somewhat to her true character, and — well, to speak 2)lainly, frightened me. It is a very little thing, you think, to accomplish so serious a result ; but look at it. The Camerons are poor, much poorer even than we are ; and you know very well that at home we never indulge in this sort of thing. The father is working on a salary ; not a very large one either, and just at this time he is decidedly embarrassed. Young Holcombe was speaking of it to-day : he told me that Mr. Cameron has asked the Hosmers twice lately for an extension of time. He looks har- assed and worn. Under such circumstances his daughters might be excused from entertaining guests one would think. Or, if they considvi'ed that impossible, wliy not, as I said, have given us a simple cup of cliocolate and a biscuit, or cracker, or whatever you call those little things which people serve ? Their dishes would have gone around for such an entertainment, which O WAD SOME POWER. 67 they manifestly did not for this spread. I frankly confess I was disgusted with the whole tiling. I could not help realizing that in my motiier's house nothinjj like it could ever have occurred. I hiite to see people undertiike what they (iannot carry out. I own it is queer that it slioiild have given Jiie sucli a revulsion of feeling as it did, but I came away from there telling myself that I could not afford to be interested in a girl like that. My income would never justify it. Any one who tries to make a dollar look to her friends as though it was ten dollars, and she had plenty more in reserve, I am afiaid of," "Yet you have the name of being very lavish with your money, Russell. That Mr. Stuart who sat beside me at table hinted that you were a subject of envy, on that account, among his gen- tlemen friends." '' Oh, that is because I have arrived at the age when a man is generally in business for himself, and am still studying. I cannot go around the country telling every one to whom I am introduced that what money 1 have is Ijestowed upon me by the most eccentric of uncles, who made it impossi- ble for me to use another penny after my educa- tion is completed; and that I am hard at work planning ways and means to get a living after I have secured as good an education its tiie money will give. Professor Landis wliom we met to-day, and whom, by the wsiVy I like better than any of the other fellows, told me I was right in believing * '4 It- [i .08 WHAT TMKV ("(UIJLN T. I I that it would make a preat difference with my prospects as a teacher if I took a thorough post- graduate course. I grant you that, thanks to my whimsical uncle, I am sailing under what might be considered false colors ; but I am doing it hon- estly and mean to tell the exact trutli to whom- ever is intimate enough witli me to have a right to it. I thought 1 should have told Miss Cameron before this, hut I have decided that I probably never shall." "•Well, but, Kussell, are you not a little severe? I am not fond of Mary Cameron, but I ought to want justice done her. Perhaps she is the crea- ture of circumstance. Tlie lavish effort at expen- diture to-day may not have been in accordance with her ideas or wishes. All motliers are not like ours ; and altliough she is the eldest daughter, younger ones sometimes have more weight in the home than their eldc; ;." "No," said her brother emphatically. "I have been all ever that ground. Mary Cameron was the moving spirit there to-day. The anxious way in which her mother's eyes constantly sought hers to see if things were going to her mind, and the deprecating manner in which she appealed to her when they went wrong, would have been pitiful if it had not been exasperating. It told the entire story. I could fancy Mary getting into a storm of determination to carry her point, regardless of results. She is not a meek and quiet spirit; in fact, I thought she had an independent spirit at ^iii.i.!li ,1 i ' f O WAD SOME POWKB. 59 first, and admired it ; but instead, she ia one of tliose who mui*t ape society ways of doing things, wliether tliey l)e reasonable ways or not, even tliouj^li she adds to lier father's burdens, as the sniallest expenditures must at present. To liave a social hour with her friends and give them ])leasure was not her aim to-day, but to show the Overmans and Westbrooks, who are wortli hun- dreds of thousands, tliat slie can make as expen- siv(5 a spread as they can. And even that failed, you see ; she could not do it. No, I am quite decided that I was nnstaken in her character, and tliat my expectation;;, which at present are represented by zero, will not admit of my further cultivating her friendship." His sister laughed cheerily. "Your tone as well as words show that you do not care. The impression which she made has evidently not been a very serious one. I am glad of it. As I said, I have not been drawn io her; and it is a great comfort to think that I need not oblige myself to like her for your sake. But I hope the poor girl has not become too much interested in you for her peace of mind." " Oh, not at all," her brother said quickly. "Miss Cameron's weaknesses do not lie in that direction ; and of course I have not made my possible thoughts concerning her plain to her. I think she likes me very well, and might have learned to like me better perhaps ; but that is over. M ij ' : I, 'Hi f^ mfi 60 WHAT THEY COULDN T. i I Nevertheless, as he left his sister at the door of the library with her girl friends, and went on up to his room, he sighed and said to liimself, — "Nettie knows very little about it after all. Mary Cameron came nearer to toucliing my life than I had supposed any woman could. Heigh- ho ! ' trifles light as air ' accoraijlish strange i esnlts sometimes. Who would have supposed tlmt a luncheon-party, gotten up regardless of expense, and calculated to impress us with a sense of posi- tion in life, should have had sucli a peculiar effect on me ? 1 wish I had gone to Boston yesterday as I ought, instead of lingering here purely for the sake of having another visit with her. Then I might have — or no, of course I don't wish that, because then i should have — Do I wish it, I wonder ? Oh, get out of the way ! I don't want you at least." The very last sentence was ad- dressed to the cat, who came purring about him ready to be played with. With regret be it stated that he kicked her, not seriously, but unmis- takably. Assuredly Russell Denham was in ill humor. IN THE GLOOM. CHAPTER V. 61 IN THE GLOOM. THE twiliglit dee[)ened and the evening grew more chill. Mrs. Cameron put her head out of the door once and said, " Mary, I think you are imprudent ; it is really quite cold." Still the girl lingered. Slie was not crying; she had no desire to cry ; but it seemed to her that she could not go into that well-lighted sitting-room and listen to Eniilie's chatter about the guests and the luncheon and Aunt Eunice. Neither could she go to her own room ; for Lucia would be sure to follow quite soon, and there would be her tongue to endur*?. If Lucia said anything about Russell Denham to- night she did not know what would become of her. She could not endure the thought of the family wondering that lit did not come for a farewell call, or asking if he m<'ant to call in the morning. A quick, firm step sounded on the pavement — there had been many since nhe .:^x had stopped in a friendly Avay to s]>eak to her. She simply could not think of a ei'vil crnn aonplace to say. He relieved her embarrassnieuL m ' I : - r i ■ \4 iilM 111' III, (' l^' I ,i:. 