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1
THE GLORY AND
THE DREAM
BY
AXXA PRESTON
ArnioK OK "Tin: I{im,iii, ui a Silknt V.\\\\
'Where Is it now. the gloiy and the dream?'
— Wouoiuoiirn
NEW YORK
B. W. IIUEBSCH
MCMXV
M.
2 9 i 1) 5
ropyrifrht, 1015, by
r.. \v. iiT'ii'.scii
rrint. .1 in T. S, A.
CONTENTS
i
■s
i
(MiM
CII M'TI'U
I 'I'm: Ciiii: \T Cnknown .
11 'i'iii: \i:\v C'oi'NTHY .
in 'I'm Hi iii:i.'s I lorsE .
ly 'I'm; I'iM-cM II I . Ti:i: Hmin
V "A TiMii.Ti m \ Vni\ \i V oi St
Vl N'lr.DKit'N .MoTiiiMi
^'I^ Tm; 1' AiHv lioNi) .
\'III Cmil^TMAs
IX Tm: Diiivn to Town-
X Oi.i) C'oi.yi iior.v .
XI Tm: ']"()!•( AN .
XII Tm: MiitDKi! oi- Mu. Mi
XIII Mn. .Iwi: Dovi: ....
XIV "MoxAiuii 1)1- Ai.L 1 SntvKY
XV n.uxN
XVI C'i.i:\iti:[)
X\ 1 1 "Tm: Si:.\<K of Tkaks in .Moutal Tiun(;s
STF.EI)
I'AOK
I
r.t
r>r>
8(1
!()(')
I J I
1 i;i
158
171)
181
I'.tl
'208
•22 I
237
THE GLORY AND TIIP:
DREAM
CIIArTER I
THE GREAT UNKNOWN
^NricriAEi, had spent six joyful years in eagerly,
curiously, making' llie aeijuaintance of the
world into which he luul conic, l)cfore he found
a hint of sadness in it. On the contrary, he
found it such a heautiful and happy place that
lie '.•Tiidned ever to close his eyes, and would
vigorously demand an instant release from
his cril) at the first break of dawn. Meadows
full of danij) grass, where he was always find-
ing a fresh sjxjf to he happy in: a brook where
he wanted to go on and on i)laying, alwiiys,
and never stop; the monastery garden, steeped
in a mysterious sweetness and (piiet, full of
«
THE GLORY AND THE DREAM
monks who were all alike, into which he some-
times strayed: a mother who was sometimes
very much in the way, when she made him come
in to nieals, or washed him, or put him to hed,
just as lie was runnin*,^ to do some delightful
tliino- that had come into his head, and whom
he sometimes hufjfoecl and hufi-ned, yet couldn't
hu<r enough: these were a few of the good
things that filled up his little life.
He knew, vaguely, that this wasn't every-
thing: that there was something very big and
solemn above and beyond, and that he must
feel solenm every night wlien he said his
prayers, no matter how many other things he
might have to think about. Although he lived
in Claddagh, where everybody about him
spoke the Irish tongue, his parents spoke Eng-
lish sometimes: hut he was better pleased when
they spoke Irish. His mother taught him
the little i)rayer that English-speaking chil-
dren say. and a strange huslied feeling always
came over him at the thought of the soul
folded up inside of him, which he prayed the
Lord to keep. And at the words: —
o
THE gri:at unknown
"And if I die before I wake
I pray the Lord my sovd to take,"
a momentary chill would pass over him at
tlie Ihought that he mi/^ht die before he opened
his eyes on the delightful world again. But
then, he wouldn't. He always wt)ke up all
ri'dit. JJut he luid a pieluie in his mind of
the soul 1" 'ig taken — a l)rown, folded, passive
thing. The Irish word, aiiam . gave him a very
different idea. It made him think of some-
thing vague and hhiek, that tilled up a person's
whole hiside. But he really thought very little
about it. These ideas were merely images
that the words imi)rinted on his mind, without
any thought on his part.
But there came a time when his mother was
ill, and his father told him he mustn't run
into her room and disturb her. lie knew from
his father's tone that it woidd be very dreadful
to do tliat, and he meant to obey, but once he
got wildly excited chasing the eat, and first
thing he knew lu was running after it into
her room, shouting: — "Vou thief! You
thief!" Then a languid voice from the bed,
THE GLORY AND THE DREA.M
savin^j: — "What lias lie stolen?" suddenly
l)i'on,i;lit l)aek his father's command, and he
hiuu^- his head, o\ eieome with shame, and would
hardly answer the (juestion. His mother was
not anuTV — she onlv explained, kindly and
i)atientlv, that vou neyer called an\'hody a thief
unless he had stolen something', and this made
^Michael more deeply ashamed than any re-
proof could haye done. lie never for^^ot
again.
At first his mother's illness made no difl'er-
encc to hiu), except for this incident; his joy-
ful life Avas not touched or disturhed. He
])Iayed i!i the meadow and the hrook just the
same, the smell of wet grass and steaming
earth filled him with the same wild delight,
and made him want to run and run, as if he
could neyer he still again. He continued to
watch and listen everywhere for fairies, filled
with the hope that he would find them in the
next clump of grass or Aveeds he investigated.
But after a while his aunts Ivg.m to come very
often, and they were crying whenever he saw
them, and his father was silent and sorrowful:
THE GREAT UNKNOWX
and then, although ^Michael still did all these
things, the wanntli and sunshine seemed to go
out of them. His motlier wanted him to eome
in and see her every day, and cuddled liini up
close to her; but one morning when he was
brought hi, and climbed on tlie bed to ling her,
she didn't hug l)aek, and although she spoke
to him, and called liim a chuislin mo chroidhr,
it wasn't like having her speak to him at all.
He burst out crying, for he knew something
very dreadful was coming, though he had no
idea what it was. Next morning his father
took him in his arms and told him she was
dead.
Michael broke into a loud howl, not because
he wanted to cry, but because it was so strange
and sudden, so utterly outside his range of ex-
perience that he could not even attempt to
understand it, and he wanted to drown out all
sensation in the physical exercise of making a
noise. After that, the bright, fresh world was
completely blotted out by the blackness that
enveloped everything. Crowds of ])eople in
black clothes filled the house, and in the night
5
THE GLOIIV AND TIIF. DUKAM
there -were siieli awful eryiii<^ noises tluil
Michael could not ^() lo slcip, liut sat up in
his cril), shivering witli horror, and thinking
ahout all the strange things his aunts had said
to him tliat day. Tliey had told liini an angel
had come and taken his moUier's soul away,
and he had said:— •' Why didn't you tell me
when it eame^ I woidd have frightened it
awav!"' Thev had told him that nol)ody could
frighten away the deaih angel, hut Michael
insisted that he would have I'ouglit with it till
it Hew away. Then they tokl him. so solemnly
that he knew it must be true, that nobody had
ever done that, and the death angel came to
everybody. Thus ^liehael learned that every-
body had to die, and he thought of it now with
])assionate rebellion. lie didn't want to die
that way, and have everybody turn black and
make hideous noises because he died. If he
had to die ilud wav. he would rather the stork
liad never bi-ought him at ;dl. Tie made u}) his
mind he v/ould die as a patriot lighting the
Sacsanaigh. or be a fisherman and get drowned.
Then he tliought of the death angel taking his
THE Giii:.\r rNKNOwN
I
motlicr's soul l>) a plucc called Turo-atory, to
l,c burned lor a hm^^ lime before it was taken
to Heaven, wbere every one was perfectly
happy. This -is what happened to every-
body's soul. Tired out at last with these
thoui>hts, Michael lay down and fell asleep
with that awful cryin-' in his ears, and pres-
ently he had a vivid impression that he was in
his mother's room, and three women all in
black were hidden behind the curtain, and
were peering- out at him, craning long black
necks and showing the whites of eyes that
stared unbearal)ly out of black faces. He
sercamcd, and when his father came in, kept
rei)eating something, over and over, about the
IJnee black friends behind the curtain, and
c.uld not be persuaded that it was a dream.
His father stayed with him and soothed him,
and presently Michael told him what his aunts
had said about the death angel taking away
his mother's soul to Turgatory. His father
was silent for a moment, then he said:—
'•Michael, your aunts know no more about it
than vou do yourself."
TIIK Cl.OIiV AM) Tin: DKKAM
"But tlicv saw the (kath au^vl come!" said
^licluK,], Iiis \()ice .soft and hushed witli awe.
"'i'h( y (hdii't see it — uohody e\er does, and
uoh()('y kuows A\iiere it takes i)eoi)le's souls.
Hut I think — \vhen a woman lias heen as good
as you!' mother ^vas, Michael — that sh.e may
surely he taken strai^'ht to Heaven." His
fatlier's voice was choked with tears.
"Is Heaven a ha[)[)ier place than the world?"
asked Michael.
"Ever so much." his father replied decidedly.
jMichael la\- silentlv thinkiufr for a lonn' time
after tliat. He could not imagine how Heaven
could possihly he a much ha})i)icr place than
the world. He concluded at last that it mi^ht
he, if the liii^' g'olden sounds went on all the
time thei'e and never stoi)i)ed. The hin- golden
sounds were the music of his father's harp.
Xext morning the house was all darkened,
and at hreakfast ^Michael heard the favourite
h.orsc whinnying outside the shutters; his ])lacc
at tlie tal)lc was right in front of tlie window,
and tl.is hoi'se had heen accustomed to })oke
his head in and lie fed generously with morsels
8
Tin: CRl.AT T-NKXOWX
tVdin Micliacls own ln-calJast. lUit nothing
liMppencd in the natural way tlii^ morning.
An aunt ^vitll tousled hair and red, tcar-suollon
lat'c sat in his mother's place, anil this sight,
together with the general atmosi)here ol' tears,
and 'he darkness of the room, made it impos-
sil)le for him to eat his hreakl'ast.
It was this same aunt who gave Miehaei his
11 1st pang of ival grief, lie came into the
kitehen and found her there, with his mother's
pink apron on. lie hurst into the first actual
tears he had shed, rushed outside, and stood
sohhinu' there. His aunt came out to com-
fort him, hut he ran away from her. He
could not l)eai- to he cuddled up to that apron,
7i(Ac. He felt as if she had hurt him all
ihiough, and he could not hear to he touched
by her.
All day he wandered about alone, wet re-
peatedlv bv soft Inirsts of rain and warmed bv
the lleeting sunshine. The crowds of peo])le
in black went away in a prc^cession, his father
among them, and Michael thought Mith relief
that this awful blackness had passed off for
9
TiU: GLOilV AM) Till: DUKAM
<;-ooil, aiul tliiii;;-s would .i^o on in the natural
happy way a^ain. Hut he (li(hri IVd like ,uo-
iii;^' hack to iii^ act'UstonK'd [)lays just yet; his
niind was loo full o[' vvondrr. The inystcry of
the death an-^el liUed it. He eouldn't help
thinkin,^- he eould have driven the death annuel
away if he had htcn there. He would just
have fou.uht and fought till it had to fly away.
That wouldn't l)e any harder than killin<? a
lion. And yet. all his aunts were there, and
they couldn't drive it away— they couldn't even
see it.
Then, as tlie sun was f?c'ttinn- low and niak-
hig- the ,urass look odden, and it was hc-ninning
to occur to Michael with all the old delight
that he niiu'ht find a fairy any moment, the
black procession came hack. The aunt who
had worn his mother's apron called him in, and
washed him and dressed him in clean, dry
clothes, and 1)r()U.L>ht him into the dining room,
where all the peoi)le in hlaek were assembled.
Tbcy were done crying- now. They ate and
ate and ate, till Michael was so tired he thought
10
THE (JHKA'l' rNKNOWN
•ill
jliulit
lie couldn't sit still and l)i' ^ood any lon/^^cr.
Hill v\vY\ time he kicked and wrin'^lcd lie was
sternlx' 1iiis1k(1 by his aunts, lie l()t)ke(l for
tile tiiree hlac'k friends, hut e;.uld not see them.
He wondered if lliey were still in his mother's
room, hiding' hehiiid the enrtain, waiting' for
him to come in, that they mi^ht crane their
awful necks, and peer at him. He wouldn't
^(), he iHsohed defiantly.
The chaii* L>rew harder and harder, the si^ht
of this solemn continuous eating' more intoler-
ai)li , and he s(|uij'med and fumed in spite of all
his aunts' daik l()oks and ^v■hispers. At last
lii.s father, who did not ^o on e.'i'inu- like the
rest, sat hack in his chaii- and called to him.
JMicluu 1 I'an to him gladly, climhed on his knee
and fell asleej) in il\e minutes.
I'orhinately there was soon great fun, to
hiiry, though not to elface, the memory of this
black time, ^liehael leai'nc d that he and his
father Mere going away across the sea in
a ship, to a new country, wliere they were to
live all by themsehes. The horse who poked
11
Tin: (.LoHV AM) Tin: niiKAM
his head in Uk wliidnw was comiii^^ witli Ihcm,
also the harp, and a iVw houks, l.til nothing
else.
•rill so ^L;lad we're i,^oin<^ away from tliis
liouse!" eried Michael. "We'll leave the three
hhuk friends l)ehind, and IheyU crane and
erane their necks" (he did lils hest to illustrate
their eerie motion i "and keip peepin.n' out I'or
me, and I woiTt 'ne here!" MiehaeKs sweet
voice was lull of ,<Alee."ul, misehievoiis triumph,
and he danced for joy.
There were days of fun after that, when
all sorts of delii'-htful Ihiui^s wrre rumnia,L'-ed
out of dark corners. There were two j^rcat
wreaths of i)aper rosr;. 'lie white and one red.
which .Michael went ahnut hoidin.i^' up on a level
^vith his head, iniai^ininn- that they fitted it.
allhouoh they were as hig as cart-wheels. But
they finally had to l)e burned, although his
father felt very had al)out doin.u,' it. A whole
lot of things were hurned— things just as curi-
ous, as richly suoi-estive of delightful plays,
and many of tliem as deeply re^-rclted by his
I'alher, as these paper wreaths; and men came
12
THE GREAT rXKNOWX
and took nway \vaL»<^()n loads of otlici tilings.
Al last the morning came when he and his
I'athcr took llicir dc parlnrc, kavinn- the three
hlaek I'liends in possession, as Michael firmly
l)rli(\i(I, in s[)ite of all his t'atlu i' could say.
lie had to say ncxxl-hyc to his grandmother
and grandfather and all his aunts, and when
he was Hnally released from their kisses and
tears and hot smotlu'riiig eml)races, he stood
in the fresh wii.dy roadway and pranc«.il till
his clean hools and stockings were all s})lashed
with mud. and indulged in shout after shout of
joy. He got on to the train with eyes and
eai's \vidc ()})en for wonders, hut encountered
nothing moi'e remarkal)le than an old couplo
who were in the compartment he and his father
entered. lie speedily poured forth to them
the story of the three l)lack friends and their
conse(|uent departiu'e for a strange country —
a tale which his father found it necessary to
supiilement hy an explanation that the three
hlaek fi-iends were not actual flesh and hlood
usurpers. As the old lady, won liy the shivery
charm of the manner in which he reproduced
13
Tin: GLOIIV AM) TIIK DUE AM
Ihv. looks and ways oi' those remarkal.lc l)cings,
o'ave him a hu-c. t;aily striped hull's-vyc, lie
?()()k MO lurUier pari in the conversation lor
some time. He received it with an apprc'/ui-
tive smile, and the remark:— 'Oh, Im so ohid
it's a -ood hnrd one! If 11 last,' <md devoted
l,iniseir to enjoyment of it for some time io
come. \Vhen he once more hecame conversa-
tionally inclined, he gave tliem a d-scription
„r "the heantit'nl crowns made of roses," which
he "wore lor a hnvj: time, hnt father had to
hurn them. He didn't want to, hnt lie said
we conldn't take anythi'^.- with ns, heeause we
liiioht have to hnihl <un- own honse and thino-s
w.ndd -et rained on. Besides, lions mi<.ht
come and steal them. Tm so -lad we're goin-'
away, where we'll find lions and all scu'ts of
things we can"t find at h.ome. hut no matter
how^nice it is. Tm going to come hack to Ire-
land when I'm grown r.p and he a patriot.
Father's a patriot, l)nt he is a khid that doesn't
liave to tight. Of course he would if he had a
chance, hut he hasn't had a chance yet. 1 want
to liave a chance to fight." said Michael, liis
14
Tin: GREAT I'NKNOWX
great luniiiious eyes .shiiiin^u' ^vith ardent long-
luiX. I want to kill a whole lot of Sacsaiuiigh,
and then .^el killed myself, lieeaiise if Tni
killed tii^htin,u\ people won't ery ahout nie, and
tnrn all blaek and horrid, the way they do when
a person ju>-t ches."
The old eonple expressed their deli.uht at
these sentiments in the wannest manner, and
showered a hundred thousand hlessin,L>s on his
brave enterprise. This was naturally stimu-
lating to ^liehael hut as the day wore on even
his lively little tongue i)egan to weary. He
got hot, and so tired of sitting in this dull elose
plaee, w'Ah no fun going on. The interest of
tile ohl eouple began to laiiguisli, and presently
they fell asleep, and their mouths opened, and
they looked ugly and stupid. His father fell
asleep, too, after l\)rhid(ling him to indulge in
anv more of the huU's-eye. Miehael sat hold-
in<i" this one remaining source of ])Ieasure in
his hands, liis whole little being one ache of
lonirinjT for ciother delicious taste; but his
sense of hoiiou.r was strong enough t<> with-
stand the tem])tation. He would not disobey
15
THE GLORY AND THE DREAM
^vlliie his father was asleep. The tedium was
such au acute pain as only an eaijer-hearted
child, condeiiiiied to hours of inaction, can
know. If only his father would waken, so tliat
he cn)uld ask wlien tliey were going to get to
the sea, and get on the sliip! lUit liis fi'ther
continued to sleep: and linally awoke, t* ihid
:Michael asleep against his shoulder.
He had an impression of arriving in a noisy
place, full of shouting, and men, and lights,
although it wasn't indoors, and asking if they
had got to the sea yet. His father said:—
"This is Cork, and we'll get on hoard to-mor-
row." He was so sleepy he could hardly stand
up, hut his father h.eld him and made him walk
somehow, and they came to a house with stairs
in it— something Michael had never heen in
hefore. He had to climh the stairs, sleepily
conscious that this was heing hrave, and his
father would not let liim fall, and he was put
to bed at the top of the stairs.
^lichael had forgotten all the solemn
thoughts he had had lately in the excitement of
taking breakfast at a long table full ni' strange
^d«»
THE GREAT UNKNOWN
l)top]c next nioniin<T, of demanding: —
"Wlure are the grandinolher and grandfather
wlio gave nie the l)uirs-eve yesterday:"' and of
starting off to the ship with his fatlier, when a
jiictinr in a sliop window canglit his eye, and
lie stopi)ed short, i)ulhng so liard i'^ his
f'atlier\s hand that he had to stop too.
"Father, there's a pieture of an angel!" lie
exelainied in a tone of awe, "Is it the death
angel.'"
1 1 is father stood looking at it long and si-
lently, in such a way that ^Michael did not re-
peat his (piestion. for he knew it teas the death
angel, (ireat and soft, slow and inexorahle,
it erept np the steps and in at the door. A
little hoy like himself, oidy with no clothes on,
and with wings, was trying his yery hest to
tight it away — just as he luid wanted to do.
But the death angel, with howed head, as if
it did not want to see the struggles of that lit-
tle hoy, was pushing him hack with its hand —
not in a way that could hurt at all, hut in a
w ay you couldn't fight against. And the little
1)()V was not even an ordinary little hov — he
ir
..^^
THE (iLORV AND THE DKllAM
liad win<:j:s, so lie must })e a sort of an,u;cl, or
Tiiiry, or soiiietliiiin" like that that eould do
woiiderrid tliiii^i^s a person coiil(hi"t do. But
lie eouhhi't keep away the death au'Ji'el. ^li-
chael was as silent and grave, if not as sorrow-
ful, as his father when they finally went on
down the street. All the excitement of going
to the shi[) had heen m(»'ii' ntai'ily liushcd out
of him. lie nnderstoo ow, that nobodv
could ever dri\e awiiy the de^tli angel.
18
CIIAPTKK II
THE M:\\' t(JUNTKV
MiciiAFi. lu vcr forgot liis sensations Avlicr lie
fii'st saw the shij). lie had imagined a (hrty,
oily sail-hoat, deli<^-ht fully slipiiery and redo-
kiit of tish, lik- those in wliieh many of
his nei*;hl)onrs went out and someiimes ^-ot
drowned, and he had imagined that he and his
father would cross the great ocean all alone in
such a erai't. and that he would help to sail it
—a thing he had always longed so to do! And
instead, he saw standing still and majestic at
the dock, shining hlue and MliiLe in a sudden
hright hurst of sunshine, the grandest thing
he had ever beheld in his life. lie caught his
breath in wonder and awe. It was so big, so
still, so beautiful!
"Oh!" he exclaimed to his father. "Is that
the shi])!* -.Vre we going to get on that:""
They went up a long plank and on to the
19
THE GLORY AND Tlir. DREA:\r
great lliiii.y-, and Micliacl stood iiiotioiik'ss
there, liis tyts iiutiinicd and dilated, for a loiiu,-
time before he iiioveil oi' spoke. Tlien he ex-
ehiiined: — '"I don't feel any water under it!"
That continuous soft, swayini^', (luiverini;' mo-
tion — the yi'eatest charm of the anchoi'cd tish-
inu' boats into which he liad sometimes been al-
lowed to climb— was mis.>in!4-. but after tliere
had been a ^I'reat deal (;f noise, and people go-
iuL*' about in a hurry and ])ushing him out of
the way a> he stood ga/.inu; around him, and
ti-unks and bundles slanuned down on the deck
(the harp, all tied up in sackin^u'. was amoni!,'
them, and the l)ig j^'ohlen sounds boomed forth
as it was srt down) the hind l)(.\L>'an to steal
away, softly, over the sunlit waters. Michael
ga/ed at it in speechless wonder. It Avent
farther and fai'ther, in that slow, mystei'ious
manner, tdl at last the dock they had left to ,uct
on the ship was barely distinn-uishable. At
last Michael asked his father:— "Why is the
land u'oinL'' awav from us'"
His father could not convince him, for
some time, that it was really the shij) that was
20
THE m:w COrXTRY
k';i\ii\u' the land I)(.liiii(l. W'licii lie realized at
last that they \\\rc iu<)\iii^^ ovei- the sea, leav-
ii]^' all the old i';Mtiiliar Ihiiii's hehiiid, i>'oin<''
I'orlh to meet unknown wondei's, he was swal-
lowed nj) into a trance of [)ni'e haj)[)iness. He
stood leaniny a^'ainst the railing;', ^'azin^i;' down
at the green (jnivering waters far l)elow, and
did not move or s[)eak for a long time. lUit
he was lixcjy tnongh after that lirst day. He
soon awakened to the faet that there were a
\'. hole lot of olher little hoys and girls on hoard
to ])l;iv \\ilh. and he lo^t no ti.nie in makinu'
iheir ae(inaintanee. Then, he and his father
V. ent down to a dark plaee at the hottom of
the shi[), every day, to see poor ]''ionn, tlie ])et
horse, ll was so dark, Michael eonld jnst
harely see (he familiar old head reaching ont
towards him. witli its k)ng (lexihle nose
stretched I'oi'th for tidhits. It made him very
nnhai)py to see Fionn, and all those other
horses, shnt np down there. Sometimes he
thought ahont it after he went to hed at night,
and hnrst out crying: sometimes he tlionght
about it when he was in the middle of a par-
21
TIIK GLOUV AM) Tlin DRF.AM
ticularly nice diinicr. nnd tlicn tlic dlmier didn't
•seem nice any more, and lie eouldnl fmisli it.
After iliey landed in llie new eoiinlry tliey
liad another wearisome jonrney on I lie train,
luit at last lliey got to a eity where tiiey spent
a day l)nyin<^ thin.u's. Then they Liot on the
train ai»-ain. and <;ot oil* at a station with the
liver on one side, and a great many piles of
M-ood on the otlier. Fiomi was to eome on a
freight train, l)nt he wonld not be there till
lale In the afternoon, ^liehael and his father
went to a plaee that was fnll of tine new wag-
gons, and his father bought u beauty, painted
red and green, over \vhkh Miehael went wild
with delight. Vuhva was to be harnessed lo
it as soon as he eame, and Ih.ey were to drive
lo Iheir new home, miles u{) l!ie river. Mi-
ehael awaited Fionn's arri\al with tiie utmost
impatienee. He wanted to be sittiiig beside
his father on the high seat of that alluring new
vehicle, with its great red wheels. AVhen
Fionn was at last unloaded he was very frisky,
and i)ranced ;ill the way to the waggon sho]).
lie stamped and tossed his head all the
•2-2
";»
Tin: m:\v (OUNthv
^
lime he was l)cin,n' lianicsst'd, and llic man
in the slixp liad to held liini wliilc Mitliacl
was being lifted inln the seat, and liis
lather clinii)ed in and look tlie reins. Then
Fionn dashed off down the street with them,
the empty waggon rnnit)hng in the grandisl
way, while 31iehael jnnii)ed 'i\) and down in
the seat with delight at this wild ride. They
eame once more to the station, and there Mi-
ehael watehed the Taseinating process of load-
ing the waggon. The tent tliev were to live
in while tliev bnilt their hou>>e, tin Iuir|), the
parcels tliey had got in the city, and, la>t and
h'jst, a lot of deligiitfnl pai)er hags, full of
good things to eat, were loaded in: tliLii they
WLie oil' along the road beside the river, ^li-
eliael beaming with iov. Tliev were aelualiv
driving in their own new waggon, through the
new country, ./here the next step might land
them into "'ie midst of unheard-of wonders.
This expectation lent an inexpressible charm
to the clear-hued, bright new country. It was
new and unknown, consequently wonderful.
Evervthing about it was wonderful, and the
23
,,i0>
Tin: c.Lonv and 'iiii: dkkam
lil'r (licy livfd in it foiild not fail to I)r woiulcr-
liil. 'I'his was surely (.•iioii-'li to lill Micli;ul
with a liliss too pure tor words to ullcr, which
could oul_\ he expressed in his smile.
The sun \\as scttin.t;' win n they came to a
hroad ^reen liill. They dro\e past a little
house tliat nestled at its loot, and uj) to a n-rcat
wild sloi»e of unhroken meadow, full of little
hushes and Ion;;' ^'rass and liowers. Here
l""ionn was stoi)ped. and Michaehs lather lil'led
him down, sayin.u:- — "This is our land."
Michael's first impulse was to race as fast as
he could ,u<> throu^^h that lonii' .U''-';i'>'>. <i"tl
he ran ui)hill till he coul(hi't run any more.
and had to Hop down on the ground, 'i'hen
he started to run downhill and r;ui faster and
faster till lie could hardly stop himself, and
then his father's operations l)ec-ame so interest-
ing that he liad to devote all his eneigies to
watching lliein. The pitching of the tent was
particularly ahsorhing, and when it was up
Michael thought it the most chaiMuing ahode
anv lieart could desire. He ran in and out
the door, he crawled in and out underneath,
24
Tin: Nl.W cor N TRY
lie I'olkd iliout in Hit- swcd I'lr^li ^i-a-^s llial
was ti) ill.' tlicir lldcr. Wlun his I'alhir un-
packed h\ii cnl liids and put IIkmi up. he ( x-
claiiiK'd: — "WIin- lia\e we ,u<)t to slei ji in lieds^
It would l)L' so nice ju->l to make nests for our-
selves in the nrass!"
Hut the most .if\\ fid time ol' all was when
his latin r made a tire, and look L^ood tliiu,^'s
to cut out of those alluiinii- jjaper ha,us and
cooked tilt in. .Miehac 1 had lieen looking- and
snitliiiii' lon.n'in^iily at lht»se pajier ha^s for some
time, and he enjoyed their contents with an
intensity that would lia\e caused nhsolute
silence, and ^^I'im de\(itioii to husiness. in
anotlier l)oy; hut in him the need for self-ex-
pression was c\en more imi)erative than hun-
ger, so he \\as not too husy to excdaim at in-
tervals all Ihrout^ii the meal: — "This is tlie
hest tea I ever had!" It was so yood, that
it was tile liardest work to spai'c even the tiniest
moivsels for Fionn, wlio.se share of yood thing's
from MieluuTs plate was Gfoicrally so llheral.
II(,' found the new country no kss deliL!.ht-
ful in the succeedinir weeks and months than
25
Tiir. (ii.ouv AM) riii: 1)i;i:.\.m
(»M thai lli^l _jii\ fill (lay. 'riurc was so
iiiiK'li siiii^liiiK'. thai it sdiiictinu's made Iiiiii
almost tired Ixiiii;' Iiapjiv. Tlit ii- was the
^rcat rivtr to phiy l)c'si(lc, and whiii he oiuc
H'ot down t'h)sc to the water he never waiitid
lo i^o away a^^-ain. Bui his t'athei" did not hke
him to ^o alone, and he never could slay hall'
as long as Mieliael would have liked. He was
alwavs .sa\"inn-: — "Come alon;)' n(^w. old man.
We must ;^'et to work a! oiu' house ai^ain." Mi-
chael ne\ tr could oh jcct wvy sh'onnly to this.
l)uildin^' the house was such fun. lie helped
his fatlui' a "real deal with it. When l'"ioiin
was harucss(.(i to a .^rcat hi;4 luiilc, (ti. , was
the scrajicr) which du:n' out the place for the
cellar. Michael took the icius and jjuI oin' hand
on c.icli of the <>'reat woodin handles, and di'o\e.
There was no such jM'oud delI,L;lit as this — to
fill the warm tiirill iVom that ^reat strong'
liody come down t^'.e reins to his hands, and
to leel that he had it in his power! liesides
this, lie did a lot of sawinf*'. and that was hai'd
work, for the saw would woUdc aiid <^o all
crooked. He seized the plane ever\' time his
^
Tin: NT.w ( orxTRV
ratlitr laid it liowii, ti'jd ;i .strin;^- aroiiiul it,
and dia,m;((l it all owv tl:c place, dccdai'inn" it
was his |)(.l swan, lie made a spliyiix (,.it
of the nmilai- left (i\\\ tVoiii the ehiiniiey.
Ilis I'.ithei' had said thei'e was oidv one splunx
ill the world, and Al ieliai 1 was iiiiiuedial dy
lired will) an anihition to make another, and
aiiiiouneed triuiiij)hantly, when it was eom-
Jjleled, that there were /tlo .sj)hyn\es iiosv!
Hut the ;^iory of this achievement was soon
east into the siiadi' hy another, still more hel])-
I'lil to ilis father and the jji'oj^ress of the new
house. \\'hen his father henan to make fires
III the y-nd and iiult tar, he could not keep
away from the i)l;u'k, sticky, delinhtful stutt',
and one day his father was short-sighted
enough to lea\e him alone in the yai'd with a
h\<r pot of it for three minutes. A nreat deal
can sometimes happen in three minutes, as ]Mi-
chael's father was fully convinced after that
day. He came i)ack to find Michael very
hapi)y, very proud of himself, and so olceful
over the impression his personal ap})earancc
made on his lather, that t . latter wond(?red,
27
.-.>*''
Tin: GLORY .\\D TIIK DRKAM
for one brief iiinnKnt. ii' his cliaraotcr were
not ill k(.'(-'|)ii)ii' willi liis ])rfsL'iil oiilcr hue.
Jusi wliy tills exploit ga\e him siieh nuid joy
at the tiiiK', was reinenibercd and caressed and
floated (ivvv uith sueli delicious satisfaction,
and the marks of it, whieli wore off with a
j^ratilyiii^- slowness, cherished as if tluy had
hc(. n (lie ^'ict()ria Cross, would be diilieult even
i'or .Michael himself to cxi)lain. l*erha])s if he
had nut been hlessed with a father ^vll() Iiad a
sense of liiimour and a tender heart, the ex-
perience nii^ht not have been so pleasing.
His father was alwavs doinn- interesting'
thinfr.s. One day he took a great big long chain,
for which Micliael thought the only right use
was to catch cK'pliants and chain them up
to tame them; but it was mei'ely used for
measu; ing land. Michael felt disappointed
that a cliain so admirahly ada])ted to a no-
ble use should be thrown away on a })iece of
work so much less important. There was a
fascination about the ploughing and the 1 '.ar-
rowing and the sowing of seed, and with life
so full of interest, it never occurred to 31i-
28
rili: NEW COUNTRY
H
cliatl to wish that lie luul sonic other children
to j>hiy with. Hut one nioniinn' wlien lie was
at work at the sphynx. he was startled ))y
another little l)oy"s \()ice — a slow and careful
voice, as ii talkiiiir was hard work — that
said: — "I sawed you iiere, and I am glad there
is a little boy for nie to [day with. I have no
hoy to play with, and I came over here to })lay
with you."
Michael looked up, and saw a little boy just
his own size standing- looking at him.
"I can't play just now," he replied with
din?iity. "I'm making a //m-phynx."
The little boy stared at him and the sphynx
in silence for a while, and then, concluding
that this performance was too l)ewil(lering for
him to ])uz7.le his matter-of-fact head about,
brought the conversation down to the simplest
commonplaces by the announcement:— "I am
Xieder."
"I'm :Miehael," was the reply. "Father
brought me out to the new country after
mother died and the three black friends came
to live in the house. It's so nice to live in the
29
I!'
