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DOUBTIMO OAOTIiB, WAim AMID THB FliOWBBB, POBTBAIT PAINXniO, PBOrVBBBD Fbibkdbhip, . Obaduatiwo Homobs, III THB GBBBKWOOP, San Pbbb, PliBABAirt PlOTtJBBB, A Vmhtob, . OliOBB B» THB OAIBB,. Ik TBB HOSPITAIi, HOMB AOAIM, MianoM WoBB, At Wob» Aoaw, IH BXTBBIUB, HBIiP AT LABT, WBIiOOMB Nbwr, TsB Iiin>i • Pac* .231 .356 , 9BA .986 . m . su . 838 . 848 . 876 . 806 . 403 . 418 . 433 . 468 . 479 . 491 . 600 . B06 CHAPTER I. FIB8T DAY AT SCHOOL. « WYWO young girls were standing apart, talking \\( very earnestly together, on the playground A of a veiy select private school. "She is a pretty little thing," one of them was saying, "and seems to have been well trained." " I don't care if she is ; no girl wearing such a frock and boots should have the impudence to come here. What is the use of having a private school and pay- ing such lots of money if beggers are allowed to at- tend?" "It is cruel, Helen, to call her a beggar; besides her clothes are neat and clean. I have been having such a nice time all by myself looking at her trim Uttle figure and costume. I assure you it is quite mmmm mm g MILDRED KENT'S HERO. a Study — at least it must have been to the one who thought it out and put it together so gracefully." "You are the queerest girl, Magdalene, I ever knew ; if your father weren't so awfully rich I should leave you severely alone." "I do noc care for such friendship if that is why you are so friendly with me." A stern look came into the usually gentle fane, which her companion hastened to dispel. "I was only joking; if your boots were patched like that new comer's I should still love you." Magdalene looked a little doubtful. «Iam glad I am not forced to wear patched boots ; but if I had I am afraid you would get some other girl for par- ticular friend." They passed out of hearing of the little girl who thatmoruing had come with some fear but a great deal of delightful anticipation to school, the first she had ever attended. Only a year before her father had died, after months of sickness caused by a blow on the chest from a case they were hoisting at the store where he was clerk. Then while her mother was learning a trade whereby to earn a living for her children, Mildred, only a child herself, took charge of the younger ones, becoming a sort of little mother to Paul and Gracie. Long ago, before the sad days FIRST DAT AT SCBOOL. '^ had come, when the father was weU and the mother only had her pretty, cosy home to keep in order and her little ones to care for, she had taken special care with Mildred's education. To keep her from evil in- fluences she had taught her at home; so that now, at twelve, the poor child had her first experiences of school life. She had started out that morning with such shy eagerness ; she had thought of it by day and dreamed of it at night, wondering if the first of September would ever come; while her mother had tried so hard to get her dressed suitably, and the ef- forts, acco^diug to Mildred's ideas, had been crowned with such perfect success, she had felt herself well enough dressed to call on the President at the White House as she walked down the quiet street from their cottage to the crowded thoroughfare that led to the school-house. Paul and Gi-acie had stood at the gate watching her, while mother glanced up from her work with a happy feeling in her heart as she watched her daughter starting out with the busier currents of Ufe. She was willing to take a good many extra stitches in order that her daughter might be preserved from the rude companionship of a public school She seemed, in spite of thehr poverty, so dainty and .flower-like, the mother longed to pre- serve this charftoteristio of her first-bom^ The :W t MILDRED KENT'S HERO. school-room reached, Mildred's courage hega^ to depart with uncomfortable speed. Scattered in groups about the grounds were such handsomely dressed boys and girls, that her own clothes, which had seemed so excellent, suddenly became shabby; but worse than all were the words she had just overheard from two of her school-mates. Fortunately the school bell won rang, and after a while Mildred became so interested in the lessons, the pain at her heart was somewhat deadened. But when the luncheon bell rang and the other children trooped out to enjoy their lunch and games under the trees, she remained at her desk swallowing her bread and butter and a few tears at the same time. As the hour for final closing drew near she thought, with an intensity of pain which only a child's uncalloused heart can feel, if she could only in some way escape the prying eyes of the whole school, how happy she would be. Those wretched patches on the little boots that no amount of blacking would conceal were the most trying things to bear. At last the dreadful moment came when she had to take her phice with the rest and march out of the school-room. Once outside, her agony was intensified; for the girls stood in groups apparently waiting for her. FIRST DAT AT aCBOOL. 9 19 to d in jmely othes, 3oame 8 she nates, fter a issons, But ildren under Dgher ime. r she only could res of d be. » that VQ most (lonient tie rest )ut8ide, »od in ■ I "I wonder if her mother is a washerwoman?" "Let's count the patches on her boots." "The impu- dence of such people sending their children here," were some of the remarks that greeted her. She scarce knew if she were walking or standing still; and while she tried to hurry, why was it that she heard so much? Would the gate never be reached ? A cloud gathered over her eyes and she felt herself swaying, when a gracious voice caUed back her dazed senses, and she saw one of the larger boys at her side, while he said : "You look tired, Uttle one; let me take your satchel." She glanced up into his face, and the lad was startled at the grieved, haunted expression of the child's face. "You must not mind what those silly girls say; they generally treat new-comers shabbily. " "But it is my clothes, and not myself that they are angry about. " "Well, so much the better ; your clothes are not ■ really you. " « I know that ; but I cannot get any othere for a long while ; and I must come to school, for my mother has paid for me." ♦' Who is your mother ? " " Mrs. Kent, on Mulberry street." « Does she aarn her own living? " * „ |5| 'S I K - f .■^mm 10 MILDRED KEST'a BERO. "Yes, she is a dressmaker now. I took care of Paul and Grace while she was learning. Our father is dead." "You have been to school before — have you not?" ■ ^ ^ "No, never until to<lay. I thought I should be so happy." A little sob escaped the brave lips so used to shutting ii their pain. "I do not think they will say any more rude things to you after I shaU have given them a piece of my mind." Mildred gave him such a look of gratitude that the lad felt something like a lump coming into his own throat. Then her face grew sad again. " Will they mind what you say ?" « Well, yes, they always do when I get in earnest. I don't usually have much to say to them." Again she looked at him with a scrutinizing air, not quite so agreeable as her former admiring re- " I suppose it is because you are so krge and — she paused a few seconds and then added, — "so good-looking." He flushed, but said with a smUe: "It is be- cause they Uke to have us notice them, my mother audi. They hope to get invited to Grassmere." n tl t« fi f 8 i >e of ither you dbe [>8 SO rude piece I that )o his 'Will rnest. ig air, Qg re- ad"— - "so is be- nothet rnar dat at school. "You are one of those. good people such as I have read about in stories, who do brave things and take the part of the poor and weak." Her look of admiration deepened into one of awe ; to come in direct contact with one of those beauti- ful beings out of a story-book thrilled the child's imaginative soul. ♦' What a queer little kitten you are ! " The boy's face flushed more deeply. He did not enjoy quite BO much hero worship, and turned her remark jest- ingly. "I expect I am," she said with such a pathetic little nod that he grew more uncomfortable still. "1 must leave you now," he said abruptly. They had got on to another street, and the other school- children had drifted pretty well out of sight. He gave back her satchel, saying: "Don't come quite so early to school to-morrow. And you need not give yourself any more anxiety about those girls; they will any of them be glad to make friends with you." She looked wistfully at him with much the same expression in her eyes as he had sometimes seen in the fiice of his own beautiful spaniel when he had felt it incumbent on him to punish her for some im- aginary fault. ^ ). mmmmmmm 01 Ul CHAPTER n. BBTH AND CONNIE. ILDRED walked home slowly, and in her childish way reasoned the matter oat ^ She concluded it would only grieve her mother to know that the school-mates were mostly hostile, and she had cares enough already without any additional ones. «I will tell her the lessons were just lovely, and may be she won't ask any more questions." After she had decided on this course, she walked along more cheerfully; for one added drop of bitterness would be the pain her mother would feel over her treatment by the school-mates. The chUdren were still at the gate watching for her. curiously. "Oh, no, we had our dinnew in the house. us all about it." "I have not much to tell. It is just a lot of boys and girls ; and they read and study and pUy." " Did you play ? " Paul asked eagerly. "No, but maybe I will some day." « I would play every day," Paul said with much assurance. The mother came to the door to meet her. « Did you have a happy day at school, Mildred?" she asked. . * .