64 WHAT THEY COULDN T. •" I liad it ill mind to ask a question or two to- day had the oi)i)oitunity offered. My sister and I are comparative strangers in the city, you know, and I believe you are old residents. Some of tlie churches near us have been closed since our com- ing. What can you tell us concernhig tliem ? Is there one where we are needed ? '' "I haven't the least idea," said Miss Cameron promptly, glad of a subject upon which she could speak glibly. '' We have no more knowledge of this part of the town than entire strangers have. Our own church is away up-town at Fountain Square. ^^ But you do not expect to continue your con- nection with that churcli now that you have come to this part of the town, I presume?" "Why not? We liave not tliought of such a thing as making a change in that respect.* We are sufficiently homenick now, without adding to it unnecessarily." " I beg pardon ; I had supposed the distance would be an objection." **Oh, not at all. The rable takes us quite to the doors. It conne«'ts with the Central Avenue one, vou know." 'llien, feelin"" that the occa- eion demanded so much courtesy from her, she a-lded with an attenipt at graciousness, "If you and your sister are fond of good music you will hear none finer in th» city than at the Fountain- square C hurch. They spend thousands of dollars every year ou their choir. They are also quite "[.11 IN THE GLOOM. 65 attentive to strangers, — have pews set apart for their use. You might like to go there evenings occasionally." " No, lie said quietly ; *' I think we will find our corner nearer home. There is a little church on Smith Street, just out of Durand Avenue, which interests us. Tlie pastor is absent, in attendance upon his father who is ill, I understand ; but the people are very cordial. If it shall prov3 that we are as much pleased with the pastor as with his flock, I think we shall decide for that church. To tell you the truth, we had hoped that you would join us there. The church evidently needs lielp, and affords a splendid opportunity for work. They have a Christian Endeavor Society which could be made a power in the neighborhood." Mary Cameron received a fresh accession of dignity. The man actually wanted to patronize them, and get them into that little hive on Smith Street, which already swarmed with people, judg- ing from the crowds of children who blocked the streets on Sunday mornings surging out of their Sunday-school. " We haven't the slightest idea of making any change, as I said," she replied coldly ; and she wished he would go home. It was growing chilly ; she began to realize it. Did he expect her to in- vite him in to a family chat? She did not mean to do it. Certainly she was not going to show him to the parlor, and undertake to entertain him; and it would hardly do to call Lucia to the task :»ii • i'i B ii : I Mfi ' i't' FH I m WHAT TIIEV CorLfJN T. and then vanish. Wliv could he not see that slie wanted to be alone, even thougli she came to the front doorsteps to secure the o{){)ortuinty ? He seemed to have no idea of goiiig. He leaned against the railing which separated his home from theirs, and looked up at the far-away stai-s in si- lence for a moment, then said siif. 78 Kiiiilic chimed in. "You don't any of you think ot' tllilt." Tlifso sentences had been interapersed with wislies from tlie niotlier that Mjuy would not Slav out in tiie chilly air ko h)iig, and occa- sional wondei'ings from Eniilie as to who was out there with her. Mother and daughter had hotli hiughed at Emilie's pathetic reference to lu'iself, which was often the only rei)ly the girl received ; and then Mary had come in from the porch and concocted out of nothing, as has heen shown, lier theory of having been discussed all the time she had heen away. Young Landis, not finding his sister Dorothv visible anywhere, went from liis neighbor's porch to his room, and sat down to consider what had been said, lie looked grave and disappointed over it. " I did her no good," he thought ; " not the least in the world. The poor creature carries unrest and dissatisfaction written on her face so that he * who runs may read.' How very plain it is that she is not acquainted with Him whom 'to know aright is peace.' And I did not help lier. Instead of being plain and direct in what I had to say, I went off on some ideas of my own which she did not understand any more than if I had spoken Sansorit. I might have known that she wouldn't. I actually frightened her. To think of Jesus Christ as a personal Presence is terror to her. How few there are who seem to know him aright I I wonder if he feels it as we I m ' [', ' i ; 1 i ' I ' v' 1 1 1 ( i' 1 ) 1 ) ^, ; U T ■ ''•1 !i I':**'' ■ , ■ ■ ■ ■ 1 ■ .^ li i ■ ijkj WHAT THKV COULDN T. I > IM feel the indifference, the positive sliglit, of those with whom we woiihl be friends? Tliink of him stooping to win us by every gentle, tender word in our language, and we indifferent! Sometimes it passes belief that lie can endure tliis soi-t of thing much longer. Sometimes it is the strong- est mark of divinity which I recogjiize, that he does so endure, through tlie ages. Fancy a young woman having so little to occupy her precious Sabbath time, that slie is willing to spend two hours, to say the least, in going and returning from Fountain Square, in company with ci'owds of Sabbath-breakers bent on reaching a like locality, for a different reason from hers I Though, when one thinks of it, her reasons for going seem not to be very delinite. She does not impress one as deeply attaclied to her church. It v/ould almost seem as though she sought it because it was located at Fountain Square. Now, brother Landis, that is a charitable conclusion ! No doubt she does feel at home there, and desolate here. Apparently I am not the one to help her into a happier frame of mind ; " and he laughed outright over the girl's manifest desire to be rid of him. " I ought to have let my sweet little saint Dorothy undertake that task. But the girl looked so utterly miserable to-day. I wonder what it is ? Certainly the accident, awkward as it was, cannot account for so much unhappiness. Ah, well ! I cannot carr) my neighbor's burdens. But I con- fess to an unusual desire to help this girl; perhaps riT'i IN THE GLOOM. 75 it is because she seems in such dire need of help. I wonder if the peo[)le who are striving' after a place and name in this world, and failing to reacli tlieiu, are not more to be pitied than the people who are content down where they are? That is a question in social ethics to consider. To answer it in the affirmative would upset all the theoiies of philanthropists the world over. Oh, the world ! when will it learn what it needs ? " ;i!i 76 WHAT THEY COULDN T. CHAPTER VT. 1 M i . 