TIIK GLOUV AND THE DREAM
new country! Have you seen any lions yet,
Xieder?"
'•No."
"Have you seen any elephants?"
"No." "
'•Tell me as soon as you see any, because
father has a chain he could catch them with."
"Why do you not -o t(^ the circus, if you
want lions and elephants to see?"
"Because I want to see w=l(l ones, that I can
catch!" cried :Srichael. "There must he lots
around here. Did you always live here? '
"Xo. My mother and my father hrmged
me here since spring'."
"Did vou come from Ireland?"
"No. ' I comed from Deutschland. Will
you he ready soon to play?"
"I haven't finished the Mss-i^hynx yet," said
Michael.
"I want to run a racr " said Xiedcr.^
The slope of meadow was ver\' inviting, and
it was a long time shice .Michael had had a
little hov to race with. "I can finish it after
dinner,"' he said, and darted off, Xleder after
80
THE NEW CUCXTRY
liim. ^ridiael tlms had a playmate added to
liis oilier new .i<\v.s; and although Xieder con-
tinued to maintain a stolid stupitlity on the
subjects ol' sphynxes, lions and elephants, ^li-
chael scarcely felt that lack in a boy who was
so splendid for races and see-saw and every
kind of active play.
31
CTTAPTEK III
THE rebel's house
Ce (la7 JMidiacl and Xieder were playin*jj in
the middle of tlic road tliat ran downhill. On
the other side oi' the road there was a fence,
and a bi-"' field, and awav across that field there
was a .L>roup of trees with a honse showing
among them.
"1 wonder if it gives anv little hovs and
girls in +hat house," said Xieder, who had not
yet learned English idioms. "I would he glad,
if it gived many of us."
"I think two of us arc crough," said ]Mi-
chael. *'If we knew the little hoys and girls
in that house, perhajjs we wouldn't like them.
rerha[)s we would (juarrel with them, and that
would spoil (KU" play."
"If we go in there Ave might find them,"
sai(^ Xieder, ignoring tliese speculations.
"I don't want to go in there. I want to see
ti2
THE REBET/S HOUSE
M
where tlic road Lads to iipliill. There's no
kiio\viiii>' where it goes! Just think, perhaps
we niiglit Had h'oiis and elephanlsl"
"T want to find other httle bovs and i^irls.
1 tinded you in Ihdl {daee, and we nii^ht find
other little hoys in I hat one," said Xieder,
pointin^t^' alternately to the two tields on the
op))osite sides of the road.
^NJiehael had taet enough to reply: — "We
might find a house at the top of the hill, with
more little bovs and uirls in it than there arc
in that one. If there were any in that one, we
would see tlum playing in tlie field."
This seemed to Xieder a reasonable argu-
ment, and he followed ]Micluiel silently uphill.
The I'oad I)eeamc more entieinii" and mysterious
the farther they went. The dusty part got
narrower and narrower, till at last there wasn't
any at all, and il became what Michael called
"a woods of yellow flowers, bigger than us."
They became so thick that the boys could see
nothing ahead of tlicm, except gleams of sun-
shine through the gi-cat rank stalks. They
might find anything here — any minute! Xie-
'O
33
.11
i-
m
Tin: (iLORY AND THE DREA:\r
(kl
wit
wil
I !-{)kc in on Micluicrs di licions raptnre
llie remark: -"Tliis is not a road. We
not lino a lionse litre."
"Hnt wf mi^ht iind (iii//lhiii(/:" cried Mi-
fhael, in a tone of such liopel'ul excitement that
Xieder followed on. At last they came to an
old uatc, with ,<;olden-^i4reen moss all over the
urey i)ars, and warm willi the snnshine. Mi-
chael leaned his cheek a.u'ainst it, feelin-,^ per-
fectly happy, and for^iicltini;- for the moment
that l;e had wanted to '^o any farther, hut Xie-
der a<4ain recalled him to practical considera-
tions hy the i-emark:— "Ilere ^i^ives it a hole,
where a do.u' I2;ets in and out."
There was a liole under the pjate, Avhere the
earth was \u)V\\ (piite smooth, and Michael was
([uick to discover that it was just the ri<>ht
size for him and Xieder to wri<4-,ule under. On
the other side they found the same wilderness,
diversified hy monster i)i^veeds, one of which
Michael vaiidy endeavoured to pull up in order
to show Xieder the ])retty i)ink root. Sud-
deidy thev found themselves in front of a
house. It had a hig veranda, all grey and
34
THE REBET/S HOUSE
inoss-covcrcd like Ihc i^atj; a ^i^'i'upcviiic ran
up one j)o.st and over a i^reat deal of the floor:
the tall yellow flowers almost ohseured the sa,<4-
^11 ii;' steps.
"Xo little hovs and uirls live hcie," said
Xieder in a tone ol' disf^ust.
"Oh, '.V("ll find (jr<iii(] thiii,i4's in here!" cried
Michael, rmiiiiiiii' eagerly up the steps. >rie-
der followed slowly, autl turned aside to in-
vcstiijfate the u"raj)e vine. Michael sli])])ed in
the great door, which stood ajar, and then
paused, gazing around at the hall, with its
sin(K)th. dai'k tloor. its wide, majestic staircase,
and the window at tlie head. lie was drink-
ing in the \ast silence, and in another moment
his iniagi'' ition Mould have been hard at work;
but Xieder came in, saying: — "The grapes are
little and green, and I camiot eat them!"
Just then they heard a sound upstairs, like
some one cr\ ing. It echoed strangely through
the emntv rooms.
"I want to go home," X'^ieder exclaimed sud-
denly.
"Are you afraid?" demanded 3Iichael, in
35
THE GLOliY AM) Til : mn'.AM
sudi a tone that Xicdcr liastilv answered: —
>
"No!"' in his roundest manner.
"Tlien eome nn," said Miehael. and started
ni)stairs. Xieder made a ^^reat noise stami)-
hvj; liis feet as lie followed. This served the
d(/ul)le i)uri)()se of imi)i'essing ^Miehael i'avour-
ahly with his eoura,ue. and drownint^' out his
ou n fears. Xieder ahvays felt better when he
was making a noise.
T'he cryin,i>' stopped, and suddenly a little
<4irl appeared at the head of the stairs.
"Oh!" she eried rapturously when she saw
them. "Where did you eome fromf'
"Home," was Xieder's eoneise hut indefhiitc
re]dy.
'T)() you live all alorie here, like a fairy?"
cried Miehael.
"Xo, Tm only Susan. I come here when
Fm lonely, and 1 was eryinL>' heeause I have
nobody to play with. 1 have been with my
cousins in town all summer; mother was siek,
and sbe's iiot well enougli to be com])any for
me yet. She goes to sleep such a lot! I was
so lonely for my cousins, and so I came up
30
THE Ri:ni:i/s iiolsk
here, and I ericd because I have nobody to phiy
with!"
"We'll all play here," said .Michael, and went
through an open door beside them. It led into
a wide l)ai-e room, that felt _i>rand a'ld solemn.
The snnshinc stiraincd in throuuli the ^reat
low window.
''There is a kinuj standing' in the middle of
this room," Michael said in a soft, hushed
voice.
"Xo," replied Xicder solemnly. "There is
no kinu" here."
"lint I see his golden crown. Oh. it is such
a l)eautirul golden! Susan, don't you see it.'"
"Where is it:"" demanded Susan eagerly.
"On his head, of course."
"But where is his hea(H I can't see it! I'd
love to see a golden crown!"
"He is not here," Xieder repeated.
"I want to see that crown! Tell me where
it is," begged Susan.
"He is standing in the middle of the room,
and his head readies up as far as the top of
that window, so his crown is up there."
37
THE GLOUV AM) 'VWV. DKKA.M
Silvan ,u:i/.c(l fixedly, will) wide eyes, at llu'
pi.iiit Mic'lKul iiidifalnl. luit at last s\\v said
ill a tone of Ww most soiTowt'ul disappoiid-
iiRiit : — "1 cftii'l svv it!"
•"l want to '^n into tlir oilier rooms," said
Mic-liacl.
'•They're all alike," said Susan. "They're
all empty, and they make me so lonely!"
\\u[ .Michael ran into another room, and
suddeidy stopped short, exelaiming: — "Oh!
There's a heautii'ul peacock stork!"
"Wlierc? What's a peacock stork r" In-
(piired Susan.
"It's like a i)cacock" (Michael had heen
deeply impressed hy a j)eacoek in the hold of
the ship comin.u' over). "Only it has a white
spot in the middle of its hack, and instead of
havinf,^ common looking- wings, like a grey hen,
they're red and golden. lie's flying across
the room now! '
"Let us play tag," said Xieder.
They had not heen long at this game, hefore
]Miehacl discovered a green dog mIio raced
around v.-itli them everywhere. This creature
38
Tin: ur,ni:i;s iiorsE
joiiud ill all lli(ir plays that day, and ivtn
\i(.(kr had to reckon with liini, puzzled and
ill-plcascd as he was hy his piTscncc. ^lichacl
had found a new joy, and one whieh was to be
his ureatest (kli''ht for vears lo eonie. The
emi)ty honse had suddenly roused an iina^',ina-
tion whieh had only been auailinn' some sueh
stimulus to put I'ortli its lull strength. It
never was an euijjty house a<^-ain. lie eould
seareely keep away \'v(>u\ those l)are, eehoinf:^,
solemn rooms, that were peopled with sueh
bright and delii'litrul beiuf^'s. He said as soon
as lie met his two [)lay!nates every morning: —
"Let us go up to the Kebel's House!" This
was what Susan ealled it. She said her father
had told her it onee belonged to a measly
wretch of a rebel (Miehael, with fiery eyes, cor-
rected this epithet. He told her she should
say patriot, and patriots were always brave
men) but that he had been taken prisoner and
all his things were taken away from bim, and
so the honse had been emj)ty ever since.
Susan was always very ready to act on Mi-
cliael's suggestion of repairing to the llebel's
39
'iiii: (.i.oKv AM) Tin: nm.AM
IToiisc. U>v it rasciuaUd Iicr too — and slic
always had a liopc of liciii.i4- alilc to src the
kind's ^dhkii ti'o\vii,cr the woiidci-riil peafoc'k
stoik. 'i'hc j)fat'oc'k .s^)ik"s ua\\\c was Shy-
lincc, and he was always llyiii^' Irom oik room
to another, with Miehael in |)nrsnit, eoaxin^
him to come and he I'eck Xieder eould not
enchu'e Sh\ hnee, lie could tolerate Duke-
land, (he ui-een do,u', I'or the latter was often
the centre of e.\cilin<4' plays, although it did
make him cross to have to )la\' with a thin_<r
tliat wasn't there at all. lltit one day when
Michael started on his pui'suit of Shylince, he
lost his temper comi)letely.
"It o-ives no Shylince!" he asserted j)assi()n-
utely. "Xo hird is in this house."
"But I'm |)layin<^' there is a Shylince!" pro-
tested Michael.
"\Vhat for do you play with thinj^'s that are
not here^'
"He is here!"
"I will go home, if you play with him!"
Michael yielded for the present, resolving
to \\n<xQr after Xieder and Susan left, and en-
40
Tin: iu:ni:i;s house
'I'llC SUM
^roJlC
i(»\' Sli\Iiiict' in pcacr. i lie sum W.u
down win II tiny !< It : ll.cii' was a culd, ;j;wy
li_L;Iit in till- rtifiiii wIuTc lie stood, lookin;^' at
Sli\ litK'c. 'I'lir lattcf. \\ lio was l)cfoiiiinn' tame,
was slaMdini^: IxI'oi-c liiin on llic floor. II" was
so distinct, in all his hcautilul coloui-s, even io
the little ^\llite spot on his hack, lint Xieder's
words eanie hack to Mi'hael, making- him I'eel
as ir he could never like anything' a^ain — as
if all the swert I'aniiliar .joys of his life were
hitting" him in some Icndei* place and makini?
him want to ci-y. 1 1 would he so sad, so dread-
ful, if Xieder sJundd ha|)j)en to he ri<^'ht — and
there really wasn't any Shylinee! JUit Shy-
linee still stood there, heautiful and hriy'ht, and
as ^lieluul stood contemplating him those
douhts ^i>radually ])assed away — and never
came back, in spite of Xieder's continued de-
nials.
-r.;
Pi
41
CHAPTER IV
THE PRISONI^K IN THE BARN
It was a fall morning. The sky was clean,
the ground was clean, and the grey empty air
was so inviting, that each of the three play-
mates was exclaiming, before breakfast was
over: — "I want to get out!"
It was just the kind of day on which to
carry out a stern purpose, and Michael and
Susan and Xieder had decided, the afternoon
before, that something very stern had to be
done to-day. The fact of the matter was, a
wicked man had l)een hanging about the
Rebel's House lately. Dukeland always
frightened away anybody who had a loud voice,
but unfortunately the wicked man hadn't a
loud vcice, so Uukeland could not be persuaded
to attack him. lie always whispered. It
wasn't a nice whisper, Michael said — it was a
12
THE PKISOXKR IN THE BARN
(lusty wliisper. He was convinced that if he
could only make tliis person yell, Dnkeland
would i'ri^hten him away — hut no matter what
he did, he never could make him yell.
\ieder looked with comparative favour on
the wicked man, hecause he was exciting'.
Days with him, as with Dukeland, involved
.unninfi^ and shoutin/i;, so Xieder was willin<^' to
overlook his exasperatin<j^ lack of suhstance.
It had never occurred to them to make a
prisoner of tliis ohjectionahle person till the
(lav hefore, Avhen they had an hospital in the
l?ehers House. Tlie liospital consisted of a
row of corn-cobs on the old sofa, and a pot of
muddy water at one end. This was soup, and
after ^Michael and Xieder, wlio 'were the doc-
tors, had <>ivep. all the ])atients the same kind
of medicine, (it would have looked like red
paiut to an observer) Susan "ave them each a
sjjoonful of soup. Tlien she covered the pot,
and they went home to dinner. Michael
stayed behind for a few minutes.
\\'hen they came back in tlie af*^ernoon the
soup was gone, nothing hehig left but a little
43
I
THE GLORY AND THE TREAM
sand in tlic bottom of llic pot. Only one thing
could possibly have happened— the wieked man
nmst have drunk up all that sr-ip!
:Miehael had a strange impression that he
had tipped the pot over after the others had
departed, but of course that was oidy an illu-
sion, hkc the sun g"inn- round the earth, or
the trees sticking up into tiic sky. What had
really hapi)ene(l was that the wieked man had
come in and stolen the soup.
They were unanimous in their decision that
after such an outrageous theft the wicked man
must not be allowed to go about loose any
longer. They must come to-morrow, what-
ever happened, and take him prisoner.
:Michael promised 'ihat he would bring he■i^7
chains, a.id big iron things to go round his
feet, and big iron things to go round his hands.
"Where wil! you get them'" asked Nieder.
"I'll find them," sriid :\liel'ael.
"Will you be able to see Ihcm?" asked Susan.
"I don't know," said Michael. "They'll be
so heavy to carry, perha])s I won't."
Naturally the three i)laymates were eager to
U
THE TRISOXER IX THE BARN
meet next iiiorning, but Susan's father had to
go to town, and her mother was nervous and
eould not stand being left alone, so Susan, with
a doleful face, but a sweet digiiity becoming
to a martyr, told Michael that the capture of
the wicked man nuist be put off till the after-
noon. In the afternoon they all met on the
road, and 31ichael had his arms stretched
htraight out in front of him.
"I've got the chains on my shoulders," he
c'Xi)lained, "and the iron things are on my
arms. They're very heavy."
"\'.'ill he kick and fight and try to get away
like that great big rooster I caught^" inquired
Susan.
"You bet," said Xieder, who was learning
English expressions fast.
"lie won't fight after he gets those on,"
said Michael.
">V()n't he? Wouldn't you fight if any one
put tilings like those on you?" asked Susan.
"No. I'd kill him first."
"Would you kill liim if he was a good man
and you were a bad man?"
45
li
i\
Sit: J
tfl
i
THE GLORY AND TIIF. DREAM
"I would."
"But ii' lie got them on before you could kdl
him, woukhrt you tight f
"No, I wouldn't light after that."
"Then we will be able to have the procession
with him to the barn all right," said Susan.
The hunt for the wicked man was most ex-
citing. .Michael, of course, was the one who
discovered him. "He's lying on the roof of
the root-house," he told the others. '"Don't
vou see him, eating hot biscuits as fast as he
can? He must have stt)len those. Did your
mother bake biscuits tiiis morning, Nieder^'
"She baked some yesterday, but wc ate them
all," said Nieder.
'■Then he must have stolen those from some
one living in the woods. I had no idea his
mouth was so big. Why, tiuit's almost a
whole one he has just put in! Oh, he sees
lis! You run around behind the root-house,
and head him off if he tries to get away, and
I'll face him."
There was a fierce struggle, and Michael
was the one who fought most strei uousiy. He
40
THE rUISONKR IX THE BARN
suddenly threw himself on one knee and looked
around at Xieder.
"Vou get those iron things, Xieder," he said.
"lie's down now. ]My knee's on his bread-
l.asket/'
"Did you leave them here?" asked Xieder.
'\Xo, they're over there on that pile of
stones.
Xieder brought them.
"Susan, eon^e and help X'ieder hold him,"
said JMichael. "I'll have to go and find a
store, and buy a striped suit to put on him.
Prisoners can't have clothes like other people."
"There isn't any store around here," said
Xieder.
"I'll find one in the woods," said ^lichael,
and ran off towards the stump fence that
.se[)arated the woods from the old place.
"If you see any groundhogs under that
fence, whistle for me," Xieder called after
liim.
"Stay where you arc," said ^lichael per-
emptorily. "1 don't care if there are a thou-
sand groundhogs and a milhon of those duck-
47
THE GLORY AND THE DREAM
bill thinrrs, or even if I see a zebra, I won't
have you let that man go after the fight we had
getting him."
"But Susan could hold him, and she doesn't
want groundliogs," said Xieder. Michael
made no answer, but ran off, and had wriggled
tin-ough into the woods before Nieder could
rei)resent to him the tedium of holding nn im-
aginary man wliile there were real groundhogs
liicHng'under the stump fen.ce. He didn't care
if it was only the duckbill things and the zebra,
but he did want to hunt a groundhog.
"Put those iron things on him," Michael
called from the other side of the fence.
Xieder had actually forgotten the iion
things, but he made haste to put them on,
although it was hard to tell where the culprit's
arms and legs were. Michael was back by the
time this performance was over.
"I got the suit," he said.
"What does it look like?" asked Susan.
"It is striped grey and white, and it is rather
loose, because the man asked wh-it size, and I
said I didn't know, but I said the man was
48
THE PRISONER I\ THE DARN
thin and slouched, and so lie gave nic a humpy
sort of one."
"Will we be able to have the procession
now^" asked Susan.
"Ves," said Michael. "3Iake him go in
front of you, Nieder. Vou go next, Susan,
and ril carry the clothes."
When they got tiie prisoner to the barn they
I)ut the suit on him. It seemed to Susan and
Xiedcr that they wei'e merely making gestures,
but ^lichael was conscious that he was draff-
ging the clothes over limp arms and legs.
After that was done they realized it was tea-
time, and started home in a great hurry. Su-
san was the first one to say good night. She
(limbed the fence and ran liome across the
fields. Michael and Xieder ran on down the
load till ^Michael came to his father's gate,
when he said good night and went in. It was
very comfortable to be there, going across the
wide bare field to the new house, which had
been finished last Saturday. ^Michael was
(on\ inced that thei-e never would be another
day so happy as last Saturday. They had
49
THE GLORY AND THE DREAM
si)t.nt it fj^atliering up shavings, and they liad
made the first fire in their firephiee. ^lichael's
oidy regret was tliat it eouhl not happen again.
Of eourse Satunhiy would keep on coming,
])ut Last Saturchiy was gone, and could only
l)e reclaimed in the useless, tantalising form
of a memory. However, it was still interest-
ing and exciting, as well as comfortahle, to
he coming home to the new log house, and the
smoke from the stone chi'nney convinced liim
that there Avould he something good and hot
for tea. He started to run — then suddenly
rememhered the prisoner chained up in the hox
stall, with nothing to eat, and no fire to warm
him. But then, no fii'c could warm any one
so wretched as a prisoner, and it would he far
hetter to cat nothing than to have your food
hrouyht to vou under such circumstances.
For a few miiuites Michael's hunger struggled
with these retiections. It was so keen that it
seemed to him he could scarcely manage to
endure it till he got across tlic field to the house,
hut all this time the prisoner was too unhappy
to be hungiy. The sun was going severely
50
THE PRISONER IX THE RARV
down out of a grey sky, uitli oarcly an at-
tcnii)t at a .t-luw, as il' to (.'iiipliasize this de-
pressing- fact.
The tea was warm and dehcious, but Mi-
cliael felt as cold after it as I)ef()rc, for the
prisoner was sitting in the box stall with those
iron things on him. If it had only been one
of themsehes who was the j)risoner, he could
have come home and liad his tea, and that
would have been the end of it. But instead,
the victim was a poor unfortunate ima^n'riarv
person, and would have to stav there all nioht
iVfter tea he sat down by the fire to get
w armed, but the logs were making a monoto-
nous, joyless sound, as though they had pain.^
■somewhere inside of them. That sound seemed
to embody the prisoner's state of mind. He
;ot up and began to look around for shavings,
riiey were the most delightful things to find,
although he could never discover a good enough
use for them, any more than lie could for corn
silk. There were none to be found now,
tlinugh; they had all been gathered up and
burned. When his father wanted to know how
51
'I'
I
Tin: (ILOllV AM) TIIK nUKAM
f:ir lie fonld coiml lie siiatclu'd en,n;crly id lliat
(iishiution, and succeeded in eountiii^n- iij) t<' a
hundred. He was eon^ciou^ that he would
have felt vci'v triun)i>hant on any other eve-
ning!,".
lie was still cold whru he went to oed, al-
thou.nh his ['athcT uot t)ut a (juill for him, with
J'unny pink thin.n's on it, which, he decided,
nuist he do.LVs (they were intended for niorn-
inii" nlorics). He wondered if Dukeland
would ha\i' driven away the man hefore they
had taken him prisoner if hi,' had heen a pink
(]()<j; instead of a j^reen one. lie wished he
had made him do it. But then, Dukeland
wouldn't, a'< lon.u as the man didn't yell, and
he never could ^ij,et the man to yell. He had
tried often enough.
The next mornin,i;' at hreakfast Michael left
what he i)articularly < njo\ed when he was
],.ippy— the top part of the e^-^' with the white
m it. He had found out hy this time that
whatever he particularly enjoyed uhen he was
happy, hurt him particularly when he was un-
happy. He put it in his pocket and hrought it
0-2
THE PRISONER IX THE RAHX
iij) to the old house as a treat for the itivahd
coni-eohs. He liojud he would he there hefore
eitlier of the other two, for he must Kt that
prisoner out. Jle round uohody there, and
ina( e straight lor the harn. The ho\ stall was
(lar :, hut he lelt sure he eould make out a
strij)e(l suit in one eoi'iier, and renienihered
that Xieder jiad said:— "We'll tic 1
uni uj) here,
or
so he ean't lie (h)wn." He went into the c
ner and took the iron things oil" the hands and
(Vet of the i)risoner, who sat (piite still, and
did not stir till Miehael was done, and had
stepped haek. Then he walked strait^ht out
and did not look at Miehael onee. .Miehael
followed him meeklv to the tioor. lie wished
he had
a right to expeet him to he ••rateful for
hein<r set fre^:, hut he knew he hadn't, after
lulpino' to eapture him. He suddenly re-
-Miemhered that Susan and Xieder woidd likely
want to eateli him a<jfain. He mi,nht overeome
Susan l)y endowin<r her hosj)ital with the
dainty in his poeket, altliouoh he douhted
whether that would have mueh weight with
her if Xieder held out the hope of another pro-
53
|ii
Tin: (iLOllV AM) Tin: DUl'.A.M
cession. "Rut liis pcrplcxitirs vanislicd when
he looked at thf strijxd l):ick rctiralin^- (Hiifkly
;m:l (juictly throiiuli the weedy yiink At that
late tlie man would l)e well away froni the hill-
side in liii minutes, and Susan and Nied' r
mi'dit search as hard as thev lik<(l; Miehad
was satisfied thev would never find him a<;ain.
54
CIIArXEU V
A TU.Ari'I.TUOl'S PRIVAC V OF STOi AI
1 ;
it
Tiir.iu; fame a day wlicii Susan and Miclmel
and Xifder could not meet. It was a blizzard,
and the lii^li northwest wind was likely to
freeze tender little eai-s and noses with ap-
jialiin^ rapidity, so each oi' the three ')lay-
iiiates was kept indoors. Michael rather en-
joyed this; it V as like Sunday. Sunday was
the one day in the week when his fatlier clahned
his companionshij), and in some ways ^lichael
found him a much
l)ett
er eomi)anion tnan eitlier
th
ith
Susan or Xieder. The snow thrashed against
the pa[)er window ])anes, the wind howled
around the liouse, while a f>reat fire glowed in
the ii replace, which his father had to feed con-
stantly, lie also had to chop a plentiful
sup[)ly of wood, and attend to the horses, but
he found time to play a game of tag with Mi-
55
i
THE GLORY AND THE DREAM
chad before it was time to prepare dinner.
Wlien lie settled down to sober potato peelin<,^
J^liebael returned to bis villa[>e of ebii)s and
bark, wbieb was spread out on tlie stone hearth.
A short, stout, linht-eoloured chip was the
Saesanaeh policeman, and a big wet piece of
bark was the jail, under whleli lay several pa-
triotic citizens who had incurred the displeasure
of the policeman. A pnece of white birch bark,
with two big chips and some little ones under
it, represented a home, liKe Miehaers own be-
fore liis mother died and the three black friends
to(jk possession; a piece of grey Ijark covering
a number of grey chips all as much alike as
he could get them, was a monastery: little
flecks of birch bark sprinkled about every-
where were the fairies. Just as his father had
come in and suggested a game of tag, the
l)oliceman was getting the worse of a tussle
with a remarkably vigorous patriot he had
eantured.
When Michael returned from the game he
found the policeman dead, to his great joy and
exultation; the victorious patriot marched to
56
A PRIVACY or STORM
the jail and released the pii.suners, and then
there was a grand proeession of all tlie vil-
la<i;ers, wliieli extended the whole len<4th of
the hearth, while the dead polieeniaa lay be-
side his rilled jail. His father eanie to the
fireplaee just then to put the potatoes on the
ei'ane, and looked down with astonishment at
tile row of ehips and ^MiehacTs intent attitude,
his shinin^j;- eyes fixed upon t' em, and his cheeks
a liei'v crimson.
'Wkat does this mean, Michael f" he
in-
iKillX'l
'"Patrick O'Mahony has killed the police-
man I" cried ^licliael excitedly.
"Who is Patrick O^Mahonyf'
'■(^ne of the ijjood men the Sacsanach police-
man was puttin<^' in jail. He was too strong
for him. and he killed him!"
Tlie ring of exultation "o Michael's voice
iirought a responsive glo into his father's
lace, "(iood l*atrick!"' he exclaimed heartily.
After dinner ^lichael got the l)ig natural
iiistory bock out, and looked at all the pictures,
.uul wondered whether it would be more de-
f Ml
ot
THE GLORY AND THE DREAM
lightful to find a lion in the woods, and kill
liini before he had a cliance to find Susan and
Xicdcr and eat tiieni up. or to find an elephant
and tame him and rule on his i)aek in that
sort of liouse tliin^-. If you could only get
far enough into tlie woods, you might en-
counter any of those wonderful creatures. Or
a stork night come and build on your chim-
ney; aiiy^uiy, if you watched enough, you
would be sure to see one flying past on its way
to somebody's house with a l)aby. Nieder had
liad a stork on his chimney, over in Germany ;
it had been very useful, for it ate up all the
mice and rats. Michael could not extract any
more interesting information from him than
that, but he was sure tliere v>ere plenty of
wonderful tilings to find out about storks.
lie filled in the colours of all tlie animals from
his imagination— the tiger's golden and black,
the storks white feathers and red legs and bill,
and the brilliant i)lu}nage of some of the other
birds. The black and white woodcuts some-
times obtruded themselves and blotted out all
tliis gorgeous colouring, but he could always
58
A PRIVArV OF STORM
banisli them rapidly and sternly. He Avas in-
terrupted in this ahsorhiiio- ()c'eii])ati()n hy a
sudden sun. of snow that hi-oke in through the
window pan". It was delinhtful to liavo a hit
of the stonn hurst in— it emi)hasi/ed the eoni-
I'ort of the liouse, and it
was fun to wateh the
j)ane hein;"- fixed ui) auain
me oeing nxeU up
When it heo-an to he dark, and the alow of
the fire was more eomfortahle tha
n ever, his
fatl
ler sugges
sted
son us.
S
in,<>in«'' was one ol
'11
the nice things they did together on Sunday. .
ley went over to the great harp in the cor-
ner, whose strings gleamed fitfully in the lire-
light, M-hile "the wooden lady with no clothes,"
as Michael called the sea maiden which fornied
the frame, was hidden in darkness. His I'ath
er
touched the strinj
i's, and the hi<>- oolden souii(h
Avhich made Michael feel suddenly warm in-
side, and luippy in a I'unny sort of way, as if
lie was going to cry, hegan. There were a few
of Moore's melodies within the compass of his
infant voice; "Erin, the tear and the smile in
ihine eye" was his favourite. The words had
no meaning for him, hut their sweetness, and
59
THE GLOllY AND TIIH DUE.UI
the tender heanty of the nu4o(ly, filled him
Avith satist'aetion to tlie innermost reeesses of
his little heino-. "I wish there was more;' he
said wlien he had finished. "I hate stopping."
"Try 'The Last Rose of Summer' now," his
father'said. So Miehael sang it, and then his
I'athev sang "The Harp of Tara." Miehael
did not altogether understand that song either:
hut when his father sang:
"Thus fiTcdom now so stldom wakes
The only ihroh slir gives
Is wlkii some luart indignant breaks
To show that still slie lives."
he felt as if this was too sad and dreadful to
he en(hn-ed. and something seemed to he
swelliuLi- in his eliest as if it was going to si)lit
with ang- pain. "Oft in the Stilly Night"
followed, and >liehael nnderstood that song.
The words,
'When I renifniber all
The triends. so linked together,
I've seen around me fall
Like leaves iu wintry weather,
I leel like one
00
A PRIVACY OF STORM
Who treads alone
Some haiKjuct Iiall (liM,rtLil.
WIio.se lights arc tl( d
Whose garlaiuK dead
And all but he departed. "
seemed to reveal to liiin Avilh sudden, inex-
orable eleame.ss the hitherto unreal .un'^vn up
future. lie tasted the sorrow and loneliness
of ai>-e, knew it lav before 1
lini and eould not
be avoided. If he had ever thouoht of his
manhood before, it had onlv 1
)een m a vamie
1
and futile attempt to jjicture himself with long
egs in trousers, when he had no better oecuj)a-
tinn for his thoughts. Xow he realized him.self
as an old man — Susan and Xieder gone, e\ en
his precious father gone— felt the vain, sick
pang of desolation. Foitunately the nn'rajTc.
if clear, was brief: Bri
m Eoroimhe's march
■speedily bani.shed it. Tiien tl
icre was the de-
light of making toast r .r tea by that great,
glowing fire, and -etting it just the righ.t
golden brown. :\lichael liked all his coloin-s
just right. The smell of the toast, tlie cosiness
of the table by the fire, the pleasure of his
Gl
THE GLORY AND THE DREAM
fatlicr's coiiM'anionslii]). were joys so potent
that all the eiiemv of his nature xvas re.iuired to
appreciate them. Then, after tea. his father
sat down aiul tuhl l.iii. stories, in then- (Avn
whisperin-, swisl'.m-. eerie ton-ne, that
throbbed like a heart (piiverinu' under the close
pressure of surrounding mysteries. They
were stories of fairies and w.mders, and Mi-
chael drank them in thirstily, ea-erly. The
love of the wonderful was in his bloo.l beat
lu.tly in evcrv vein in his body, and his father
fcd'and fostered it. \Vhen bedtime came he
was wrapped up and tucked in with especial
care. "It's Canadian weather we are j>'"i\2J
to have now. son of my heart." said his father,
and the tone lie used sent a shiver of joy
through Michael. C^madian weather was evi-
dently somethino- ominous— but it v. as also
something new, untried, and Michael was ready
to meet it with deli<j;ht.
62
CITAPTER VI
nii:i)i:r s .mothi-.r
V
Xkxt nioriiinu; Michael A\as cai^'cr to ^o out,
althou^li liis I'atlier came .stain[)ii)^' in with
hunched shoulders and a stiff, red face, indica-
tive of anything)- hut enjc'^'nient; he stamped
II]) to the lire, spi-ead out liis hands over it
and exclaimed: — '1 never dreamed of such
weather!"
'1 want to go out," said Michael, eagerly
seizing his o\er-socks and heginning to pidl
them on.
"Well, ^Michael, I sup})ose you'll have to get
hardened to this, hut — " his father gave him a
long and douhtful look.
"I want to see what it's like," said ]\lichael.
''Vou'll see, as soon as you get your nose
outside the door," was the grim re])ly.