* « The lessons were lovely. It is so nice to just sit stUl and study with no one talking around you." « Like me and Grace," Paul interjected. The mother noticed the pale face and sorrowful expression, and guessed that aU the experiences had not been aUke lovely with the lessons. "You may play a v^hile with the ohUdren," she said, returning again to her work, a good deal heavier hearted than she had been during the day. MUdred took very Uttle supper, and her mother dis- covered that her lunch had soarc-ly been touched. Now that it was too late she regretted having sent her chUd to such a school The careless goodSumor I MILDRED KENT'B HERO. U and comradeBhip of a public school might in the end have been the best. However, she resolved to let MUdred try one day more. Children's hearts are not so brittle as to break at a little hard usage, and pos- sibly it might be the best training for her, since she must soon or late fight the battle that every bread- winner must face. The next morning MUdred was in no hurry to start for school, and then loitered along the way, barely escaping a tardy mark. When the luncheon bell rang, the very girl whose sharp tongue had given her the first stab came to her side and said graciously : — ♦♦ We take our lunch under the trees. You can eat yours with the rest of us, and then join with us in our games." "I think I would rather stay here," Mildred fal- tered. It was nearly as trying to go right in among them as to stand outside and listen to their criti- cisms. " Very well, you can suit yourselt" A moment after Mildred heard her tell the lad who had come to her rescue the day before that she had invited her to join them. " She won't come with us; I believe she is a sulky Uttle thing." w St si ii c a e t a wmmm the end d to let s are not and pos- iince she ly bread- ired was luitered . When >se sharp > her side >u can eat ith us in Idred fal- in among heir criti- ill the lad ) that she is a sulky " She would be an angel to be friends immediately with your crowd," was the low spoken answer, sternly uttered. " Well, you can't blame me, I L-ve done my best," she said, defensively. " And your worst too." They passed out of hear- ing, and Madred nibbled her bread and butter and conned her lessons over again. The moments were dragging on heavily, the day already seemed as long as a week at home ; but pres- ently her pulses were set beating tumultuously as two of her schoolmates seated themselves besida her and opened up a conversation. " Where do you live ? " was the first question. " No. 6 Mulberry Street." •♦ What does your father do ? " '♦ He is dead " was the reply, spoken solemnly. "What?" « He is dead, Anna ; don't ask any more about him," one of them said. ' There was silence for a few moments ; even these worldly damsels were a trifle awed at mention of the dead. "Well, ^ho earns your living?" was the next question. '^ "My mother gets a good deal of money making ^ MILDRED KKNT'a HEM. ir^ .nd n.y gr-a-ther «nd. the r»t Iron. England." .i.„^?" uOh, then you have a grandmother?^ « Why, don't everybody have one? . .WeU no; not grandmotherB wUh money, your case is not .njte so ^;^ ^J^^^^^^^^ uDo you always have plenty to eat r ^m^-> fee .ri-ned, and «.en .h. »bbed ouXing let W«»co.»ol= "You.™ dread. ""'xhere «« » -"dden interruption «hich P«- «nt«d farther conversation from them. ..See her^yougirl.iifIe»'»^7■^_;''- work again yoa may expect an .,vv.t.t.on U, Bnaton ioat as much as to Grassmere. "oh. C. U Douglass. I thought you were down the sLc one o. Mildred's u,rmentors e«l.m«l "tSt is how you e«ne to torment tlu. |»or .Wld Now if I h«i' »»°*" ""^ '"'" "^ ! ■;„„ riall make complaint ^ my mother, and 1 wUl do the same to tho Princpal and Aat •. ,m leave thU school directly. My mother '"iCavCt stock-holder her^ and she will not ,s the heaviest s ^ ^ maintain an instituUon inai v BETB ASD CONNIE. 17 kt from money ; jted." the othor B sobbed re dread- hich pre- a. at ibis tatiou to were down exclaimed this poor m any one aother, and I, and that My mother jhe will not cruelty to children." He seemed no longer a lad, but a man, with all a man's strength and passion at sight of wrong and oppression. The girls went out quickly and much more humbly than they en- tered. Douglass turned to Mildred. "I have been listening out there, and I thought they had gone far enough. Never answer any of th?ir questions." He turned and walked out, but presently coming back, said : "You must not stay all day in this close school- room. Come out with me." She arose obediently. Very probably if he had ordered her to go around and shake hands with aU the schoolchildren, or any other trying ordeal with- in reach of her powers, she would have done as com- manded. " Why do you take my part? " she asked, as they stood in the doorway surveying the merry groups scattered over the playground. *♦ I do not like to be questioned. Besides it is not polite to ask questions. Now look over there by the fence; there are two little girls smaller than you are. I have been looking around for playfellows for you, and I have concluded they are as good as we can find in this crowd." _ li MtiDnrn kf.nt'b nr.M, Mildred followed wlontly, not daring to upeak lest her conversation might end in a question. "See here, Beth and Connie, you are to play with Mildred Kent," Douglaw said authoritatively, when he reached them. " If you get on well and she tells me on Friday night that you have been kind, you shall come to Grassmere on Saturday and shall have swings and a sail on the lake." ^ . " Oh, we will be as good as possible to her, they responded joyfully, shabby dress and patched boots quite forgotten for the time. He left them then, Mildred's eyes following him wistfully; then she turned to her companions who scarce knew how to make advances lest they might forfeit the reward. "What makes him so good to me?" In her eager- ness to solve the mystery she forgot that he had just told her questions were not polite. « He always takes the side of lame dog» and poor kittens and things," Connie replied, half frightened at her answer as soon as it was spoken. «But Mildred is not dogs and kittens." Beth said, reprovingly. "You are a very thoughtless httle girl, Connie ; if you say such things we won't get to Grassmere and have the boat^ail. Just think how we have wanted to go there ever so long, and our mothers want to go, too." % "Never mind, Beth; I know what Connie meant, and I won't Iteep you from Graaemere." " Are n't you coming too ?" Connie asked. "I do not think he invited me, and anyw.iy I have no good oiothei. " Are you very poor ? " " I expect 80. I never thought about tt till yet- terday." "We are all rich people who come to this school; that iB why the girls ara so cross with you," Connie remarked complacently. " Connie D. Smythe, if you do not hush I am sure Mildred will tell Douglass how you talk. I would, I know, if I was in her place." "I don't care," Connie said recklessly. "What can we talk about, anyway." "I will tell you stories about the children and their dolls, Ermengarde and Luoinda," Mildred sug- sted. "Very well," Beth responded, with an air of res- ignation. "Why can't we play tag," Connie asked. "We were playing that when ydu and Douglass came " I would rather do that than tell stories.' ^ w so MILDftED KENT'S HERO. alV Btories ? " Beth asked with "Can you really tel awakening interest. " I make a great many for the children." "We will let you make them for us wet days when we can't play out here," Connie said graciously. Mildred's laugh was ringing out quite joyously when the bell rang, and her satisfaction was not lessened as she overheard Beth and Connie talking to themselves. "She is a grand girl to play with, she lets you cheat her so well," Connie said with considerable elation. "Yes, and if she is poor, she is far nicer than some of the very richest girls, lor she don't expect you to do as she says all the time. For my part I am beginning to like poor people the best," Beth responded, with a good deal of decision. The afternoon sped by very quickly ta Mildred. At the school-room door her new friends were wait, ingforher; with one on either side she got on to the street very comfortably. ^^ "Maybe we will come and see you some day, Connie remarked graciously. "Some rainy afternoon, and you can tell us stories," Beth suggested. "A fine day would be nicer, we could sit in our pi th th tl ai di n t1 h V li i I 1 OB wmtgmmmt rrrr"'-'''*'"'*'™^''''" BETS AND CONlfIX, 81 i with s when ly- jyously as not talking sts you ■ derable er than expect f part I ," Beth Mildred, jre wait- >t on to pUyhouse. I make believe a great many things there with the children. I have been their mother this long time, and my husband's at sea; they like that far better than to have him away among the angels, «- that seems so lonesome." "Do you really make beUeve the same thing for days and days?" •♦Yes, the children talk about their sailor father now more than their real one. He is going to bring them lots of things some day; that's what I made him for." Mildred spoke with the matronly dignity of a veritable wife. With her new friends such a ming- Ung of the real and the ideal was extremely fascinat- ing. "Connie, let us plan to go the Saturday after next; we will stay to tea and bring our lunch-bas- . kets full of cake and things. Her mother won't mind the bother of us then." " Are you sisters ? " Bfildred asked. "No, but we Uve on the same street. We'll be make-believe sisters," Connie shouted enthusiastic- " Will your mothers let you come ? " « They won't know anything about it. They^ are always making calls or receiving. Anyway, I guess we are mostly in their way out of school." M i 89 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. « But it won't be right to bring your tea with you unless you ask leave." "You silly child, cook gives us things whenever we want