1: A "ISNT SHK A TKIlROR ; J'NT EUNICE w.is duly watched for and met at the Htation ; met sevd'ul times, in fact, by anticipation, and at vaviouj* depots* On two occasions Mr. Cameron h)st hir^ Inncli entircdv in order to be in time for a train on which it W:i>4 thono-j't she niiji'ht arrive. And after all thi^* she came ice distinct to all ihe anxious cai;^ which were hovering about upper windows, while she had a parley with the driver about the utnea- sonable sum which he wished to charge her. Be- cause it was characteristic of Aunt Eunice, it shall be mentioned here that he did not receive the fare he called for. But this beginning did not pre- possess the Camerons in her favor. "• Listen toiler! " exclaimed Emilie with a very distinct gurgle of laughter, "she is telling him that he ought to })e published in all the papers, and that he will find he nas tried to cheat the wrong woman this time ! " Emilie was the only one who laughed. Mary was indignant. im *' ISN T SHE A TERROR » »' i I " Why doesn't the creature come in and let father attend to the cahnian ! " she inquired an- grily of no one in particular. " It wasn't enough for her to appear at an unearthly hour of the night, after being waited for at every depot in town, but s\u', must arous»i the neighborhood with her tongue." •'Father I" said Emilie with another giggle, " he stands at one side, vanquished. She has already told him to go aw ay and let her alone ; that she knows how to manage a cabman she guesses ; if she doesn't, he can't teach her." '' Do let us go back to bed," said Lucia, shiv- ering under the light wrapper she had liastily thrown about her when the bell rang; *' if I had imagined it was she, ringing so furiously, I would have stayed there in the first place. I thought of Mac and Rod, and a telegram. We can survive until morning without seeing her, I think. Emilie, come away from the window, and close it ; you would hiugh if a madman were out there, instead of a mad woman." " I am going down," said Emilie, dashing into her own room to make a rapid toilet ; " mother may need some help in looking after her, she is in such a belligerent frame of mind." Perhaps this, too, was characteristic ; it was often Emilie who went down to give mother a little help in emergencies. To be sure, she got no credit for it with the family. Emilie's curi- osity, they said, would take her out of bed, into WHAT THEV COULDX T. the most disagreeable pUu^es, if there were any- thing new to be seen. But the mother or Hetsey often l]ad the benefit of snatches of help from her. It was a cold morning ; cold enough to make every one lealize that November had come, and meant to be severe and surly. The Camerons were in the sitting-room, variously employed. Mrs. Cameron was busy with a roll of garments which had arrived by mail from the boys. They did not know what was the matter with them, Mac wrote, except that they seemed to need mother. " If they were my bo3'S," said Aunt Eunice, gazing with severe eyes on yawning rents in the garment being held up for inspection, '•' they would know what v/as the matter, and get a lesson to remember into the bai'gain. Things don't tear like that unless they ha/e awful jerks getting them off. Boys ought •( iearn how to take off their clothes decently before they go away from home." •' All boys are careless sometimes, I suppose," said Mrs. Cameron coldly. She had been known to tell her sons that never were there two such careless creatures born, she verily believed, but she was not pleased to have such an idea even hinted at by another. " Yes," said Aunt Eunice grimly ; " and that is the way to make them so. From the time they get on roundabout jackets until they are married '' ISN T sHi; A Ti:i:iu»i{ ; I •• and have families of ilieir own to look afliT, they lunir it everlastingly said that Mjoys must he h(»ys,' and 'hoys are horn lieedless,' and all that sort of thing, until they get a notion that they are of no account uid(\ss tliey i)ull and haul, and tear around like wild animals, and destroy more tliinw-s tlian they use. I haven't any patience with that kijid of hiinging up."' "■ Aunt Eunice, how many })oys have you brought U})?" asked Lucia, looking up from the cow she was cai-efully daubing into her painting. Aunt Eunice's sallow face grew slowly red as she replied, " I haven't brought up any, as I sujj- pose you know very well without my telling ; but J was brought U[) to be lespectful to my elders, which is more, 1 should think, than can be said of some. '• Lucia I " said Mrs. Cameron, warning and dis- tress in her voice ; but Lucia's only reply was, " Dear me, mother ! 1 only asked a question." " Mother I " said Emilie, rushing into the loom from the outside world somewhere, and s[)eak- ing eao-erly, — in fact Emilie Cameron generally rushed to and from all places, and always spoke eagerly, — "mother, the class begins to-night, and I haven't got my ticket, or shoes, or anything. Can't I see about them right away?" ••' I must have a talk with your father first, Emilie," said Mrs. Cameron, looking more di:; tressed. ••' I haven't had a moment when I could mention it." ?n -1: jmm ^^^^^ 80 WHAT THEY COULDN'q . "But, mother, I tell you they begin to-night. If I lose the first lesson, I might as well lose the whole ; they will all be ahead of me." " Then you would better lose the first lesson," said Mary, quickly. " I don't see how father can afford the inonev for tliat class this fall." " Now, Mary Cameron, you only say that to be hateful. You know you told mother you thought I might better give up my music than my dancing- lessons." "Dancing-lessons!" repeated Aunt Eunice in impressive tones. " A gianddaughter of Daniel Cameron! Well! well! what next, I wonder?" " Emilie," said Mrs. Cameron with decision, "I wish you to let that suijject entirely alone until I can talk with your father. I thought you had more sense." She shot an annoyed glance in the direction of the new-comer as she spoke ; and Emilie, who had forgotten her in the excitement of the moment, went slowly from the room mur- muring something which it is thought was not com- plimentary to Aunt Eunice. That person knitted liard and fast on a stern gray sock she was fash- ioning, and did not speak for several minutes. Then she addressed Mary, who was sewing braid in elaborate design on something white and silky. " What is that you are making ? " Mary explained thtit it was a new front to wear witli an old dress, to brighten it up. " Humph ! I should think it would disfigure it. Putting beads on in all sorts of shapes, exactly ftl '• ISN T SlIK A TKl!i:OIl . 