^Michael had never been so muHled up in all
HIS
lif(
Ih
e as lie was mis iiiorning
63
Onl
v a pair
THE GLORY AND THE DREAM
of n-reat, liinpid hivv eyes, a nose and a rosy
hint ol' checks hidden somewhere in an envelop-
in^' shawl were visible as he ran out.
It certaiidy was dill'ercnt i'loui anythin.u' he
had ever known hel'ore. Every tliin.t;- was so
^vhitc, so hri-ht. so si ilk he hardly reeoonised
■;he I'aniiliar scene. There was so much snow.
AVhy, as he ran ak)ni;- the path to the ^atc, he
coukl just see over the tt^p of it. There was
something- very (pieer in the air. He hail so
many clothes on that he had not supposed
he would I'eel eohl, hut hy the time he reached
the -^ate he felt somethin.u- .ux'ttin,^' throu<,di at
his fin<4ers, although he had his father's mitts
on over his own. Then he felt it netting
through at his feet.
Susan's gate was just om^osite his, and a
path had I'en ploughed between them. Su-
san was standing on the path, and had just
discovered the woful fact tliat it ended at their
gates. "Oh, Michael!" she cried. "We cati't
<.-et UD to the UebeVs House! The road
doesn't go on; 1 tried to get through the sihjw,
and I went down and down till 1 thought I
04
MKDKirS MOTIirU
was goiiii^" to be diouiicd. See, Tin all snow
away U[) past my wai^t."
"And Dnkeland had nolliinji;' to eat all day
\ester(lav! AN'^e've <''ot to <'ive him his break-
last," said Miehael, in dismay.
".Vnd I wanted to have sehool up there to-
day. Mother told me all about sehool — " Su-
san saw it was useless to eontinue, i'or ]Mieliael
was shoutin<;': "Dukeland! Dukeland! Duke-
landT'
'■()h, he's comini^!" he said at last, in a tone
of relief. 'lie is so green on tlie snow! lie's
coming like a streak, he must be awfully
hungry. Here, Dukeland!" ^liehacl shook
(iff his father's mitt, at which Susan l)urst out
laughing, put his hand in his pocket, drew out
an imaginary slice of bread, and held it for
Dukeland to eat. He was glad Dukeland was
hungry and gobbled the bread, for he could not
have stood having his father's mitt off long.
"Mv hands hurt!" he said as he picked it up
auam.
"Come into the henhouse and warm
niv bantv hen," said Susan.
65
them
on
Tin: (;l()UV and tiik dream
As tlicy made their May to Susan's iRnhousc
Micluul hcranic aware that liis tVct hurt too.
Whin tlicy canu' in. the hanty hcii was siltin,<;'
on a nt^t. "rut your hand under licr wiu,^',"
said Susan.
Micliacl i)ulU<l oil' h..th mitts, and thou-^lit
his hand a luiuiy colour. He went up to the
hanty hen, hut just as lie was o-,)in^- to put his
hand under her win^' she Hew otf cackling'.
She was used to Susan's hand, hut not to Mi-
chaehs.
"Come into the stahle and we'll try the
cow," said Susan.
The eow was lyini;- down, and she let the
children snu.uKle uj) to her, one on each side,
and warm their hands in lier hair. It was
very coml'ortal)le for Micluars hands, hut his
I'eet hurt worse than ever.
Tresently Susan's father came in with a
pitchfork. "Susan!"' he exclaimed. "What
are you doln.u- there? (iet up out of tliat at
oncJ, and ilon't ever let mc lind such u thing
auaui
r'
"Michael's hands were cold, and I hrought
(10
MF.DKirs MO'l iir.u
liiiii ill 1(1 w.inii tliciM Mil tl.f l);iMty Ikii. hut
.sli' !lt\v ;.\vay, M) 1 luuim'lit liiin 'ii lid'c," Su-
.san f.\|)laiiR'(l.
"MidiacJ \V!ii:rc'.«, Miiluu.lr I (loii'l sec
liim."
"rill (»ii llu' ollu r sidf."' said Mi liatl, ris-
ing, and ri\t;ai"(lin!4- S^l^a^^.s t'atlur witli iii-
ri'est. He stdod iij) so strai^lit, Michael
thought he must have Im n a sold'er once, and
Ci-oin Ills Avay 'f talkiii<4' he thought lie must he
used to kilhiig- j)eoi le. "He su't as u'ee as
my father," was his i)r( inp't conc'usicii, alter
a moment's earnest set 'it ■.
"So you're the wonderlul ^IieIlael!" said
Susan's lather.
"I'm not wonderful,'' said Michael, rai'^in^•
a pair of nra\ ely re/j^ietful eyes. "1 have
never kilkd a lion, or done anything'."
"Xever done anvthingf Y(mi ought to he
ashamed of vourself! ^Vhel' I was vour aye
I did all the milkin', aiid there \\tre seven or
eight cows too. J was tuo husy to use them
for warmin' pans. 1 had enough to do to kee])
me warm! If 1 liad doiie nothing hut bit
67
Tin: (ii.nuv AM) Tin: niu.AM
cMii-K.! nplRsi.lr Ihr enu- liU ll.r slal.k' kitten,
,ny rallurw.M.ldiri luivc llu.u-iil luc \v..rlli my
|„;.,,,|, anaiicu..ul(lliavcl.Mt ii.r in a Ini.u aiul
carried nir (plV I" Hu' wncds and l«'st nic'/
Mic'luul l.c-an I.. ll>inU Susan came ..!' a
sava-c slnek. ''l hkiUc toast tor lea," he
ui'ued in stlf-derenee.
-Oh, do vouf What a lull) yon nuist he to
your rather! I supix.se that k.ives him nolh-
int;' to (h) luit sit and read liis paper."
"N(.. lie (k)es h)ts of other thin^^s. lie at-
l,„ds to the horses and keeps the lire f-oin-
and conks th.e (hmier."
-And you just make tlie toast, do yon?
What a usel'ul hoy yon are!"
Michael had never hetore come across the
kind ol' person uho^e only notion of making
l,i,nseir a-reeahle to ehihlren is to tease them,
,nd Nvateh the look that <-onies over their o-ravc
innocent faces as if it were the hn-'est joke
in the world. Susati knew how this was meant,
and was lanohin-. and Michael thonoht she
was lanohin- at him. He suddenly tlew into
a passion and dashed .)nt of the stahle, h-ht-
(;8
MKDKirs MUTIIKIl
iii'T l);u'k aiiijrv sobs, ajid forget tltm' both lii>
<)
s\ii mitts and his I'atlicr
Susan rail alter
liiiii \\i
th tl
ICIll.
'"Michatl, here art' your four mitts," she
called, still lau^hin^'.
.Michael glared at her.
"Tm iicNcr coMiin<>' to see vou anv more.
I'm iic\er t^oin;^' to speak to you any luoix!"
he ci'ied. He fluu^' the mitts dowji aud
stamped on them, then took one of his own and
lore it in his teeth.
Susan had often liad (juarrels with Xieder,
l)ut Jw had never hehaved like this. She was
terrified, and changed from lauuhter to tears.
\V
IV are xou so an^rv with me
siie sol)
bed.
1 l)i'()u<>ht vou in — to warm v-vou — on — the
cow
"Vou huiijjhed at me. Your father scolded
me for not workin<4', and 1 don't see why lie
should bother about whether I work or not.
He said my father only read his [)a[)er, and my
lather does lots of thiri^s!"
'"AVhy, Michael, he was only teasin<^, and 1
was laughing at him."
09
TIIK GLOUV AND TIIK DRl.AM
"At /////;.'" Tlicre was sdiiulhin.u; unheard
of and monstrous to Micluul in the idea of
lauL>hin,!U' at one's father.
'•1 mean-al liis fun. It was only for fun
—lie talks to n.e like that-all the tiniel"
'•My father never talks like that/' said Mi-
chael.
.lust then Susan's father came out.
"Whafs all this ahoutr Miehad. are you a
]„,ni fool to stand out there with no mitts on?
Susan, what are you cryin.u' ahout r"
'■Susan's father, I did.n't understand that
-r>u were teasin-. My i^^'her has a nice way
of teasiuK that makes you know he doesn't
mean it. I ,U«>t mad." explained Michael. ^
Susan's f.ather hurst out lau-hin,u-. "Km-
deutlv you did. or you wouldn't stand outside
on a zero morninu in your hare hands. Susan,
y,ni L'-el your sle<l and take him sli.lin- down-
iiill. ' Thai will warm him uj) hetUr man
cows."
At the mention of slidinu' downhill Mi-
chael's mood und.rweid one of its uiany li^i-ht-
nin- chan-es, and an-er was iKUiished hy eager
70
xiEDER's :\i()Tin:ii
joy
OiK'c or Iwi'-e liclore, when there was
11 in llic environs of CMad-
in unnsual snowla
(la^^h, he had known the rajfture oi" sliding
(iownliill. The '^\ovy of this i)rosi)eet could
not he (linin;ed even hy tlie painful fact that
his hands hurt worse than e\er, and his feet
i'( It as if the toes had eeascd to he "on^- to cheni.
He put on his mitts and ran after Susan
ni)|)cr i)ai-t of the harn, from which she i)i
the
o-
(hux'd two sU\ls. for she was
the onlv child of
prospei-ous ])arents, and was in the conse(iuent
state of allluence. They went out on the road,
and slid all the way dosvn the hill to tlie shore
of the river, where they were a])ruptly pitched
forwai'd into a snow Ijank, just opposite Nie-
<iatc. Thev rolled ahout, kiekino- and
scuillino- and lau.uhinu" till they were almost
helpless to .L-et up, hut when they linally
did so, Michael once more hecame sharply
ler's
loo
iware of the condition o
f his hands and feet.
He had taken off his father's mitts so that he
could handle the sled, and he now had cause
to l)itterly regret the mitt he had torn in his
teeth They stood looking at Xieder's house.
71
THE {;lo:iv and the drea:m
It was a little <;-rei'n house, and looked very
jiretty with snow on the roof. "If I didn't
know it was just Xieder live, in that house, I
^vould tiiink it was fairy people," said Michael.
It was inipossihle to eonneet any clamour of
romance with Xieder, even thoui^h he had once
had a stork's ne.t on his chimney.
"Let's <^o in and t^^et him," said Susan.
Thev went up to the door of the fairy-like
"■rcen house and raii,i>,- the hell. Xieder's
mother came to the door. "Susan I" she ex-
claimed. "Is it you. out on such a monnn<^?"
"Ves, Michael and I are sliding downhill,
and we fame to get Xieder."
"Xieder cannot go out on such a morning.
So this is MichaeU Child, what for do you
cry '.
"1 am not crying," said Michael, making a
brave eifort to speak in a normal tone. "But
my hands hurt, and my toes don't belong to
my feet any more."
"You poor little man!" exclaimed Xieder's
motlier. "It is not right for so small childs to
be out in such cold. Couic in and become
72
MKDi.irs Muri 11:11
\v:ii-iiic(l, rather than you should take Xieder
out to hfcoiiie I'l'cc/cd."
.Michael lost no time in o1)evin;4-, Imt Sus^.n
loUow
e(! \<'du reluetantlv
Ini not I'old,'' she
sau
I. "lie has hecii cold all niornin<j;. 1
\\arn,e(
1 li
ini on the cow
and then 1 th()U<>-ht
he and Xieder and I could slide downhill. I
want to ^lide downhilll"'
"Micluiel ni-ist he warmed first," said Xic-
drr's mother with ^rcat decision. She led him
into a sunny little room, where Xieder's father
"^at close up to the stove, and Xieder was hend-
inn- over a })icture hook. She said somcthiiin-
to ll
em, m wo
rds that were neither Irish nor
l-'n.ulish. They sounded something- like pill-
ions talking-, and sometirm,!^ like necse. Xie-
der'.-, father ulanccd at the children, giunted.
and
went on w
ith 1
lis sniokinn
S
usan
went
over heside Xieder to look at the picture l)ook,
;iiid Xieder's mother set Michael do»vn on a
chair and un^'d his manitold wrappings, sim
hi
il-
inu' a
were
t tl
le
iin
isv in.u'cnnitv with which tliey
i'as.'.ned. "Some time I hope to find a
little bov, but vet I can onlv li'al shawls and
78
THE GLORY AND Till' DRKAM
mufflers," slic said. Hut liually she not tlicni
all uudouc. and disclosed a hcautilul little faee
(hcautilul in si)itc of a i)lue complexion) with
the clear l)ro\v sternly knitted, the lips, line
and stion;^- in spite of their hahy softness,
drawn and rii;id in. piteous endurance, and
tears tilling' the lovely eyes. Slie took oil' his
mitts next, and on seein^n* his hands, ex-
claimed:— "Je//. dii (innt's Kind:" Th.en
added:— "Von are frosthitten where your aiitt
was torn. Susan, run out at once and ^et a
dish of snow!"
'•Did Jack Frost hite me, and 1 never saw
liimf" exclaimed Michael.
"lie did indeed, he hit your l)ooi hand."
"It nuist have heen wlim I was mad, and I
never saw him I I wan! to sec a fairy. I
would rather it was a l)eautiful fairy, hut Jaciv
Frost would do."
"Von silly I" exclaimed Susan. "Jack
Frost oidy helon.i^s in ])ieturcs, he isn't real."
"liut he l)it my hand." Michael replied.
Xieder's mother lau,uhed. She was hy this
time ruhhing the hand with snow, which seemed
7dt
MKDKK'S MOTHER
to Michael very I'liniiy. "Wait till he liitcs
jiou, liaiKi," she said to Misan, and see it' nou
w'xW say he is i it I'eall"
As the hurt went out of Mieh-ael's hands, it
was ,ra<!ually horne ax en hiiu that he liKed
Xieder's mother. He lo\ed her to t;ilk. lie
han loi'^olten u
hit
;i nice \\a\- ni'illiers
had
oi
talking'. She had a (|ueei' \\ay of saying' e\ery
word earel'ully. and when she said words that
ended in r she seemed to make them loni;', and
ndcd hiij and I htek. IJnt that wasn't
tl
lev sou
the ])art of her tallvini;' that was nice, l!iat \vas
oidy ([ueer. 1 he nice ))art was tlie niothei
th
part.
Tl
K re was no wav ol' sax-'nu \s hat it was
like, hut he wanted to lieai' moi'e and more of
it.
\'.\\ don't a!
\\.
talk I^Muhsh,"" he said.
'What did \'ou talk wlien ^ ou took mv mittj
• If
That
^vas
1)
lUiseli.
That
is our siJeecn
pee
ch
slie itp
\m\.
'Is that ^vhat jjeople talk in Ciermany
es.
'We talk Irisii. I wish people did it i
m
70
THE (iLORY AND Tlli: DIIKAM
Canadr. I don't like En-;lish words, except
tlirce or I'our nice ones."
"Are tlie Irish words more nicef
"Ves, tlie Irish words tire all ditYerent col-
ours. There are some of them that jump, and
some of them that Hy, and some of thevi are
always standini;- in the sun."
"1 liave ouldrawn the frost!" exclaimed
Nicder's n^.other jo) fully. '•No^v I wiH see in
what way your foots lintl tluiusrlves."
'M think my toes are l)e,i;innin«^' to join on
again," said Michael, somewhat douhlfully.
\ieder's mother took oil" his shoes and stoek-
injrs, and then she ruhhed his feet— not in smrn-
this time, hut in her I)!-' warm hands. When
Miehael re-ained tlio \vc of his toes he did not
leave them in idleness Ion--; he used them to
oral) Xieder's mother's tin-xrs with, and as
They were rema.-kaMy active and muscular lit-
tle "toes, they could urah hard. A wild ^leam
„r inisehief came into his eyes as she pretended
to he dismayed, and criLd -.it: "Jr//'" every
time slie was cannht. At last she put his shoes
70
,^*^',,
MEUKirs .MOTHER
and stockin<Ts on a^^ain, after niucli laughlnn;
resistance I'roni liini, declaring: — "Now those
!)ad toes will have to l)e good!"
"-My feet feel nice now," said Michael.
"Tliey feel like two nice warm hiscuits."
'Well then, can he come out and slide down-
hill with mef" demanded Susan.
'Fir^t 1 must that mitt mend, or nis hand
will become again freezed," replied Nieder's
nintlier. S!ie was taking up the mitt, when
they heard steps on the \ erandah.
"^fy father is coming!" cried Michael.
Xieder's mother ran to the door. By sub-
sequent observation, Michael discovered that
she alwavs ran to do anything that had to be
(lone for a man. and she never said anything
when a man was in t .e room. lie licard his
lather say: — "Excuse this intrusion, Init I have
lost my little hoy, and there arc two sleds at
the foot of tiie liill here. Have you seen himT'
'rill here!" cried Michael, and ran out into
the hall.
"Come in, if you plea , rncin Ilcrr," said
m
fi'
^.
Tin: (;iJ)KV and 'vuv. duka.m
Xicdcr's ni..llicr. ^'Vhv In-sl hit liis liand
llircu-h thai torn mitt, ^^hiL•h I .suppose you
know not how to iiuiid — "
"J lore it inysrlf. artcr T went out," said
MichaeK ea^vr to exonerate liis lather.
"Let me see yoiu" hand," the hitter e\-
chiime(h He e\amin<(l it anxiously.
"Ifs all ri-ht now," said Miehael. "Xic-
dcr's mother eured the hile with snow. But
Jaek Frost hit my hand without my seeing
ir.m!" he added woiidly.
"I eanM till you how p'ateful I am," said
Miehaehs lather. "IF ' did you eome to
hring him InT'
•That Su^an. who Is as hard to cold as one
of tho^e siedl heasls that run up trees and
.hiri), eanie with hiiii to -vt Xiedcr lo eome out
;md l)e free/.ed. and your ehild had his eye; i.i
trars. vi't he would not cry. and 1 learned that
his ro<".ts and hands were in pain I'rom eold, so
1 hringed him in."
Aftir Iha.t. Nieder's I'alher talked to .Mi-
(•haehs iath.er tor a lonu', long time, and Xie-
der's mother sat without saying anything, as
78
1
NIKDIlirs MOTHER
if -.he w:iT a liillo ^irl. Xicdcr sliowcd Ali-
fliatl !ii^ picliii'c liook. There was a i)ic'turc
of a tdiKMii, V ilh u hcaiitiliil L-oldcti hrcasl,
and Mif'uul made ii}? his mind lliat soimc (hiy
\\v wduld calc'h a toucan and kcc'i) it I'or a pet.
Its <;()hlen hreast wouhl i)e so hri^^ht they
would see it c \ en at nis^ht, in the (hirk. Tlien
they went into thv' dini:i;^' room, and i)hiyed
tiMins wilh the ehaii's till Xieder's mother hud
to i-eelaiin them for use at dinner. It was a
(k'h( ions (hnner: thei'e was a pud(hn^- tliat Mi-
chael rcmemhered i'or days and days. lie
alwa\s renieml)erKl it particularly when he
awoke in the mornini^' — a tim*' when he re-
mcnihei\(l riice words ami nice smells. lie en-
joyed havin^; dinner oil' a dili'erent kind of
dishes. Their own di•^hes were l)iii' J>"<1 wliite
and nearly all the same, hl-.e J'.n.iilish words.
Theie was one with a cover he called the cour-
n^'c disii, hccnuse it was like an Knt^lisli word
that was dillV rent from the others. Ikit iJtcsc
dishes were lilue and golden around tlie edge,
a! id there was a ]u;j; that was just the colour of
the skv, and a vcllow hutter dish that was hkc
79
I
THE (;i,()KY AM) Tin: DUl'.A.M
ji j)(.Ts()ii, liicaii^e it liad cars, and talked wlun
it was i)assc(l will) llie cover on. Tlierc were
a lol of little l)utter dishes too, with cd.nes that
made them look like .star-, and y( How llower.s
ill the middle. It suddenly struck Michael
that the \)\;j; hutte • dish was a mother, and the
litlle Imtter dishes were her c'.iildren, and they
were hro'liers and sistirs, and they were all
very, ver\ hai)i)\-. He liked eating- his hutU'r,
hecause the more he ale the more of the yellow
flower he saw. When dinner was over, Susan
suddenly announced: — "liless us, 1 must get
home! Mother will have (hnner readv for mc,
and think I'm lost!" a^ it that appalling
thought had only that moment occurred to her.
As a matter of Tact, she had known perfectly
well it was time to go home, when she smelled
the (hnner cooking, hut it smelled like a hetter
dinner than she would get at home, i^,o she
.stayed, and .said nothing ahout her anxious
mother till the caulltlower with white sauce (a
delicacy in whieh she was not allowed to in-
dulge at home) and the delicious pudding had
heen safely disposed of. Now, however, she
80
MKDKirS M()TII1:R
a-
i
wore an expression of sol ;im dismay as Xie-
,; i-'s mother was i)ult'n,^' oti her lliiiin's, and
cxlioitid Irt to •■[)leasc ImiTy up. iiecaiise
niothcr will he anxious!" .iiid ran down the
^t^ps like an innoeent. dutirnl ehih'. intent only
mi I'ditviiiL;- her mother's mind as speedily as
])oisihle.
.Micharl I'oujid tliin.iTS dull after she was
• rone. ?<ieder was taktii away to have his
artrrnoon sletj*. and Mieliael was generally
|iii[ to hrd for an hoiu' in the afternoon, also,
if he happened to l)e anywhere within reaeh of
his fatlier. 15ul to-day, Xieder's father went
on and on, talldng to his father, till Miehael
!)(_,uan to tlii.ik he must have heen going' on for
ahoiil a hundied hour.,, or j)erhaps longer, for
h.v km w there wei'e higger numl)ers. He be-
gan to get \ery tired of not talkitig, and he
woiidi ri'd why Xieder's mother did not talk
either. lie tliouglit there were oidy two niee
things ahout growing up — one Mas that you
might he a [)atriot, and the other was that you
eould talk all you wanted to; yet Xieder's
mother was not availing herself of the latter
8]
I
MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART
ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No 2
1.0
1^ llii
!
2.5
22
I.I
2.0
1.8
1.25
1.6
_g . /APPLIED IIVMGE Inc
^ 6t)i £ast Main Street
r.= -rochester. Ne« York 1*600 USA
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= 716) 288 - 5989 - Fa«
THE r.LORY A\D THE DREAM
])rivilc^c. He sal down bcsitl' her on a little
stool, and pi'c.sciitly liis head was down on her
knee and he was asleef).
He was awakened h\ his father savino'. very
^•ently: — "Come alon^i>-, small man, we must no
lome." He oj)ened his eyes, and turned his
head I'ound to look u[). What was that eom-
fortahle fliinu- it was resting- on:' It was a
mothei-'s knee!
The \)\>j; warm hand that had rubbed his I'eet
slii)j)ed under his elieek, so s(jrtly, and raised
up his t'aee, and a voiee breathed as if to it-
sell'; — '\icli, (lie T<:Nji(lir.scfi(">iu' Aufjcn'/'
^lieluuTs eyes tLcrc "wondei'-beantiful,"
and llky wtre es])eeially so in the sol't be-
wihk'rment ol waking. Any one who knew
him eonld read all the bii^lit imauininns that
went on behind them, and shone thronnh their
transpai-eni ,<-rey. but to stranoers. and to some
iVitiids who thou.nht they knew him very well,
they were a mystery. All siieli j)e()ple knew
al)ont them was that they had a beauty beyond
the usual limi)id innoeenee of a child's eyes,
and it was a beauty that would have made one
82
XTEDER'S :M0TIIF.R
feel a little sliivery, wvvv it not I'or the healthy
fleams of niisehief that eaine into theui so
often.
Perhaps what Xieder's mother did, when
INIiehacl was all wrapped up and ready to o()
home, was not a wise thin<^' to do to a hoy who
must ^et on wilhotit a mothe)', l)ut she did it
heeause. iiot heini^- ordy Xiedei"'s mothtr, hut
a mother altogether, sne eould not help it.
Slie had heen kneeling' down to fix the shawl
that hid him, all i)ut his eyes and nose, \\hen
she suddenly thivw her arms ai'ound him, and
in some way reaeiied her mouth in under the
shawl and kissed his eheek. Suhse(]uently
^Miehael often puzzled over how sh.e had done
it, hut not at that moment: he only put his
arms around her neck and hu_i>;ued her tiii'ht.
It was heautiful, heautiful, to have his arms
ai()U!>d a mother's neek, and when he let go he
had a sliar]) feelini^' inside that hui't him all
throuuh, and he felt th(> tears eomin,^'. It had
made him remcmher the time, loni^' a^^o, when
he used to put his arms around a mother's neek
every ni-^ht at hedtime, and after that, she
83
THE GLORY AND THE DREAM
always f^a^'c liiiii a })iec'c of l)arley su,u;ar to suck
till he went to sleep, lint tlic wild, wonder-
ful excitement of eoiiiin.i;' to the new country
and liel])in<^ to Imild the loti,' house, and tiie joy
lie ^'ot from his iniau'inai'y ci-eatures, had han-
ished all thought of that time, and he had com-
pletely forgotten what it was like to have a
mother, till he i)ut his arms around Xiedcr's
mother's neck. Then '.\c felt that a mother was
somethiim' vou could n' I do without; that he
couldn't stand not having' one of his very own.
The sharp feelin,i>' inside hurt as nothing" had
ever liurt since the morning- he found a tousled
red-eyed aunt in liis mother's pink apron. lie
held on tl^ht to his father's hand all the way
home, and ke[)t his face tui'ned away in hide
the tears lie was mastering- resolutely. lie
said to himself, over and over:— "I'm quite sat-
isfied with father!" and was determined not
to let him thiidv otherwise. I3ut when thev
came in, and his father heL>-an to unwrap him,
he exclaimed: — "^Michael! What's the mat-
ter T'
Then Michael could keep back the sobs no
8i
NIEDER'S MOTHER
loiifrer, and at last, alter beini^ pressed to ex-
plain, he said: — "It was only Xieder's mother!"
His I'atlier took liiin np on his knee without
a word, and in an instant a [)air of eager httle
arms were elose around his neck, and altliough
it Hashed through ^lichael that this wasn't a
mother's neek, he hugged him tight, heeause
whatever liapjiened he (h'd not want to hurt his
father's feeh'ngs — his dear, preeious fatlier,
who was always so good to him — with whom he
had better times even than witli Susan and
Xieder. "Father, I'm quite satisfied with
you!" he sobbed.
Then, someliow, althougli his father said very
little, Michael kneAv he understood it all; l)ut
liis feelings were not hurt, altliough he was
feeling very sorry about somethiuQ-.
85
CIIAPTKK VII
'iiir. lAiia' KOAn
Tin: nc\' (hiy Michael was <^Wvn clear and
decided iiistriieiioiis iK't lo .stand still a niu-
mcnt, and to conic sti-ai-^lil home if liis hands
and feel hnrl. lie a.nd Snsan ^j)e'lt a inoi'ii-
in^<4' of i<n!'e dehi^ht, slidinn' downhill, and for
days. .MieJKul thou-^ht (it was really only two
oi- three) this joy ahsorhed them so conii)letcly,
they could scarcely think of another thin;^'.
They forgot all ahont the liehcrs House, and
Michael even fori;ot Dnkehnid and Shylince.
In fact, they wci'c I)ehavinL>' wry like some sillv
l)iL>- ijcople wlio don't know any hetter. and let-
tin,i>- one rallicr stuftid amusement absoi'l) the
whole of their naturally acti\c and versatile
little nn"nds.
Meanwliile Xieder was having- a dull and
lonely time of it, and. he began to fret. He
80
Tin: J'AIRV ROAD
(lid not fret in llic decided, turhiilent way in
which Su>ian or Michael would haxe fretted —
he could not l)e said to he nau^i^hty — yet lie ccr-
taiidy did make himself \ei'y tiresome. lie
could not amu>,e himsi li' alone. Susan could
if she IkuI to, though she did not like to Jiave
to, and ^liehael thoroughly enjoyed what he
called his "hai)py l)y myself times," when lie
would he (juiet for hours, ahsorhcd in a village
made of cliij)s. or in j)ictures in hooks lie ^"ot
I'i'om the shelves, or simj)ly thinkin;^'. There
were so many wonderi'ul thing's to think ahout.
J]ut Xieder had none of those resources. Some-
times he rode fm'iously on his rocking horse,
'ashing it with iiis whip, sometimes lie stamped
ahout hlo^\ini>' his tin trum[)et or healing his
drum, hut when these amusements palled he
could in\ent no otheivs. Jind he wandered alx)ut
tlic house, asking when it would he dlnnei--time,
and in the afternoon, when it ^vonld be tea-
time :f Or else he stood at the window, looking
out at two little red tigures that s})ed past the
gate on sleds, and then I'an l)ack nj)hill again,
or stayed awhile to tumble each other about in
87
m
THE (;l(jhv and tiii: drkam
the snow. iVCtcr a couj)k' of days of tliis, liis
niotlici' could stand it no longer, so she
wraj)|)ed him uj) well and sent him out. He
(hished down to the yate, and looked caf^x-rly
ahout for Susan and Michael, hut instead of
coming' downhill towards him on sleds, as he
expected, they were runnin<>-, and to his n;rcat
disai)])ointnient they had no sleds with them.
"Oh, Xieder!" panted Susan, as she (hishcd
up, and leaned a^u'ainst the [gatepost for sup-
])ort. "I was so s^lad when I saw you, hecausc,
what do you think, there's a patli up to the
RcIkTs House this morninijf, and I can have
scIkjoI u[) thei'c, hut I need you for that, he-
cause I can't have school made of just Mi-
chael!"
"It's a fairy path!" cried Michael. "It can't
have heen anyhody l)ut fairies made it, he-
cause none of ou" fathers would want to get
to the Rehel's House!"
"Stuff!" said Susan. "Vou talk ahout
fairies as if they wei'c i-eal, like us. instead of
just story things!"
"But of course fairies are real!" protested
88
Tin: FAIHV KOAD
Michael. "They're not a hit hke us, hut
the\-'re r<?al the wav anncls arc, ou\v ol' course
tlicy'i'c nothiiin' hkc aii,L!,'cls, I'm i^'oini^' lo sec
a I'aiiy some (hiy. I'm ,L!,"(miih" to watch and
watch till I sec it, and perhaps 111 e\en make
Iriends with it."
"Pe()[)lc don't see fairies," said Xieder.
'"Lots of pco[)lc 1 Used to know saw thcni.
A lot of my annts saw them!" said Michael,
with awed solemnity. "But it was snch a
funnv thin''-, afterward thev were just like or-
dinary i)co})le all the same. I'm sure if 1 once
saw a fairy, I'd never ^et over it!"
"I thought yon Avcre going to slide down-
hill," said Xieder. "I lune seen you slide
downhill every day when mother would not
let me go :)ut, and now yon do not do it."
"Pcrha])s we will after awliile," said Mi-
chael. "But we »ii!s-t go up the fairy road to
the Kehcl's House!"
■^Vnd we nuist have school when we get
there," said Susan.
"I don't want school. 1 want to slide down-
hill," said X'ieder.
89
Tin: (;i,()Kv AM) 'rm: drf.a.m
"Here's m-Iriv llic r.iiiy i);illi ix'^iiis,"' said
Mic'liacI, as lluv i)assc(l liis <4alc aiul Su-
san's.
""How c'oiild fairies plotiuli a patli^' de-
manded Sns;.n. se(iri)lnll\-.
"Oh. I (loiTl know Ikjw — i>ut tliey've done
it. Lodk at those lieautitul little stars all over
the snow. They ha\e soniethinn- to do with
au'ies.
■■'I'liose sparkling- tliin,u's? Oh. they'iv just
natural hi>tory."'
"Xatm-al histoiy is animals." said Miehael.
"It's animals too of eourse, hut it's stones,
and snow Hakes, and -and- -all those thing's,"
was Susan's ek^ar and sati.->raetory definition.
"I'm sure those stai'S have souk, thin^- to do
with fairies." Mieluul i-epeated. "Anvwav
the fairies made this path, heeause no one else
A\ould do it."
"Santa C'laus minht liavc," said Xieder,
slowly and douhtfully. "'But I ihouyJit Jie
oidy hrou^^'ht thin<4s at Christmas."
"Vou're very silly hoys," said Susan.
"One of our fathers did it for a sui'prisc, or
90
Tin; rAiiiv now)
else it was thai old C'(il(nili(»un. lie is always
(l()iii<4' (]iuc'r- tiling's."'
"\'()ii just ask youi- t'atlu r, Susan. Xicdrr.
you ask yours, and 1 11 ask mine. I'm sui'c
it wasn't tlKin."
"Tlitn it was old C"ol((nliou)i,"' said Susan.
"I'll ask him too," said Mifhacl.
All this arunnR'nl could not take awav from
the wonder ol' actually walking' nj) a path to
the Itehel's House that had lieeii duy" l)y fairies.
M\ery stej) was a rai'clied joy such as Michael
could ne\cr remcnihei' I'eelini)' heforc, many
and vivid as his jo\'s had heen. It was almost
as wondei-ful as sccin<>' a I'airv to he on the road
they had made. His lieart had always been
so hungry for wondei's: now it was tasting; de-
licious satisfaction. lie felt as if something
was shining inside of him, he was so ha})i)y.
They went up the ste])s and pushed open the
hig door with the hon's head on it, that never
slint (juite tight, and was now heavier and
stiil'er than ever before, having been several
days untouched. They went into the gieat
bare room with the sim shining on tlie floor.