them. She is glad to get rid of us, too. We seem in 'most everybody's way." "Then in some things you are poorer than I am. I never remember being in my mother's way," MU- dred said, with a good deal of sympathy. i' Oh well, folks don't mind being poo unless they are short of money. They don't reckon anything else poverty," Connie said, as if she were perfectly well versed in such limitations. «I had rather be short of money than of mother's love. It's just beautiful to be with my mother. Why I have shed cupfuls of tears thinking if she were to die." «I don't think we could shed a cupful between us, Beth, do you, if our mothers were both dead?" Connie asked with all seriousness. " I don't know. I have never lost any tears think- ing about it," Beth said indifferently. They said good bye, and Mildred walked home- ward with a good many thoughts yeasting in her brain. ii you never I, too. I atn. " MU- is they ything rfectly other's aother. if she etween lead?" think- l home- in her A GARDEN TBA-PABTY. aOUGLASS saya you are to come to Graasmere with m on Saturday." Theae we the first words that greeted MUdred the next day. ., « But this is my best frock, and I have no other shoes." Sho stooped over and gazed at her patched boots with a pitiful intentness. "Can'tyou buy better ones? There are lots m the stores," CJonnie asked. "I am afraid we have no money to spare just now. But never mind; you can tell me all about it when you come to see me ; it will make that mucb more to talk about," she said, quite cheerfully. u But Grassmere is so lovely, and Douglass has ■ ; S«'VIWHPWr?T'W«P«»FW> ■ ■ 24 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. such lota of beautiful things to show us ; besides there is the sail on the lake," Beth said. Mildred winked very bravely, but a few tear-drops fell in spite of her efforts to keep thera back, "You will tell me all about it," she said presently. »* Cnly yesterday I did not kndw there was such a place, and I won't be a baby about it." "If Douglass says it don't make any difference about your boots, will you come?" Connie asked doubtfully. "Why yes, when there are so many pretty things, maybe they would never notice my boots, and I can put on a great deal of blacking. The patches don't show very badly." She twisted the little feet around while the children stood regarding them with troubled eyes. "His mother is a real lady; everybody likes to have her notice them," Connie remarked encourag- ingly. " But we would only see Douglass," Mildred said with evident alarm. "Oh, an invitation from Douglass means dinner and everything. Sometimes you meet real live lords and their wives there. I tell you we ought to like you, for it is not often he asks any of the school- children out there." E Biitly. ach a irence asked hings, I can don't ) feet them kes to lourag- d said dinner e lords to like Bohool- A OAtlDKN TBA-PAKTT. 25 « Let us play something," Mildred suggested. She had a healthy mind, and was not given to brooding over the unattainable. Their merry voices were soon ringing out over the play-ground, while some of the other girls joined them. Probably the fact that Mildred had become the protSgSe of Douglass Everett influenced them. Connie did not wait long for an opportunity to interview Douglass respecting Mildred's visit to Grassmere and the limitations under which she was placed respecting the matter of holiday attire. "She can wear what she pleases; we do not criti- cize the clothes our guests may wear. You little girls are sillier than I thought to make such a fuss about what you wear." *'It was Mildred spoke about it herself," Connie said, with considerable trepidation. After school she and Beth went home with Mildred. "We have plenty of time, and we can just as well be talking over our visit as not." Connie placidly remarked. " And besides, we can see those children; maybe I will adopt them, too, as well as Beth." "Let us buy them something," Beth suggested. "We can get it on credit and pay to-morrow; papa always givea me money to pay my debts.^^ He^ys it is not nice for Uttle girls to owe money." h 26 MILDRED KSNT'B HERO. a. « I would rather you would not go in debt now," Mildred urged. «0h, he will say I am an excellent girl when I explain to him. Hike him the best of any one in the world." Beth was in a most uplifted frame of mind. The performing of an unselfish act was such a new experience she scarcely knew what was the mat- ter with her. They went to the store, where they were well known, and Connie, not to be outdone by Beth, resolved to be generous too. "What would they like?" Beth asked Mildred, who was surveying the array of toys with a beating heart. "Oh, anything here would be nice." A shop giri came forward. "How much money will you spend?" "Twenty-five cents; we will both spend that much." Connie sighed plaintively; that much money would buy a good many caramels. Beth was the spokeswoman. " We want to lay out fifty cents for two poor children ; won't you please to help us choose something?" "Do you want toys or something useful?" the girl asked. "We might get something that would work both ways," Beth suggested, as a sensible way out of the difficulty of making choice. A OABDEN TEA-PARTT. 27 They decided at last on a tin trumpet for Paul and Noah's ark and doll for Grace. It was aston- ishing what a short way the fifty cents reached in making purchases. An hour later, after a very agreeable call at No. 6 Mulberry Street, Beth and Connie on the journey home decided they had never got so much satisfaction out of twenty-five cents in their Uves. The delight of the two chil- dren at their presents, and the diligent use Paul made of his, though rather distressing when he chanced to be too near, was very enUvening, es- pecially when they saw the commotion it created among householders in the neighborhood. They found the sumrnef house a charming playhouse, the honeysuckle and climbing roses making it cool and fragrant. The only drawback to their pleasure was the presence of an occasional beetle or spider; but Mildred had a thrifty habit of turning every- thing to good account, so they soon learned, as Paul and Grace had done, to look upon them as tramps to be got rid of as quietiy as possible. Mil- dred slipped into the house just before they left, and soon returned with a plate full of thin slices of home-made bread and butter. The pleasant sur- prise, combined with their hunger, made it jeem to the children a very delicious luncheon. Mliia m ' 28 MILDRED KSNT'B HERO. "I wish we could come here everyday," Connie remarked with a gigh as the last sUoe of hread disap- peared. "If it wasn't for papa, I wish we were your moth- er's children," Beth said wistfully. « She's so kind to you and smiles, and she really seemed pleased to see us." The latter was a marvellous circumstance to the child, whose experience of mothers was that they looked on children as perpetually in the way. After they were gone, Mildred began to tell all the happy things that had befallen her that day. Unfortunately, however, as she told of the sudden friendliness of her visitors, the fact of their friend- ship being in the first place a purchased affair was revealed. She concluded the day's experiences at hist by saying: " May I go to Grassmere on Saturday with them?" " Will you be wilUng to wear your patched shoes and plain frock and hat?" i'But Douglass said they did not criticize the clothes their visitoi's had on." "Probably his mother never entertained such a poorly dressed visitor as you will be. But she is a genuine lady, and will make everyone about her feel comfortable, no matter what they may wear." A OARDEM TEA-PABTT. S9 *♦ Were you ever & lady, mamma '" "Never any more than I am at present. I have heen much richer, hut that does not alter one's char- acter. But why do you ask such a question ? " "Some of the girls were talking about you, how we got our money, and what you did for a living. I told them that our grandmother sent us some money from England, and that you earned the rest. They said some folks were so poor they did not even have a grandmother. "Probably they sprang originally from such un- fortunates themselves. But it is not wise for httle girls to get ideas about wealth or ancestry mto their heads Some of our noblest men and women sprang from humble parentage; and some of the poorest specimens came from old families, proud of their an- cestry. A poet has said : — « Here and there a cotter's babe u bom by right dWne ; H.« a^d t^ my lord i. l«w.r than his oxen or h» swuie. Young persons should, endeavor to buUd for them- selves, rather than depend on ancestors long gone to dust, for their greatness." "I think that is as much sb I can remember to- night, mamma," MUdred said, with a fatigued expres- sion that provoked a smile from the mother, who was not given to preaching. 80 MtLDKF.D KFST'8 IIKRO. "And may I think about going to Grasamere on Saturday? This is only Tuesday, and I shall have such a lot of pleasure thinking about it." "On condition you wear those boots. I may get a more suitable dress. Muslins are very cheap now." ♦' I wish you could make boots, too." "Just be patient, darling. If I can only prove myself an artist in making prettily draped and fit. ting gowns, it will be better than shoe- making." "I thought it was only folks who painted pictures were artists. I want to be one when I am a woman grown." J. rx "Everyone who excels in her especial handicraft has a right to the title, I believe; besides, painting pictures is not the most useful caUing in the world." "But if I painted a grand picture which would make people glad ages after I was. dead, that would be better than making frocks that would get worn out and be forgotten." « Yes, better for you, my chUd, if it brought you bread as well as fame. But you are too young yet to discuss these things. You have been too much alone with books and your own thoughts. A child's soul may too soon get awakened." "Well, I mean to try and paint my picture when I am a woman." % A OAHDEir TEA-PARTT. 