81 as tlie squaws do. Tliev used to come to our back door by the dozens, ligj^^ed im) in bead-work: but I did not know tliat civilized women copied their fashions. I shouhl think you were too old to wear such things." Here Lucia laid down her paint-brush to hiugh immoderately. "I'm not seventy yet!" said Mary, bestowing an indignant glance on Lucia. "No; but you are twenty-four years and two months. I kept a record of n.y brother's children in my Bible, and I know to a day how old each one is. It seems to me that a young woman who has reached your age shouldn't wasto her time on such follies. What do you do with all your time? Do you teach, or what?" This last question was evidently addressed to Lucia, and had reference to her painting. " ' What,' I guess," she answered, laughing, and added, " No, ma'am ; I never had the misfortune to be obliged to teach anybody. I paint for my own amusement." " Humph I I hope you find yourself amused. That cow you are making don't look any more like a cow to me than it does like a rooster, and I have been brought up with both of tliem all my life. Our minister used to say he tliought people ought not to spend time painting pictures unless they could make money b}'^ it, or liad a special genius in that direction. I shouldn't think you have the genius if I am any judge." t i, 1fl w m liiki/ H-1 WHAT THKV ('OrM>N' T. "People do not usually put on spectacles, and move as close to oil-paintings as they can get, in order to judge of their merit," said Luciu, trying to defend her cow. •• 'I'hcy iiave to he viewed at a distances." ••' I should think likelv I and tiie crreater the distance the l)ett(;r the view. VVhv don't vou two young women go to work and earn some money for your father? He says lie has haid times to make eniH 1 , i 90 WHAT THEY COULDN T. ! 1 to remember tlu t there was such a thing ; but I presume you do not live like heathen always. What is the supposed hour ? " "To tell you the truth," said the much em- barrassed man, "we have not been Iiaving family worship of late years. As the children grew up, they were irregular about getting down to break- fast, and I was always in a hurry, and so — well, the fact is, w^ dropped it." "Dear, dear I " said Aunt Eunice, "what next, I wonder? And you a son of Daniel Cameron I What Avould father say, do you suppose ? I must say, Edward, I am disappointed. I judged from all I heard about vour family thi,t vou were not wheat you used to be ; but I did not suppose you hfid gone back on your early training like that." " Isn't she a terror? " was Emilie's query, as she sought her elder sisters' room to relieve her mind. " Did you ever realize before, what an affliction it was to have Daniel Cameron for a grandfather? Poor father was utterly squelched to-night. I haven't seen him look so miserable since Rod got into his last scrape. I'm going to write to the boys, and tell them Aunt Eunice wants to know if they are church-members ! " Whereupon she threw back her head and indulged in a merry laugh. " If she is a specimen of the average church- member," said Mary, " I hope I may be kept from ever joining their ranks. Of all the disagreeable, meddling old cranks I ever heard of, I think she U TO ISN T SHE A TERROR I » " 91 is the worst. How we are ever to endure her until Christmas I cannot imagine." And at tliat very moment the "disagreeable, meddling old crank " was on her knees, praying earnestly and most sincerely for her brother and his family, that they all might be turned from the error of their ways. .W : ^' ■v 1 lliiH 92 WHAT THEY COULDN T. CHAPTER VII. A "peculiar" man. PROFESSOR LANDIS was moving about his room, making ready for the day's duties. The University where he was engaged during the day was a long distance from Durand Ave- nue, making it necessary for liim to take lunch down-town ; so he must make ready for an all- day's absence. His sister Dorothy, whose hours were earlier than his, had departed in tlie eight o'clock car; so he was practically alone. This being the case, he indulged himself in his favorite pastime of singing as loud as his lungs would permit. As he moved leisurely alx)ut, doing little last things, he let his splendid bass voice out in full power, so that it rolled through the quiet house like a trumpet. He was mistaken in sup- posing that he had no listeners. Said Aunt Eu- nice, on the other side of the dividing wall : — " Do hear that man roar I It is to be hoped that the rest of the family are deaf and dumb.'* " There is no family, " said Emilie, to whom was often left the duty of replying to her Aunt Eunice's remarks. " You don't mean to say that he lives in that big house all alone ? " A "peculiar' man. 98 m " It isn't very big ; it is us like oui-s Jis two peas ill a pod. And his sister lives with him; but she teaches, I guess. Anyway, slie goes off early every morning, with her arms full of books ; so he is alone except for the girl in the basement. He often roars around like th.it. 1 like it; I think his voice is splendid." '• And what does he do for a livinjr ? *' '•Why he teaches too, somewhere. At least we think so ; tiiey call him Professor Landis." '''• Hump ! and so he and she live all alone. I suppose they are orplians ; I should think it would be cheaper to board, especially as they have to keep a servant. But I suppose they both get good salaries and choose to live it all up. That is the way y^)ung folks do nowadays. When I was a girl we lived on as little us we could, and saved the rest, or spent it on some of the family who needed our help. Mercy ! / don't like his voice ; it sounds like distant thunder." Entirely unconscious of criticism. Professor Lan- dis paused long enough to look thoughtfully at a bit of paper on which was written a couple of names, then placed it in his diary, and began on the last verse of the hymn he loved : •' If our love were but more simple, We should take Him at his word; And our lives wouid be all sunshine In the sweetness of our Lord." Then, his own preparations completed, came the la^t thing before leaving the house. This pro- lilt ti; f^ >} I Hi Ml 94 WHAT THKY COUU>N T. feasor of Latin dropped on his knees and prayed. If people who wondered at some of his ways could have heard that prayer, it would have given them a hint of the motive jwiwer of his life. If was not a lengthy prayer: manifestly the words were spoken by one wlm was very familiar with the Friend whom he addressed. There wis no intro- duction, nothing of the usual formula of prayer. It would have given a listener the impression, which would have been a true one, that the man had prayed before, this same morning, find now was only claiming a parting word before he went out into the world. He asked for a special bless- ing on the scholars who should that day come under his care ; that his influence in the class might be such as would some way hint of the Leader whose colors he wore. He asked for two or three, individually, referring briefly to the rea- son why they lay so close to his heart. More than that, he asked for the right word to say to any whom he should chance to pass, to and from his duties that day. He remembered those to whom he would have no chance