91
THE r.LORV AM) Tin: dri.am
Susan iiiiiiic .Mi(Iia(I and Xicdir sil down side
ity side t»n llic wiiidnw sill, and shi iiintiiittd
an did s()a[) box in I'l'onl of tluin.
■'X(i\v ;,flif)(il will !ri;::i," slic said. '"(Jci^^'-
j'apliy liisl. Ii'cland and (Jciniany arc (»n
one .side ul' the sea, and Canada is on the other
side. Then there's the Xorth l*()le. where it's
always as eold as it is here just now, and the
i'i\er we li\ e hcside."
''Tiiere's a country called the Americans on
the otlier side of the i'i\e!\" said Michael.
"Tiiere's a country called Spain i)esides,"
said Xieder.
"That's a nice name." said Michael. "It's
like the \ng i^olden sounds all mixed uj) with
honey."
"^Vritlimetic next," continued Susan with
di^'nity. "Two ti\ es make ten, and tweh e are
a do/en."
".Vnd six are half a dozen, and ten tens are
a hundred, and there are millions and hillicjiis
and trillions besides," siii)j)]emented Michael.
"You must always hold up your liand he-
fore vou sav anvthiuLi'. Grammar next. It
92
Tin: iWFUv KuAiJ
Isn't ffrntiimar to (all; alioul scalawaus, {IuhiljIi
{'allicT (Iocs it soiiK'tinics. Xatiiial liislory
ncNt. I aOiis and liu( is don't lixtlierc — "
"Oil. Snsaii — " .Michael l)(;4an.
"J "in tcacliir/' slir (miti itid,
"Tciicliti-," lie said, uilh a little .^I.u'.nle at
that tllle in tiie inid.sl of his eonstcrnation, "are
yon sure'"
"Or eoni-se I'm snre. J uonldn't teaeh yon
anything' I'm not sni'e ol'.''
'I wanted to lind a lion in the woods and
kill him!"
"Well, bears live here. Pei'liaps yon'il find
a heai'. Minks live here too, and an animal
with a smell it Isn't grammar to talk abont.
l''airies don't li\e hei'c — "
"They do!" protested ]Micliacl liotly.
"If yon contradict the teacher, mother says
yon have to be i)i'.nished. Go and stay in the
corner over there."
"It's too cold."
"Then say you're sorry."
"I'm sorry, but they do live here, and they
made a road so you could have school up here."
93
•Si-
Si
m
f
Tin: (JLoiiv AM) THE duka:»i
"Is school nearly done'" asked Xieder.
"\\\'ll, I helieve that's all." sai(1 Susan re-
gretfully. "1 euTt renieiiiher anything else
mother told me was tanglit in school."
"Then can we slide downhill^"' demanded
Xieder.
jMichael was I'eluctant to leave the Kehel's
House so soon, and on this pai'ticulai' morning
too. when it was in\este(l ^\it]l a douhle glam-
our; hut for a little mortal with such \cry in-
tense desires as he had, he was pretty good-
natured a})out giviiig 'em up when anyhody
else wanted something else very hadly, so they
all went out, and h.ad the wildest morning of
sliding downhill they had had yet; for there
were three of them instead of two, whicli ii'-
crcased the noise and fim. and they had the
whole height of llie hillside to slide down, aiul
they never knew where they were going to land
next, or with just wliat force they were going
to he precipitated into tlie deep snowdrift be-
side the ri\er. When tlie hig dinner gong
sounded (this was an iiistitution Michael's
father had blurted, to save endless trouble about
94
THE FAIRY ROAD
niipnnctuality at mealtimes) and tliere was a
H'ciicral scraiiil)le out of that (li'it't and liome-
^vards, .Michael i-eminded the other two to re-
ineniher to ask theii- lathers if they had
ploughed the path. lie asked ///.v father first
thing when he hurst in the door, all covered
witii snow, his cheeks crimson and his eyes shin-
ing. "'J'here's a I'airy road up to the Rehel's
House this morning!" lie ci'ied. "I hnoxc it
was fairies made it, hut just hecause Susan and
Xieder thought it wasn't I told them to he siu"e
to ask their fathers if they ploughed it, and
I'd ask you."
"I certainly didn't," his father replied, look-
ing astonished.
"Then it icas fairies!" cried Michael, danc-
ing wildly ahout. ''Tm sure it icasn't Susan's
father, and I'm quite sure it wasn't Xieder's,"
as he rememhcred the fat figure tilted hack in
a chair in front of the stove, talking and talk-
ing and talking.
He ate his dinner verv silently that dav.
%. ^ k
He was full of delightful excitement, not only
al)out the fairy road (although that was ex-
95
Tin: GLORY AM) THE DllKAM
citinijf enough, for now liis one little flickering
(loul)t was extinguished; he hud thought it
in'ujltt be his father) .)ut al)()ut the hig, hold,
adxenturous thing he must do riglit after din-
ner, in ortler to eonvinee Susan. lie must go
and ask old Col([uhoun. Old Cohjuhoun's
premises were as yet undiscoxered eounti'v;
thc'v had all the fascination ol' the unkfiown.
Not that he expected them to he extraordinary
in any way. He could not, very \\ell. as for
him there was no ordiua.ry. re!'haj)s hig
j)eople, if they hark back far enough, can
undirstaud the fascination woodpiles, rubbish
lieaps, barns and woocKIieds had for Michael.
The chii'S and blocks he found in such ])laces
])ositi\e!y insisted on being [)eo[)le. and houses
and villages; scaicely less delightful were the
numlterless, curictus, inexplicable, suggestive
objecis for whieli he could find no especial nse.
Sometimes tliev suggested, wordlesslv but with
the utmost poignancy, grim tragedies — some-
times they brought the brightest, most blissful
thoughts. To Michael, at six vears old. no
object was without signiticance. What a fer-
90
Tin: FAIRY ROAD
li!c field he luui already round his father's rub-
hisli heaj)! TheiK'c liatl been Iransjjorled a
iiiiniher of tin cans, old IxAtoiuless rusty
(iip[)ers, supera'Miuated sauce[)ans, and leaky
coll'ee i)()ts, to a certain room in the Kchers
House, liereaftei- known as the aviary, in-
habited by a choice collection of birds of I'ara-
dise, cockatoos. ])aro(juets, and owls. Oidy the
coveted toucan uith its wonderful i^olden breast
was mis' '-Mr-, it had not vet found a suilicientlv
wortiiy re[)resentative. Susan's rubbish heap
was of a different, but e(|!ially su^Li;n-estive
character. The i)ossibililies of Xieder's back
yard had also been partially discovered; but
nothing whatever ^^as known about old Col-
(juhoun's i)reniises. Old C'okiuhoun himself
was ol' sccondiu'y iinportajice. His usefulness
would be terminated as soon as he denied hav-
ini,^ j)loughe(l the path.
He had a bi^\ heavy ,L>'atc — so licavy that Mi-
chael had a long- slruL»'i>-le to p;et it o])en : lie
thought se\fral times that he would Juirc to
s^ive U]) tryinu". but !ie was deternu"ned he would
not if he could jjossildy liclp it; and at last,
97
:|l
nl
■m
I
41
THE GLORY AND THE DREAM
al'tcr many ^i^lnaiitic eH'orts, lie <?ot it just
cii()ii<4h open to wrinkle tlirou^h. and then lie
danced and yelled in triiini])li:int joy. Sud-
denly tliere was a noise ol' l)arkin^tjf tliat drowned
out every other sound, and a lot of <rreat big
do<,''s fiew at hini Troni all sides, their necks bris-
tling in a way he thought was grand; they were
almost as good as lions! There must be a hun-
dred of them, he thought, but lie did not know
what it was to feel friglitened, so he went
straight on up the ])ath to old Colqulioun's
door. Old Cohiuhoun was there by the time lie
readied it, calling the dogs, who surrounded
him. crouching before him, and curling them-
selves around his feet.
"Good day, old C'ol(|uhoun."" said Michael.
"Did you plough that path up to the Uebel's
House.'"'
He noticed that old Col(juhoun had a long
beard, and wore an api'(^n — two fumiv thincs,
which he had never seen before. He had
thouglit it was oidy ninthei-s wlio wore aprons,
and he was not accustomed to men with beards.
He did not re[)ly to ^Michael's question im-
93
Tin: FAIRY ROAD
nicdiutcly; tlicn lie cjaculatod, willi a most
a^toniuliii^' \(>liiiiie of M)ice: — '"Lo.sli heliears!"
"Did yon plough itf Micliacl rej)eated.
''Do ye think 1 lia'c naelliiii<^' else to do, than
tlis for weans r' oki
"Is that a' ve ca:n'
ash inase
r
lOn^lun pa
oe i)urne(
1
C'ol(|nh()nn demanded,
here to ask mef ]Ma cakes will
hlaek," and he tnrned ronnd and hnrried hack
into the honse. ^Michael followed him. lie
had not understood this, and wondered what
new lan<2;ua^e it was that had a little En(>lish
in it and yet wasn't Kn,ylish. From the tone,
tliouiih, he had no douht it was a hi<i'hly in-
diii'uant denial, and that rejoiced his heart.
He had already decided that he liked old Col-
(juhoun. Although his voice was so hi^ and
an^ry, it was soft, and had a nice sound in it,
]\('l)le's voices were generally wha* decided
Michael as to whether he liked them or not.
'■[ really knew you didn't. — " he hepfan as he
followed old Cohiuhoun throuo'li the house.
"Then why did ye come fa->hin' me ahoot
it?" demanded dd Cokiuhoun, turning round
on him.
09
Tin: (;i.()!{v and 'I"iii: dri.am
''Susan and Xiclcr uoiildii't believe it M'as
fairies, hut I knew lliei-e was iidIkhIv else \\()uKl
have (lone it, so I told ll-eni to ask tlieir fathers,
and I'd ask mine, and then they said it was
yon, so 1 said I'd ask yon too. Xoxc they'll
know it eouhhi't ha\e heen any one hnt
aines!
Old Cokinhonn looked hard at Miehael for
a l\\v nn'niites, withont sayi?!.^- anytliiiin' more.
3Jie]iael thou.uh.t he meant sonieihino' hv look-
ing- at him th;it way. hnt he did not know or
care what it was. he was so triumphant and
luqipy ahont tlie ])ath.
"Wdia hnt fairies would do it.'" demanded
old C'ohinhonn at last, in a short, impatient
tone, as if any other theory was too silly to he
considered I'oi" a moment.
He hurried on to the kilehen, which was full
of an entraneino' smell of cakes. On the tahlc
was a }):le of them, the perfcet .liolden brown
tliiit Michael lowd. and a doo- m;is .standinn'
with his forepaws on the table, his nose rai)idly
approaehino' (lie temptin<4' I'^ap. Old Cohju-
houn ejaculated :— "Colin !" in a tone that made
100
THE FAIRY HOAD
Michael jiimi), and hroni^Iit the (lo<^- down to
llic llooi- at liis I'cct, cidtichin^i;- and (juiwi'ini^-.
■■\'e would st'di, 'Aould ye!' WlxI, ye would
lia'e iiad your sha. . if ye had heen honest. Noo
veil see Jessie <;et twa cakes, i)it hv hit. and
\e
11
look on.
M
icliae
tl
OUi
fht il'
lis
itl
lUier
spoke to him in such a tone he would he so
ashamed he would never net over it all his lii'e.
Old Cohiuhoun wlijiped another pan of
cakes out of the oven, then picked \\\^ two of
the fluinest and most golden ones in the first
heap, and crossed the room to a do!^" who was
lyin<^' in a corner wit!i ])U[)pies around her.
Just ;it the same moment. .Michael caui^iit .^i^ht
of tlie ])up[)ies; he hounded across the r
oom
w
ith a cry of joy, and /pist hud his hand on the
softest and w)'i;4;i^liest one, that sent shivers of
deli_i>ht all throu<^h him, when he heard a sava.^-e
growl, and next tiling- he knew he had heen
jerked hv his collar into tlie middle ol' the iloor,
and old C'ohiuhoun was standing" o^•er hi
paiitiiif^- with excitement.
m
II
I e \e nae sense
le (lenuuK
led.
ilaurna touch a pu])py o' Jessie's. Mon, she
101
1^^^
THE (ILORV AN!) 'I IIi: DRKAM
nearly I'il yc! I wouldiia For onytliiji;;- lia'e
ma aiild Jessie (^v[ into hvniJilc. She's a ^vy
I'anny auld lassie." he said, ciijssin^^' Ihe room
aoain and hiyiiif^- his liand with resjjeclful
tenderness on the dou"s liead, "1)111 hei- temper's
no sweet. Xoo, C'ohnI" he achhd shari)ly,
tuinino- around. C'ohn came ei-ouehin^' up to
him, his eves fixed on the eakes, sniihno- and
Ma^u;u"inf^- his tail. Jessie sat up, showino- a
lovely white shirt front that distracted Mi-
chael's attention IVom the puppies for a mo-
ment, and with solemn dignity eaunjit j)ite after
hite of cake, smacking her lips loudly over each
one, as if she understood that she was assistin.uf
in Colin's ])unishn)ent. Michael meanwhile
was watchinn- the puj)])i's as they rolled helj)-
lessly ahout. and his whole heinir- was tilled with
a consuming- lon^-inn- to have one of those yel-
low, fluffy 1)!ts of loveliness in his own hands,
hut he had no ho])e of its hein.u' .H'ralilied — and
to such a small. \i\i(l person as ^Micliael. an
unpcratified lon^yini^- was acute a,L':o?iy. IJut
when Col(|ulioun had tim'shed the deliherate ad-
ministration of cake to Jessie, he went up to
102
(1
Tin: TAIUV ROAD
Ik r in that tcndci'ly resi)cc'triil iiumncr Michael
had noticed Ijcforc.
"Will yc let me lia'c a lMi])py for a wee?"
he asked. '■\'e ken ye can trust your master."
Jessie let him pick up a puppy, and he .slowly
and solemnly dei)osited it in Michael's arms.
"Oh I"' cried Michael. He sjjcnl a lew minutes
i;'ter rai)ture. while it wri^u'led and kicked
and no]»i)ed its dear little paws ahout. and
j.'oked aj'ound with its funny little nose. But
after old Cohiuhoun took it hack Michael was
conscious of another imj)erative desire. He
iini.sf some day have a pujjpy of his very own.
"Weel, I'm ^lad ye cam'," remarked old
Cokiuhoun. "for an extra mouth to eat up the
cakes is no sic' a had thin^i^'. 1 dinna like them
stale. Here, tak' those and eat them on the
way hanie."
He oave Michael three cakes, and for some
time this hliss put even pu])pies out of his head.
He consumed one slowly as he walked alon*?
the path at the foot of the hill, for he liked to
make his pleasures last, and hcsides, it was as
nice to look at as it was to eat, and he would
103
Tin: cLoiiv AM) 'I'm; dht-am
]h' son-y lo sec till' In^l of that I)i:iiitit'iil colour.
To l<c .sure, llici'c Were two more — hut it sud-
denly occurred to hiui th.it Susnn and Xitder
iiii^iit like them, and Ir.;- a lit lie while a s|iar|)
sti-nn-o-le went on in his nn'nd. Then he fcso-
lutely f lu'Ust the t\vo ea';e^ deep into his |;oeket,
and ran aloni'' the lilile path to the l)ank of
snow the sleds ran into. 'I'hey wt re comin,^-
downhill now, and ju-e.-.( nlly Su^an and Xieder
weie jirecipitated into the han!;. W'hm they
sci-anihled out, and saw Michael, they asked
him where he had ht tii.
"I'se heen to old C()l(Mihonn"s. lie <>a\c
nie some cakes, and here's oni' i'oi- each ol' nou,"
Michael rej)lied, as he hastily held out tiie cakes,
determined to i>et this ai'duous duty done at
once. When Susan and Xieder had Li'ot
started munchin;; the cakes they did not seem
disposed to ask any more (lueslions. hut Mi-
chael continued: — "He didn'l plon<4h the Fairv
Road!"
'"^lichael!" exclaimed Susan, in the utmost
astonishment. 'Do yon know, my father
didn't, and neithti- did \ieder's!"
104
1-
t
Tin: lAIKY U().\I)
'"I hiK w tlicy didn't. 1 llidii^Iu iiiiiic mi^lit
have, liiil ill didii'i."'
"Tlicii it iiiii^t have l)tcii fairies. \\!rii it
wasn't j)((ipk." Xicdcr had lo adimt reluc-
tantly. h(t\\(( n nioufhfids of caUe.
■()!' c'oui'^c. Old C'(il'|ulii)iiii said it was
lairics.
"I don't srf how I'aii'irs could plough a path,"
said Susan.
"IJiit Hrv did." said .Mirhacl.
"\\'hat is old C'(ili|uh()un iikef' incjuircd Su-
san.
"Will," said Miii.acl, rcllcitixely. "he's \ ei'y
hi-'' a hcai'."
"Like the /^'real lii_n- hea!''" asked Susan ea-
M'crly.
"\(i — he's not hiy- enough Inr the ^'I'lat hio-
hear, and tie's too hi<4' i'or the little hear. He's
more like the niiddle-si/ed hear."
"L alher says he's very (jueer," said Susan.
"Yes," rc))lied .Miehael. "He's <|ueer. He
wears an ai)i-on. IJut he's nice. I'm uoinn' to
sec him again."
I
105
f
CIIAPTKU VUI
(. IIUISTMAS
AnoT'T tliis time MicliacTs latlier l)c<4aii to tell
liini a (lillVreiit sort of story as tliey sat to-
ii'etlRT ill the ^jow of the lireliuht before the
time eaii.e to ^o to hed. It uas not about fair-
ies: it was a!)oiil sometliinu' miieli more wonder-
ful, and somehow Michael never eould ^et (juite
to the delieious heart of the wonder. ITc
thought al)out it a ^I'eat deal after he went to
bed at ni^ht, and any time he hai)[)ened to be
alone and ([uiet dining' the day. He tried to
gc t to the heart of it, as he always tried to ^i'et to
the heart of any joy or {u'in, and extract from
it the uttermost sensation — impelled by a sort
of instinct to find out exactly how good or how
l)ad a tiling was: but he eould not with this.
Every time he thouu'lit of the ann-ds coming
to the shepherds, and the star guiding the wise
men to the stable where the Child was. he felt
hushed all over by a vast, sweet wonder. He
lOG
( IIUISTMAS
'vaiitcd Iiis I'allR'r to Icll liiii; more and more
ahoiil llic mysUrioiis Child, who \\a^ just a
ittl
hov
hkc 1
iim or
Xicd
LI", aiK
1 vet
so (liller
ll'c
(lit. His lather was alwavs vei'\" wiUiim' to
tell Iiiin; hut one day lie hcnaii to tellahoiit the
wicked Ilei'od, and his ell'orts to find and kill
Jisiis, and (he lliL>hl into K,i4y|)t. Mieliael sud-
denly hurst out sohhinu", and l)e,i^;^ed his lather
not to tell him any more. lie felt he eould not
hear it, it' Ilerod overtook and killed Jesus.
lie had a [lieture in his mind of .lesus wander-
in^' away alone, anion^; Howers and hushes, un-
hurried and iinafraid, in the aimless iniioeent
way that he or Xieder wcuild wander in the
woods: utterly hcl[)less as they woidd he. and
this cruel pursuer, who eould so easily lind
Him— oh, he could not hear it! Not I'oi- some
lime afterwards did Michael's Jatlur liiul out
\Jiy he heii'^ed so passionately not to he told
any nuH'e. He was puzzled, and stopjjcd tell-
ing those stories for awhile, and dwelt on the
other side of Christmas. He talked of Santa
Claus, and asked Michael what he would like
him to bring. Miciiael replied, looking up
107
THE GLOKV AND THE DREAM
with ca^cr .sliinino; eyes: — "Oh. I'd lilvf him to
bring me a httle l)ii[)i>y!"
"A hltle pupl'V," his father rephed thought-
fully. "What sort of puppy f"
"A yellow Ihiiry one like old Cohiuhoun's!"
cried Michael.
:\Iiehaers father saw some diiriculties in
Santa Clans' n.ad that littf. peoi)le cannot
understand, hut the look in his l)oy's eyes went
far toward deciding him that they must he
overcome ; however, his reply was cautious. "I
don't think I ever heard of Santa «. laus l)ring-
ing a puppy," he said. "He may, of course,
])ut it would he very hard to carry one all that
way and keep it warm."
"lie coukl puL it under his coat," said Mi-
chael.
"So he (ould. Well he may ihid he can
bring it, hut don't he too sure."
"I want one so much! I don"! want any-
thing hut a pui)py. Oh, yes, 1 want a toucan,
but that is something I can find for myself."
"Couldn't you find a puppy in the same
way?" infiuired his father, smihng.
108
CHRISTMAS
"Xo. I want a real puppy," was Micliaers
(kckled answer.
"Very likely Santa Clans can piek np some
kind of a l)nppy, but he may not be al)le to
find one like old Cokiulioun's," replied his
lather.
Snsan and Nieder be^an to talk abont
Christmas and Santa Clans too. Xieder
wanted a mouth or<>'an, and "much candy."
Xieder <4enerally wanted somethin*^ to make
a noise with, or somethinf? to cat. Susan's
wish surprised Michael. "I want Santa Claus
to bring me a mister doll — a knittity one," she
said
"1 thought dolls were all shes!" exclaimed
Michael.
"Xo, mother showed me a china doll she had
'A hen she was a little girl, that was a he. She
called him Shcppy. But he wore skirls just
like a she," Susan added contemptuously. "I
want a knittity one with no clothes on at all,
tliat wc can take u}) to the Kebers IIoujlC. We
need an extra he to do tilings."
"1 don't b>- J whv we need a knittiiv doll. I
109
i *t=l
THE GLORY AND Till: DREAM
can ii-ct all the lies I want out of tlie woods,"
replied Michael.
'•i'lii M) tired of tliat kind! T never know-
where they are. 1 want a knittity doll, so I
can see just what he is doin<4'."
'•He would l)e line," a.ureed Xieder heartily.
"1 don't see the use of him. hut if you want
him as hadly as I want my pupjiy, 1 hope yuTll
net him," replied Mieluiek
The wondei-ful evening came at last, and
:Miehael looked doiihtfuUy at liis little socks as
he hunu' them ui). "I don't see how Santa
Clans could get a pupi>y into them," he said
tragically.
"Iledl tie tliem to tlie puppy's tail, and hang
him up that way," said his father. "That is —
if lie ])rings him, Michael."
The reluctant smile that this joke coaxed
out vanished at that last awful hint. "Oh— I
Jiopc hedl hringhim," said >Iichael.
"We'll get things rdl ready, anyway. Sup-
jiose I fix a hasket !>et\vetu those two socks.
Then the puppy v.ill he (piite comfortahle."
After Michael was tucked into hed, his father
110
CHRISTMAS
rciii;irl<c(l : — "I tliiiik I'll <^o out for a wall<.
rcrha[>s I'll catch a o|n)ii)sc of Santa Clans,
and I'll look to sec if his coat is hnlgv. But
vou must i)c aslcci) ulicn 1 conic hack, or if
you're not. you mustn't open your eyes or ask
mc any questions."
]Micliael fell asleep long hefore his father
came hack, excited though he was. lie fell
asleep ^^■ondering if he would awaken to the
tragedy of an emi^ty hasket, or if Santa Clans
were even now on the way, with a hulgy spot
in his coat.
It was dawn when he awoke. The hasket
was hanging heside the lirejjlace. suspended hy
the two little socks. He just coukln't see over
the edge. He sat u))-. he could just catch a
,i>limi)se of something lluify — and yellow — ordy
the faintest glimpse, hut enough to fill his whole
small heing with tremors of delight. Tie stood
up. There, curled into a soft hall in the hasket,
was a deal- little yellow thing, just exactly like
the one that had wriggled in liis arms for those
few memorahle moments in Cokpihoun's
kitchen. It was there. There could he no
111
-It
1,^' i
m
THE GLORY AND THE DREAM
<l()ii1)t al)()ut it. A real puppy, to hold and
fondle just as much as ever he liked!
That morning was i'ull of the most vivid,
satisfying hliss. Michael could think of noth-
ing hut his pupi)y. How he hugged and
fondled him. and hurrowed his cheek into his
hair, and rolled him o\er and over and made
him nourish his dear httle paws, and with what
delight he fed him! How indignant he was
when his father suggeste ' ^luichin, which
means Piggy, as a suitahle ; .. '! With what
gra\ e, exas])erating persistence h.'s father stuck
to this outrageous idea, and refused to consider
the possihility of calling the puppy anything
else! Only Michael t'elt sui-e, down in the bot-
tom of his heart, that when lie had found a nice
enough name — if he ever could lind one nice
enough — his father would not insist on 3///-
ivhiii.
Tlierc was a sudden momentary dieck to this
hliss at noon, when his father said: — "Now,
Michael, we must get dressed and go over to
Nieder's. His father and mother have asked
us to Christmas dinner."
112
CHRISTMAS
"Oil, can't we stay at liomcf' bc^'gcd Mi-
chael.
■"Why? You know you always enjoy going
there."
"1 don't want to leave tlie puppy 1"
'•He'll be all right. We can I'eed him last
thing, and when they hear him gobbling they
will Unow we are ready to start. He won't
need anything more till wc get back."
"I cdu'l leave my puppy the very first day!"
cried Miehael, picking him up and cuddling
him close.
"I don't believe they would mind if we bring
him along," his father said, after a moment's
deliberation.
Then all .Michaers joy surged back with re-
doubled force. He felt so proud, taking his
pui)[)y out to dinner. It was a kingl> thing
to be ooing! Any especially didightful thing,
that made bim feel big and gTand, was kingly,
in Miebael's vocabulary.
Nieder's mother admired the puppy entliu-
siastically, and Nieder's father rolled bim over
on his back once or twice and called him a
113
.a
I \
THE GLORY AND THE DRKAINI
dear little toiul, and Xicder found liliii such an
cxc'clK'ut playthiii;^- that lie acaially I'or^-ot to
exhibit his luoi'.lh orLi'an to Michael, till he was
reminded. It would ha\'e been well if he had
not l)eeu reminded, for Michael thou^u^ht it was
horrid, and said so with the candour char-
acteristic of «4entlemen of his tender years.
This made Xicder ani^ry, ami they had a
violent (juari'cl, and ^ve!•c not on s])caking
tei'uis I'or half an hour: hut the Christmas din-
ner pn^ved a peacemaker. Michael thought
Xieder's father and the fat turkey looked very
nruch alike, and for the first time that day his
mi)ul was diverted from his ;)uppy. lie he-
came suddody aware that he was desperately
hungry, for he had been so excited at breakfast
time he had barely touched his porridge. lie
cnitldii't sit and wait for that turkey to be
car\ed (a [)rocess Avhich would never come to
an end, he thought) and all those grown
people to be helped, without wriggling and
kicking, which he knew was bad manners. lie
had a keen sense of smell, and the fragrance
of the turkey made the situation quite intoler-
CHRISTMAS
;il)le. "I don't like diiintr licrc," lie hurst out
at last. "1 like it at home, where there is no-
hody else to he heljjed first,"
ills lather was eovered with cotd'usion and
hiuniliation at this remark. Sueh sentiments
weie (juite unworthy of Michael. iVt home,
he comported himself like a little gentleman,
which he was to the marrow of his hones; why
.slioultl he so suddenly do violence to his own
nature, and !)urst out hefore those kind neigh-
l)ours with sentiments ai)})r()priale nowliere but
in the henyard or the pigsty:' It was a most
])ainful anomaly to his father, who blushed up
to the roots of his hair, aiid blurted out in-
coherent apologies for Michael. ''lie was too
excited to eat his breakfast- he must be
liiingricr than usual — I never knew hhn to act
so before — "
"Poor little man I" said Xieder's mother, in
a tone so warm and sympathetic that Michael's
father felt a little eased. It showed that she
understood that they were not really monsters
of ingratitude for a hospitality which had
touclied him to the heart, coming from stran-
115
1'
THE (iLOKV AND TIIK DRKAM
jTcrs tliis fu-st forlorn Cliristnias in tlic new
country.
Al'tti- tills ouU'rcak. Michael was very ^rood;
tlie reproof lie .i^ot from his father was etfec-
tive. His father had merely looked at him.
and said:— "Shame on you. Michaeir' hut that
-was (piite enou,uh. Perhaps it was hecause his
fathci-'s re[)roofs were raiv and hi icf that they
had such an ellVct when they came. They
ua\ : him a l)li^i;hted feehnii' all ovt r, especially
down his Ic^i^s. ]\\i)erience had taught him
that he <iot over tiiis feelin.n- and <'-ot (juite
hai)pv a.i^ain, hut it was most uni)leasant while
it lasted — so unpleasant, that each time he
called it down on himself he had a passionate
amliition that this time should he the last. He
only committed one more hreaeh during that
meal. He was hlissfully i)icking- his turkey
hone, when the notion suddeidy came to him to
do what he had seen a hen do once, with a l)i<i,-
crust in her mouth that stuck out a lonn- way on
eacli side. Tie put the hone in his mouth, and
turned his head ra[)idly from side to side as he
had seen the hen do: hut his father had only to
110
CHRISTMAS
s;iy: — "Michael!" in a low tone, to stoj) liiin.
He looked up woiuleriii.niy lor an explanation
of this prohil)ition. What hai'ni could there
lir in doin^' as the hen did:' Uut his lather
heuan to talk to Xieder\ fatliei'. and took no
more notice of him, and he I'esolved to ti'y
no nioi'e experiments. He had '^ot Xieder
started on the downward path, however, and
Xieder, it* hai'dei- to stai't, was also hai'dei' to
sloi). He heu'an hv shoutinu: with laughter
over Miehaer.s gesture, then he imitated it. and
continued to imitate it for some time, in spite
of jiis parents' united protests. \\'hen he had
at last heeii ])ersuadeil to desist, he hegan
<4rt;wling: — "Waoo -waoo waoo," over his hone,
like the cat, and this was so irresistihly funny,
that it recpiired a <iTeat deal of self-restraint
on MiehaeTs part to keep from joining' in, hut
lie resolutely resisted the temj)tation.
After dinner, his pent-up hi<>h spirits hroke
loose in wild romps with Xieder and the pupi)y
out in tl. kitchen, which lasted till it was time
to u'o home. As he and his father were on
their wav ther-j, he suddenlv announced: — "1
117
li [.:
mi
||
4
ml
m
THE (.r.OKV AM) 'I'lli: DUr.A.M
watit to ,u<' ;iii(l sec Susan and slii»w lie r my
l)iij)l)V. au'l sli;' \v;(ii!( (1 a knillity doll. I want
to see ir she «4()t oik."
So llu'\- liirmd in Sudan's ^ate instead of
their own. Neither of tin ni Ii;id ever In m in
Susan's house liet'ore. Michael was familiar
with its extei-ior. It was a hi,L^\ old lo()kin«r
house, somethin^n' like the llehel's House, hut
not nearly so nice. "IsiTt it a hiir, solenui
lookina' house for .Susan to li\f in.' " he asked,
as they a]i|)roaelK(l.
"It is," his lather a.ureed, remenihcrin,^' that
lively and ai'tful little jxrson as she was the
(lav lie had encountei-ed lui- in Xicder's house.
Michael discovered aiiolher point of infe-
riority to the Ueheks House as they a|)i)roached
the door. There was a knocker, hut there was
no lion's head on it. Perhaps ^Michael could
not have ,uiven any other definite reason for its
general inferiority: the seci-el of it was that
the inhahilants were real |;eoi)lc.
Susan opened the door, and ]Miehacl noticed
first thin.u' that she had a knittity doll with no
clothes on, all striped red and white, dan.L];'ling
118
( IIinSTMAS
.• '"'
from hvv hand. '"Oh, you ,n<)l your kniltity
lie cNclainicd. " Here's my pupjiy; isn't lii' a
htauly r
*'M(.iTy C'hrislnias, Micluul." said Susan,
with a <^raeious smile, and overlooking' Mi-
chaeTs inipcluous laek of eeremony in the most
(liuniiied mannei-. '"I su[)p -^e this is \-our
I'alher. llow do you do, Mr.-Mr.— Mr.
So-and-So.' rieasc come in. Mother and
fatlier uill be so ^lad to see }-ou."
"Von liaven't looked at my l'U]>pyI"' eried
Michael indi.unantly, thrustin<^' him at Susan.
15ut not till she had finished the \vei<;-hty and
resi)on,il)le business of ushering' them into the
sitting- room, and inlroduein<^- them to her
mother (a pale, ordinary kjokini;- person, Mi-
chael thought) \vould Susan oeeujjy her mind
with anything' so frivolous as a pupi)y. After
that she was enlhusiastie, and cuddled the
]nippy ti.Liht, declarin-^' he was "i)erfectly
sweet." Then she exhibited her ])rofnsion of
Li'ifts. which wei-e strewn everywhere around
the room. None of them were of any interest
to .Michael, except the knittity. He could not
119
1
Tin: (;l()Hv and tiii: niu: v.m
iindcrslaiul licr (kli;;hl in a 1)'>\ of \ni\nv dolls,
wliieh slic showed otl" to him uilli the uliiio^t
|»ri(lc' till his iiaticiKc was (|uilc worn out, and
he luiiK(l away to examine a most allnrinn'
what-not lull ol" sea slulls. and could not he
jjcrsuaded to admire the dolhs tea-set Susan
was wild with (K li.uht over, or the coral ncek-
laee that adorned her. While she was tryin,«'-
to attract his attention to these things, the
puppy i^ol hold of the knittity, and hoth chil-
di-en made a wild serami)le to his rescue. Mi-
chael caught the pui)py hy the .scrulf of the
neck and shook him so rou.uhly that he diopped
the knittity at once, and Susan snatclied him
uj). "Is he lir'»r' 'jsk<(l Michael anxiously.