81 « You need not wait bo long to do some notable work. Even children paint pictures that laat for eternity." "How, mamma?" ehe asked, amazed. " By being pure and unselfish and diligent." "But where will the pictures be? Have I made any yet?" «0n memory's wall, to be reproduced one day in wonderful vividness. I have found my daugh- ter a help as well as comfort ; that is a picture better than a good many that hang in the Pans Salon. What could I have done with the ohd- dren this past year but for you?" "But I couldn't do anything else but care for them. They had to be amused, or Paul would have gone with the boys on the steeet." "And you could have gone too." «Not when you told me not to," she said, as if disobedience to a mother's command was an act never perpetrated in this lapsed world. It had been such an eventful day Mildred found sleep an exceedingly coy visitor, and she lay awake a long, long time for her, thinking what a very different world, on the whole, it was from what she had hitherto imagined, and what different kinds of boys and girls there were ; mean- oharao- and did Itiplied. CHAPTER IV. GIFTB. AKEFUL evenings make sleepy mornings UBuaUy for children, and Mildred was ^ very sleepy indeed when she heard her mother's tap on the door. She sprang out of bed in a da^ed sort of way, and hurried, I am sorry to say, with her prayers as weU as dressing. She took the pitcher and started, as was her custom, for the day's supply of mUk, which tJiey got at the comer grocery; but when she opened the front door on her way out a ciy of surprise brou^t them all out to see what >.»- the matter. The pitcher was lying on it» side and MUdred was stend- L beside it in the Uttle portico that was seldom looked at night. In her handt^ were two Tlrown MILDRED KENT'S HERO. paper parcels, and through a rent in one she was peering excitedly at the toe of a pretty kid boot. ♦'Just look here, mamma. Who can these boots be for?" "Perhaps Santa Clans brought tl.em for me; I have been a very good boy lately," Paul said, step- ping around, quite as excited as Mildred. Mre. Kent took the parcels, first unrolling the boots. " They are for Mildred. Here is her name writ- ten on the sole, and an excellent pair of kid boots they are." "Maybe the other parcel is for me," Paul said, with decreasing hopefulness. Mildred was now trying on the boots,— such a pair it had never been h<!r lot to stip around the green earth in before. "O, myl what is it'" Paul exclaimed as, the paper removed, the folds cf an exquinitely fine piece of merino that exactly matehed MUdt-ed's eyes was revealed. "And this is /. dress for Mildred, the card here says. These little girls have been most generous in their purchases out we must pay them seme day," tlie mother ec d decidedly. Mildred stroked it lovingly and then umed resolutely away; the milk must be got and t\ o breakfast eaten just rmm she was id boot, se boots r me; I aid, 8tep- i. Mre. boots, ime writ- kid boots •aul said, — such a ound the 1 as, the fine piece eyes was Idred, the been most pay them Mildred :ely away ; eaten just OIFTB. "• the same as on other days; but she started out en her errand one of the happiest chUdren in the huge city. It was just like a fairy story ; only she hoped Beth and Comne had not gone mto debt for '**Breakfast over, she started for school, she was in such haste to thank her schoolmates for their gift. She was early and had some time to wait; but at ^t she saw them and hastened to tell thc^ vhat she had found at the door, and thanked them for '**«But we did not put it there," Connie said emphatically. "We new could give diat much. It was hard work to get the twenty-five cento; ^d I am never to go in debt for things to give poo. children again." Mildred's face grew «^ Z could see that Beth and Conme had suffered , considerable reaction of friendUness because^of their spasmodic burst of generosity; but now M^ dred's beautiful and mysterious present was the Z^ of dispelling tiie cloud. It w^ chanmng To have a school-mate such a favorite with unseen Lers ; for since Beth and Connie had not brought Z boots and dress, Mildred at once decided on . giving the sailor husband the credit oi the gift. 86 MILDRED KfUfT'B HERO. «He wiU bring gifts next time to his children, most likely," Connie sugge8t«d. "I hope he will find out soon about me and Beth being adopted too." «You are so rich he may not think it neces- sary." ♦'But we enjoy presente and surprises just as much as poor chUdi-en," Beth affirmed, nowise willing to be overlooked by folk real or imagin- ary. Mildred conned her lessons that day like one in a dream. The events of the past few days were 8o very unusual, that she was getting bewildered; but it was a pleasant sort of bewildement. Doug- lass paid no attention to her during the day; but Beth and Connie again accompanied her home, by turns carrying their lunch-basket, which seemed a Uttle heavy. The children were awaiting them at the gate, and Paul set up a prolonged tooting on his tanunpet by way of showing his delight at see- ing his benefactors. "Cook gave us a double quantity of luncheon tcKlay on purpose to come here this evening," Connie said, after they had reached the ^summer- house. "Myl isn't that fine I Did you bring some aiFTB. vt ildrent le will dopted neces- just as nowise imagin- ike one ys were ildeied; Doug- ay; but lome, by emed a them at >ting on \, at see- meat? I like meat," Paul remarked, rather hun- g[iily* "I have some in mine," Beth said; '^boUed tongue and chicken both." Paul's eyes glistened. Meat WHS too great a rarity with him. Mildred flitte*^. around like some motherly Krd, too happy for many words. "Mamma lets me have weak tea. She says it won't hurt my complexion," Connie hinted. Mildred went with the request to her mother and, as usual, found her willing to do her share in making the children happy. Paul found his appetite so whetted by the cold tongue and relishing ham, that he scarcely knew when he had enough; while aU the children en- joyed the picnic tea very much. «I wish we could have supper like this every day," he said, regretfuUy picking up the hist crumb of cake that Uy on his plate. "Well, we can have it pretty often," Beth said. uT only wish papa could come some evening with us. He says he don't like big parties, where everyone wears their best clothes -rd company marmexs. Whec he was a boy he lived in the country and iised i-) go to froUcs, where ihey M MILDRED KENT'S BERO. worked aU day to pay for the fun at night. He gays that wafl real fun-not the niake4)eUeve kind." ^ ,^ "And do you have the parties that he dont like at your house?" MUdred asked. «0h yes; but I have to go to bed before the crowd comes. But I always get up and watch them over the banisters." i» Do you have tea and cake and rasM, for them?" Paul asked. "Oh yes, you never saw such lovely things, and such quantities." "You have some left for the next day?" Paul again asked. "For a good many days. We get tired of it." "I wish we could have parties. I would never get tired. When I am a man I will like them, I know." "But it is only rich people who go to parties and have them." "Maybe ITl be rich. It is a long time till then." "You dear, foolish boy you may never Uve to be a man." "Yes I wm. It is only very, very good boys that die." It. He i4)elieve e don't tore the I watch them?" ngs, and ?" Paul I of it." Id never ) them, I QIFTB. ^ H You are only a very good boy, I expect," Beth Paul l«)ked a trifle self^onsciouB. "Any way, I do lote of things for my mother, and I never Bwear or tell lies." ui 'most iWnk you are one of the dymg kmd. I do not see how you could be much better," Con- nie said, very seriously. . Paul looked a little frightened, and concluded to lower the standard of his goodness. They feU to telling stories, when Paul, purely from anxiety as to his own safety, acted the part of naughty boy. Connie said at h«t, quite severe- ly. ul think you will Uve tobe a very old man. You are not one of the story4)ook kind of good boys." His face brightened, and after that his be- havior was extremely circumspect. The sun had set, and Mrs. Kent came to send the visitors home and take her own biood in from the falling dew. Beth and Connie put on their hat« and took up the Ughtened lunch4»sket. "We have had SI ai a good time. I think it must be like the f^Uos fother tells abouC Beth said wistfully as she swd good night. ^ ul am so ghid MUdred came to our school. i ! f ■"! 40 MILDRED KENT'S BKRO. She gets us better times than any of the girls have, and then we have Grassmere for Saturday," Con- nie remarked witli much satisfaction. " This is nicer than Grassmere," Beth said. "You foolish girl, how can you say that? And you have never been at Grassmere to see how very lovely it is," Connie remonstrated. «WeU, this is perfect only for the beetles and spiders and things." Beth had a very wholesome respect for insects. "My dear, you may come here as often as you wish, providing your parents are willing," Mrs. Kent said kindly. "Our mothers don't love us as you do your children." Mrs. Kent looked shocked. "You should not speak in that way about your dear mottiers." "When it is true, what else can we say?" Beth asked, with a wise -shake of her Uttle head. " You do not know how much your mother loves you. If you should get sick you would find how much she thinks of you." "Oh, I was sick. The docter thought I would die, and she let nurse take care of me. She said it made her nervous up in the close, dark room." ai 1( si ] i ! 