to say a word, and begged that if possible, by look or smile, or cour- tesy of some sort, he might help to make their day brighter and better. In short he asked to be Christ-like that day. Happy the mother who can send h'^r boy out from home each morninjj to the care and influence of such a teacher. He is subject to a thousand temptations and strains which she does not and \ m PKCULIAIt MAN. 95 i cannot understand. She will never know, per- haps, how much she owes to the influence of the thorouglily consecrated teacher, or that it is be- cause of him that the boy bears the strain ; never mind ; God knows. It was the living up to the spirit of such prayers as these which made of Pro- fessor Lan«Ms a man whom some called " peculiar.'' lie had heard the name applied to him ; and, while certainly he did not seek to win it, yet he was in no wise disturbed thereby. In truth, he liked the word. As often as he heard it, there came to his heart the memory of the strong old words of prom- ise : " Now therefore if ye will obey my voice indeed, and keep my covenant, then ye shall he a peculiar treasure unto me." This young man frankly confessed to his own he.irt that lie coveted for himself that promise. His exalted ambition was to be a peculiar treasure to the Lord Christ. It was the spirit born of intimate comi)anionship with this Friend of his, which led hint, as he stood on the platform of the crowded street-car beside the red-faced, gruff-voiced driver, to say pleasantly, "It is too bad to crowd you so that you cannot have room for your stool. When we get the cable on this line you will have it easier, will you not?" "Humph I" the man said, "more like, I won't have it at all. A lot of us fellows will jsfet turned off then, and have to lie idle for a spell, and live on nothing while we're doing it. That's the way them new-fangled things always work." Perhaps a dozen times before, in the course of II *h'' 'i"^ s'f hI .11 4:k J- ■m. rr If I I' 96 WHAT THKV COULDN T. I:.i ii.^' Iff mm the previous two wiMiks, Iiiid tliis street-car driver whose lieart was sore over expecjted trouble for himself aud fauiilv, made a similar comment con- cerning the new arrangements which were heiiiij watched for eagerly by the passengt^rs. A dozen times had he reeeive this same Myers. I don't want to have anything to do with him nor liis kind. He and that Miss Hudson that he goes with so much were giggling for all they were worth, the other night at the concert. I knew it was about me ; anybody could see that at a glance ; and I suppose it was my necktie that tickled them, though what is the matter with it I'm sure I don't know. It is new and clean ; and there were ten thousand othei-s like it in the store where I bought it: so it must be in fashion for somebody." And then Professor Landis knew, by a bell which began at the moment to tv/ang, that he must leave this part of the vineyard and make haste to other work. H: 'I ■^trf I iilH Mi. f.' ' III ■ Is ," 'if ,' I > '■■ •-;l: . 104 WHAT THEY COULDN'T. " I am sorry," was all he bad time to say to Ben ; then he went swiftly back over the ground which he had slowly traversed, tliinking* deeply as he went. Not only had b? 3 question been a mis- take, tossing Ben's thoughts suddenly back upon his own uncomfortable f xperiences, but evidently his experiment with young Myers had been also. Myers was one of his students ; a merry-hearted, good-natured sort of a fellow, who had never so much as thought of doing or trying to do for others. Though a young man of means and of assured position, these seemed of so little conse- quence to him, that it occurred to his Latin pro- fessor to send him in search of Reeder, in hopes that his free-and-easy w;» A LESSON IN BWNATICrSM. 117 She was on her guard in a moment. This fanatical young man, wlio wanted even novels to be impossibly good, should not inveigle her into any philanthropic scheme. "Perhaps so," she said coldly; "though I con- sider the ' if ' with which your sentence began tan important one. I do not believe I can help any- body. I am not one of those persons of whom you have been speaking ; and I do not know how to be of use in the world, even if my tastes lay in that direction, which they do not." " Do you mean that you are not personally ac- quainted with Jesus Christ ? " The color flamed into her face. She had never in her life before been spoken to directly on this subject. The manner in which it was now done struck her as strange. Certainly she knew a good deal about Jesus Christ; she had heard of him since her babyhood; she used to kneel beside her crib and lisp his name. "And this 1 ask for Jesus's sake," was as familiar to her as her own name ; yet she did not feel acquainted with him, and she was a truthful girl. "I suppose I am not," she said, trying to smile; "but that seems a strange way of putting it." ''It is really the only way of putting it. Miss Cameron. Believe me, one cannot have an actual pei-sonal acquaintance with him, without having it color one's life, permeate one's desires and motives, change one's nature indeed. I wish that I might be permitted to introduce him to you. I ■ If' \ ■ -i ! 1 I Wmtk fif' 'm ! ^ S MIT : ji s. ^ 'I t' w m ii n I ( mm I.: 0i m 1 1 "" 118 WHAT THEY COULDN T. can recommend him as the truest, wisest, most faithful friend and helper that human being ever knew." "1 do not understand you," she said coldly; "and I will confess that that sounds to me like fanaticism." " Yes, I have no doubt it does. That is because you and he are not friends. He does not force his friendship, Miss Cameron; but how can you help desiring it? However, there is a sense in which that has not to do with the work of which I was speaking. It is only common human kind- ness of v/hich 1 am in search. There is a young friend of mine, a mere boy indeed, scarcely twenty, who has recently come from a country home. He has been well brought up, and lias a good mother; but he is having his first experience of city life. He finds himself bewildered ; accustomed in the country to associate with the best people, and to feel on terms of equality with them, he discovei-s himself to be quite alone here. He has become identified with a church, because his mother wished it ; that is, he has rented a sitting in its gallery, and is, or was, reasonably regular in attendance; but he has no at home feeling anywhere. His clothes are not quite what he finds other young men wearing; his manners are not the same as theirs. These things he feels, but does not know how to correct. What he needs imperatively and very soon is friends ; women with whom he can feel at ease, and who in a hundred little inde- A LESSON IN FANATICISM. 