"Xo, I don't helieve he is," said Si. .Ai
])rou{lly, I'xaminin.U" the /^aily strijjcd hody with
care. "lie was meant to stand ever>thinL>-.
you kjiow, so we can take him up to the Kehel's
House."
'He wasn't meant to stand i)uppies' teeth,"
said Susan's mother, "lie will tear, you know,
thouL!;]i he won't hreak."
"I won't let the l)ui)py touch him a^ain,"
120
CIIUISTMAS
said Mic-liacl. Uv had taker a strong- Cancy
lo llic kiiillity. llis naUcdi-.t'ss, his sliii>cs,
his short, kinky hlack hair, the look of hohl-
iicss and iini>assi\ iiy in a i( iinlcnanci' tonsist-
in,o- sokly of pale uink yarn, with two black
heads for eyes, a [nnclicd s[)ot for a nose, and
a red Hnc for a month, «;'avc him Ih'j ai)i)far-
ance of a i)crson vvho wonkl yo tlnon^^h all
adventnrcs with f(inal imi)crtnrhal)ility— and
mnc-h was re(inirc(l of the heroes in the Rebel's
Ilonse!
"What is his namef" Miehael a^ked.
"Mr. Musteed,"' said Snsan. "He got mar-
ried to the Mnsteed this morning."
"Who is the Mnsteed.'"
"Whv. snrely you know her. She is my
other knittity (U)ll— the she, with the blue and
yellow clothes on." Susan .iumi)ed up, ran
away and got the trusteed, and stood her uj)
beside her husband. Just theu her father
came in.
"Hello," he exclaimed as lie stumbled over
the puppy. "Where did this beast come
from?"
121
f i
5 !
«■ r
THE GLORY AND THE DREAM
"Tliat ib my pn}^})}-/
diunitv.
said ^lichacl with
'Oh — \uLrre here? Have a nice Christ-
. /"
mas
"Yes," said Michael. "Here is my father."
Susan's fatlier made some rouyli apolon-ies
i'or nol liaviiio- seen and greeted ^Michael's
fatlicr at first. They liad a long talk after
that, and it was only when it was time to go
that Susan's father rememhered his full duty
as host, whicli required him to make some jocu-
lar remark to 31ichael.
"Look out that puppy of vours doesn't take
to killin" sheep when he grows uj),"' he said.
"My pui>py will never du anything had,"
]Michael retorted in(hgnantly.
"Hill I Perhaps he'll he deep enough never
to let you know if he docs. Tliey're a rum lot,
those collies — you never can trust them. I
wouldn't be ])aid to own one. If he kills a
sheep, remember, he will have to lie slioti"
"I'll never let any one shoot him! 1"11 shoot
anv one who tries!" cried Michael, his eves
suddenly blazing with anger.
122
m
I
CHRISTMAS
"TlicQ 11 polictnian will ])ic'k you up and
carry you oft' to jail, and keep you tiiere for the
rest of your life," replied Sudan's father.
This was the nio.^t awful [)rospeet that eouU)
iiave been held out to Miehael, yet he resolved
to faee it, rather than let his pnpjty he shot;
luit just at this point, he notieed that Susan
was laughing', so he knew it must all he a joke.
lie forced a smile then, although he could not
see any fun in that sort of ioke.
"1 didn't know you weie trying to h funny,
till I saw Susan laughing," he explahied.
Susan's father looked at him, then he burst
into a roar of mirth, which was extremely
})uzzling to ^Michael. lie could not see what
anybody could find to laugh at in such a simi)le
statement of fact. "Susan says her father
says old Colquhoun is queer." he remarked re-
flectively on the way home, "but I think he is
(lueerer himself."
When he was being lucked into bed that
night, he said wiiii a great sigh of thankful-
ness: — "I'm sc glad I'm not Susan's father's
little boy!"
123
•fe!
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■- ! ; i.'
CIIAPTETl IX
THE DRIVE TO TOWN
It was a grcai evciU lo M icliacl to go to toMiu
which happened only once in several months.
Susan was inehned to lant^li at his excitement
over tile trip, lor she went once a week, and to
her it was oidy a lon<^-, tedious dri\e with a still
more te(hous session in church at the end. Ilcr
parents Mere so convinced of the importance
of a regular attendance at cliurch, that they
sacrificed their Sunday morning's rest, and
were all ready to start hy nine o'clock, v»h!ch
hrought them to civilisation just in time. The
benelit Susan derived from this pious pnictice
mav ])C inferred iVom a complaint she once
made to Michael that "lliey have changed the
minister and got one with a loud voice, who
Avakens me nj)." and she graphically illustrated
his shouts and gestures, prancing about the
landing in the Uebers House as she had seen
124
HI
!^ lit
TIIL DRIVE TO TOWN'
liim prance about iu^ ])u]})it, causing Michael
and Xicdcr to regard the race of ministers in
anything Ixit a reverential manner.
^lichael (hd not Monder that Susan was not
fond of tri[)s to town, under those circum-
stances; his trips weie widely (hiferent. He
and his father liud one about a month after
Cin-i.-^tmas. This w;is a bright, cohl morning,
and Michael thought it great fun to be i)acked
into tile big sleigh, \vi!h his l)ui)j)y beside him
and a brick at his feet : they were iioth wrapped
up so srmg and tight that they could hardly
stir, then his father got in beside them and
they were off along the silent, deserted road.
-Michael delighted in the gliding, swavinnf mo-
tion of the sleigh ; he laught for [)ure joy, and
cuildled his pn])py close. ]?ut it must be ad-
mitted that the first freshness of this delight
wore off: his active little liml)s grew intolerably
weary of the continued inaction, and it was
hard to kick and s(}uirm in his wrap])ings, and
the pupi)y grew restless, too. Tic began to
ask his father impatiently: — "When arc we
going to get there?" and so eiidle.v^ did the
125
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:
iAM
. 1
i
THE GLOR AXD THE DREAM
monolciiy of snow unci siin and sk-i<,dil)clls,
and long, lonely road, seem, that he wonld not
have heen in llie least surprisul it' his lather
had replied :—' We'll never get there." How-
ever, they did. after a long, long time.
"Town"' with tiieni did not mean the melrop-
olis; there was no metropolis within easy
reaeh. Neither did it mean the mixed up as-
sembly of houses, eaeh one rakish, eareles^ or
squalid in a distinctly individual UKinner,
scram])led about over liilly streets or huddling
in hollows, an lid a delightful confusion of
noisy children, dogs, pigs, and calves, with the
occasional excitement of a fight to bring the
habitual tumult to a head, and the eternal calm
of the monastery gardens ft)r a contrast, which
had been known as "the town" in those far
away Irish days. As tiiey drove into the
straight, quiet streets of this town, with the
rows of liouses all looking so solemn and well-
behaved, and not a sound lo break tlie wintry
stillness, Michael turned a wondering pair of
eyes u\) to his father. "'Is it just monks and
nuns who live here'"' he asked.
1-JG
TITE DKIVi: TO TOWX
"Xo iiulci'd. Tlierc arc no inoiiUs or nuns
here at all. The Sacsaiiaiu'li don't have monks
o.- nuns/' his i'alher replied.
"Is it the Sa('^anai^•il who live liereT'
"3Ioslly ])eoj)le \vhosc fathers and grand-
fathers \veie Sacsanaiuh."
They di"ove u[) to the door ol' a store, and
got out, the pui)j)y frisking wiili delight at tiiis
velcome release. His fath.ei- had a great many
groceries to I)uy. and ^liehael and tlic pujipy
amused themselves inhaling the delicious odour
that pervaded the store. Tlie princijial ingre-
dients were coffee and onions, and peihaps the
odour would not ha\'e appealed to cultivated
iiosti-ils, hut it is douhtful which of those two
|)rimitiv(' creatui-es inhaled it with the keener
relish. They \\an(lered u[) and down the
store, the l)uppy making friends with the other
customers, and at last Michael said to a man
who stood wailing to he sei'ved: — "Are there
any fights in town to-day f'
'l-'ightsr' exclaimed the man. as if he did
not know what fights were, and had never
heard of them.
■i
1 i
i
I
12:
!.
THE GLORY AXD THE r)REA:\I
"P'iglils," repeated Mieluiel with vioour and
disliiictiiess,
"We don't have li<;hts here, unless a few
fellows get full." replied the man, as if this
were a eireuui 4anee to he proud oi'.
"What do they get full off'' incpiired Mi-
chael.
The man made some funny sounds in his
throat. "Never you mind, ami see you never
lind out," was liis eniguiatieal rei)ly.
Mieliael stared at him for a moment, he-
wildered and euriotis. Then he said: — '"Why
do they have to get lull l)eforc they fight f"
"Ikeause they don't light if they know what
they're doing, of eourse."
"Do they not rcrnit to fight f" exclaimed ^li-
chael. in astonishment.
"We're not sp(^iling for tiglits around these
diggings. I'll take a })ouiul of coffee," the
man said ahruptly to an ai)proaehing clerk.
Michael was silent and retleetive during the
rest of the tedious period in which his father
was laying in a store of groceries for the next
128
THE DRIVE TO TOWN
tVw nifiiitlis. Wluitc'vci' could he the use of
a tu\S!i where theie wei'e no ii^^hts^ ^Vnd wliy
were there noue of ihuh'' lovely silent gardens,
into which voii eoul.I shp il' \ou were looked
on with l'a\<)ur h\' their 'Jwv, noiseless-footed
inhahitants, and slee[) yourself hi sunshine antl
fragranee, away ironi the jarring noises of tlic
outer world.''
lUit these reflections were soon hanished hy
the t\rannieal i)angs of hunger, overriding
every other thought and sensation. Onlv
after thev had had a good lunch at a hotel did
his mind once more hecome active in other
directions. They Avent to another store after-
wards, to get oats for llie horses, and wheat
for the hens, and i)i-an for the cow: then they
went to the ])ostoince, and while thev were
there a train came in. That commonplace
event was a wonderful phenomenon to Michael.
lie stood gazing as it ground along over the
frosty rails, his whole small frame throhhing
in sympathy with its mighty jmlsations, his
soul swallowed up in the hideous hut majes-
129
f
1
I
FtI
'1-
1
JH
ir
Tin: (ii.onv AM) Tin: I)Ri:.\m
tic tiniiiiU. Tlir shrieks and ";ri'.tin,G^ ^n-oans,
the ()\cr\vhc!Miiii^'>- explosions ol' the eseapin.t;'
steam, .set him on ctl<4e, made liim want to
scream and snarl in a passionate revolt; and
yet lie was I'ascinaled. There was soinethinn'
ill the heat of the piston that tilled him with a
delieions exeitement, made him I'eel hio-, and
stroni"', and "kin^ilv/' lie wanted to know
all about the wonderful tiling". The hell l)e<4aii
to riiiL;- presently, and he knew that meant
it was ii'oinu- to start. Just at that moment
he cau^-ht si^ht of his ]Mipi)y, who had wan-
dered away from him nnoI)ser\e('.. The little
soft, wri^'^linu; form was ri^ht between those
a'reat wheels. He had searceh' see!i this, be-
fore he was oil' the i)!atform, and had him in
hi.s arms; and scarcely had this happened, he-
fore he felt his fathei-"s hands ^'i-nhbing him,
and he and the pui)py were back on the ])lat-
I'orm, liis father clasj)in,o- them ti,L>iit. They
were clasped much tiuhter tlian was comfort-
able; his father's chest was heavin<i; strangely,
and Michael knew lie was violently agitated.
"I've got h.im (pnte sale," he said.
i:K)
Tin: l)\U\'V. TO TOWN
"Oh, Mi-'hati:"' was all the reply his I'allicr
(■(iiild iiiak(.'.
.Mich;itl had always wanted to do soiiiethinijj
hra\c to he a |)atriot and kill the wicked Sac-
sanaiuh who made the I'iii-ioniiaiuh unhappy,
or to he a sailoi', or kill a lion; hut it ne\er
oeeuri'ed to him that he had done anythin;^'
particularly hrave in sa\ ini^' his pupjjy from
under the wheels of an enuine. Jf Susan's
father had a<^ain accosted hiia as the wonder-
ful Michael, he ^\•ould a,nain ha\c I'ejjlied, re-
ui'et fully, that he had ne\er done anythinij
wonderful. He was conscious of no mental
process whatevei- i)etween the momcfit he saw
the precious creature hetween the wheels, and
the HKjment when lie felt the soft hody in his
hands. lie liad not thou^lit:— "I \y'\\\ .,a\e
him," or "I must save him." He liad simi)ly
saved him, without even knowing he was doing
it until afterward.
.All the way home lie cuddled the puj)py
close, and snuggled his face down often l>eside
the little head that stuck out of the wrap})ings.
"./ sLuirin mo citruiJJu!" (little treasure of
131
i
■Hi
THE (.LORY AND TIIK DREAM
iny heart) lie kejit ertxxiin^' into the dear
liairy cars. "1 coii'dn'l do without him I" lie
told his father oiiee.
He took a passionate interest in trains for
.^onie time after this. He asked his father lony
.stiin^s of (jutstions ahoiit theni at every meal.
till he had a fairlv clear idea of their nieelianisni.
the jieiils they enconnterc d. tlie j)reeautions
their engineers and conductors am. lla^uincn
had to take to a\!iid wi'eeks. He forgot tliat
lie had e\er \\anted to he a i)atriot or a sailor
o!" a lion killer: tlie o!ie eonsuniiiiL;' desiix- of
his htart was to he an en^ivineer. ^\s that de-
sire ciHild not he immediately n-ratifled, the
next hcst tiling' ^vas to play at ti'ains cAcry
day in tlie Kehc Ts House, for as lonij,' a>. Su-
san and Xieder could he prevailed on to do
it. The old sofa '.\here the corn-cohs lay in
a row WAS eonverteil iuui a train containing
passengers hy the sim]>Ie };r()eess of setting
the corn-cohs n{) against the hack, with Mr.
Musteed at one end for engineer. \ soa})-
hox was set o])posite li; Susan was packed in
(she was a tight lit) and Michael, standing in
132
Tin: DRivi: to town
front, was engine and cn'j,in(.cr in one. He
imitated the whistle as well as he could in his
eleaf niusieal \oiee, and I'an^' a lull. A plank
hctweiii the two li-ains representt-d a hri(l;^e,
and Xieder, standing' on this plank, was the
llaurnian, who vainly waved i: stick with a red
iiau' at the end. The en^iri'ers tried their
hesl to stoj), and Mr. Musteed succeeded, hut
Michael was on a do\\n ^rade i.nd could not
check his j)ro;4'ress hy the most violent ell'orts.
Kveryhody hehaved with the utmost ,uallanti-y ;
the fla<4iHan did not ahandoji his po t till Mi-
chael's train had almost crashed into Vr. Mus-
teeds, and thei'e was just time to jumn; Mi-
chael's passen,iiers, in the jjcrson oi' Susan, sat
with ckisped hands and head held hi^h, \\ear-
in^' an expression of the nohlest lieroi.'Ui,
awaitin<^ their fate; Mr. Mustecd's pas.senfrcrs
maintained an e(iual, if less im])ressive calm;
when the crash came, trains and passengers
were immediately dumped into the river, and
it happened to he just at the rapids (the com-
hination en.Ljine and enijineer overturned the
suap-box, and the flagman overturned the
133
i i
Tin: c.LOHv AM) Tin: Dlir.AM
sofa). ^lost heroically did those entxinccrs
hatllc with the current, and they were sucked
imdir ill the act of rescuing their passen^-ers
a^^ain ;ni(l a;^aiii; hut they always succeeded
lin.ilh' in resctiiriiv everv one. Sometimes Xie-
(kr was llie comhinati .n engine and enj»-incer
of I lie soap-hox, and Michael was the runaway
en<4iiie, dashin«»- into him from the other side
of the room and knockinnj him over most un-
mercifully; or else .Michael was the explodin*?
en«^ine. His explosions were a continual
source of wonder to Susan and Xieder, who
could not get half the ami mt of noise out of
tli( ir lungs together, that he could unaided.
.Vs soon as the explosion took jjlacc Susan
leaped up as high as she could, Hung the soap-
In )x across the room with a crash, and then
fell down on Imr face and waited to he rescued
l)y the exploded cni^iiu in his capacity of
engineer.
15nt the next trip to town was so rich in new
experiences that it ])nt trains completely out
of Micluurs head. This one took place on a
heautiful May morning — a nioi'aing when Mi-
f
Tin: DUivi: to town
clmtl had been liii^;linn- aiitl «Iancing will) joy in
every nerve from tlic nif)iiK'tit lie awoke. lie
was ready for any delight that niiulit otkr
itself; so when he had to elinili u)) inl<. llic fn-nt
seat of the hi«jf «jfrecn waiiunn, and inliali llie
odour of horse and harness, and look down
from his eminence on Brian IJoroimhe (who
was growin*;- up into a do^' now, and had a
name at last) exelaiminy misehievously :—
"How small he looks away down there!" he
thought there eould he no i^n-eater height of
happiness. Then they runihkd otV. out of the
Liate and down the hill, Miehael shouting good-
hye to Susan as they jiassed her in her father's
field, Brian hounding after them. He had got
past the euddly stage now. i)ut he was nuieh
more servieeable as a i)1ayfi-llow. He eould
race, and he and Miehael eon hi play tug of
war with a rope, and it was all Miehael eoukl
do to hoUl his own against him. Needless to
sav, these trials of strength were a keen delight
to both of them. Brian's head and nose were
leno-thenina- out, and the white streak on the
top of his head was narrowing down till Mi-
135
THE GLORY AND THE DREAM
chael saw, with rcf^Tct, tliat it would ultimately
(li.sa})pcar. lie hated to sec any of Brian's
attril)utes disai)])ear; every hit of liim \\'as pre-
cious. Oil the other liaud, the wlute round his
neek was wideniuf?. ^liehael was ])roud of
that wliite collar and shirt front, and was dis-
tressed on raihy mornings when it got all
nuiddv and soiled. But it was heautifullv
white this morning. "Kvr-ryhody in town will
Vvish tlicv had a dof); like him!" he exclaimed
iovfullv. as thev •■uiuhlcd down the hill.
When they got on to the river road, Mi-
chael had the joy of driving for awhile. This
was a magical joy; the only drawhack was
that he could not hold the reins carelessly and
easily, between the thumh and fingers of one
hand, as his father did. For him, the inexor-
a])le rule was: — "One rein in each liand." He
would have felt so nuich bigger, so much
grander, if he could have held them that other
way, as if guiding a horse were a mere in-
ci(knt to iiim.
Tile road did not seem a bit too long this
time; for one thing, there were so many nice
130
THE DRIVE TO TOWN
smells ail the way. There were moist, cool
smells, suggestive of brooks in the woods and
splashing and puddling in bare feet; there
were warm, piny smells that seemed to tingle
through you with the restless deliglit of spring;
there were whiffs of violets. iVlwavs, on one
side, there was the great, sunlit river; on the
other, there were somethnes woods, in the re-
cesses of which anything wonderful might be
concealed. ^Michael always peered eagerly
into their dim mvstery as he passed. Some-
times diere were steep banks, with patclies of
\iolets, or sti-etelies of dandelion-sprinkled
grass ujjon them; sometimes there were wide
green fields. Brian poked along, deeply in-
terested in every inch of the road, snithng,
burrowing, the i)ose of his ears and tail show-
ing his absorption. ^Michael wr'^ifgled about,
and swung his legs, and leaned out over the
wheel in a most dangerous manner, when any-
thing special attracted his attention, and with
eyes, ears, nose and imagination all alert, en-
joyed himself hi evei'y fibre of his being.
Sometimes he subsided into intervals of
137
,i5.
4«-
THE GLORY AND THE DREAM
dreamy (luict, letlin-^' tlie spring' sun steep him
to the heart; al'lcr one of these Intervals he
looked lip into iiis father's i'aee, saying: —
"Isn't it nice to be happy i*"
He would have lik<'(l to 40 on and on along
that road, and never stop, hut they eanie to the
town at last. Tiie gardens were full of red
and yelknv iUjwei's, glowing in the sun, and
when they eame out of the grocery store with
their purehases the air was pervaded with the
smell of people's diiniei's, whieji set Miehael's
appetite on edge, so they got their dinner he-
fore they did any more shopping. ]Miehael
got very tired of the shop])ing. He enlivened
it in one store hy seraping aecjuaintanee with
another little hoy who came in while he was
there, and that was very !)leasant while it
lasted. He told hiiu all ai)out Brim, and
about coming out f'om Ireland with his father
the year bcl'ore, and the house they built for
themselve'^'. The l)oy patted lirian, stared,
and said: — "(iee!" which Michael supposed
was the Knglisli c(iuiva!cnt of " Mahcadli'." or
"Ach aldhc'." and accordingly he made use of
138
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THE DRIVE TO TOWN
it in polite coiivcrsalioii with Susan's mother
a l'e^v (hi\ s hiter. In return, the hoy informed
liini that he had had .searlet fever, and had
changed his skin; whieh caused ^Michael's eyes
to heconie even bigger than usual, and he re-
garded tile bov as a wonderful and curious
heinii". But the hiterview was all too short,
for after fifteen minutes' conversation the boy
Mul'lenly exclaimed: — "Jimmhiy! ]Ma said I
had to be back in five minutes with a spool of
white silk thread, and now she'll be chewing
the rag like mad!"
"She'll whatf exclaimed ^Michael in a tone
of hvely intere^^t. lie always was interested
in new words and expressions. IJut the boy
had already turned to the clerk, and in another
minute had bolted out of the store, leaving Mi-
cliail with an enlarged vocabulary.
Tlicre was nothing to relieve tlic tedium
after this till they went to the shoe store, and
[here ^Michael suddenly became mischievous,
and liad his father and the clerk at their wits'
' lid before he was finally provided witii a pair
of new shoes. Once he was settled in the wag-
1^9
II
!i
■ 1 ^11
I-
THE GLORY AND THE DREAM
gon to go lioirie he sub.^iilcd, and was v ,ry
quiet all the way. It was late by this time,
and the low sun made a glow of liglit on tiie
river; as he was on tlie side of the waggon
next it, he watched it all the way home. The
mystery of the river grii)ped his heart. It
stretched away so far — rigiit to the edge of tlie
world, where the sky came down and joined it
— where the sunset glowed like birds o!" :)ara-
dise, or toucans' breasts. What wonderful re-
gions did it not flow through i' lie made U|< his
mind that some day he would liave a boat, and
sail up tliat river till he got to where the sky
joined the world. lie would find fairies,
lions, toucans — all the Monderful things he
coukl never iiiid at lionie. Just tlicn he saw
something black on the water, against tlie glow
of the sky. I^^e watclied it witli jiassionate
eagerness. It was getting bigger,— and com-
ing nearer; it was one of the wonderful things
out of tlie unknown regions! Presently a
faint sound of music came to his ears. "Oh,
Father, what is that r"' lie asked breathlessly.
140
THE DRIVE TO TOWN
"I tliink it's a lumberman's raft," his father
replied.
"1 thou<>lit it was some fairy thing, and I
Ihouylit it mhjJit be a touean suiminirig along
and singing," saiii ^Nliehael, a little disap-
])()inte(l. Hut a lumberman's raft was by no
means devoid of glamour. For one thing, Mi-
eliael had very little idea what a raft was,
and he watched its aj)proaeh with great euri-
(i^iity. The singing became more distinct, a
hearty, rhythmic chorus that haunted Michael
pleasantly for days afterwards. Tliey met
and })assed the raft. Michael surveyed with
rager interest tlie great timbers bound to-
gether, the rough, dirty group of men that
stood on them, singing. Their appearance
would not have prepossessed him under any
other circumstances; but thev came from the
edge of the worhl, he had seen them with his
own eyes emerge from the sunset, therefore
tlicy must have drinik deep draughts of the
wonders he hungered and thirsted for. And
what joy to be paddling a raft down a river!
141
THE GLORY AND THE DREAM
"I'm going to be a lunilfcrnian just as soon
as I'm big ciiougii!" he aiinouiiectl to bis fatber.
"Are you^' said bis lather, sniihug. lie
had iieard .Miebael announce before, with the
same decision, at (bllerent periods, that be was
•roinir to be a i)atri()t, and a sailor, and an
engineer.
Ills lather was put thi-ougb the same sort
of eatecliism about hunbermen that he liad been
put througli about engineers, with the result
that :Mr. Musteed changed his occupation.
Five or six times a day he sailed down the
brook in the woods on a raft, while Michael
sang for him the song he had lieard on the
river: he so fre(iuently fell off his raft into
the brook that he became a most disreputable
looking object. His red stripes fad d out, so
did the red line that indicated liis nioutli; be-
sides, lie got so full of mud and sand that he
could not be shaken, beaten, or washed (juite
clean; but the more war-worn be became, the
more highly valued he was by Michael. Every
fresh disfiguration was a mark of faithful serv-
ice, and brought him closer to Miehaers heart.
142
Tin: DUn'E TO TOWN
He had many advenlurcs besides those trifling
oius oJ' nelting wrecked with his engine, and
(hctwned in the brook, and shot in battle, which
were simply a part of the day's work. Susan
was very careless about leaving him lying
about in tjie woods, or in the tall weeds about
liie KebeTs House. 0\er and over au^ain she
scurried off when slie iieard the gong I'or din-
ner or tea, lea\ing him lying just where she
luippencd to have had him last. Michael
always picked him up and ran al'ter her with
liim, but one night, when he saw her starting
(ill" empty handed, he could not find Mr.
Musteed. He shouted: — '"Susan! Susan!"
Iiul she ran on, paying no attention. He ran
a Tier her, and overtook her at last in front of
the Rebel's House.
'Susan, where did you leave Mr. Musteed?"
he demanded.
Susan stared blankly. "I don't know," she
said at last.
"Then he's lost!" cried Michael.
"Oh, we'll find him to-morrow," said Su-
san, starting to run off again.
143
111
THE GLORY AND THE DREA:\I
"But we can't leave liini till to-morrow.
We have got to find liini to-night," Michael
insisted.
"Mother will only give nie bread and milk
for tea and send me to bed half an hour early
if I'm late," said Susan, rushing off.
"Xieder, you stay and help me find him,"
said ^liehael.
"I won't. We will have morells for tea to-
night, and they will he cold." replied Xieder
indignantly, rushing off after Susan. Mi-
chael watched them disappear among the
weeds, the low sun giving occasional shining
glimpses of Xiedcr's hohhing yellow head, and
something hurt him inside like a sharp stone.
]Mr. ]\Iusteed was /o,s7/ Wliat was a sup-
per of bread and milk, or cold morells, or even
his own father's grave displeasure, the loss of
a whole evening's genial cheer, and a sad going
to bed, compared to this calamity? lie could
not ffo home without ^Nlr. Musteed. lie didn't
see how Susan could, and X'^ieder was a mean
little pig to refuse to find him just for the sake
of hot morells. IIow' could any one cat
144
THE DRIVE TO TOWN
niorclls, or anytliiii*^ else, while Mr. Musteed
was \os\.^. A great sob escaped ^liehael ))e-
I'ore lie knew it was coining-, and more would
liave followed if he had nnt choked them down,
lie must not crv, for he must have his eves
to look for Mr. ^[usteed. He was not going
home till he found him, even if it took all
night. He went hack to the woods, and
liuntttl in every spot wliere they had been phiy-
iiig. along the Ijrook, and in the place that
was full of the little white flowers that the
fairies planted, and along the great crumbling
pine k)g that smelled so nice. For the first
time these places were devoid of charm, cold
and blaidc, because Mr. Musteed was lost.
'I'he sun got lower and lower, and made the
tree trunks look as if they were all made of
gold, but even this wonderful effect could not
delight Michael as it would have done at any
• itlier time. He scarcely noticed when the sun
ilisa])pcared, and the magical gold vanished in
(hisky shadows. All the familiar spots grew
dimmer and dimmer; he had to peer at first,
and then to feel, into dark hollows where ]Mr.
145
|i
TITK (U.ORY AND THE DRKAM
Mush'cd iiiiL;lil lie. Ivirli (kspcrate leap of
his heart i:i hope made tlie (lisappoiiilmeiit
tiioi'e siekeiiiiii;' wlun a closer look revealed
only pine needles or hlaek niiiek, or his hand
met only cold moist earth instead of the woolen
hody it aehtd to I'eel. I'^verythinu' ahout him
o-rew cold and damp, his hoots were so wet
that they wei'e ti,nht and uneomt'ortahle. Sud-
deidy somethinn' honnded against him, and
IJrian was licking' his t'aee. He threw his arms
around the don" and hui'st out sohhin^.
'"Michael!"' his father's voice exclaimed.
"We-e yon lost f'
"I'm not— lost — it's Mr. 31usteed!" sohbed
Michael.
" What do you mean, (d(i)iu(ih? What has
kept yon here all this time:' I thought you
were lost, and 1 have been huntinn' everywhere
for you." His father had i)icked him up and
was earrviui'' him home, l)ii>' and heavy thoui^h
he was.
"I couldn't come home till I found Mr.
Musteed.- — and Susau and Xieder wouldn't
lielp nie — Susan was afraid of \vn' mother —
ItG
Tin: nnni: to towv
;iii(l Xicdcr N\ anted his tea — and Mr. Miistced's
lostr'
Mic'liac'l did not often ciy as he cried i-n the
way home that evening'. Jirian kej)t juini)-
iii;^' up, ti-yin^' to naeh him to eomt'ort him.
When thty "jot home, his I'athei' made a hiiif
liic- in the tiiephice, atid st't liim down het'ore
il. and told him lie was cold and must ^"et
waiiiied up; hut .Michael himseU' did not
leali/e that he \\ as cold, although he was shiver-
ing, or realize anythin<i- e.\cej)t that Mr. Mus-
leed was lost. His father hathed his feet in
liot water, and ^',a\e him a di'ink of hot milk,
lie never could drink hot milk afterwards
without renieml)erin^' the ni/^ht ^Ir. Mustccd
was lost. Then his father tried to make him
eat .something-, i)ut the food seemed to stick in
the i)lace where the sharp stone had heen when
he saw Susan and Xieder running home
through t'e weeds. When he went to hed,
Brian showed his sympathy and c( ncern hy in-
sisting on curling u}) on his feet.
Tor some days after that he wore out Su-
san's and Xieder's ])atience by his i)ersistence
147
i{j
Tin: c;l()1iv and tiii: diikam
in luiiiti!!- for Mr. Miislt-td. He irl'iiscd to
play at aiiylirm,-, till Mr. Mustcrd was round.
At last, OIK' (lay. lu- caim' to a jjlair in tlic
l)io(.k wliciT a lot of riil.l)isij was stuck, and a
muddy tiling' with two Ic.us han,<>in^- down was
caunlit thcTf. In a UKuncnt lie had pidlcd it
outraud was sliakin-- ntV llir mud. The nhjcct
liad two anus, and a head, and when several
layers of nuid were removed, he diseovered that
there we,e two hlaek heads I'or eyes. It did
net matter In the least to I'diehael that it was all
\v<.hl)ly :.nd floppy, and there was not a hint
left of the red and while stripes that had heen
so nay, and the most thorou.U'h washing- in the
hrook wouhl still leave it a urimy ohject; this
was Mr. Musteed, more dearly heloved than
ever, :uid with wild shouts of joN he amiomiced
the di^ (Her- of the h'st hero.
148
CIIAl^TKK X
i 1
liv tliis time Micliael and old ("<■' |iilioim luul
licc'ome <^Tcal friciids. Micluitl often went
<»\er to see liini, always hriniiinnp ]Ji-ian, for
old Cohiiilioiin liked Brian, and ^ratified Mi-
chael's sensitive pride in liini hy warm and dis-
criininatinn- praise. Jes.-ie was always nlad
'o see Brian, too: as soon as slie saw tl'eni com-
nid nioii
tii-
in,<r slie bonnded np to liini, lick in;
in^>- him all over, with ekKjuent o-runts and
uroans of afFeetion, while he lay dcwn and
luxuriated in this treatment. "What does si
do it forr" Miehael often asked.
le
'Is it
111
no strange? ' remarked okl Colquhoiin,
a profoundly speculative tone. One great
itfraetion old Colquhoun had was that he
directly, and in-
with mvstcrv.
loun
seldom answered a nuestion
vested the simplest sul
eet
TIIK GUnW AND THE DREAM
Tliis habit was tantalisin.i;, exasperating sonie-
tiiiics, but it was (kli.^btt'ul, to any one who
loved mystery as Micluul (bd.
Jessie bad only one of ber puppies left now.