'WWff^-R^fWU. '"■ OtFTB. 41 is have, r," Con- dd. ,t? And ow very lUes and lolesome L as you [rs. Kent do your ould not 8." ^?" Beth d. ther loves find how , I would She said rk room." Mrs. Kent looked sadly at the chUd and did not attempt a reply. She knew there were such heart, less mothers among fashionable people, who had not Bfaength to keep up in the social race and fulfil home oblicrationS. „ - Maybe if you were to die she might love you, Paul exclaimed eagerly, as if it might be a good plan to try the experiment "Baby AUce did die, and she didn't cry much. But papa and I cried. We were so sorry to see her put away in the dirty ground." ui must not let you talk about your mother any longer. No doubt she loves her children as absorb- ingly as I do, but she has not the same way of showing it." There were t«ars in poor litfleBeth's eyes. "You won't keep cross with me, for I want you to love me," she said pitifully. Mrs. Kent stooped and kissed her tenderly. "I do love you, my pet, and you can think of me as another mother." Beth nestled very affectionately in her new moth- er's arms, while Connie looked on curiously. What- ever Beth wanted another mother for was mow than she could well conceive; her experience of that ■iva CHAPTER V. A MOBNINQ CALL. Vr/HE mist hung heavy above the city on \\ Satuiday morning; not a bit of Unem ®i^ ihe Bky, and the Bun quit* invunble. Beth and Comiie had been aronnd to tea Ae ev^ ing before, and Paul had so recklessly indulged Tchicken^Mdad and ham^mdwiches, that through the night he made the discovery that he was the poesessor of a very rebt^lUous st«maoh. ^^e's mother had given a h»rge party the evening before; hence the lunchhasket fairly credced under it» weight of dainties, since the cook had thrown in quit« recklessly rich cake, jel. Ues and meata variously prepaid *« Please *he palate «id upset the digestion. The children tt called for the remains on their way home from school, when Mildred, with anutted eyes, took in for the first time the splendors of Connie's home. "Why, if I lived in such a house as this I would never want to go to Mulbeny Street to play" "Why, if you have no one to play with it is just as lonesome here as in the poorest house. Carpets and things are not any company, once you get used to them." "But the lovely pictures 1" MUdied said, with shining eyes. She had caught a glimpse of walls lined with heavy gUt frames and dim pictures enclosed with- in. Such a tantalizing glimpse it was ; if she could only have gone softly up to them, and, all alone, feasted her soul on their loveliness 1 "Oh, those stupid pictures with coves and rocks and the sea and hare-necked women I I had rath- er look at the pictures in an almanac ; for there is reading under them to tell what they are ahout, and then they are funny," Connie said contemptu- ously. "But I will tsll you what we will do. Some day when mamma is sure to be away, you can come in and look at them just as long as you like." A MOMKIfO CALL. 4A •me from , took in I's home. BB this I Street to tnth it is est house. -, once you said, with lined with losed with- u> ; if she im, and, all iss! 8 and rooks I had rath- ; for there y are about, contemptu- ive will do. I away, you long as you uThat would seem like steaUng. If you tod your mother that I wouldn't touch anything only with my eyes, maybe she would say I might come and look at them." . uShe don't like chUdien arotmd, especially strange ones. I guess if you want to s^ Uiem, you must come on the sly. She is just like Beths mother, and don't care much for children." ul expect it is because she is rich. Poor moth- ers sometimes die for their chUdren." w Never 1" Beth exclaimed. «I have read about them doing it." u I am sure nobody ever died for another. Why, it could not be expected," Beth said decisively. u You forget One who did." There was an ex- prtssion of awe or Mildred's face as she spoke. «I cannot forget what I never knew." .^The Lord Jesus Christ died for us." Beth was sUent for awhile. -'But there were .0 many that he died for. MilUons and nuUions uYes But I have read that He died for each one of us separately; just as if there wasn't an- other, soul in the whole world to be. saved but one's self." , „ **! would not read such things, x I were ^bu, ri 4 Connie .aid a trifle nervouriy. "Fairy »torie« are ever so much nicer." ..But the other is better for U8 in the end. I am very anxious to get to heaven when I die." -Oh, »o we all are; but there's plenty of time to think about tho«e thinga. I hope you are not going to be tiresome and talk about death and all those dreadful things." Mildred was silent, and soon after they were greeted by Paul's tin trumpet, which was rapidly becoming as great a nuisance in the neighborhood as the "Irishman's rooster" that Mrs. Carlyle so adroitly exorcised. »l wish we had bought him a Jew's harp," Con- nie muttered, holding both hands to her eaiB. The table once spread and the lunch-basket emp- tied, Paul ceased blowing and sat with very watery mouth, watehing the good things. The girls, whom the cook had treated to aU the good iMngs they could eat, decided it was much t»o early for tea, and sat telling stories. Paul was too much of a man to say anything, but Grace whimpered softiy oc- casionaUy to have her supper. At last, in a pause in the story-telling, Paul suggested eagerly: «Let us make beUeve I am the sailor father came home nearly starved." A MOBHinO CALL. 47 jonw ore ) end. I I tUe." }f of time II are not Leath and they were as rapidly ighborhood Carlyle so larp," Con- her ears, asket emp- ery watery jirls, whom things they for tea, and , of a man I softly oc- in a pause I eagerly: father come ..I am nearly starving, too,'* Onwie whispered, but BO loudly they all overheard. uit is no use for us to try to do anything. These ohUdren just want to be stuffing themselves all the time," Connie said angrily. Paul winked very hard and then took up his trumpet. Beth, who was more tender-hear«»d, gave them a pUte full of good things, and sent both chUdren outside to eat them at their leisure. MUdred looked much happier, and preceded to toU one of her most fascinating stories, making it up as she went along. Beth and Comiie, whose ima. ginations were exceedingly sterile, wondered at the extent of her reading, but did not know they were frequenUy woven into the stories themselves. The moment came at hut when they graciously announced their readiness to have tea served. Paul wished for some time that he could sit and eat fruitKsake and chicken^MUad forever; but at h»t he got sated even with these, and before very long wondered h<>w he could have eaten them at aU. After tea the one tUeme that absorbed them was the morrow's visit u Maybe it won't be fine," Paul suggested. Things in general were beginning to wear rvery dismal aspect to him. MILDRED KENT'S HERO. \ .« vr mh uOf course it will be fine," Connie said oracu- larly. "Just see what a lovely sunset it is." "I have often seen the sky look that way and a big storm come the next day," Paul affirmed, with the weather-wisdom of seven summers. «I believe you want it to storm," Connie retorted. u If it dcKss you can come here again to-morrow. You needn't bring your victuals, either." Paul rather disliked the thought of these now. MWe won't come, no matter how hard it rains; and you are a very disagreeable boy." Paul took his trumpet, in silence and went lo the roof of the shed. Up there he could toot to his heart's content, indifferent to the vindictive glances cast at him from neighboring windows. Mildred went out and surveyed the sky anxiously. There were certainly a gocd many- clouds, but there were generally more or less o1 them in the finest weather. Beth and Connie went home at last, promising to be on hand before two o'clock next day. Mildred watched the sky; but the stars seemed to be holding their ground very bravely in spite of the clouds; bo she went to bed quite light-hearted. Very early she awoke and, springing out of bed, was greeted by clouds and mists. She CI m o^ ti y V i r N', ; A MORNING CALL. 49 lid oracu- is." ray and a med, witih B retorted, to-morrow, er." Paid r. i it rains ; id went n lid toot to vindictive f windows. ' anxiously, slouds, but hem in the it home at two o'clock »ut the stars ery bravely bed quite id, springing mists. She crept son-owfully back and waited to hear her mother astir, some unwelcome moisture filling her own eyes. "I might have seen such lovely pic- tures," she soliloquized. "I wonder if it would be wicked to ask God for a fine day?" She lay meditating for some time on the sub- i«c.t, trying to recall an instance from the Bible when i-ain was withheld in answer to prayer; but Elijah's long drorth wai. the only one that she re- membei^d. It would be terrible if ber prayers should receive such an answer; so that sue felt poweileBS to do anything in tiie matter, and soon a sharp patter against her window dashed every hope. Tired and sorrowful, she got up and dressed hei-self when sbe heard ber mother asti.