119 scribable ways can help tide him over a danger- ous period in his life into safe \vatei"s. Do you get the idea? I have longed for a home which had a mother in it, and safety and kindliness. I tind it difficult to express just what I want; l)ut it is something which trne women can give, to boys 3^ounger than themselves, and I am not sure that any other human l)eings can. I have tried young men. and they are partial failures. It is a curious fact that boys will take from a woman whom they respect, the help which they will not allow one of their own sex to give. It is very commonplace help for which I am seeking. If Ben knew how to enter and leave a room; how to conduct himself in accordance with the common courtesies of life; v;hat it would be proper and improper to do at a well- appointed table — oh, a score of things which people are supposed to breathe in unconsciously, and which they do, more or less, in cultured at- mospheres. It is these common and, in a sense, unimportant things that are shutting Ben out from the companionship whic^li he needs, and for- cing him almost into a companionship in which he feels at ease, but which will injure him i\nd hurt his mother." Why was he telling all this to her ? He act- ually questioned it himself, even while he talked. Certainly she had not given him reason to hope that she could or would do anything for anybody. Yet there was a sudden softening of her face even EWp. t^:\ \l um I Hi liiii 120 WHAT THEY COULDN T. \vhile he waited, and the eyes which drooped from before his gaze were misty. A vague wish she felt for the moment that she were the sort of woman which he seemed to fancy her — a woman who could do kind things in the world, helpful things. This country boy, for instance, who felt out of place in the city. She had had something of the feeling; there had been circles in which she had felt quite out of place, not because she did not know how to act, nor what it would he proper to say under given circumstances, but be- cause her dress was not such as made her feel at ease among the other guests. Oh, she could ima- gine very well what it was to Ben I She would really like to help him, but how could she ? What would Lucia think, or her mother for that matter? And what was there she could do anyway? Rod and Mac had never felt the need of any help from her, had never sought her in any way. She knew no more about boys than did other girls who had not brothers. It was absurd to think that she could do anything. The hour for closing the library had arrived, and nothing had been accomplished. Professor Landis could only apologize for monopolizing her time, and then both had to leave without the books for which they had come a long dis- tance. Thoy separated at the door, for Mr. Landis had an ermnd in another direction. He walked away with a grave face, telling himself that he feaied it had been a wasttjd hour. Of what use A LESSON IN FANATICISM. 121 to talk about poor Ben to a young woman who did not know any way of peace for her own feet to tread? If lie could only help this girl who seemed in such sore need of help! He wondered wliy it should be so dithcult to say the light word to iier. He had told her he wished she would all'nv him to introduce his Master; but he had not done so. Instead of attempting it, he had drawn her thought away from her own sore need, .and talked of Ben ! Well, perhaps he was not the one to influence her; but in that case, why was she so often in his mind? |H| III. iji! i^ i *' i 122 WHAT THKY COlTLDN T. CHAPTER IX. HOMK THRUSTS. 'Mi * AS for Mary Cameron, her homeward walk was ^ an exceedingly disturbed one. Try as she would to put some of the sentences which had been spoken, away from her, they clung. She liad affected to })e sceptical over certain state- ments which Professor Landis had made, but in her heart she knew she Vjelieved them. She had not lived an utterly blinded life thus far. Lim- ited as was her practical knowledge of Christian- ity, she could call to mind remarkable changes of character in persons known to her; yes, and sud- den changes. Was not Tim Nolan in the old days one of the trials of her uncle's life? Did he not at least three times a month appear at tlie office with bleared eyes and blackened face, and humbly confess that he had been ''at it again "? Was he not discharged regularly once a month, and hired again because he confessed such peni- tence and made such strong promises, and because her uncle was sorry for his wife and children, and could not help a lurking feeling of interest in Tim himself? Had there not come a week in which he lost all patience, and declared that he HOMK THKUSTS. 123 1 I liiid now (lischarg^ecl Tim Nolan for the last time; tliiit lie had heen on a spree for five consecutive days, and was in worse condition than ever he- fore; that it was worse than useless to try to do anything more for him; and demoralizing to the other men to keep giving him chances? And then, did not Tim Nolan appear to him one morn- ing with clean-shaven face, and clothes neatly mended, and with a look in his eyes such as had not heen seen there hefore, and beg for one more trial, promising that if he failed this time he would not ask again for mercy. Had they not laughed at their uncle for being too credulous and tender-hearted, in that he tried him again, after all? And then, oh, marvel of marvels, Tim Nolan stayed! He took no more "sjjrees;" he lost no more time ; he passed directly by the saloon where his earnings had been regularly spent; he went to church and to prayer-meeting; yes, more tlian that, he took part in the prayer-meeting! They had laughed about it at the time, they girls, it seemed so absurd to think of Tim Nolan having anything to say that was worth saying. But their uncle had unwittingly spoken the truth ; he never discharged him again. Tim had been suddenly, mysteriously, completely changed. The things which he used to love he apparently began to hate. The companions whom he had sought buii the week before, as friends, he began to shun as enemies. And when he was asked, as some of the curious asked him, to give a reason i|: ''\i 124 WHAT THKY COULDN T. ■ for this strang-o change, ho was wont to say sol- emnly : "One niglit tli*^ Lord Jesus Christ eanie to me, and got hold of me scmiehow, and I ain't the same man I was; nor ain't like to ho.'