Tliis was a ]Hippy eallcd Tani o' Sbanter. just
Hrian's size, and exactly like bini in colour and
niarkinu's. Tani's white streak on the head
disa])pcared just wiicn Brian's did: like Brian,
be bad a white collar and sliirt front, v.hite
paws, one foreleg' white u\) to the knee, and
a 'vhite ti}) to tlie tail. r>ut be was not really
a i)it like Brian: be v/as what Michael called
"a wiu'u'lv wanu'ly do;^"." lie showed his afi'ec-
tion by windinu' biuiself around vour feet and
firovellinu' under vour boots. Jessie v.as a
solenni doii,'. She f(.llowed her master about
when he was working outside, slowly and
n-ravelv, watcbiu''' evcivthin<>- be did; 'f be was
sittinu- on the stcjis talkin<^r to Micliael, Jessie
sat down beside li'm with the utmost diij^nity,
and scarcely moved ubile the conversation was
<voin<^' on. Brian and Tarn ))lavi'd about, and
Jessie scMnetimes turned her head to watch
150
OLD COLQUIIOUN
tlieir movcincnts, with a regal tolerance for
such frivolous proceedings.
"Jessie is a grand dog," Micliael remarked
once, almost awed l)y the solemnity of iier as-
pect,
"She is that, ^Michael," i"plied old Col-
(lulioun, and ^liehael knew at once from his
tone that he had pleased him more than he had
e\er pleased him hefore. Then he added
sorrowfully: — "Her son will never be like
iier/'
"He's just the same colour," said Michael.
".Vw yes," said old Cohpihoun slowly. "If
!l was only colour! ^la Jessie's getting auld,
and 1 was foolish enough to think a puppy o'
liers would grow perhaps, no to 111! her place
— nae dog can do that, .Tessie — hut to sort o'
niak' a break i' the blank, when she is deid."
^Vt this point Jessie turned round to her
master, and slowly, gTavely put her paw into
his hand. He took it silently, looking into iier
lace for a moment. "'It's fearsome!" he said
presently, under his breatli. "Mon, it's fear-
151
i i
THE GLORY AND THE DREAM
some ! It's no safe to speak o' oiiything before
her. Sometimes I think she kens ma verra
thoelits!"
"Did slie understand wliat you were say-
ing C" asked Miehael, in breathless awe. Jessie
was rapidly beeoming invested with the mys-
tery that surrounded her master.
"I eanna tell. But I'm thiukin' I dinna ken
ma auld Jessie sae weel as she kens me."
From that day the stately old dog had all
the faseination of something "no canny," to
use CoKpihoun's expression, for Miehael. lie
used lo waleh them sitting together, and de-
liu'htful sliivers ran down his baek. lie
gradually became convinced that old Col-
(pihonn had been at one time, if he was not
actually at present, intimately associated with
fairies. Cohiuhoun did nothing to dispel this
idea, indeed he seemed to enjoy it. Michael
could never, by the most persistent (juestion-
ing, get him to say he had ever had dealings
with them. l)ut be encouraged the idea that
they abounded everywhere, atul might any
time be discovered among the underbrush in
152
OLD COLQUIIOUX
the woods, or the tall weeds about the Rebel's
House, or in the dim and dusty recesses of
I he old barn. He had a wav of talkiu"' about
I hem that made them more and more myste-
rious and cxeitiiig. One day Michael brouf>'ht
him one of the "ilowers the fairies i)lante(l,"
explaining- that it Avas too white and small and
heautiful to be a real flower. Old Colquhoun
looked at it, and said: — "Weel, wecl." rfome-
!io\v, after that, Michael could almost see where
the fairies' hands had touched it.
Once he brou^t^ht Susan and Xieder to see
C'ohjuhoun, but that was not a succeshful ex-
j)criment. They stared and looked blank at
t\ cry thing- he said. Susan was confirmed in
licr impression that he was ({ueer, and Xieder
agreed witli her. They took their departure
much sooner than ^Michael, and as Colquhoun
watched Xiedcr's retreating back, he remarked
nitditatively to Jessie: — "Von's a braw, hale
heastie. 1 ken ilka thing he'll do a" his life."
"\\'hat will he dor" in(iuircd .Michael cuii-
ously.
"1 canna be fashed tellin' ye," re})Iied old
THE GLOllV AND THE DREAM
Colqulioiiii carelessly. "IIe".s a guid laddie,
a verra u;\nd laddie, I ha'e nae doot. and hell
be a uuid ir.on. liut he's iiiieo lame!"
^Michael felt hot at this eritieisiii of Xieder.
lie would not have minded half as mueh hear-
ing- an\- other fault attributed to his plavmate
as that of heing "uneo tame." He had always
hated tameness so. "Xieder is a tine fellow,"
he retorted. "If you played with him — I
mean, il' you were a little boy, and played with
him. — you would know how inee he is. '
"Xae dcot," said old Cohiuhoun. "But he's
gey easy to ken. I dinna like to ken onybody
ower week"
The summer passed on, and Brian and Tarn
not bigger and bigger. They still kept pace
exactly. "Isn't it funny that they look ex-
actly alike?" Michael said one day. "One isn't
even any bigger llian the other."
"l>ut tliey're no alike. Your Brian is going
to be like .lessie when he is grown. Even noo,
1 sometimes catch the grave look in lii.. e'en.
]Ma Tarn is nae inair like Jessie Ihan if he hadna
a drap o' her bluid In liis veins. I cauna like
lo4
OLD COT.QUIIOUN
Tarn; I liinna patience wi' liis ways. He kens
ouer weel to use liis e'en at ye, and kiss and
Avheedle. There's nae diK»ity in liini. I'm
tliinkin' he'll no end weel."
Miehael sometimes felt sorry for Tarn, wlien
lie saw how coldly and sliarply the dog- was
treated by his master, hut he could not like him
either. His hlandishments were a little too
effusive even lor a small boy who was l)y no
means inclined to he fastidious. It soon be-
came evident that Brian disliked him also.
They became peevisli and irritable at their
play, and began snarhng and showing their
teeth at each other; at last, one hot afternoon,
they flew at each other's throats. Before
eitiier of their excited masters could intervene,
Jessie had stopped the fight by one calm bound
Itetween them. After that, INIichael never
I)inught Brian over to old Col(]uhoun's.
His father became hiterested in old Cohpi-
houn, as he heard a great deal about him, and
remarked one day: — "1 think he miglit come
iivtr to see me sometimes." Accordingly, Mi-
chael inquired when he Mas sitting on old Col-
l
THE GLORY AND THE DREAM
i:
qulioiin's doorstep that afternoon: — "Why
don't you come over to see my father?"
"I've heen tliinkin' I'd like to ken your
feyther," said old Colquhoun; but just as :Mi-
chael was opening liis lips to urge him he ab-
ruptly changed the subject. Every time Mi-
chael broached it he behaved in the same man-
ner, till at last Michael succeeded in pinning
him down to a reason. He blurted it out in
such a funny wav that Michael thought he must
be shy — but surely old men were never shy.
"I'm no used to gaeing into ither people's
hooses," he said. "^la claes are no fit."
"They're not much worse than Susan's
father's," said Michael, surveying him criti-
cally. (Susan's father would not have been
flattered. Old Cohjuhoun was at present ar-
rayed in an undershiit and a pair of trousers.)
"He came over yesterday in a vest pinned with
a safety pin."
"Ye ken ma coat— it's ripped doon tlie back.
Na, na, I couldna gae into onybody's hoose in
that!"
"Father would show you how to mend it.
lo6
OLD COLQUIIOUX
lie's learned to sew up rips and put in
patches."
Old Colqulioun's face suddenlv cleared,
lie looked at ^licliael for a niomeiit. ''Oh!"
lie exclaimed in a tone of joyful relief. "It's
juist your feyther and yourself?"
'"Ves," said Michael. He thought the sud-
den alacrity with which old Colquhoun yielded
was due to the prospect of being taught how to
mend, and he joyfully escorted him over.
After that he was a frequent visitor, and he
and .Miehael's fathe- became great friends.
157
CHAPTER XI
THE TOUCAN
MiCTTAF.L never (juito rorn:ot his desire for a
toiiean, altliounh it was very niiieli in the baek-
m-oiiiul this summer, the ••ames in t.ie woods,
and old Col(iuhoiin. and Brian, were all so ab-
sorbing. But one day, when he was having
one of his 'iui])py hy myself times," he wan-
dered out into the Held where the squash and
melon hills were. It was almost dinner time,
and there was a deep hush over everything.
It was a hazy day, and there was something in
the air that made ^liehael feel good. It was
the first hint of fall, with the attendant cosiness
and cheer, hut M iehael did not know that. He
( nly knew he felt nice all through, and he
wanted to go olf hy himself to thi!ik. iVs he
was wandering about among the squash hills,
he suddenly saw something golden, with a long
curved neck, among the leaves. Here was a
158
THE TOUCAN
toucan — at last! lie pounced on it at once,
tnre it away from anion^- the leaves, and rushed
into the house, shoutin^i"- to his father: — "I've
I'ouud my toucan! I've JVnmd my toucan!''
His father (hd not say that it looked to
him remarkal)ly hke a crookneck squash. He
smiled, and said it was a line toucan, and let ]Mi-
chael (lei)osit it on the end of the hench where
the water pails stood. Why he should choose
that particular spot for the niaoic hird, and why
it was never moved from there, Michael himself
(lid not know, and certainly nohody else did.
liut every mornin^^ as soon as he got up, and
L'vvry night hefore he went to hed, he ran to the
liench to stroke his "golden heautiful toucan,"
and he did the same whenever he came home
IVom a drive to town. He saved choice morsels
from every meal, and set them hefore it.
IJrian became very fond of that end of the
hench.
It was so golden! Such a rich, satisfvin<r
golden. Michael loved all golden and yellow
Ihiugs. Perhaps, if I3rian had been black or
i^ro^ni or white instead of yellow, he would
THE GLORY AND THE DREAM
have loved lilm as well, Imt liis love would not
lia\e heeii of just the same j)()i;4iiai\t nature.
Certainly lie eould have ^loritied nothing of
a tamer hue, as he did that golden touean.
One ehilly Septemher evening they were driv-
iiiGj home from town after dark; the wa<^'^on
had to he repaired, and I'ionn had to he shod,
hesides all the usual slioppinn-, and this had
kej)t them late. ^liehael's father was tired
and sad; it was not unusual for him to he sad,
but he fj^enerallv coneealed the faet from Mi-
ehael. To-day, however, many little things
had been oeeurring to induee a fit of dis-
coura<>ement, and to a^;l,^'a^ate the lonely
heartaehe of whieh Miehael had only onee had
a faint, dindy understood <,dimi)se — the time
he had eried after seein<»' Xieder's mother, and
his father had shown sueh tender eom])rehen-
sion of his tears. It did not alleviate this lone-
liness to know he was eominn- home to a dark,
eold, empty house, and would have to light
the fire, eook the tea, attend to the horses and
cow, and })ut Michael to bed, before he eould
retire to his own well-earned rest, lie had
160
Tin: Tore AN
been sad'loiK'd, too, Iiv tlic si;4lit of a t'orloin
little Uiiiiily ^roiij) that ,:^(»t oil tlic tiaiii vliilr
lie was at the si ttion: a woman with a j)alc,
i ri; htiiifd i'ac'i.' *|)hiiiily tlic lace of a siraiiycr
in a sti in^f land), a l)al)y in Iicr amis, and
anoti cr child hi side her, and a fr.'il lookinij;
Ml in, a<4ed hy illness, who cai-ried a hnndle in
one hand an I leaiivd heaxily on a cane with
tlK other. Miehael's father could not get
tJKin out of his head. '"Those ])oor jjcople!"
he hroke out to Mirhael wh^n thev were nearlv
li'MUe.
-What i-eopleT' asla ' Michael.
"Those people we saw at the station — •
Iniuly st landers, li e ourselves, tr\ ing to
scratch a home together "n the new land."
'■JJut why ai"e they poor pco{)le? It's tlie
greatest fun! Do you think they're going *.o
I)uild a hoiise for ilieniselves, like us. Do you
n menihi r what good times we had building
onr house?"
"Yes," rci)lied his father listlessly. Mi-
chael was (juick 'o feel the lack of sympathy
in his tone.
161
■11
Tin: (;i.()RV AND Tin: dream
'■A\';iMri it I'lKi'" liu iiisislc'd.
"(ircal I'lm lor you," his I'atlier ro])lic'(l
lica\ ily. 'riuii lii' suddenly IVll a stab ol" scH'-
iv[)r(»arli. Had lie not always gloried in liis
sotTs hi^h s[)iiit and coinai^v:' Had he any
ri^ht to cast a dainpi i' on the hoy htcausc lie
happtiud to hf cold and tired hiniselt'. discour-
aged and liunnry^ '■^'es, it was I'un I'or both
of us," he added. "And no doubt tliose [jcople
will net I'un out n[' it too, il' they ^^o al)()ut it
the iii;ht way. I was only sorry t*or tlieni be-
cause they looked tii'ed and strange."
i\s they tuiiied u|) the hill their house was
only \ isi!)le as a dark blot in the starlinht, but
Michael exclaimed: — '"Look! There's a bcaii-
til'ul •golden li_nht in the window! It's the
toucan!" Ah they turned in the gate, he
cried: — "It's singing a loud sweet song be-
cause it's glad we are coming back!"
The house that was so dark and dreary to
his lather as they entered, was lull of a golden
glow, of song and cheer, for him. His father
often thought that he was unconsciously try-
1G2
Tin: Tori AN
iiiH' to make the toucan supply tlie wariufli and
hii^litness a niollicr's j)rc!5eiiee would lia\e
n-iven.
The toucan's loud sweet sou<j^ had nia^n'cal
powers. iVhout this time >riehael's i'ather read
Kipling's "Juu<4le liooU" to him. and the hook
took so stroun- a hold of MiehaeTs ima^iuatiou
that he fairly li\ ed in it i'or months afterwards.
Tile hlaek eat heeame IJah^^eera the panther,
and never a^^ain suhsided into a mere hlaek
eat. The commonplace IMyniouth Uock hens
were transformed into M'olves (surely a tri-
umph of ima^nnationl), while one with a rose
eiimh was Motiier \Volf. Every ni^dit she
came to the house and made a disturhance, and
IJrian and Bah^eera fou^dit her in vain — she
was hent on mischief, and got in hy all sorts
of fantastic means, such as stealin<^ into the
cellar and gnawing a hole through the floor.
Jhit as soon as she heard the toucan's loud
sweet song she slunk away, conquered and suh-
(hied. When lirian was naughty the toucan's
loud sweet song made liini good, and it had
1G3
THE {.T.ORY AND THE DREAM
the same eftVet on Midiacl. One nii^lit, as lie
was u;oiu}^ to lied, his father praised him for
having heen a partieularly ft'ood hoy.
"Oh, that was heeanse the touean was sing-
inn- all day," he replied.
IJut unfortunately the toucan, if it had a
nii<>'htv soul, had a sadlv perishahle hod v. It
hei^an to get hj-ick si)eeks all over its hack.
This did not distress Michael. lie knew
toucans had hlack hacks, and this one was ])roh-
al)lv onlv iiolden all over at rirst hecause it was
young. Of course as it grew older it would
get like other full-grown toucans. A twist
came in its neck, too, hut Michael loved it just
as well. lie was not one to turn the cold
shoulder on his fii'iids for any such trifles.
His father r.nderstood and respected this feel-
ing, and so he endured the toucan for a long
time, hut at last he felt that it really was his
dutv to decree its i'(.ino\al. Susan's father
and Xieder's father looked at it with extia-
ordinary expl•e^^i()ns e\erv lime tl-.s. > came,
and to attempt to explain its presence would
lia^e l)ecn worse than useless. Xot that this
1(>4
THE TOUCAN
iiad anv influence in dccidinLf Michaers father
lo dispose of the toucan. Xeiohbourly oriti-
eisni was a mere triHe, compared to the pain
of broaching the subject to ^Michael. His
courage failed him again and again, bnt at
last, one evening, he remarked: — "^Micliacl, I
am afraid that poor old toucan won't last much
longer."
"It isn't old — it is only growuig up. It
sang its loud sweet song all day tt* day," ]Mi-
cliacl protested.
"It is old," his father nisisted. "Yon have
kept it a very long time, Michael, and I'm
really afraid it will have to be — " jNIichael's
I'atlicr paused as if something had stuck in his
throat. Any of the common])lace expressions
one might apply to a cro(^kneck squash—
"thrown ont," or "destroyed," (^r "hurned" —
sounded so outrageously brutal when applied
to a "golden beautiful toucan."
"Oh, Father, you're not going to make me
give up the toucan'^" exclaimed ^Michael pite-
ously.
"Yes, Michael, I must. It really can't be
165
, it- I
THE GLOUV AM) Till: DKKA.Al
kept in the lunisc any loiin-cT. T know you
will be a good, brtive boy, and not make a i'uss,
when 1 say it will have to be done. It will
have to be done to-morrow."
So Michael went ([.lictly, if sadly to bed,
determined to be brave and not make a
fuss, although the amputation of a limb could
hardly have tried his courage more severely.
Of course, very unpleasant things had to be
faced, — lie knew that, although he had never
had to face any, except the removal of a few
loose teeth. The lirst time one of his teeth
had begun to wagule he had been much dis-
tressed, and had gone to tlic cupboard to look
for something to slick it in wilh. but thci-e was
nolhiuii- on the shelves that looked promising,
so he had been obliged to tell his father about
it, although lie knew ])y instinct that the con-
sequences would not l)e agreeable, lint he
had borne tlicu! bravely, and when the ordeal
was over had smiUd and said:— 'I'm glad
now!" This was his lirst acquainlance wWh
j)ain. and altiiough it was a brief one, it g'.ivo
him some idea of how brave soldiers had to be.
Tin: TOUCAN
rt was after tins that lie .somehow n()t the iilea
liuit a <ireat many tinpleasaiit thinns had to
he ciKhired in the w(jriJ— that was the differ-
t nee hctween the worll and Heaven. His last
lh(.u^ht as lie fell asleep, on the ni<,ht oi' the
e()!iv( -sation reeorded ahove, was that there
wa-, dreadrnl unpleasantness in store for him
to-morrow, hut he must he brave id)out it.
j-irst tliinu- when he awoke, and saw his
J'l.ther li-htin^- the tire, he remembered this
uuplea.>antness. When he tried to eat his
l)re:dd'ast evc)-y bite stuek halfway down,
like the night ^Ir. ^Musteed was lost. He
was determined that lie zconhl eat his break-
f'-i^t— every bite— and show his father that he
meart to be good; but he could not eat the
last two l)ites of toast. He fixed his eyes on
the eruiii])s on the table, and tried to divert
his thouohts bv plaving that one big crumb
\\as the town, and a little crumb some distance
away was their waggon on the way to town,
liut in si)ite of his determined absorption in
this i''va, he felt the tears coming, and knew
tlie\ would burst from him in another instant
107
it
Tin: (iLoiiv AND Tin: drkam
if he coiitimied to sit tlicrc, so he jumped up,
and iiimounced that he was goin**- to the
Kel)el's House. He skip()ed out of the door,
kickiii<^' up liis heels, as if he were in the hi^-h-
est spirits, hut once out of si<4ht he iinhdn-ed in
a passionate outhurst of tears. Then he went
on to the KeheTs House, and was very wild
and ^ay and noisy all mornin;^-; but he nev( •
once forgot that when lie came home to dinner-
he would find tlie end of the bench empty, and
no "ufolden beautiful toucan" would linht up
the house on dark niyhts any more. He came
home slowly and sorrowfully, and tried not
to look at the end of the bench as he went in,
but somelhin^r speckled, with a twisted neck,
cauglit liis eye, and he looked again. His
toucan was still there!
He thought his father had forgotten to "do
it" (he shrank from specifying, cyen in his
own mind, what his father would do), and that
the end of the bench would certainly be vacant
at tea-time. But it was not. Xeitiier was it
\acant at bedtime. The next day, and the
next, the toucan still remained, and nothing
168
Tirr: Tore an
more wns said al)()ut i. execution. .Miclia«-1
wondcicd wliy liis faMn r had ehan^'ed his
mimh lie woiuli cd. a iitlle anxiously, if lie
i ally had hren ,<;'ood ahout it. \'es, lie had.
He h dn't made a hit of a fuss. Ilaviiin' sat-
islied liiniscir that iliis was nc^t the cause of
his father's chant^e of mind, he eeas'-d to s])ecu-
iate (in the suigect, and ojdy felt ^lad. He
never dreamed that his endeavour to eat his
hreakfast as if ii'-thin^ was the matter had (h-ne
iiKM'e to unman his father than any fuss would
iiave done. The toucan remained on the end
of the l)enc]i. and dried and shrank and
siirivelled, till it was mostly twisted neck; hut
its -olden li^lit, still undimmed, and its loud
sweet son,n\ filled the house with ^bry and joy
for Michael.
1
'|i 1
;|
If
-|§:
■IF
Ml
1G9
CHAPTER XII
THE MURDEU OF MR, MUSTEED
Michael was sooii to find that all fathers
were not huilt on the same lines as his own.
One morninii; Susan a})i)earcd without Mr.
Musteed. When Michael asked her where he
was, she replied:— "Oh, Michael, father put
him in the st(ne this morniiif^'. He — "
"JVIiatr cried .Alicluiel. ":Mr. Musteed
isn't burned u[)i"'
"Ves, fatlier took him out of my hand and
said he was too lilthv for me to carry around
any more."
.Michael I'elt as if some great, heavy thing
had shut down witli a hang on the joyful world
in which he nuned, blotting out light and
ha])piness by one awful stroke. He couldn't
believe that Mr. .Musteed was burned up —
could uvvcY be rescued, never be found again
— that he would never again see or touch
170
TOE MUllDKK OF Mil. MUSTEED
that dear wobbly body. He was i'urious with
ra<rc at Susan's father, and liurt at Susan for
tlic ntatter-of-fact tone in which she related tlie
tra^i^edy.
'■It was murder:" he roared. '"That's what
It is when one man puts another man in the
stove!"
"But he wasn't a man— he was only a doll."
"1 don't believe you care an old ricketty
lirokcn hook!"
"Of course I was sorry, but mother gave
me such a beautiful piece of green silk for a
(hcss for Jane Do^e. It was out of an old
(h-ess of hers that was worn out. Just wait
till you see Jane Dove dressed up in it!"
"1 don't want to see her."
"Don't he cross, Michael. It was because
he was so dirty that fatiier — "
"Vour father "s as cruel as an old wolf!"
^lichael burst out.
Susan stared at him for a moment. "You
scalawag!" she ejaculated, quite forgetting in
her indignation that this expression, altliough
hcT fatlier occasionally used it, did not fall in
171
'if
* h I
4 ,S
Tin: (iLoHV AM) Tin: i)iu:.\.m
vitli hvv inotlicr's ideas of rkuaiit diclion.
"1 low dare you f Such a lie! TU never sj)cak
to you a,ij,.iiii,"' and Su^an turned and dashed
baek towai'ds the liouse. Michael w is some-
what suri)rise(h (Generally it was hijusell' or
Xieder who were Ihi' a,u;iiressors in a ([uarrel,
and Susan \\ ho meekly and t( arl'ully mourned
tlieir (Uspleasure. and made the lirst overtures
(if [)eace. He and Xieder were graciously
pleased to regard her as 'a good tempered
little thing." Tliercl'ore Michael was sur-
prised at this outburst, l)ut he did not care.
He did not want to siieak any more to a girl
who could he consokd for the murder of .Mr.
Musteed hy a [)i'ce ol' green silk for a doll's
dress.
lie and Xieder jilayed alone in the UeheFs
House I'or the next ihree days. All its charm
v>as temporarily gone l';)r ^liehael. The
emptiness that had i)een so (klightrully sug-
gestive, so j)i'(/duetive ol' ii'iaglnary lorms, was
cold and dreary and lileless; from the olil
sofa, from the soap-h":<, from Ihe stairs, from
172
^
TIIK MrilDCU OF MR. MUSTEKD
ovcry window inul every empty corner, from
(lie urey dead weeds outside, ^Ir. ^lusteed's
al'seiiee staled iiim in the face and sent a eliill
tliionnh liim. Tiie celio of their voices tlirou'^li
the eni})ty rooms, that used to deh^lit liim, was
ohastiy now. IJesides, althou^di lie would not
acknowledi-^e it, lie felt the neetl of Susan.
Without her, Nieder couhl not he engineered
Miiooihly through any more imaginative play
than running races, and seuilling and wrestling
and having jumping matches off the stairs.
All these amusements were fascinating, of
lourse; there was great exhilaration in heat-
ing Xleder in a race all round the house and
I. Mil together, and in jumping from the
fourth step of the stairs halfway across the
hall, while Nieder could only jump from the
third, and sometimes tumhled. But three days
of the same sports hecame rather monotonous,
and whenever ^lichael tried any ])lay with im-
aiiinary peojjlc in it, Nieder was intolerahly
stujjid, and generally ended hy getting cross.
Susan was reallv no more imaginative than Nie-
173
!
I
1: i
-Mm
Tin: c;l()KV and riii: dream
(Itr, but sliu was (iiiickcr lo takt' iij) Mlcliacl's
ideas, aiul ciitircd ( iilliiisiaslically into any
I)lay that proiiiixd (Irainatic silualiniis, espe-
cially if she eciiihl (iuuie i)ii'hires(juely in it.
Xieder followed where two led, l>iil v as more
iiieliiied to assert hiiii>ell' when he had only one
playmate; so Mieliai I, ailhou.uh he lelt he eould
never like Sosan auain \\hene\er he ihou.uht of
tlic ^reen silk diess. found hinisdf miNsin<;' her
against his will, l-^e.y day he expeeted lo
see her eomin«;' to make uj) fri. tids, and every
(hiy he was— ^^lad, of eourse, when she d.dn't,
for he was not at all sure that he would make
up friends. .\nd yet —
The third evening, at tea, his fatlier l)eu:an
to iiKpiire into the matter. ''Is Susan siekf"
he asked.
"1 don't know." said >rieluiel.
"I haven't seen her with yon lately."
Miehael was silent for a few minutes. Then
he said hriefly: — "We (piarrelkHl."
"Quarrelled? What about f'
"Mr. Musteed."
There was another silence. Then Michael
171
Tin: MTHOKii or mu. misiked
.s;ii<I. in ;i I'liokcd voice
(Kitil liiiii."
:— "IT
cr
ill
ItlK
niiir-
\\
lat do von
nu'iin, Mic'liaeir
MiclKitl scl down his cnj) of chocolate, and
Imh'sI inlo sohs.
'ilc hurncd him! IT took him ont of her
hand— and hniiicd him u])— a!i<l her mother
fi^avc h< r ui'cen silk
oi- a (loll s (Iress. anc
d tliat
le u]) — she doesn't care about Mr. M
us-
in;'(
led!"
•It's too l)ad. a dor! Was that why you
quaiTcUcd with herf
"Ves. At least, she quarrelled with me
first, hut 1 haven't tried to make up friends.
She doesn't usnallv
■t anuiA'. hut I said her
father was a cruel old wolf.
anc
Isl
le ea
lied
me
a scalawag, and said it was a lie, and she ran
away and has never made up friends, and I
don't want to. A\. least — I don't think — "
"^Wll, Michael. I'm very sorry about Mr.
]Musteed, and 1 don't think nuicli of lier for
hein'4' consoled hv a \)'\vvv of <4"reeii silk, l)ut if
you c:dled her father a cruel old wolf, there's
somclhiuii to be said on her side."
17.5
II
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THE GLORY AND THE DREAM
''But he is a cruel old wolf!"
"Would you like any one to call your father
a name like that?"
"I'd knock any one down if he did!"
"Then you shouldn't say it about anybody
else's father."
"But you're different from anybody else's
father!"
"Susan thinks her father is different, too.
It isn't gentlemanly to say unpleasant things
to people about their fathers. It isn't what a
little Irishman, with the blood of kings in his
veins, ought to do, no matter how^ angrv he
gets."
"What does having the blood of kinsrs in
your veins mean?" demanded ^Michael excit-
edly.
"It means that the great-great-great-grand-
fathers of the great-great-grandfathers of all
Irishmen were kings, because long ago, before
the Sacsanaigh came, Ireland was full of
kings. Some of them were brave men, tiiat we
ought to be proud to have come from."
"Do you mean that I'm the great-great-
17(5
n^
THE :\n:RDER of :\rR. musteed
great-grandson of a king:" inquired Michael,
witli shining eyes. This was wonderful! He
had never dreamed he had anything to do witli
a king.
"Not quite so close a relative as that," his
father replied, smiling. "Some king was proh-
ahly your grandfather, so far hack that you
couldn't count. When we get so far hack as
that we don't call them grandfathers — we call
them ancestors."
"Was he a brave king?" inquired Michael.
"Verv likelv. And a little hov with a hrave
kiuir for an ancestor has no husiness to be in-
sulting people al)out their fathers."
"I won't do it again, if the king wouldn't
have done it," replied ]Michael.
"Do you know wliat I would do to-morrow
morning, if 1 were in your place?" his father
mciun
■ed.
"What?"
"I would go over to Susan's, and tell her I
was sorry for what I said about her father, and
make it up."
'Have I got to go
177
THE r.LORV AND THE DREAM
"I was only lcllin<,^ you what I would do in
your place."
Somehow, no matter liow 3Iichacl disHked
the thouo-ht of doing a thino-, l,e always came
round to it after he heard that his father would
do it in his place. Many a time this had urged
him to the peaceahle performance of a distaste-
ful duty, M-hen a comniand would have meant
passionate rehelhon. And he was not at all
sure that he did altogether dislike the idea of
uiaking uj) friends. Indeed, heforc he went
to sleep, he found, to his great surprise, that
he wanted (juite hadly to sec Susan again, al-
though of course he could never like her, after
the <rven\ silk husiness. Next morning, vdien
lie woke up. he decided to go over: and when
he sat down to hreakfast he was so anxious to
go that he could hardly Mait to eat. AVhen he
M-as through he ran over to Susan's as hard as
he could pelt, and came panting into the barn-
yard as Susan was holding a squalling hen for
her father to cut its wing. He was surprised
that Susan was still the same little red-coated
178
THE
MniDKR
OF
MR.
MUSTEED
figure she
had hfLU 1
)ng
ago,
1)ef'ore the
quar-
rcl.
"Susan,
I've conic
to
say I
'm sorry I
callcd
your fathc
IT a cruel
old
wolf
, and won
't YOU
make up 1
"ricndsf" he a-
ked.
lie had
meant
\v
to sav, with indifferent dignitv: — "Will voii
make up friends'" But the more coaxing
formula and tone had escaped him unawares.
Susan's father looked up quickly, stared,
then burst into his boisterous laugh. "Well,
you do beat the Dutch I" he exclaimed.
Perhaps that laugh had something to do to-
wards making Susan amenable. "Will you
never say it again?" she inciuired, with twice
the dignity Michael had meant to assume.
"No. lie can never murder Mr. Musteed
again." replied ]Michaei.
"All right. We'll make up friends," said
Susan.
Her father stared and laughed again. It
seemed as if he laughed at everything. ]Mi-
chael planted himself before him, -with legs
A\ ell apart and fists involuntarily clenched,
179
1^
it
THE GLdRV AND THE DREA:\I
and a fire in lils eyes that sobered and aston-
islicd Snsan's I'atlier. '"Did yon tliink it was
I'unny to ninrder Mr. ^In^leed.'" he demanded.
"Xo, 1 was (jnite sorry to liave to bnrn the
little heii'u'ar."
"He wasn't a Iieggai'l"
"Good L'.raeions!" exehiimed Snsan's father.
Beiiig a j)ions ehnreh-u'oer, he ne^'er nsed any
stronq-cr expression than tliis, l)nt he used it
often enougli, and vehemently enougli, to make
lip for the ones lie didn't use. "' Vou're a regu-
lar little spitfire I I'm thankful yrtu're not my
kid, you zcdidd he a iKUidful to manage." Su-
san's father thus uneonsc ously reeiproeated
the sentiments Miehael had expressetl the
Christmas before.
180
CIIArXEU XIII
w
MR. JANE DOVE
The construction of Jane Dove's new di-css
took a couple oT weeks, and Susan herseli' had
a hand in it. Her niotlier thought it an ex-
cellent way to teacli her to sew. E\erv after-
noon she went home early from the Uebel's
House, savin<>' with lier most inn)ortant air: —
"I must do somethin^n' at Jane Dove's dress
now." At last, one afternoon, she a])i)eared
dancing and smiling. "Jane Dove's dress is
finished!" she cried.
^lichael said nothing. He still could not
forgive Susan for her joy over that dress.
Xieder remarked indilferently: — "That so?"
"Boys, you 7nust come right over and see
her in it!" said Susan.
"I'm not going," said Michael.
"Oh, Michael!" said Susan, in a tone of
great disappointment.
181
II
THE GLOKV AND THE T)1U;.\:\I
]Micliacl stai-lcd up to the Kcbcr.s Ilonsc,
his licad thi'o'.vn hack in a \\i\y wliich Susan
knew iniL'cated iiis least amenable mood.
"You're nuanl" she called after him. "Xie-
der, you'll come. Mon't you'"'
Xieder ae([uieseed goodnaturedly, l)ut ^^l[h-
nut any s])ceial cnthusia-in. A\'hen they
joined Michael at tlic Keljcl's House Susan
exclaimed: — ".Jane Dove looks so line in her
new dress that I said to Xieder she ou^lit to
^et mari'ied now, and lie said she mi^ht as
well!"
Still stern silence on Michael's part. X^ie-
der iiKjuircd indiilerently : — "Have you a he
I'or her to ^et married to?"