- The mother, who was stiU young enough to remember the acute sorrows of childhood, W in vain to comfort her. , «It may be quite fine by two o'clock. Such very heavy rain seldom laste many hours." Mildi^d went to see if there was Ae smallest bit of blue in the .ky, but retomed to her mother utterly disconsoUte. «Maybe Douglass wdl never ask us again, and then Beth and Connie wont care for me, and I did so want to see the pictures BO MILDRED KENT'S HEKO, and have a sail on the lake." The teats ^ere dropping silently on the tablecloth and her por- ridge stood untasted. Paul came clattering down staiis, giving an occasional puff at his trumpet. At sight of MUdred's dolorous face his own grew more sober. He looked indifferently at the break- fost, and altogether it did not promise a veiy happy day for any of them, with Mildred, who generaUy helped to make a good deal of sunshine Z the home, so heavy-hearted, and Paul's digestave apparatus in a state of rebeHion. But the mother proceeded to brighten up the rooms and make things as cheerful as possible. Mildred, overcome at hist with loss of sleep and sorrow, hiy down on the sofa and went fast asleep, ^hile Paul curled UP in the comer and was soon peacelully "kmt. L, up the raveled edge" of kst iilght's broken sleep A knock at the front door at last disturbed the sUent house. Mrs. Kent went, expecting to meet one of her patrons; when instead she saw a handsome kd, in dripping macintosh, on the door- '*^^Does Mildred Kent Uve Here?" he inquired. uWiU you please tell her that a carriage from Grassmere will call for her at two o'clock?" se y< tl w si o ti f aro ^ere her por- Jig down trumpet. >wn grew he break- a veiy dred, who sunshine digestive le mother Eind make , overcome y down on 'aul curled ally "knit- it's broken it disturbed cpecting to she saw a n Ihe door- e inquired. ^Triage from lock?" A MOHNINQ CALL. "Won't you come in and teU her yourself? To see her delight may be some slight recompense for your kindness." Mrs. Kent's eyes were shining with something that looked strangely like tears. Doughws, for it was he, glanced at his dripping garments and then at the clean floo». "A Uttie water will quickly remove all traces of muddy boots. I should like Mildred to hear the welcome news from you. She has foUen asleep from sheer sorrow." Douglass, without further hesitation, followed Mrs. Kent into the sitt^ag^room, and with a qmck survey took in its home-like air and n«at appear- ftnce. Old pictures, that he decided were heirlooms, hung on the walls; a mahogany book-case in one comer was crowded full of books, while a small English harmonium swod opposite the fire- phwe; and on a krge chinte-covered sofa lay MUdred and Paul, fast asleep. Grace, through her tangle of ctitIs, was peeping at him from be- hind a huge arm-chair. Through an open door beyond he could see the bright yellow floor and polished tins and brasses of the cosy kitchen. MUdred still slept, h«r teaivwashed face looking pitifully sad. 5S MILDBED KEKT'B HERO. .Speak to her; she sleepe Ughtly," M« Kent whUpered, keeping weU out of sight herself. Douglaas hesitated, and then going lightly to her side laid his hand on the Utde. brown head. She opened her eyes with a puzzled air, looking startled for an instant; but recognizing who it was, she sprang t» her feet eagerly. .Are we going to Giassmere?" she asked, foiv getful of everything but her one supreme desue. uYes, we will send the carriage for you attwo o'clock," , . . V. uOh, Paul, just listen!" she cried, giving him a shake. "We are going to Grassmere, and in a carriage." Then she turned around humbly. "I forgot to tl-mk you; but it is so long since I have had a drive in a carriage I can't remei^ her what it is like, and it seems too good to be true. I au so glad I did not pray about the rain this morning," she added more sedately. uWere you so anxious to go that you prayed about it?" Douglass asked with some amusement, as he sat down carefully on the comer of a chair. MUdred nodded her head rather shamefacedly. He would surely think her very childish indeed. .'Well, i shall not be at home next Saturday, \"i In Kent elf. ightl> to iwn head. r, looking g who it asked, for* le desire, ^ou at two |riving him , uid in a imbly. "I ing since I a't remem- good to be about the lately, you prayed amusement, r of a chur. ifacedly. He udeed. xt Saturday, A MOBSINO CALL. and I thought it would be tiresome for you to wait so long. We can have games, instead of the sail on the lake." ^^ "Have you pictures with thick frames on them? "Why, of course; but what has the firames to do with them?" "I suppose people do not take the trouble to frame poor pictures. If you are willing, I will look at them." "But you would soon get Ijred." ul do not think so. I never saw as many pic tures as I wanted to." «It seems to me you have had a good many Umitations in your life. Never to school until this week, no carriage drives, and not even as many pictures as you wanted to look at" ul expect I have," she said humbly, as if m some way she were to blame for it "Never mind. You shaU have the drive, and I think we can satisfy you with pictures for once." Paul had been sitting up in his comer of the sofa, an absorbed listener. Such a great lad as Dougtoss was quite a giant in Paul's eyes, accus- tomed only to Uttte girls. He wanted so ^u^ to ask if he had dogs and rabbits ftud a jack- 54 MILDRED KENT'S HEKO. knife, but modeeiy kept him silent. Douglass en- joyed sitting there. ^ was a new and on the whole rather pleasing experience. The clean, home- like room, the brighlrfaced chUdren, the subtle, indescribable spirit of comfort that broods over some, homes, which even such humble creatures as dogs And cats seem to recognize, was very mani- fest in Mrs. Kent's cottage. His own splendid home did not just then strike him as being a much more desirable habitation than this. To lounge on that roomy, chintz-covered sofa, with one of those old, leather-tound books to supple- ment whatever companionship the children might lack, listening to MUdred's quaint sayings, would be a quite jolly way of spending a rainy aftei^ noon. Paul was watching him so wistfully, Doug^ lass felt in his pockets for sometihing. to give Mm; but there was nothing but some useless bits of twine and his knife. Paul's eyes were devouring him now. He thought perhaps he was going to let him look at his knife. Doughws took it out, undecided whether it would be just tiie thing to offer him; they certainly did not seem like poor . people, and a gift offered so openly might not be acceptable. Dropping parcels in the front porch was quite a different thing. »-."mj l^lass en* on the in, home- ) subtle, ods over atuies as Bry mani- splendid being a ■ins. To ofa, with » supple- ren might gs, would suny after* Uy, Doug^ give him; 88 bits of devouring going to ok it out, ) thing to , like poor ;ht not be rent porch A MORNISO CALL. "" uHave you a knife? he ventured to inquire. «No; but I have a tin trumpet. I would like a kmfe better." "Did you never have one?" »»Ye3, once; but it hadn't any bhides, and a boy stole it from me." .That was a misfortune; but you would have massed it more if there had been bh»des." ul have been praying for a knife this long time ; but I don't say that prayer when I do my other ones; and I just whisper it. Maybe it isn't h^ way up in Heaven. Do you think ihey can hear so far away, anyway^" It was the first time Paul had voiced his unbelief in prayer, or con- fessed how very material his most earnest prayers were. ^ , Paul was standing quit* close to Douglass now, looking at him with such eager inquiry that the lat^r felt ashamed of his ignorance ^espectmg the spirit world; but a bright thought strupk hun . « I think your prayers havo been heard, and I sent to answer them. I am not very good, but maybe I xnav serve for that." He was talking now more to Wmself than to the round-faced, eagei^W boy at his side. "Would you think this kmfe 1 I 5«? MILDRED KENT'S HERO. a good enough answer to your prayers? It has four bladef, and a ork^rew." He held it out to Paul, who, losL in admiration at its beauty, did not realize that it had juat been presented to him. "Could I hold that knife in my hand while you stay here? " he asked at last. "Why, won't you take it and keep it? I can get another on my way home." Douglass really wanted the loy to have it, "For my own, for ever and ever?" Paul exclaimed, in his excitement falling naturally into a devotional form of expression. "Well, as long as you and the knife hwt. I hardly think it will be forever, unless you ara very different from aven^ boys." "I wish I could do something for you. Would you like to have my trumpet?" »tNo, thank you." "You might at least thank him," Mildk«d sug- gested, ^th some reproach in her voice. "Thank ycu is not enough." He appealed to Donglasti for confirmation of this assertion. "It usually serves to e? press one't. gratitude." "Why, I say that for a piece of bread. Would you like little Gracie to kiss you? Her kisses are real good." mm tmmm * I can » really V* Paul ly into a » last. I ara very . Would died 8Ug- ppealed to m. ■fidtude." L Would kisses are A MORNina CALL. S7 «If it will be agreeable to her to give me one, and it may relieve jrour feelings a Uttle." Paul went for Gracie to help bim clear off his deep indebtedness. But she was not used to be- stowing her favors promiscuously, and would not come. He urged her, even offering to take her into partnership with his knife ; but she was obdu- rate. „ _ » Never mind; for really I must go now, Dou^ lass said, and arose to leave. The children stood watohing him until he was out of sight, two of the happiest children among a whole city full; and all this happiness so easily bestow*^ by a generous- minded lad who had discovered very early what most folks never perfectty loam, "that it is more blessed to give than to receive." ^ ttoMl mmmmm ^OSSIBLY a second . kingdom added to the dominions of some great potentate would not bring to his heart such intense, unal- loyed delight as this ivoiy-handled jack-knife did to the child-heart of Paul. A pair of new shoes to a child to whom new shoes are an unusual ex- perience, brings more pleasure than a' shop fuU of them to the same individual at fifty. What would thrill and enrapture the soul at fifty would be an incomprehensible joy at six. Will the human heati t-Kus continue to outgrow itself through the eternities? Or do we at fifty reach the highest altitudes of spiritual