* Tim I Nolan was a living witness to her conscience that the words which had been spoken to her al)out Jesus (>hrist that afternoon were true. More- over, she could recall other instances, s(mie of them quite as marked as this. Ciianges which had been marvelled over in her circle of friends. There was young Dr. Powelton ; a cultured, scholarly sceptic. Sneering in a gentlemanly way one day about the "sui)erstitions of modern religion," the next, on his knees in the presence of some of those before whom he had sneered, vowing allegiance henceforth to Jesus Christ. Yes, and keeping faith with him! Being from that hour so changed a man, that they could but speak of it for a time, whenever his name was mentioned. "Without exception people so changed attribute it to the power of Jesus Christ." Thio was what Professor Landis had said, and it was true. Thei'e were witnesses enough known to her, and always the same Name to stand for! Yes, it was folly to ignore such a power in the world as this. It was silly to write books about life, and pass in silence a force which was able to pervade all life. As her judgment made this admission, there came to Mary (^imeron for the fii-st time a vague longing to realize that force in her own HOMK THIM'STS. 125 nature. What a tiling' it would be to be sud- niiug, for iusUuu:o, aud show by lier life that she was iuiother peisoii. It is true the change would uot he so marked as in Tim Nolan or iii Dr. Powel- toii; but Mary Cameron, being an honest person, told herself frankly that there was opportunity eiiougli for change in her, that would be notice- able. She knew herself to be growing steadily in irritability. Each day it became more difK- cult to keep even a show of patience with Aunt Eunice; and Lucia had always aggravated her in he would not have indulged herself in it. Aunt Eunice deigned no reply. Even the semblance of con- versation was dropped after that. Mary, who had faint memories of her half-formed resolve hovering about her, fell to wondering what — suppose she were that changed jKjrson of whom they had talked that afternoon — would she do to brighten the gloom of this dinner-table. Sup- pose she were capable of making gentle, cheer- ful replies to Aunt Eunice, and of telling some pleasant bit of news, which would cheer her father, and of winning Lucia into a more amiable frame of mind? Something of that kind she felt sure one of Miss Warner's " goody " characters which she had criticised would essay to do. Well, would it not be a lavidable act? Yes, but the trouble was, it could be done only in books. That was what she had meant to express to Pro- fes.sor Landis, the fact that it was only hook people who succeed in doing these things. Then her thoughts wandered to Ben Keeder. What uas it that Mr. Landis wanted her to do for him ? '' A HOME THRUSTS. 131 girl with a home" indeed! What good would a visit to such a home as theirs was to-night do tea lonesome boy? A well-lighted, well-warmed saloon, where the people were good-natured, would perhaps be preferable. As for her mother, — she stole another glance at her downcast face. What could she have been crying about? What extra thing had happened, and they not told? They were treated as children ; things which they ought to know kept from them. She was grow- ing irritable again, less sure of her wish, even, to make that radical change in her character. Into the midst of the silence and gloom of this dining-room came Emilie with the whirr and bustle peculiar to her, letting in a rush of cold air as she came, which caused Aunt Eunice to shiver, and draw her shawl closer about her. Emilie paid not the slightest attention to the gloom which enveloped the family. " I've had such a lark ! " she said, tossing school- books and wraps in a promiscuous heap, and tak- ing her place at the table. "Nannie Fuller and I have been away down to the skating-park. Oh, there are such lots and lots of people there this afternoon I The first really good skating of the season, they say. There are some new people, college boj'^s I guess, splendid-looking fellows, and they skated exquisitely. I was just dying to skip in and join them. Father, I really must have a pair of skates. I would rather go without shoes than skates." 1 ' i I I ! h f' ;!i ri M: f ; '^ > t 5 ! i ' Hi : '• ■ ' > f ' ■ i : m li \ Hi if 132 WHAT THEY COULDN T. "You may have to do both," replied the father, with no lighting up of his worn face. But Emilie had already flitted to another subject. " Why, Mary Cameron, have you reached home ? I didn't expect you yet for hours. Did you come up on the car? What a commonplace way to finish a special afternoon ! I thought you would walk. It is quite the fashion now for very par- ticular friends to take long walks, when they have important matters to settle." " What particular folly is uppermost with you just now ? " asked Mary, in her coldest and most indifferent tone. Emilie laughed gleefully. "You should have heard Nannie take off the scene; she is a perfect mimic. She told to the life just how Professor Landis gesticulated in the more exciting parts; and if you could have seen her draw herself up and pretend to look at him before she made reply, you would have thought it was your very self. I never saw anybody like Nannie for describing scenes." "What is all that?" asked Lucia, growing in- terested, while Mary looked bewildered and an- noyed. What teas that silly girl talking about ! "Why, Nannie had been to the library, the branch one, you know, over on Duane Street; and there it seems she saw Professor Landis ; and who should be his companion but our Mary! Nannie said it was as good as going to the play to watch them. Of course she was not near enough to hear what was said, and she wouldn't ! HOME THUUSTS. 133 have listened if she had been ; but she said she did not need to hear in order to enjoy it. They talked for houra^ and Avere both just as eager and inter- ested as they could ))e. li was great fun to hear her tell about it. She took Mary off to the life. Tliere tliey were, slie said, surrounded by books, and neitlier of them looking into one. Slie came away and left them there; but lier cousin Roberi. joined us wliile she was telling me about it, Jind said he could add the last cliapter, lliat the libra- rian actually had to tell them that it was time to close that part of the building; and they went away without a book, after spending the afternoon there I " " Really 1 ** said Lucia, joining in the burst of laughter with which Emilie finished her sentence; "1 should think that the parlor would have been a pleasanter place than the Public Library for a confidential interview. Still, I am thankful to have something accomplished. Are you to be congratulated, Mary ? " What was there in such utter nonsense to make Mary Cameron's eyes blaze with anger? The girl was too refined by nature to enjoy this species of amusement, and to do Lucia justice, she rarely descended to it; but Emilie was at the age, and had such intimacies, that her temptations lay in just this direction. As a rule, her older sisters bore her attacks with at least outward indifference, and contented themselves by calling her a simple- ton; but one glance at Mary's face this evening , 1 ■ f », vivsions; she knew that the mother would not have been dazzled by any prospects which did not touch the inmost affections of her children; but, nevertheless, it was bitter to feel herself watched and commented ui)on ; to feel that that silly Emilie looked upon her as growing very old, and wondered among her mates probably, as she did openly one day at home, whether Mary really would be an old maid like Aunt Eunice; to feel that even her father speculated as to the possibility of having one person less to provide for in the near future. As has been said before, there was less of this feeling than Mary imagined. Siie had grown morbid over it, because there had l)een more or less speculation as to Russell Den- liani's intentions, and more or less satisfaction looked if not expressed wdien his attentions be- came somewhat pronounced; but there was no such continuous espionage upon her friendships and movements as she chose to think. Still, it was all these things combined which made Emilie's folly seem like gross and premeditated insult. Her response was prompt and emphatic. "Emilie Cameron, what do you mean by mak- ing such an utter fool of yourself, not only, but dragging in your family as well? And Lucia, instead of rebuking, has to help you along. I must say I think I have borne enough of such coarseness at the hands of both of you. ]f it has m- UWfm I I i 1 iilli 8IiB i' 11':!';! 