"Perhaps Santa Claus \\ ill l)rinp: me another
knittity for Cliristmas. and then we can have
one to play with up here anain."
"What's the u.se of ,i;'ettinir another one?
Your father would just burn him a<^''ain," said
Michael.
"Oh, I'd try to kec]) him cleaner."
"Xo, you wouldn't. You would leave him
182
V
MR. jam: dove
Iviiiij round in the dirl ]u>,[ the same wav vou
left Mr. .Miisteed," rv\A'wd Mieliael.
"^'oii ')()y.s did a lot more to dirty ]Mr.
Miisteed than 1 did. Oh, 1 want so mueh to
have Jane Dove ^et married!" said Susan.
'"Can't you talk ahout anythini^' hut Jane
Dovef demanded 3Iiehael.
'"Xo, I ean't — she is so heautil'ul! I'm so
anxious to have her ^et married while her dress
is nice and nevv!"
"\Vell, she had hetter marry an invisihle
man that vour father can't burn," said Mi-
cliael.
"^Ir. Mustced was so mucli nicer than an in-
visible person. I would like another kiiittity
just like him, but it's a loni;- time till Christmas
yet, aijd I'm in such a hurnj for her to i^^et
married! 3Jiehael, do you think you could
find a very nice man for her in the woods?"
The task of finding a 'ccry nice man for Jane
Do\e, whose name he loathed, did not appeal
to ^Michael: but the llebel's House was sadly
in need of a hero, and the thought of an in-
183
'I
TITK GLOHV AND Tfli: DIU: AM
visible hero was irresisliMy rasiinatinn-. After
all, tlieie was Jio reason why M f. Jane Dove
should not he an iiiliiiilely more adniirahle
person than his hiide, so after some hesitation
Michael jMomised to find him in the woods next
mornin,!^, and the weddin<; would, of course,
take jjlace as soon as he was found.
"We'll have it up here," Susan said. "I'll
hrin<4' -^'I'l^' Dove up iii her carriage, and be
very careful of her."
Xcxt mornin,^' Michael and Xieder were
much surprised to encounter Susan all in her
Sunday best. "What are you dressed up as
if you were going to church for?" inquired ;Mi-
chael.
"reoi)lc always put on their very nicest
clothes when they go tf) weddings," rephed Su-
san. "Vou boys ha\ttrt dressed up at all!
You look like a pair of tram])s."
"I'll find a coat made of gold for each of
us when I go to the woods, and a golden sword
to hang round our middles," said Michael.
.Jane Dove was I'cposing in her carriage,
with her golden curls spread out against a
181
^ii{. jam: dove
111
hack^i^round ol" wliilc \cil, and a wrt'alli ol' (.■\ci'-
lastiiin's on Ikt head. I Icr sDlcinn. \. leant wax
fat'c \sas slai'inL:,' up at the sky. Mi^'Iuifl
looked at licr scorntnlly. So ///c// was tlio
lliini;" whose luw di'css ronld console Snsan for
the ninrder ol' Mi'. Musteed! She didn't de-
ser\e a niee man, she (leser\ed a i»ad one. l)nt
as her hnshand ^vas to lie][) them in all sorts
of wonderl'nl deeds, he must he ^ood and
i»ra\e.
Michael picked n[) one ,^old coat under the
stuni]) I'ence, and another a little farther on in
the woods, and the swords were I\ini;' under
a pine lo^\ He liad to _uo a ncxjd deal farther
along l)efore lie saw a paii- of IeL>'s swinging
fi'oni a hraneh. "Hello!'' he called.
"Hello! " replied a voice.
'"I'm looking for a man to marry Jane
Dove," said Michaeh
"All right, I'll come," said the invisihle man,
and jum})e(l down beside Michael.
As they walked hack together Micha'l
foinul the future 31r. Jane l)o\ e to he just the
kill',! of hero he had wanted verv hadlv to know.
185
fl
Tin: (;l()uv and tiii: drkam
He Ii;i(l once Vwtl in Ii'hmd jiiid lictii a
pMtriot. ;iii(| had iim his ^word tlir()U(r|i ten
Sacsaiiaiuli |)()lic'<.nuii (lu' u;is wearing' the
sudid at present). 'I'hen lie had ^cne to sea
in a ship called the liri(/lit Stiirliiuj Out, and
had re-cucd a .nicat many |)e(iple he I'ound
di-owninn'. and had tiled \(i-y hard to ^et to
the North Pole, and had ,L>()t tieai' enonnji to
sec it onee. Then he had mailed uj) the river
in the liriuht Slaii/'iii/ O/il, and had sailed
away oil' into the wondcrlnl region wliere the
Iiiinhcrnien lived. a?id he had seen lions, and
shai-ed .Michad's amhition to kill one. ^Vnd —
lie had seen fairies! lie had seep, them flvinn-
hackwards and t'orwanls across the river, and
once he had seen one in the woods, iii the vcrv
spot where they wei'e walkino- now,
"I /.//ftc they lived here!"' cried :\ric]iacl.
"Oh, I want to hear all ahout them, hnt Ave
can't wait to talk al)oiit them now. hecaiise Su-
san is in such a liiirry to net Jane Dove mar-
ried. Von will just have to have patience with
Jane Dove. I'm afraid she's an awful stu-
pid."
186
Mi{. .iam; 1)()Vi:
"That (kKsii't inattir," replied the licro,
politely.
Susan met tlieiii at tlie door. "Have vou
got the man:'" she iiuiuired.
"Ves, I have, and he is a line fellow. Xie-
(ier, here aiv yoiii c-oai and s\\()rd,"
Susan set .Jane Dove up in the earria^^e, and
carerully arranged hei- \eil. "Doesn't she
look sweet.'" she iiKiuired, kissing her warmly.
".My heautil'ul darling .Jane Dove!" Then,
turning to .Miehael, she demanded:— "Where's
the manf"
"He's here," said Mieliael.
"What does he look hke^'
"He's tall, and he has enrly hair, and he
has a sword hanging fVf,m his michlle that has
J)ecn through ten Saesanaigh polieemen. It
is all red yet, though he has washed it several
times."
The soap box was standing in the middle of
the hall, with Susan's toy tea-set on it, and a
buneh of heart's-ease in the centre. This was
the festal hoard, and they all gathered around,
sitting on the floor Avith their knees up to
187
Tin: GLORY AND THE DRKAM
tlieir cliiiis, Jane Dove in licr ('arria<4c occupy-
ing- one end. At each jjlace tl'ei'e was a tiny
parcel tied with while ril>h()n, wiiieh proved to
he a ho\ eoiitaininu' a piece of cake. This was
the only tannihle viand.
"We're eatin^i' tapioca," said Michael, "and
we're drinkin<ji' ciujcolate." These were his
favonrile delicacies.
"We're having cauliflower with sauce too,"
said Susan.
"And we're liaving a grca': big ])udding,"
said Xieder, who was capal)le of a flight of im-
agination where f'ooil was concerned.
After the feast they had a dance, which con-
sisted in junii)ing about the room till they were
tired. Michael (kligliled in the clanking of
the swords, especially Mr, Jane Dove's.
"I guess they're married now," Susan said
at last. "I'll take her I.onie. I'm afraid of
something happening to her, and mother said
not to stay uj) here in my good clothes."
Mr. Jane I);)vc j/roved a very servicealdc
hero in the months that followed. He had a
horse called Black ^Viisler (Michael's father
188
MR. JAXE DOVE
I
Iiad finished readin.ir the "Juiiolc Book" to Mi-
chael now, and -JJlaek Beauty" was its suecess-
<"•) . lihiek Au.ster i)enan hy beintj^ a repHea of
J^hiek Beauty, hut he o-rew into a verv (h'lrer-
ent sort of ereatuie. Bhiek Beauty's' doeihty
anci sweetness of temper hecanie olorified. ili
Hhiek Auster, into an ann-eh'e and inerechhle
loveh'ness of disposition. So niarveJknislv di.J
he ra(h'ate o-oodness, tliat lie had (ndy to" look
at any wronodoer "with sueh a heautifid ex-
pression that they stopped at onee." He ])er-
formed the same useful funetion as the touean,
u-ith its "loud sweet so/i-.' .Aliehael had thus
early o-rasped the truth that the most potent
reformers m the world are the uneonscious
ones. In the same way Blaek IJeanty's sa^ra-
city was mao-nified till it reaehed truly marvel-
lous proportions in Bkiek Auster, and so were
his physieal beauty and strenoth. His hair
was like silk, his mane flowed almost to the
i?round: he shone ,ol,,i-iously in the sun, and
lie had oTeat, soft, shinin- -oklen eyes, whieh
exereised the i)enefieent influence mentioned
above. He was so swift that he could carry
189
It
in
I l-'-ii
THE (iLORV AND THE DREAM
voii awav off into tlic lumbermen's region—
riulit to the verv edge of the worhl, so vdu
could sit on his back and look into the sky —
and home again in a single afternoon. At
fir^t he galloped over the ground like an or-
dinary horse, but as his perfections hicreased
he became so liglit on his feet that he flew
through the air, although he was not a winged
Pegasus.
190
CHAPTER XIV
"monarch of all I survey"
Michael did not find out just liow useful Mr.
Jane Dove and Black Auster could be, till
afte • Christmas. There was such a bad out-
break of scarlet fever in town tiiat Miehaers
fatlier made uj) his mind he would not go there
again, even if he ran out of such apparent
necessaries as flour and sugar. Even Susan's
father and mother began to consider the de-
sirability of missing a few Sundays at church,
but they considered it a little too late. They
went for the last time the Sunday before
Christmas. On Xew Year's day Susan came
out as usual to slide downhill, but she got tired,
and finally said she had a headache and went
home. That afternoon, as ^Michael was run-
ning out of the gat?, Susan's father came dash-
ing out of the opposite gate in his sleigh, at
191
Tin: (;lohy and tite dri.am
such a speed ^^liat he and Michael had ahiiost
C()lhdcd bef(M'e he cfMihl tiii'ii aside, '"(iood
fl'racioiisl" lie ejacuhited, exprcssin.u; in this
briei' and innocuous phrase his consternation
at havinn- nearly let his horses' hoofs strike
^lichaers lieach Tlicn he drew up with a jerk.
"Look hei'c, vounii- man, you're not to set
i'(K)t inside my i>ate. Susan's sick, and her
mother is in a stcv I'or fear it may he the
feyer." IIayin,t>- ilun^' this out with saya<;'e
breyity, he lashed up his horses and dashed
downhill, yery much as if he were in a stew
himself.
^lichael did not sec how he could disturb
Susan by ^oinij inside the gate, but he obeyed
orders, and told Xieder they nnist keep outside
Susan's gate, because she was sick. Xieder
liimself was yeiy dull this afternoon, and did
not slide downliill with anything like ^lichacl's
zest. ^Vt last he said he was cold, and went
liome, allhough Michael b<;gged him to stay.
Brian Mas still left to ])lay with, and Michael
made the most of him. ])nt Brian was most un-
fortunately beginnir.g i.o make other friends.
192
".AJOXAIKII OF .VLL I SUUVKV'
Strano-e doo-s would insist on lum,nin,<T' a])oiit
the place, and he Mn'U'ed around them, played
with them, soiiielimes seemed half inclined to
ti^ht. hut always showed a li\ely enou<^h in-
terest to ene(nn-a;4e tjiem to eome a^-ain. Old
Cohjuhoun shook his head over this. 'Ilka
d().^• should he like ma Jessie, and lia'e nae
friend hut his master," he often said.
On this i)articular afternoon several of
Brian's friends ai)i)eared while Michael was
racing- him downhill, and he ran off at once
with them. ^Michael followed, wlnstlino-, call-
ing, hegoinnn him to come hack and play with
him when he had neither Susan nor Xieder, hut
JJrian ti-otted steadily on aloni;- the river road,
his ])lump tail ai half-m;ist, his ears pricked
uj) alertly, ahsorption In some urgent business
expressed in every line of his hod) . ^lichael
finally went home feclino- h.nrt and sore and
cross, utterly forsaken and deserted. The sun
was gointr down, and it seemed a ])ig, cold,
lonely woi'ld.
Xext mornii.n' Brian liad not come ])ack, and
Michael's father came in with the news that
103
Tin: GLORY AND THE DREA:\I
Susan was Miy sick with scarlet t'cvcr. and
lie niiisl not u'o ()\ei" tliii'e. He \seiit (lowii to
see XiedtT al'tei- hreakl'asl, iiut just as he ^;)t
in tlu' ^atc Xiedef's mother appeared at the
(looi\ and shouted: — "(io hack! Go hack!
Do not come in here!"
'■\Vliyr" asked Michael.
"Xieder has the l*e\er, and you must not
come hei'c."
I'oi" a few days Michael was a lonely crea-
ture, and did not kno^v what to ilo with him-
seir. He I'ollowed his lather ahout the house
and stahle, and went over every dav to see old
Cohpihoun. Day al'tei- day passed, and Jirian
(lid not come hack. The lonely feeling- was
(Ireadi'ul, A\as \\()i'se than heinu' hun<>Tv, and
there was the same sort of emptiness with it.
The only way he eonld <^c\. any relief was hy
stickini4' close to his father, or talking with
old C'ohiuhoun. J%\ei'y morning he and his
father went down to the gate, and shouted out
to Susan's fatlier t(> know how Susan was, and
for a great many mornings Susan's father re-
plied savagely that she was no hetter.
194
'•MOXAIU 11 01" ALL I SIRVEY"
But al'tcr sevci-al days of loiiLliiiess Micliacl
remt'inlRTcd Mr. Jaiic Dove and lilack Au^tcr.
OiiL' iiioi-iiiii^ liis I'atlRT pt.t I.iiii on Fioim's
hack, and kd lii.,! Ironi the .stal)l(j to the lioiise,
then down to the ^ate. (k)\vn the hill, and hack
a'-ain. Tha' was rapture I'or Miehael. He
loved horses. The very ,«,niell of the harness
thrilled him with delight. To he uj) on the
hack of one, to feel the 'ireat hodv niovin<>'
under him, to press the warm sides with his
legs, was a taste of hliss, hut it was all too hrief
a taste. '"Oh, I'd like to real'// ride, and do
it all da\'!" he cried as his father lifted him
do'vn.
Just then Mv. Jane Dove appeared on Black
^Viister. 'Tm goiny- on a liuntin<^- trip to tlie
lumherman country." he said. "Would you
like to corned lilack Auster's so strong, he
can carry hoth of us."
^lichael jumped uj) at once on lilack Auster,
in front of ^Mr. Jane Dove, and took the reins
in his hands. In an histant Black Auster had
leaped from the ground and was bounding
through the air, his great mane llowing s])len-
1:1
Tin: c.LOHv WD Tin: i)rii:A.M
(lidly in t!ic wIjkI. Ins \v;ii-!ii Ixxly tlir()l)l)ii)^r
with life l)Lt\vi'(ii M.'cIuuTs Ir^s-— and all this
woiKki't'nl pow ;• was coiiiplttcly in his con-
li'cl. It A\as the jH iTcrtion of the hriul', ini-
I)cri'cc't taste o!' hliss he had just had. Mi-
ehaels fatliei- wondei'ed why he was L'alh'pini,^
otr across tile lield without any ai)j)arent pin'-
pose, not knowing' th;it he was rapidly leav-
ing' the A\!iole I'aiiiiliar seeiie hehind, and
enterin^L!,' the nnknown land the river came
I'l'oni. rresenlly, in the distance, they saw a
lion. It looked \ery hi^' and yrand, and its
tawny hide was distinct on the white snow;
Michael IVit a wihl thrill of excitement shoot
throuL;h him I'rom his ch.est to his I'eet, and Mr.
Jane Dove chinked liis sword. '"AW^'Il <>et
that I'ellow/' he said. "IIa\e you yot your
n-unr"
'"Ves." said Michael. "And Tve "ot niv
sword too."
The lion roared just then. It v.as an awful
noise, hin;u-er than the noise of a train. Mi-
chael patted Hlack Auster's neck to encoura'i'e
him to be still swifter and Ijraver than he al-
IM,
"MONAIU If OF ALL I SIRVKV"
rca(Iy was, ami wliisjicrcd: — '"Do your Itcst, old
AusUr."
lie liad ahsorhcd "Hlack Hcauty" into tlic
very marrow of Iiis honi^, as lie had aI)sorl)fd
the "Jiiiiule JJook," and con,sc(jucnlly JJlack
Aiisler never felt tlie wliip, i.or licaid harsh
words. They were .soon within shootin<^- dis-
la.iee ol' the lion. ^lichael [)ulled the t ringer,
the nun went off with an awful hano, and the
lion roared ,so loud that everything' was swal-
lowed up in the noise, and spran-^- ri^ht on
them. It knoeked ^Miehael off on one side,
and Mr. Jane Dove on the other, hut lilaek
Auster was so strono- that hy hraein<,r himself
with all four le^s he managed to stand iirm, al-
thoufrh the lion landed right on top of him.
Mr. Jane Dove and ^liehael scramhled to their
feet, and eaeh stnek a sword into the lion just
as it was preparing to o(,hI,le up the hrave
Hlack Auster, who Avould rather he eaten than
desert his masters. Then they ])atted and
praised Black Auster, and skinned the lion the
way Mowo'li skinned Sheer Khan, and rode
home triumphantly with his hide.
197
Tiir. (;i.()RV AM) Tin: i)ui:.\m
Xc'xt iii()nii!i,L>- Susan's I'atlKr. willi a more
mtiial couiitciiaiu'i- than he had worn I'or some
(hi\ s. MiiiioiiiK'cd that Susan was a hltlc l)cUer.
'■.Mic-harl. slie wanted lo know il' you and Xie-
der ha.d it," he said, ""and when I told her you
'svcre alone in yoiu' ulory. she said she hoped
you weren't awfully lorn ly."
"Tell her Tm not a hit lonely!" Michael
shouted haek, hene\ <»lently anxious to set her
mind at rest. '"Tell her Mr. Jane Dove and
I killed a lion yesterday."
Many were the exjjloits Miehael and Mr.
Jane Dove had in the lumherman country dur-
in<'- the weeks that followed. Tliev had wild
chases after wolves and jackals, in which all
JJlaek Auster's swiftness was needed, and they
had fights with ti^uers and hears, and one day
Michael caught a wild horse, with which he had
a (lesi)erate tussle. It tln-ew him every time
he tried to get on its hack, and when he tried
to hold it with a ro[)e it dragged him along the
ground, and he had to call Mr. Jane Dove to
his assistance, and the two of them together
could barely keep their feet when it pranced
198
-.MONAIK H OI Al.I. I ^lUMA"
and kicked and striin-nUd to ori away. They
could iuv(.r lia\c' iiiaiia^X'd it at all il' lilack
Aiister had nut 1)lcii theiv to .sul)diic it period-
ically with his i)caiitil'nl eyes. Miehael, how-
ever, never ror,t;ot that Isind words and i)ats
(at the rare intervals when il was still enou^di
to i>at) would eon(iuer in the end. He named
this horse IIotsl)ur, and when he not tired of
Hlaek Ausler's perfection (although he never
l)nt it that way. even to himself) lie rode on
Hotspur, and had wild stru.uiilcs, nenerally
ending in a runaway, ami heing rescued hy Mr.
Jane Dove and Black Auster. Then, when
he thought it was his turn to he the hero, he
gave :Mr. Jane Dove over to Hotspur's tender
mercies, and he and IJlack xViister accomphshed
some marvellous rescues. S -metimes the sit-
uation was further comphcated hy the arrival
of a hear or a tiger on the scene in the midst of
a struggle witli Hotspur. Then there was
o-cneral heroism. Miehael saved Mr. Jane
Dove and Black Auster from the very jaws
of the wild heast, and Mr. Jane Dove saved
:Michael and Black Auster, and T^lack Auster
199
'I in: (.IJ)l[^ and 'I'lii: diu.a.m
saved .Mi(!i;i(l .nid Mr. .Fain' Dove, and tlioy
all saved II()Kj)iir, and IIoKixir tried his hcst
to kick and trample tluiii all at <»iiee, and tlie
wild l)east ti'I((l liis Ik si to cat tiieni all one
al'lei- tile oilier: and any tanule that could not
ifc sti-ain'Iitened onl hy suoi-ds and ,!j,uns and
li( roisni alwavs yielded instantly to Hlack
Anslir's iieaiilirul eyes. Hnt lilaek Au.ster
was considerate enonuli to refrain IVoin usin<r
his heantilul eyes till .Micliatl and Mr. Jane
Dove had had I'uU scope Tor their herolsni.
When, in addition to all this, it is recordKl that
they went to sea in the Iiri(/lif SlarliiH/ Out,
and could only hy constant uatchrnlness and
l)ronipt action save themselves from hein,n' C"-
gull'ed in the deej), it will he seen that Mi-
chaeTs lile hy no means lacked excitement dnr-
in;_;- those wetks of solitude, when he tumbled
around in the snow in such an utterlv wild
and senseless manner. IJut there were (|uiet
intervals between the adventures — when the
sea was calm and they could stand side by side
at the mast of their ship, or when they were
200
I
"MONAIU II ()!' All. I M UM'.V"
ridiii^" <|iii(.tl\ lioiiir on I'llack Austci" and
Ilolspur, ladtii \\\[\\ liidcs and In ac-stcaks —
arid then tlu-v had lon*^-, dtli.uhU'ul talks al»oiil
every Ihin^;'. Mr. Jane I)(»\e was as i^ood a
coni})ani(»n a-, lie was a hero. With liini, Mi-
ehael diseiissed all tlu' mysteries ilial tilled him
with Muh eniif'sity. There was the way you
n-rcw, for inslanee. He had remarked onee
het'ore Susan's lather how woinlcrful that was,
and he had hurst out laun'hini;-. lUd Mr.
.Fane Dove wondered over '.t with Miehad, and
had thought ahout it as often. 'Umi, he was
as mueh inlei'ested in fairies, ajid knew a lot
ahout them. He told M iehael that the little
stars on the snow were the fairies' old elolhes
that they liad thrown away, and this iiave Mi-
chael some idea of the splendoiu" of theii' aji-
parel. lie tried hard to show tliem to Mi-
chael, hut it was always when Mieliacl was
not around that he saw them. Onee he ]>ulle(l
uj) lilaek Auster in a hurry and said: —
"I^ook! Look! There is one llyinn" aei'oss in
front of us!" But it flew so fast that hy the
201
If
THE GLORY AND THE DREAM
time :Micliael looked it was g-one. That was
the nearest ^lichael ever came to seeuig a
I'airy.
Xieder was never very siek— indeed, he got
off so easily that the doctor denied him the
dignity of having scarlet fever at all, and
called it scarlatina. His careful mother, how-
ever, took as many prcf-autions as if it had
been the real thhig, and although he was able
to run about the house in a few days, he was
({uarantinetl for the regulation eight weeks.
However, Michael could sta.-d at the gate and
wave to him, and every night he wrote an
account of his adventures with :Mr. Jane
Dove, usually illustrated, tied it to a httle
stone, and threw it as near the window Xieder
ai)peared at as it would go. Then Xicder's
face iM-oke into a broad smile, and his mother
ran out ancl picked up the note and brought
it in.
Week after week passed, and Brian did not
come back. .Alichael's father used to stretch
himself lazily after meals, and sayi—^Ach
aidhc! If only Brian would come back, and
202
"MONARCH OF ALL I SURVEY"
I
pick up the crumbs for us!" Tlic one form of
liousework lie never could reconcile liimsell' to
was swee])ing'. lie loved cookin<^', and he
didn't mind mending-, although it was so hai'd
to make the mends look r.ice. hut the oidy
time Michael ever saw him cross was when he
had to swee[). He loved to shock old C"ol(iu-
houn, who was a scrupulous sweeper, hy cx-
poundinfif the theory that as lon^' as yoii left
dust undisturbed it did you no harm. "JJul:,
mon! It's there" old C()l({uh()un would ex-
claim, wrinkling up his face in horrified dis-
o-ust.
"Well, what does that matter, as long as it
doesn't do you any harmf" inquired ^lichaeTs
father.
"Losh!" exclaimed old CoLjuhoun, breath-
less with horror. "It does your soul harm to
leave it there," he added with aA^ful severity.
'J'hcn Michael's father laughed like a mis-
chievous boy, and old Colquhoun's face wrin-
kled up in spite of him.
At last, one morning when Michael was
throwing ' is account of yesterday's adventures
ill
THE (iLOIlV AND THE DREAM
to Xicder, Brian and one of liis friends came
runi)in<r along tlu: river road. As soon as
Jh'ian saw ^lichael he ([niclly separated from
the friend, and followed ^lieliael home, to his
great joy. He had I)ecn away just three
weeks, Miehael gathered from his father's con-
versations witli old Colquhoun.
It was five weeks longer before the three
j)laymates met again. Xieder \\ ts allowed
outd(jors a few days before he was uiit of (juar-
antine, and he and ^Michael could carry on a
conversation at shouting tlistance. "Say, Mi-
chael, those ]Mr. Jane Dove stories were fine,"
were his first words. He liad ])een having a
dull and lonely enougli time to ])e glad of even
imaginary adventures.
"Y'ou don't look a ])it sick," rei)lied Michael.
"Susan has been awfully .sick."
"Vou migbt as well be good and sick while
you're at it," said Xieder. "It's some fun
when you're in bed. They made a great fuss
at first, and gave me big white candies for my
throat, and then I got well, but I had to
stav in the house and not i)lav wiUi anv of mv
20 i
"MONARCH OF ALL I SURVEY"
fjood toys because I was having scarlatina,
but still I didn't bive anv more nice tliinirs
than if I was a well person. It's mean
to have scarlatina and not be good and
sick."
This point of view was incomprehensible to
Michael. It was an unbearable humiliation
to him to be sick in bed, and all the attendant
symi)athy and petting could not compensate
for the loss of liberty.
Xieder got out of quarantine a day before
Susan, and the two boys had a most joyful
time scuttling and racing and sliding downhill,
and carrying on till they were fairly helpless
witli laughter.
Susan and ^Michael had been eager to meet,
but when they met they could think of no bet-
ter way of celebrating the event than by star-
ing solemnly at each other, without saying a
word. At last ^Michael inquired, in awe-
struck tones:— "Did you change your skin like
the boy in town?"
"Yes, every bit of it," replied Susan
proudly.
205
THE GLORY AND THE DREAM
'Vour legs arc awfully long. You look
like a stork."
"I grew an awful lot," said Susan, in the
same proud tone, as if scarlet fever and all its
attendant circumstances were a wonderful
achievement. "I've outgrown all my dresses.
^Mother has to go right to work and make new
ones. Father says I'm a guy, and lie can't
take me to church till mother finishes the new
dresses." (Susan g:"- a joyful skip at this
l)oint.) "Did Xiedi ^ ")W too?"
"lie didn't get nearly as tall as you. lie's
as fat as a pig."
"Was he as sick as me?"
"Xo, he wasn't very sick. He has heen
rumiing around outside lately, but we couldn't
get at each other till yesterday. Y our clothes
smell so funny, Susan."
"That's the disaffection."
"What is disaffection?"
"It's the stutf that's i)ut all over everything
after you have been sick. Fatlier and motlier
have been putting it aD over everything for a
week."
20G
"MOXARCII OF ALL I SURVEY"
.Tu3t then Xieder came alonf^-, and the three
started .sliding' downhill as if nothinf? had ever
hapi)ened to break their hai)py I'ellowship.
207
CHAPTER XV
BRIAN
Up to this time, Brian Iiad been a joy and
pride both to Micliael and his father; now he
beeanie tlieir trouble and Uieir torment. He
never stayed away I'or three weeks a^aln, but
he went awav nearlv every ni<>lit, and some-
times stayed for s.e\eral (hiys. He was well
scolded when lie came home; Michael had some
painful moments when he came in and lieard
his father sayinir in awful tones: —"Shame on
you. bad, bad do<j,!" and saw Brian crouching
down, a quivering yellow mass of shame, and
knew he must not say a word to j)rotect him,
because it was too sadly true that lie deserved
reproach. Tam kept pace \\ ith Brian in mis-
chief as in everything else, and was often away
at the same time. Thev were still deadlv ene-
niies, and one day when the children v ere up
208
BRIAN
at the Rc1)er.s House tliev lieard awl'iil growls
and yelps in the wimhIs. "It's Brian and
Tani!" cried Michael, and ilashed out into the
woods as hard as he could go. There was
deep, soft snow, hut he lloundered through it
somehow, Nieder alter him.
'■()h, we must hurry! We must hurra !" ^^^
cried. -'They'll kill each other! Father-
and old Cohpihoun— said they would!"'
The noises became more and more awful,
and he thought they would never struggle
through that snow and get to them. ^Vt last,
trembling and hot and exhausted, he came
upon the cf)mbatants. One was on top, with
the hair bristling all along his back and neck,
and Michael thought he was actually eating the
other up. Mlikli one was it? He gave one
last struggle forward, caught the dog's tail,
and, not having strengih to tug, fell backwards
into the snow. The dog was forced to let go,
and proved to be Brian. Tam rolled over
feebly, and sat up. He was bleeding at the
neck.
"Xieder, you take him to old Colquhoun's,
209
THE (.LOHY AND THE DREAM
and ri! l)riiin' l>riaii home," said Midiael.
Ui'iaii. Idistliii^- and ^rowliii;^', triid to .sj)rin<jj
on Tani attain, and il took all the strength of
holh hoys to hold him. Snsan, meanwhile, had
rnn home to Ikt father with the news that
Hiian and Tam were lii^htinu; in tiie woods,
and that the hoys had run off to tliein and she
thou^^ht they were ^^oini;- to l)e killed. lie had
said: — ''(lood nraeions!"' and started off, and
now he arrived on the seene. "Well, this is a
[jretty mess I Michael, that dcm- of yours is
,H'oin_u- to u'et you into enouLi'i trouhle hefore
ytiiri'e (lone with him. He ouuht to he shot!"
\Vith this soothing- sjieeeh, he reached down his
hand hctween the two hoys to <,n-ah Brian, hut
Michael struck it rou;>hlv awav. "Don't vou
touch him I" he cried.
"Look here. I'm not fi;o'm<r to stand treat-
ment like this," said Susan's father, reallv an-
urv
"I'm sorry I struck you. iJnt I -.ron't have
any one talk that way ahont Brian!" cried
Michael, crimson with rage and exertion.
210
BRIAN
"Wfll, lie's (lone for that dog of old Colqii-
louti s.
"Do you iiiean Tain will dlcV cried Mi-
chael.
"Of course lie will. lie can't live with a
wound like that in his neck."
"Take him li(jine. lie is not to die here,
and we can't let <<o ol' IJrian," said Michael.
"I have .something- else to do than carry
home old Coh^uhoun's dyin^' doys Tor him,"
said Susan's father. But fortunately his
deeds were more gracious than his words, as
they coidd well afford to he. lie went and
got old CoI<iulioun, and between them they
bathed and banda<'cd Tam, and brought him
home. Susan's fatlier, with his usual kindly
tact, had magnified the gravity of the situa-
tion. Tam was very badly liurt. but he had a
good chance of recovery, and he did recover.
Old Colquhoun nursed liim conscientiously,
but withojt emotion, for Tam was liecomins
more b"stasteful to him all the time. "He
canjia get mto ony mischief for twa ooks at
211
TIP.: (iLOHV AM) THE DRKAM
least, and lliaf is a ^jrcat relief, sae dinna fash
vourser." he ^ai(l In MieliaeTs father, when the
latter was expressing' tiie iitnmst (hstress over
the occiirrenee.
"It wasn't Jessie, anyway," said Mieliael.
'"\a. I'uir anld Jesuit', it is to her ye should
nialv' these handsome si)eeehes. SheMl no
leave Tain's side, 1 inann even hrin.^' her her
meals tliei-e."
"Is that why she didn't come over here with
youf Miehael in(|uired.
''Ves. She wouldna visit onyhody the noo.'
I open the door and say: — 'Come, .Fessie, will
ye no eome oot wi' me for a walkf and she
looks at me wi" her i>rave e'en, and says as plain
as words:— TIa'e ye nae heart, that ye ean
speak o' sie thin<^fs:" ''
Jn a eouple of weeks Tarn was as well as
ever, but the hair never grew where the wound
had been. There was a long hare streak in
his white shirt front. This was tlie one mark
])y whieh a stranger eould have told the two
dogs apart.
Brian was carefully watched now, but still
-12
lie nrot away much of'tencr tlian was desirable.
One iiioniinn- in tlie sprin-'' Sudan's I'aliRT
eaine over with his iiinst savage aspect.
'•Look liere," he said to MiehaeFs I'atlier, not
even waitinn- to say ;^ood iiiorninn-, "this isn't
Koin<r to (h). A pack of doos ^ot in aiiion^^
my sheep last ni-.ht. and ran them down, and
I'm goinn- to lose two in eonse(iuenee. That
dog of yours was among tliLin. It was uioon-
iiglit, and J saw him."
'•Are you sure it was my dog?" inquired Mi-
eiiael's lather. He had no wisii to accuse
Tam, hut he could not helj) I'celing it an in-
justice to Brian that they looked so alike when
Tam was so much the worse of the two, and
his hot Irish blood was stirred by the tone
Susan's father saw fit to use.
" Ves, I ni sure. I saw him, I tell you."
"Very well. I'll pay for your sheep," said
Michael's father shortly.