and intellectual development? Perplexing enough questions, but unanswemble . ■V*r5'^(«P*!HE?T^»'r ^- mm smmmmmm mmmmm B^BI 1 to the » would use, unal- mife did ew shoes usual ex- ip full of lat would lid be an e human rough the e highest slopment? jiswerable JACK CAMVEM. s» until the mysteries of our exiatenoe, unsolvable save by death, are made pUin. But yrhen we can add, at so little outky, to the sum total of earthly happiness, not too large at the best, by making chUdren's hearts glad, is it not a wonder we are not busier in search of c ances to increase the store of happiness? The rain kept dropping steadily until noon, while MUdred watched the leaden skies with a new anxiety. If it cleared off brightly they might not send the carriage, and it would be such a pity to lose the ride. At noon the sun shone brightly, with only here and there a graceful cloud aeoking the blue dome. Mildred, with much persuasion, managed to swallow a bite of dinner, wondering meanwhUe how Paul, whose appetite had returned with its accustomed vigor, could eat so much, or that Grace could relish her third slice of bread and butter. She waited witii feverish anxiety whUe her mother did up the work before helping her dress for Grassmere; but when the finishing touches of tiie mother's deft fingers were completed and MUdred stood ready for the carriage, a more winsome or dainty maiden could scarcely be Jound in castle or cot. The blue merino matched so 60 MILDRED KENT'S HERO, perfectly the eyes that now were changing, under strong excitement, to violet, and the color came and went in the sweet flower-face bewitchingly, although there was no one there who had leisure to watch and admire it. She stood by the window, alternately surveying the street and watching the clock. The minutes went so slowly that if all life passed with equal tardiness to mankind, a centenarian might date hia birth from the creation. Presently there came tripping through the garden gate Betli and Connie, resplendent in all the freshness of their best clothes. Paul ran to meet them, his jack-knife suspended in mid air, the tin trumpet ignomin- iously dropped in the coal-box. "Douglass lias been here, and just see what he gave me," he cried, holding out the knife for them to admire. "Who cai-es for a jack-knife? Is Mildred ready to go?" Paul fell back quite crushed, and did not trouble himself to reply. He saw a boy coming down the street — much such a looking one as walked off with his last knife-handle. He stood back at a safe distance from the gate, and holding up his treasure cried out: "Just look nt that for a beauty!" g, under lor came itohingly, d leisure lurveying minutes ith equal I date his )re came d Connief leir best jack-knife ignomin- ^hat he knife for red ready ot trouble down the d off with at a safe is treasure ity!" JACK CAHVBM. •* The lad glanced around carelessly. "I can't see anything but your ftet." « Can't you see the knife? Four blades and a oork^acrew?" "Not a hair of it. Fetch it here, and I'll take a look at it." Paul, struggling with the desire to show his knife, yet fearful of losing it, stood uncertainly. »»Come along; I am in a great hurry." Paul moved a little nearer and, holding it up, said: "You can see it now." "BUvmed if I can. You don't expect I'll eat It." "No, but you might steal it, as one of you did my other one." The hid made a spring, and before Paul real- ized what had happened, boy and knife were dis- appearing through the gate. He screamed at the top of his voice: ''He has stolen my knife." And forgetful of his moth- er's command to the conti-ary, plunged after them into the street. "Stop your noise, I haven't got your knife," the boy hissed. ■» "Please somebody make him give me my knife," 69 MILDRED KENT' 8 HERO. Paul waUed, in his agony not noticing tb«^ car- riage with a handsome pair of horses just at hand, and Douglass sittmg beside the driver and holding the reins. He recognized bare-headed, screaming lit- tle Paul, and, jumping down, had the larger boy, to whom Paul was clinging, by the arm in a second or two. "What have you Iwn doing to this child?" 'None of your business what I'v£ ^ione." He ,umed to Paul: "ilas he got the knife I gave you this mom- rng? • ^ , "Yes, he snatched it from me, and wont give it up." "Come here, Peter," Douglass called, while he stiU held the wriggling boy finnly by the shoul- der. "Tie the horses to something and come." The coachman was soon on the spot, and search- ing the young thiefs pockets; but there was no trace of the knife. "We will take him around to the nearest po- lice station, 'cr he has certainly got it," Douglass said, with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "It is not so much for the knife, but it will bfe a lesson to him; a few months in the Reformatory will 4»ach him better manners." tb«^ csu> at hand, [ holding ,ming lit- rger hoy, a second did?' ae. He his morn- ron't give while he the shoul- id come." id searoh- e was no learest po- Douglass 58. "It is )6 a lesson atory will JACK Cdxven. •• "That little cove couldn't send me to the He- formatory." "No, but I can." The boy began to fear he had got into a bad scrape. Stooping down, he sUpped off a very old shoe, reveaUng a soiled foot with a shred of stockmg hanging to it. He gave the shoe a shake and out fell Paul's knife. Mrs. Rent was standing in the group now, drawn thither by Paul's screams. The poor, frayed stocking and forlorn appearance generblly of the boy moved her pity. Before he had time to run off, her hand was lightly resting on his ragged coat. "What h your. nAme, my boy?" she asked, so kindly that he looked up amazed and answered quite readily, "Jack Carver." "Do you live near here?" " Yes, away up this street, off in an alley-way." " With your parents ? " « Mother's dead. Father's go*, another wife, and she tries to lick me." " I make no doubt he deserves twice as muoK as he gets," the coachman interjected. "We all deserve a great deal more punishment th-»n we get. This poor fellow has not been blessed with our opportunities." 64 MILDRED KEUf'B HERO. "I say, I am real Bony I grabbed your boy's knife." Jack's bright eyes were looldng ap into Mre. Kent's face with the pitiful expression we some- times catch in the eyes of our dumb relations. "Maybe it will all turn out for the best. Who knows how much good we may do each other if we get acquainted and become friends?" "I'm not fit to be friends with the likes of you. I >vish I was. I'd be true as steel." It was Mrs. Kent's turn to be ataazed, — a street Arab affirming his capabUity of fulfiUing one oi the highest possibilities . of humanity. The girls were waiting at the gate with much impatience, but Mrs. Kent, who was something of a philan- tiiropist, was looking for an opportunity to do good. « I will be your fxiend," she said. "We can be mutual Mfinds. Will you coiiie tt> see me next Sabbath afternoon? I will read you some stories my own children like to hear." "Yes, Bible stories that teU about stealing," Paul said scornfully. "Yes, I will come, and thank you, ma'am," Jack said, coloring a littie at Paul's remark. Then he ran do /n the street, and at the first comer disap- peared from sight. mmm our boy*8 J ap into I we some- itions. est. Who h other if ces of you. — a street ng one oi The girls, impatience, a philan- to do good. We can be te me next ome stories iling," Paul a'am," Jack L. Then he !omer disap- JACK CARVER. 66 The girls were clambering into the carriage, MUdred kissing her hand to her mother as the horses started memly off, while Paul stood watching with a new and most consuming desii-e starting into life in his heart to have horses todiive himself. The knife and trumpet were both neglected tliat afternoon, so long as Gracie consented to be driien, with many turnings and whoas, until she was utterly weary and i-efused to i-espond to the lines any longer. Then Paul engaged in animated conversation with his mother about the horses his grandmother owned, and the fam servants privileged to drive them. If he were only in beautiful old Enghmd, he might be as happy as Douglass. He resolved some day to cross that great mysterious ocean his mother described, but which he could never fully under- stand, and walk int» the dim, old kitchen, where his grandmother superintended her maids making the butter and cheese. . Altogether this was one of the notable days in in Paul's life, its incidents on his men^ory, perhaps, one day to be repeated to other bright^yed Uttle boys— his own grandchUdren in the remote, strange future. -^ CHAPTER VIL GBASSMEitK. C«\jr ^^- KENT fottftd the day an exciting one, ^" as weU as the chUdren. How was Mil- —13 dred's visit going to succeed? Would her expectetions be fuifiUed, or would she come home grieved and disappointed, as from her first day at school? It seemed, even to the mothers sober ^ancy, more like a chapter out of fiction than a reaUty, that her child should be a guest at Grassmere. In Madame Laramie's dressmaking esteblishment, where Mrs. Kent had learnt her trade, Mrs. Everett of Grassmere had been an au- thority in matters of taste; for her best bonnete and gowns came direct from Paiis, and even Madame herself was put in a flutter by an occa- ORABBMERE. 