'iii-' 186 WHAT THEV COULDN T. monpljice of ac(iuaintjuices in a public buildin ,' and exchange a few words of conversation wit'ii him without being caricatured by idiots, I think it is time that something hihoukl be done to keep them from roving the streets. As for Professor Landis, you may insult him to your heart's con- tent for all I care; he is nothing to me but an acquaintance from the country, with whom I try to be civil when I come in cont.act with liim by accident. Make all the fun of him that you choose; but in future I advise you Jind Nannie Fuller to leave me out, or it will be the worse for both of you." Tlien this angry young woman arose abruptly and left the room. "My patience! " said Emilie, looking after her with a half-scared, half-amused face. "Slie is Jis mad as a March hare, and at what, I should like to know! What do you sup- pose she will do to Nannie and me? Kill us? She looked fierce enough to, didn't she?" Said Aunt Eunice, "You girls do beat all for quarrelling that I ever heard in my life. The three of you can't be together for fifteen minutes without having some sort of a rumpus. I should think your father would go raving crazy." He looked at that moment more like fainting. He had toyed with his knife and fork, but eaten almost nothing; now he pushed the untasted coffee from him, and rising with slow step, like an old man, he, too, left the room. "HOW WILL IT ALL KND?" 13" CHAPTER X. "HOW WILL IT ALL KND?'* THE tumult of indigiijitiou in which Mary Cameron went to her room continued fur into the evening. J^uciji ciime up »oon ufter dinner, and made ready for a Uicture wliicli was in the immediate neigiiborhood. Eiirlier in the day the girls had agreed to go with Emilie, who had been requested by one of her teachers to attend ; but Mary, in response to Lucia's reminder, said shortly that she had changed her mind. Lucia hesitated, and nervously moved sundry articles on the dressing-table, while she decided how to say what she meant to say. At last it came abruptly : — "I wish you wouldn't mind Emilie's nonsense so much, Mary. She doesn't mean anything but fun; and in what I said, I was just trying to lighten the gloom a little. Father is awfully worried about something, and I wanted to divert his thoughts." "You took a very strange way to do it," said Mary in her coldest tone; "but never mind, you need not offer any ajmlogy; I ought to be quite used to sucli experiences by this time. Emilie 1 • , 1 ■ 1 ' v'i H -,.S,: w, \l 13S WHAT THICY TOULDN T. rieetU to be rebuked, not encouraged. You need not wait for nie, as I most decidedly am not going '^^t,or, and give him a little of yoimg Ueeder's history, and a hint as to the inliiuMice of tl»e Smith Ijoys and their set. On Ills way tliither he fell in with Hen himself, and conceived the idea of taking him eaptive for the cull. It was no njw work to the piofessor; he liiKl heen for years acting in unison with his piis- tor. The two h.id worked toirether with nmtual pleasure, and nearly every time ihey met had exchanged views in regard to the special ways of reaching and helping certain ones whose names were on their list. Professor Landis had sorely missed this friendship in his new home, and had looked forward eagerly to the return of the pas- tor. He rejoiced in the thought that the man was in his early prime, and full of vigor and enthusiasm. Now here was l\^n^ and across the street could be seen from the study window the outline of the pastor's head. There was no time like the present; he would take lien in, and let the pastor captivate him ; then, at some other op- portune moment, he could give him such points as might be helpful in the study of the boy*s character. ''Ben, my boy," he said, laying a friendly hand on that young man's shoulder, "I want you to turn back with me and make a call. Mr. Edson has arrived, you know, and I am going to run in and make his acquaintance. I met him -a im i : 11 I.- ' I If u \l til 154 WHAT THKY COULDN T. at Dr. Preston's, *so 1 can introduce you ; \v(; shall both find it pleasanter this evening for hav- ing had this chat witli hini."' lien denuirred; he wasn't dressed for calling, although, trutli to tell, he had on at that moment his hest suit of ch)lhes; he never made calls, he shouldn't know how to act. These and a dozen other trivialities were oveiruled. Tiie jn-ofessor had a good deal of inHnence over Hen, at least when he was with him; and they mounted the ste2)s of the manse together, and were presently shown into the pastor's reception-room. "Good-afteinoon," he said, holdiniif out a cor- dial hand to welcome Professor J^andis. "You are just the person 1 want to see. There are two points in which 1 fancy I shall enlist your in- terest." And then Professor Landis presented his companion. A swift, well-hred glance from head to foot, which was felt, rather than ohserved, and the keen-eyed pastor had gauged Ben Reeder's posi- tion in tht? world. "Ah, indeed," he said carelessly* "a Sundav- school pupil of yours, Professor? (xlad to meet him. Be seated. I was looking over the an- nouncements about the apimmching ball-game when you rang. Unusual thing, is it not, in this region, to be able to have a game so late in the season? This one will be an exciting affair. The boys are well matched on both sides. I told my father he must let me get off in time for the "OUT OF HIS SPHERE »» 155 game. I had missed two, and it wasn't within the bounds of reuov/i* to expect me to sacrifice another." He hiiighed of course, as Lc spoke; it was partly mere talk, yet he was evidently excited over the coming contest, and quite in earnest in his determination not to miss it. "You are fond of athletic sports, of course," continued the pastor. " All professional men are, I believe, in these days. A great change, my fatiier says, since his time. Oh, I do not play very often, because I have no time for the drill; pity, too; sometimes I think I will take time and let some of the work wait; but I attend the match games as often as they are within reach." Professor Landis explained that the duties of his profession kept him occupied quite often dur- ing the hours of a base-ball contest, and added frankly, that in the neighborhood from which he had recently come, the game had become so en- tarxgled with liquor and gambling that he had hecn compeih'/l to withdraw all recognition of it, even as a kx>k