''!£ I were you, I'd shoot that dog. He'll
land you in trouble yet," said Susan's father
as he took liis departure.
"I am not going to shoot my dog," retorted
213
Tin: (iLoiiv AM) Tiii: dhf.am
^riclKuTs fjillur, with ,t^rciil disliiictmss nnd
decision.
Wluii old Col(niliouii licard ol' lliis lie was
indiniumt. "It was 'I'amI" he said. "It was
never your laddie. It was I wlia ;,lu)uld lia"c
paid for llie slieep. Tliat do-- will cost ihc
dear \(l. H' .Kssie was no sae loud o' liiiii,
{\\ send Iiiiii awa' lo-iiioi'row."
lie deelared it was my dog," said Mieluiel's
fatlier.
"It WHS no your dog, and I'll uae myseF nnd
tell liini sae," said old C'olinilionii. He did so,
and was advised to shoot his dog. A \d in
spite of all he eould say, Susan's father clung
to Hiq'. '^lii tiia!. i* was Hiian.
"That mon's head canna hand inair than ane
thocht at a time, and ye eanna get it oof wi' a
pickaxe," old C'ohiiihoun hurst out to Mieluiel's
father afterwards, and Michael suddenly hurst
into a wild slunit of laughter, that was jiosi-
tivcly denionish in its apjireeiativc glee. His
antagonism to Susan's father had increased
since the sheep episode, for since then l)rian
had been kept a close i)risoner, and this was
21 i
BHI.W
mere than Micluul could statid. He could
iM't hiar to sec llic l)t aiititid ci( atiii'c that lo\cd
so to race and roii>[) and I'oll aliout on tlic ^rass,
siml ii|» in llic IioHs' (lay all.r dav, and oidy
let out ulicn lie and liis latlicr \\\ re l)oth
ai'onnd, watcliinif e\ cry nio\cnicnt and ready
to call him hacl< ii' he e\en I. okcd toward the
I'oad. One day .Miihaels lather ti'itd the ex-
periment oi' chaining' him in the yai'd. hut in
a "vd'y lew nniiutes lie was I'orcihiy convinced
that the proud sj)irit of Hrian Hoi-oimhe would
nc\er hend to tliat. lie jerked hackwards,
.s(juealin_n- and struu/^linn- in such a wild frenzy
that neither Michael nor his father (hired ap-
j)i'oaeh, and when he linaily n(,t jiis head
u\'A •■•' the collar, ran down cellar and could
not he coaxed up for the rest of the day. It
was after this episode that the liivst cold, awful
shadow of an ap))roaeliin^ calamity came over
^liehael. One day after (hnner, when Brian
was i)ickin^' up the crumhs, his father re-
marked: — "Michael, do you know wliat I
would do with Bi'ian if lie were my dogV
"Whatr' asked Michael
THE GLORY AN'D THE DREAM
"I Avoukl find .some kind people with a nice
pliicc, where there are no sheep around, and
where he could be free all the time, and give
him to them."
"I won't ^ive Brian to anybody!" cried Mi-
chael, so passionately that his father said
nothing more. But although Michael fought
fiercely against the idea of ever giving Brian
up for anyl)ody or anything, although it was
a calamity too black and awful to be believed
hi, he knew, underneath all this rebellion, that
it would come to pass as surely as the sun rose
and set, once his father had said: — "I would
do it if he were mv dog." lie had come to
love Brian more passionately, the wilder and
more intractable he became. It was his nature
to love whatever was wild and beautiful and
hartl to subttue, and when he found that Brian
could not ])ear the chain his fellow feeling was
stronger than ever. It was his nature, also,
to cling to his friends with the more defiant
tenacity the deeper they sank into trouble, the
more they were blamed, and the more ear-
nestly cooler headed people tried to loosen the
21G
BRIAN
bond. It was liis nature to lly liotly and furi-
ously in the lace of N\li()e\er altiin[)led to in-
tert'cre between him and tiie behjved object
(unless, with the utmost ^'entleness and tact,
his fatlicr essayed the task), and tiie more
ti'Oul)lc and lie;ii iache it ^ave liim, tlie stronnrcr
his love yrew. All these traiiS developed in
^Michael during the hot, Uiihai)])y, anory
niontliN when he took his stand by JJrian, dis-
graced and imi)risoncd, against the world.
Old C\)l(iuhoun was the only person who
j)Oui-ed balm on his sore and buiiiing sensi-
i'ilities by persistent i'aitli in Brian's inno-
cence. "He never did it," he reiterated. "He
may be wild, but there ai-e things I could trust
him no to do as I could trust ma ain Jessie.
lie never ran doon sheep, and he never will.''
Tam was kept chained now. and took kindly
enough to it. He sat uj) for tidl)its whenever
anybody approached his kennel, and grew fat
and sleek and lazy. Brian, too, sobered down
as the summer advanced and die weather ti'rew
hot. He got so (juiet that he could be trusted
out all dav, and 3Iichael and his father beiian
217
THE GLORV AND TIIF. DREAM
tf) enjoy him a.Liuiii. Bat just as they were
l)c'f»-iMnir\i>' to r()r<4et all thuir troubk-s in this
])erioiI of peaee, they heoan a«;ain. Brian sud-
denly took to his old restless ways once more,
nithout any warniii,L>\, and about the same time
Tarn tnok to brfakin^' his ehain. Then Su-
san's father started to complain of harried
sheep, and the old miserable business of shut-
ting up and watching' Brian had to be \)v<^\m
once more. But in spite of all their eare he
kept breaking- away, and one morning Susan's
father eamc oNcr with the news that a sheep
had been killed, and Diek (the hired l)oy) had
seen the dog do it, and declared it was Brian.
"Ma dog has been awa' for three days," old
Cohiuhoun, who happened to be there, broke
in. "I tell ye it was ma dog. IIe\l stop at
naething!"
"There is no way of telling, except by the
scar," said Michael's father.
"The best thing to do Avoidd be to shoot them
both," Susan's father rei)lied.
"One dog or the other will be disposed of,
but not both," replied Michael's father. "And
218
BR I AX
kindly undorstai rliis, once and for all. I
am nol going- to :bli()ot niv dog, lor \ou or anv
man!"
"It beats nic how you can be so stuck .m the
bi'ute, JJut conic over now v.itli nic, and I'll
ask Dick, before you, if the dog had a scar on
the front of his neck. Then von'll be satis-
lied."'
"As you have informed nic at difi'erent times
that Dick is a scalawag and a fool. 1 can't be
expected to trust much to liis evidence, lUit
1 suppose I shall have to take it, such as it
is."
Dick, whose countenance resembled that of
an imbecile mink, said he didn't know as
the dog had a scar. AV'ien (luestioned more
closely, lie expressed a readiness to swear to it
that the dog had no scar. So :Miehaers father
paid for the sheep, and went home sorrowful.
angry, and unconvinced.
That afternoon, as ^licliael was feedin'j- a
l)rood of chickens, his father came and stood
over them, looking rK)wn at them absently and
very gravely. ".Michael, IIilic is no help for
219
THE GT .Y AND TlIi: DKEAM
il — when lirian comes back he will have to he
sent away," lie said.
Micliael's grief was deep ai\(l l)itler. Wlien
he saw Susan's father coming over that eve-
ning, he stood and ghircd at him witliout speak-
ing, and would not go in while he was there.
But he heard something, through the open door.
that gave the fhial edge to his resentment.
"If he feels so cut up about it as all that, why
not say you're just lending Brian, and let him
think he will get him hack some day? It'll
wear olf" after awhile, and he Mill forget all
about the brute."
^lichael ran down to the ])arn, even his sor-
row temporarily swallowed up in rage. ' lie
thinks I'm a boy to be iicd to!" he broke out
to 31r. Jane Dove, stamping his foot on the
floor and clenching his hands. "lie thinks Til
forget Brian! Ill lUTcr forget him!" He
suddenly broke out into passionate sobs.
"You can have Black Auster whenever you
want to go and see him," said 31r. Jane Dove.
"But it wouldn't be rcaliu seeing him! He
might be dead while 1 was playing 1 was see-
220
BRIAN'
iM,u- liim 1" This was [he first time iman-ination
had c\cr i'ailcd lo console. It uas a small, hut
s:K"ififant incident in .Mieliacrs dcveloimicnt,
and showed that all this pain and passion was
•sweepinn- hii„, slowly l)ut surely, out iVom "the
glory and the dream" of childhood, into the
merciless realities of yrown-up lij'e.
"T wish I was hig enough to knock Susan's
father down!" he hrokc out presently. "I'm
going to have it out Avitli him as s(n,n as Vm
big, if he isn't too old then."
Per]iai)s the method Susan's father adopted
of being conciliating was jio more graceful than
his manner of being aggressive, but he reallv
meant well to-night. He saw 3Iiehael's father
iiad been ruflled, and as he liked liim, he
thought he would ti-y now to "smooth him
down." He had a cousin who lived in a town
a great many miles away, with \vhom he was
plainly not on the friendliest terms, and he im-
I>Iied that it would give him great satisfaction
to be the Hieans of getting this cousin saddled
with Erian. This was his method of smooth-
ing Michael's father down. lie described tlie
221
THE (iLOHY AND THE DREAM
cousin as "a shii'llcss milksop," but said lu was
foiul of animals and would l)e ^ood to the
Iji-ute, liis t(Mic implyiiii; tlial tliis weakness
stamjx'd his cousin's order ol' ir.'cUcct. I'^e
finally got the authority of Michacrs father
to wrile to him and arrange al)ont Brian.
So Brian was sent off a Aveek later. lie had
to he put in a harness with a chain fastened to
it, and it was dreadful to Michael to see him
so for the last time. They had a long, sad
drive to town. Mieliael cared for nothing he
saw or heard along the wild, alluring road, for
he was sitting in tlie hack of the waggon, with
his arms around Brian's neck (he would not
hold him hy the cliain) . At the station a man
came up and remarked what a fine collie they
had there, and .Mieliael was choked with tears
as he rememhered h.ow ])roud and joyful that
woukl have made him in the old luippy days
that were all over now. Then the train came
in, and Brian was led into the dark haggage
car and chained there.
They drove hack at dusk into their own yard,
where no heautiful Brian would ever bound
BRIAN
over the .urass a,u:iiii. ]^\eniliiiio- ^as eoni-
fortless and lonely and silent. The tears ran
down Miehael's ehceks as he tried to choke
down his lea, wiih no P>iian waiting- to pick
up the ernnihs. There was an intolerable still-
ness and em})tiness everywhere he had been
used to see the heloved yellow t'orni, with its
white ruil', alert ears and lovely waving- tail.
22.3
CHAPTER XVI
CLEARED
^MrcHAEL aju] liis rather ])assc{l two lonely,
f\c'iillcss A\cc'ks al'tLT that. Mit'liavl never
went over to old C'ol(|ulioinr.s, for he could not
bear to see Tani. The latter still continued
to break his chain. One ai'lernoon, Susan's
fatlicr and Dick wei'c ])ieki i^' uj) aj)j)les near
the sheep pasture, when they heard the ter-
rified l;lealin^" that meant do_i;'S. "Good L>-i-a-
cious!" said Susan's father, and started for the
pasture on the run, Dick after him. They Li'ot
there just in time to see Tarn kill a sheep, with
tlic dexterity of an old hand.
"That's the dog I saw that evening before,"
said Dick.
""What do you mean?" demanded Susan's
fatlier. "You told me that dog had no scar."
"Oh, ves, it had."
•J24,
CLEARED
"Wliat (lid yon nuaii hv tclliim' micIi a
. /'
lie
"Please, sir, I tlioiio-hl yon wanted me to
say it hadn't no sear,"' erin^ed Diek.
"You younn' idiot, 1 wanted you to tell the
truth, and if 1 eateh you at such a lie ai^aiii
I'll tire you."
Susan's father marched sti-aight over to .see
^Mieha.-l's father, and tell him what had hap-
pened. "Xow, if vou want that doff of vours
hack, I've no douht my eousin will take old
Col(juhoun's instead of him," he said.
Meanw hile Miehael Mas wanderinn- forlornly
ahout the yard, witli no heart to join his play-
mates in the Kehel's House, oi- even to summon
that other playmate who never had been nen--
leeted before. There had been no huntino-
trips to the lumberman country since Brian's
dej)arturc. There had been several passionate
conversations with :\Ir. Jane Dove, and the lat-
ter had vowed vengeance on Susan's father;
but .Michael's eyes suddenly became oj)ened
wide to the unsatisfactory nature of imaginary
vengeance on a very tangible foe. :Mr. Jane
225
THE (JLORY AND Till: l)Ri:.\M
Dove's woiidci I'lil .sword was powerless to deal
willi a situation that demanded a pair of power-
ful juiinaii lists: and it would be many years
before llie lists would be bi<^- and powerful
cnoui"]! to deal with it.
As Miebael was wanderinf]^ aliout the yard,
hot and sore anil lonely, he heard a dog ^i^alloj)-
ing and panting behind him. lie turnnl
round, startled and bewildereo, :i!id in another
moment the dog- had sprung upon him with
sueh foree that ho was Imocked o\er on his
back, and the animal stood over him licking his
face. lie managed to scramble to his feet, and
force the dog to stand back to be scrutinized.
"Brian!" he cried, and then the boy and dog
rolled over and over on the grass, kissing and
embracing and crying over one another.
"Father will never send you away again
after this!" he kep^ assuring Brian and him-
self.
Brian was a sadly altered dog. The luirness
tliut had fitted liini v.lien h.e v.cnt away v.-as
still on. hut he was so thin that it Innig loose
and rattled with everv movement. Tlie ^vhite
'2'2{\
CLEARl.n
sliii'l iVoiit limi^- in urcy ropes of iiiiid, liis coal
was a iii.i^s of hiMTs. and all alon;^ his iiai'k
coarse iilack luiirs liad ui'own. "Was it l)ccausc
yon t'clt so lilack inside tliat those iiairs nrew
on }()n^" .Michael had asked liini. and indeed
this was the only c\])lanatiun that was ever
i'onnd for thcin.
^Vftcr lu; and Mii'hacl had sjjcnt ahont
twenty niiniites making' a fuss over each other,
he went to the hens' pa!i and took a lon^-, jono-
(liink; then Michael, thinking" from his terrihlc
thinness that he had not had a hite to eat since
he Went away, stai'ted to the Iiouse to ,u'et liim
s()niethin,<4', l)iit suddenly reineuii)ered that Su-
san's fatlier was tliere. Whatever happened,
he must not know that Brian had come back.
He would say the do^' ou.nht to be shot, and
force his falhei' to send him away a^iain. There
was a wikl, delicious excitement in the thought
of biding him from Susan's I'atlier. It was Hke
a story, which woukbi't be over soon, eitlier.
It wonkl lune to be kept up all his life. Mi-
chael laughed gleefully under his breath as he
thought of the great times they would have
227
THE GLORV AND THE DREAM
kccj)Iiio- tliiir secret. Tlicvc woul'l be all the
t'xliilaration ol' waiiare al)()iil it, SiisaiTs I'atlur
beiii^- siic-li a (kadly ciuniy. It would lie soiiic-
tliiiii^- like liavinn- a patriot for a iViciul atul liid-
iii;^- him rr(»ii) a Saesaiiaeii polieeiuan. As \\v
neared the house he heard the rouuli, jerky
tones that sounded so sava^i^e and hloodlhii-sty
to his exeiled aod hostile imagination. l\v
erei)t down the cellar stei)s, sayin<^^ lo himscit'
triumphantly tliat his feet on the stones didn't
mai<e the least hit of noise, and neither did
JJrian's, as he followed. He lifted the latch
of the door with the > inost care, and pushed
it open so cautiously tliat it harely creaked —
it "just whispered a creak," and Susan's father
was lau^hin^- just then in his "horrid sava<>e
way," and couldn't possibly hear the sound.
He didn't attem|)t to shut it a^^aii:. but stf)le
in. ]?rian's harness rattled, and had to be held
so it wouldn't. He ci'ept over to the milk
shelf. Just then Mr. Jane Dove appeared,
and opened his mouth to exclaim at the si^ht
of Brian, but Michael lifted a warninsj^ hand,
and pointed to tiie floor.
•J 2 8
CLEAR 1.1)
"TTc f^ot hack, hilt \vf must lucp ////// from
knoNv iii;^'," lie wiiisjxTL'd.
Mr. .laiic I)(i\c iKxhUd ciilire compi'cht'ii-
sidu, and put his hand on his sword in a grimly
.su<4)4estive maniiLr. "I I' hf ever ^cts at Hiian,
he'll lind out .suniethin;^- ahout this," he whis-
pered.
"Vcs," said .Michael thounht fully. "l?ut
you couldn't rcaUy save him."
Mr. Jane Dove accejjted this snuh meekly,
altliou/^h he mii^lit well have been surprised.
"Really" was a startling' inn()\"ati()n in Mi-
ehacTs vocahularv.
.Just Ihcn Michael's I'Ve fell on half a tonmie
that stood on the end of the row of milk pans.
Xieder's mother had hi-ought it over a few'
nights l)efore, and h.is father had heen very
much pleased.
"1 wonder if father would mind if I rjave
him this," he whispered to Mr. Jane Uove.
"It's the only thinn- 1 ean net for him, exce^jt
milk, while lie's in the house."
Just then IJrian sat up for it, lf)okinfj
hunoTier than Michael had ever felt in his life.
229
THE GLORY A\D THE DREA:\I
"I'm sure your fatlicr would i^iv it to him
if lie knew he had come back about a luuuh'cd
miles, and hadn't had a bite to eat all the time,"
re})lied ]Mr. Jane Dove.
So the tongue was fed to Brian, who oYj])l)le(l
it ravenously, and then Michael stole out, iiold-
ing the sm .llest pan of milk a<,rainst himself
with one hand, and Brian's harness M'ith the
other. When he got to the head of the cellar
steps Brian stood up on his hind legs and began
to drink out of t!ie pan as he held it, so he set
it do\\ii, although he had meant to carry it to
the safe seclusion of the stable. As soon as
Brian was done drinking he tried to bring him
there, but the dog flopjjcd dow?i on the ground
and would not stir, althougii .Michael stroked
his head, ''to thaw him out," as he used to do
when he wanted to make him follow anywhere.
But he was utterly exhausted, and fell sound
asleep, where Susan's father could not fail to
see him as soon as he came out. Michael was
in wretchedness for a few minutes: then he
went to the woodjjile and got a I)ig l)ox. and
dragged it over and j)ut it between Brian and
230
CLEARED
tlie door. Then he settled happily down on
tlie grass, and tried to take off tlie harness.
The huckles were stiff with rust, and he
luid to eut it witli his penknife. Then he
benan takino- out the burrs. His very tail
(that beautiful, plumy tail) was matted with
them. He did not look the least bit hkc ^11-
chael's Brian, but Miehael did not care, so long
as he had him safe. He was full of peace and
contentment as he sat there in the warm after-
noon sun, gently and patiently taking out the
burrs. :\Ir. Jane Dove sat on the box and
talked. "The best thing for you and your
father to do," he said, "would be to build a
great, high tower, with no doors or windows in
it, and a way of getting in underground that
no one could know about. The roof could be
flat, and he could run round i-n there all day,
and come down into the other part at night.
Of course there would have to be a high fence
round the roof, so that lie couhhTt see Brian.
Then o.i Sundays, when he is at church, you
could bring him down and give him a beautiful
time all day."
281
TIIK GLORY AND THE DREAM
Tlicv Iiiul hecn there a lonu- tiinc, laviu"-
plans of coiicealiiic'iit, wiicii "iic" came out.
iMichael crouched down behind the hox. Im-.
his father l)e<4-an to say soniethin,i>\ an(i in an
instant IJrian awoke, [>neked up his cars, and
had hounded over the hox heforc th.e horrified
^Michael could stoj) h.ini. He stood up on iiis
hind legs and a-jtually put his arms around Mi-
chael's father's neck, while Michael, with set,
deliant jaw and tieiy eyes, s(|uared up to Su-
san's father. "I wasn't •i'oinn^ to let you know
he was back. I was trying to hide him." he
said. ''JUit now you've seen him. 1 don't care
what you sav, or what vou do, I'm not iioiuir
to let you make my father send him away
again."
"It was all a mistake, Mike." said Susan's
father. "But good gracious, how did he ever
ge^ back?"
"He's just sk]n and bone," said Michael's
father, with tears in his eyes. "Oh, IJrian. if
you had killed all the sheep in the country, I
could never send you away again!"
"I knew you wouldn't!" cried ^lichael.
232
CLEARED
"(iimnic your paw, JJrian. I \)Cg your par-
don i'or accusing you oi' that dirty trick," said
Susan's father.
But Brian was too mucli absorbed in liis
master to pay any attention to ai)ologies from
Susan's father, so the hitter turned to Michael,
hohhng out liis hand. "Look here, Mike, 1
hope it's all right now," he said.
'"Did you tind out he dichi't do iiT' asked
Michael.
"Yes, I saw tliat other one at it with my
own eyes, and Uiek was fool enough to own up
that he lied."
"I knew he did. Susan never beheves any-
thing he says."
"Too bad Brian had a trip for nothing.
However, he's seen the Morld now, and can
talk big to his friends. Say, ]Mike, is it all
right, and shall we let bygones be bygones?"
"Yes," said ^Michael, beaming as he had
never beamed on Susan's father before. He
was so hap})y that he felt at charity with the
whole world.
"I'll go over to old Colquhoun's now, and
233
THE GLORY AND THE DREA.AI
settle about liis do^-; I'm sure my eousin would
rather lia\e Iiim, scar iiwd all, than the sort of
scarecrow youis is now."'
"We're .i^'oino- to o-ive him lots to eat, and
take out all those Ijurrs, and he Mill <i;et just
as beautiful as ever auain," retorted Michael
hotly. "^Vol^t he, Fatlierr' he added anx-
iously, when Susan's lather was out of liear-
ino-.
"I hope so. IJut he is sadly run down, and
it will take a lonu' time to i^et him back to what
he was. To think of what he must have suf-
I'ered, and all because of that little dmaddn!
I'd like to have the thrashing of him. How-
ever, it's over, and Susan's father is really
sorry about it — s(^ rememi)er, Michael, we must
let by<4'oius be byn-ones."
Brian had his old jjlace ujider the tea-table
that nii^'ht, and vras fed with the clioicest mor-
sels from both plates '.vithout bein<4' ^iven the
trouble of sitting up for them, and after tea
he picked up the crumbs in his old dainty way.
Micliael and his father had just settled down
on the doorstep, with him between them, and
234i
CLEARED
hcgun on tlic l)urrs an-ain, wlicn old Colqulioun
and Jessie eanie over. JJrian sprang up and
made a great fuss over tliein both; old Col-
qulioun responded wai'ndy, but, to Miehael's
great surprise, Jessie did not. She only en-
dured tlif caresses Avitli patient dignity, and
settled down in her usual still, statelv way bv
her master's side.
"Surely she hasn't forgotten Brian i"' said
Michael.
"Xa, na. But she's getting too auld to care.
I'm thinkin' she'll no miss Tarn as slie would
ha'e done a few ooks ago. Weel, I'm glad
Brian's cleared. I kenned he was innocent.
Puir, leal auld laddie, A\hcn I he.ird what he'd
done the tears ran oot o' ma e'en, and I h.a'e
nae doot that auld bletherskate ca's me the noo
by his favourite pet name for Dick."
"I suppose you're glad to get rid of Tarn,"
said Michael's father.
"I could dance wi' joy if I wasna ower auld,"
replied Cohiuhoun.
"But j)erhaps he will come back in the same
touching manner," said ^lichael's father.
23j
THE CLOllV AND TIIi: DUl'.AM
"Ciitch liini! IK'U l^: ic wliorcvcr there's
^niid fariri' and a satt !;cil. I caiuia led tluit
lie's Jessie's aiii lle^ii and Idnid."
That ni<Alit Urian would sleej) tiowhere hut
on the tloor heside ^liehael's hed, and as it v.as
understood between ^liehael and lii^ Talher
that he was to h.ave everylhinn- he wanted, and
do exaelly as lie [)lease(l, at least till lie got
some llesh on his hones and reeovered enough
spirit to be nauglity sonietinx s, lie did n(jt ex-
perienee nineh ditru ully in canying- out this
wish. Miehael's i'atlier, nuieh as he hated
sweeping, brought in a ger.erous annl'ul of
straw for liini to lie on, and lust tiling before
going U) sleep Aliehael put down his hand
and felt for him, and Brian pul up I'S mouth
and kissed it. Then t1ie>- fell asleep, tlie most
thoroughly hajipy and eontented boy and dog
on the riverside.
230
CIIAl^TEll XVII
"the sense or teaks ix -moktal things"
Xext morning Brian, luiving devoted several
hours of the nii^lit to his sadly nc;4'leeted person,
vras a much more eheerl'ul speetacle. Tlie
burrs were nearly all gone, and so was the mud
(some of it liad been shaken over Miehael's
eounterjnme). The fhiify yellow hair and
Avhile shirt front tlmt had been ^liehael's i)ride
were recoverhig some of th.eir lo,>^t loveliness.
Tie was unwilling to he separated a moment
from either of his masters, hut when he had to
ehoose between them lie ehose Michael. The
latter was sitting on th.e doorstep petting him
after breakfast, when something bright at his
feet caught his attention. It proved to be
what he called "a silver beautv— " a fiftv cent
piece.
"Maiscadh!" exclaimed his father when he
saw it. "That must have leaked out of old
237
THE GLOllV AND THE DliEAM
Colqulioun's pocket. Talk about tlirit'ty
Scotchmen! Wc Irislinicn could do no worse
than that. It's a pity he is not as particular
about holes in his pockets as he is aljout dust
in his house, liun ri-^Iil over with it, Michael,
or he will be gone with Tani."
"Brian will follow me," said ^lichael.
"I'll keep him," saiil his father.
3Iichacl started off running and jumping,
happy and gay and eager to tell old Cokiuhoun
that Brian was begimiing to get beautiful
aj-ain. lie burst icvfullv into the luuiber-
man's song as he came in the gate. Okl Col-
quhoun was sitting out in front, in a little rustic
chair he had made out of the stump of a tree.
He was bent over with his head on his hand,
but when he heard ]Michael singing he came
(piickly down the path towards him. '"Oh,
laddie, I'm glad o' ye," he said in a cpiecr
choked voice. ]Michacl looked up into his face,
and saw, to his great surprise, that he was cry-
ing.
"Old Colquhoun— wliat is the matter?" he
asked.
238
TKAllS L\ MOIITAL THINGS
"It's jiii^t iiKi aiilil lassie. She had to ^-ac
— .sometime."
■'Do \ou me;iii that Jessie — Jessie — " ^li-
ehael eould not sav the nulv ^vol•d that was in
his mind. Surclv, .>invlv lujtliinii' so (h'eadful
eoidd have hajjjjenetl as I'or Col(|uhoun lo he
without his ohl doLi'.
"Slie'.s ilei(h" ColquhoiHi said it as if It liurt
him so miieli that lie eould not say anything
more.
^Michael stood still in front of him, un-
ahle to say a word. lie had oidy felt his own
joys and sorrows hitlierto; no^\ he felt old C'ol-
qulioun's grief in his own heart, and he felt
sorrier than lie had ever heen al)ont anything
else in his life ])efore, even Brian. It liurt
and hurt, like the night his father read out to
liim ahout Iilaek Beauty seeing a dead horse
drawn i)ast in a eart, and lioping it was Ginger;
but it liurt worse than that. lie eould not
hear that old Colquhoun shovdd feel as he had
felt about Biian, only so nuieh worse, beeause
Jessie could never come back. He wanted so
badlv to do something to comfort him, and vet
•239
Tin: (;m)HV and tiii: dkkam
lie could not tliinic of Miiylliiiig — he could not
even Ihiiik of anylliin<4," lo say.
"She deed easily," old C'ol(]iihoiin went on
after a lon'4' liiiie. "1 maun lie tliankt'u' i'or
thai. Alter we earn' lianic last nieht, she
cam" in \'.i' me as slic always docs," (MichaeTs
eyes filled with tears at the uneonsf-ious n^e of
tlie present tense) "i)ut when I spread her hed
in the kitchen she wouldna lie doon. She went
to the door, and stood lookin,u at mc to let her
oot. I o[)ened it, ; nd she kissed nia hand, and
^■a\e me a?ie last look. I canna forget it —
tli( se e'en o' hers — I never saw sic a look in
tlie e'en o' oiiy heast. 1 weiit to llie door and
ea'd lier after a wee. She didna come. I
went oot and looked ui' the lantern, and slie
was lyin^;' a'ma.ist at the door. If slie had
made a sound, 1 would Iki'c heard her. She
deed easily, thei'e's nae doot."
"I think she had a soul," said ^Michael.
"Don't you rememher telling- me a])out the
time she found a youn^- hird tliat ha.d dr()])ped
out of tlic nest, and how she sto(xl and took
care of it till you came? If slu hadn't had a
'2i0
TEARS I\ :',I')H'r.\l. THINGS
soul, slie would liavc calcu it. P( rliaps she's
ruuuini;' round iu Ilta\fu now. '
"Na," said old C'dlqnliouu. ''Sle'll no be
rinuin' round. Shell lie siilinn' still as a stone,
no lii»])Chin,!4 to onvthini;', no looking' to aue side
ov the itlier — watchiu;^', watehin^^- j'or her
uiasti-r. wi' those !'i'a\e e'en, that wei-e sae kind
and eannv — " old Cohiuhouu was (jvereoiue hv
his tears for a few minutes. "I maun diu; her
^■i-a\e," he said a.t last.
jl ieliael followed him silently, and silently
helped him di^^' the [jfrave. AVheu tliey had du;jj
for some time, old Cokiuhoun said: — ''Yc ha'e
done enouuh, laddie. It\ ower lieav^' work
for a bairn."
^liehael looked u}), and his eyes showed liow
sorry he felt. He stood leanii.<>' on his spade,
miwillin^L*' to lea\e old Col<[i;houn alone at his
dreary task.
At last he inquired: — '■^Vhen are you going
to take Tam to town.'"'
ilus aiternoon.
"Would vou like me to eome with vou, and
keep you eompany f
241
Tin: (ii.ouY AND Tiir. I)iu:am
'■T woiil.!."' said oM Col'inlioun ^n-atc rully,
'"if your rcyllicr can spare yc."
Midiatl stood still and silent till ('(.!< iiilioi in
liad liiiisiial llic .L-Tavc. TIhh llir latU rsaid:—
"Xoo, laddie, ye've lieli>ed me Ihn.ii-li tills
sail" lask — "
"1 oidy did a little lut/' said Micliael.
"Ye Iklped !Me l>y liein^' here. H' I bad
l)een alane — l»iil nno, ye iiiaiiii riii liame. liut
first, I ',v;nit 'e to prnniisr me sountliin,!;-."
'•ril promise you ai.ylliin,L>'." said Mieliael.
"You'-e my greatest friend, except lather of
course, and 111 never like any one as well."
"Xa, na. Ihafs no what 1 ask, nor ^v]lat Til
tak," said old Cohiuhoun. "That Xieder
maun always he elos-r to ye than ony auld
mon. Ye've played wi' him sin' ye were liaith
weans, un(- ve uill till you're men, and there's
nae bond like that. It's soinelimes closer than
brothers."
"I do like Xieder just as well as if be was
my brotber," said Mieliael. "rerhaj)s it would
be more trutbful to say that you and be botb
are my best friends."
242
TKAUS I\ MOHTAL TIIINC.S
"Come, cnnu', T (litm:i fnulc sac lii.uli as that,"
said old v'()l(|iili(nni, Iiis own \\ liiiiisical siiiiU.'
hi'caklii,!;" out owv Ms ^ritl" I'wri'owcd Tat'c.
"Wlial al.oot Mr. .laiif Dovrf'
'"I like yen c\cn i'<tk'i- than Iiiin," said Mi-
duul. slow I}-, liut (k'id(clly. '"lie did iim his
sword tlii'oii^li Ici) Sacsaiiai.'j;li |)olic'('ii'.cii and
lu'lj)C'd iiic kill a lion, hiil Ih' -i lie"s not real —
at least, J like to tliiiik of Iiini Iteiii;^- real in a
sort of ii way, lail lie's not real like yon."
'"Xa, he's no like nie," said old C'ohjulionn
indignantly. '"I !ie\(i- was sie a sa\aii,e, and
if I had keen 1 wouldna iioast o"t as he does,
and elank nia sword sae Heively."
"IJiit Sacsanai^li polieenien and lions have
to l)e kiHed,"' said Miehael.
"]*erliai)s, but there's ways and ways o'
killin! He doesna (k)'t as if it was a painfu'
duty. But ahoot that promise. Miehaek A'
I ask is that when you're ^vi' nie ye'll still be
the kiddie ve are the noo, thou.''li ve m-ow to be
a moil to a' the worUk"
"All rio-lit," said Miehaek
But although ]Miehael kept his promise, and
TIIK GLORV AND TITi: DREAM
althounb he did not grow to 1)0 "a mon to a'
tlic M-orld" f<ir many years, lie ])eL''an to be a
man at heart tluil v ery day, v.lien lie learned to
o-rieve ^vilh other peoj)le even a\]ic!i his o^^^l
Iieart was fidl ef liappincss, and when his in-
visible friends bad to t;ihc a stoj) had: to make
room for tliose of ilesb and blood.
THE END
24i