67 Kciting one, w was Mil- d? Would I ghe come )in her fiist he mother's fiction than a gaest at diefl Bmalrin g learnt hex been an au- best bonnets , and even by an occa- sional call from her. Others besides Beth and Connie regarded an invitation to Gi-assmere as an honor to be accepted with deep thankfulness. The afternoon continued fine, the sun shining brilliantiy untU his setting. Even Tlilbeny Sta«et was in holiday attu-e after the i-efreshmg rain,— •the blades of grass in the littie garden-plot looked greener and more cheerful with the smoke and dust waiviied do>vn into their roots. How, then, must Grassmere, with its stately ti«es, brilliant gardens, marble statues and fountains, look to Mil- dred, so unaccustomed to anything but brick and wood! The pictures hanging in their stUl loveU- nees on the walls would surely seem tame in com- parison with the fresher loveliness of the newly- washed outside pictures fashioned by God's own hand, their beauty retouched according to the cul- tivated rules of human taste. Paul experienced a fresh sorrow just before nightfall, from his jack-knife,— a blade unfortu- nately penetrated the flesh, instead of the stick he was fashioning into a button for the phiy-house door. He went sorrowfully to bed, the knife laid securely beyond his reach, and his hand bo«nd up in sticking-plaster. Grace, as usual, sympathized fg MILDRED KEST'B BERO. with Wm, creeping Bcrftiy into his bed to mingle her t«ar8 with his, where their mother found them fast asleep some hours later. The twUight had nearly left the sky to the charge of the stars that were dit,pping into their places along the welkin, when the sound of voices at her gate called M«. Kent to the door. Ther^ waa- Mildi^d, rushing eagerly up the gax^en^aUc. Mrs. Kent went into the room and lighted the lamp. The home would look poor and dark enough at the best after the splendors of Grass- mere. ' . . ^ _ uOh, mamma, do you think heaven is just every bit as lovely as Grassmere?" Mildred cried eager- ^ Her motlier turned to look at her glowing face, and hands flUed with rare hot-house flowers." "Did you have as much pleasure as you ex- pected?" ,, * , »A great deal more. Oh, if you could only go too ' But do you think papa's house up in heaven __his mansion, I mean-is quite equal to Mrs. Everett's?" uYes dear, far more beautiful; with no shadow of death to darken it." mmmmm ) mingle ind them he charge sir places ses at her here was- i-den-walk. ^hted the and dark of Grass- just every ried eBigoT- »wing face, «rer8." \a you ex- * lid only go p in heaven lal to Mrs. no shadow GRABBMERE. •• "I do not see how any one could want to die at Grassmere. Death himself must feel sorry, I am sure, to enter there." "Not if he should come to take them to a grander home, my child. But tell me about your visit." mYou will let me tell everything? It won't be mean, as if they were people just like our- selves." "You may tell me all you wish," the mother said with a smile. "Then I will begin just after we, got into the carriage,". Mildred said, complacentiy, taking off her hat and spreading out her dress to keep it from wrinkling. "It seemed so funny to be moving along faster than folks on the street who were walking, and yet to be sitting still; and the houses seemed to be moving too, and . the fences, when the horses went fast. I wonder if I ever had a ride before — I can't remember." She paused for her mother to assure her once again that long, long ago, she used to go to church in her grandmother's caiv riage, past the pink and white hawthome hedges, and through the pleasant country lanes in old England. 70 ♦Vjo MILDRED KEST'B HERO. SV sj i sUent for a while, as she ha«^ «.„.., . tme btlore, vai Jy trying to recaU that e .. n !« experience; but memory, it would seem, K a m.^- no picture of it ou her walk. With a little sigh 0. regret she continued: "Beth and Con- nie were so happy, they couldn't keep still ; but it wasn't the ride that made them so, for they said they had all the rides they wanted. I must have been too contented to move; for I just wanted to Bit still and watch the people in the streets; only I felt sorry for them, that they were not in car- riages too, and going to have a pleasant time like xw. Maybe that is the way people feel just after they die and are on their way to heaven. I wa« sorry Avhen we left the road and turned mto a great gate-wav, with tall pillars _ Oomiie said ^ey wei-e-and an arch, and just iriside the pret- tiest Uttle house, which she said was the gate- keeper's lodge. There were flowera growing every- where, and trees, and spouts with water commg out, that Beth said were fountains; and there were statues made of white marble standing on gmnite bases- I think they would look cold in winter. Her mother snuled. Mildred was always think- xmttaiiiutmimmmagfl 'VjO sail that d seem, With a md Con- all; but they said ust have ranted to jts; only- it in car- time like just after a. I waa id into a mie said the pret- the gate- ing every- sr coming and there mding on )k cold in ays think- ORABSMEHE. 71 ing of o+her people's comfort, and her sympathy, it seemed, included even marble statues. "The carriage stopped, and then Douglass led us into the house. It is just like a castle, pret- tier than a good many of the castles we have in pictures. I was ashamed to go in when I looked around and saw everything so grand, and I didn't keep up with the others as they went up the steps. It was so different from our house, it made m^'^ilt' feel just like Cinderelk." A flush stole over the little face that, in its delicacy of coloring, it minded one of a rose-petal. She hesitated a momem but seeing her mother so interested, went bravely on: "Douglass turned around at the door and saw me. He came down the steps again — there were a lot of them, — and took me by the hand. • Why don't you come up?' he asked. I didn't know just what to say, and felt quite badly, but at last I said very low: 'If you please, I would sooner stay out here. It is too grand for me in there.' I could hardly keep the tears back; but I tried very hard, and they stayed away. Then he said: 'The pictures are inside, and I have told my mother you are coming.' He s^ke so kindly I was not afraid any moi-e, and went right 79 MlLDRhD KKNT'S HERO. up the Steps. Then a big man with a red faco opened the door. I thought he must be Doughias's nther, he looked so dignified; but the girls told me afterward he was the butler, and that Douglass's father has been dead ever since he was a baby." She hesitated a moment, and then look- ing up with a perplexed expression, said: "I don't think I can tell you how it looked inside. I did not know the names of things, and there was so much to see; besides, I got a little frightened again, and wished so much I was at home with you and the children. Douglass kept hold of my hand, but he had no trouble with Beth and Con- nie, for they weren't a bit afraid. He led us away up stairs to such a pretty room. We saw doore opening into great rooms, with pictures and such elegant furniture ; but this room was smaller, and everything was made of pretty blue satin. There were lota of flowers with birds flitting in and out of their cages among them; but the nicest of all waa Douglass's own mother. She looked so like an angel, only a Uttle older than they usually are. She had on a white dress with blue ribbons and flowera. Douglaas said: 'Mam- ma, this is the littlo gul I told you about, and ORABBMHRK- 78 red faofl touglam's ^Is told and that e he was hen look- "I don't e. I did re was so frightened lome with )ld of my and Con- [e led us We saw ctures and as smaller, blue satin, flitting in ; but the ther. She older than dress with lid: ^Mam- about, and these are her playmate.' And only just think! She took hold of my hand and looked at me for a whUe, and then she put her am around me and kissed me. She seemed so sweet, before I thought what I was doing I put up my mouth and kissed her right on the cheek. After that I was not frightened again. She shook hands witli Beth and Comiie, but did not kiss them; and aU the Ume ^ kept her arm around me. Then a giri came ^, with a musUn cap on, and a white apron, and led us away to a room where we t«ok of our hat». She brushed our hair and tied on our ribbons again, and kept talking all the time about how much she liked little girls, and wished they had a few there. Then she took us back to the blue room, and Douglass got some games for Beth and Connie, and took me away to look at the pictures. Such a grand room, as large as a meeting-house, with more statues in marble standing around ; but they did not look so cold in the house. I asked who they represented, and if he could tell about them. Douglass said perhaps he would some time ; but it would take too long then. The car- pet was so soft it rested the feet walking^ on it; and there were so many looking«la«ses, that I 74 illLDRKD KKNT'B HKRO. kept tuining ai-ound to see the other little girl with the blue merino fi-ock, forgetting it was my-^ Mlf. And thei-e were tables and little shelyeH covered with Huch lovely things, and great, high windowH with cui-taiiw tliat looked as fine as a spider'^ web; but the pictures were best of aU. Douglass took a book while I looked at them, but it t«ok me so long he asked if I would be afraid to stay alone; and then he showed me a tassel I was to pull if I was tired, and some one would come for me. I think I must have seen the place one of the pictures was taken from some time, for it came so close to my heart. It was a great, high rock, and away behind it was the shore, with gi-een fields and trees, and cows standing in a brook; and the sky looked as it did to^y when the sun was setting. Whon Mrs. Eserett asked me the picture I liked best, and I told her that one, Hhe said: 'You are an excellent judge, for that is the best one in our collection.' That picture, kept me so long, I had hardly any time for the othei-8. I was much surpi-ised when Mrs. Everett and the girls came and told me I had been thei-e nearly two hours. Maybe they thought I would be in mischief, so they came to find what I QMABHMaRK. u tUe girl was my- shelveH eat, high Ine as a t of all. \i them, MTould be red me a Home one lave seen rem some It was a the shore, ending in [id to-day 8. Eserett I told her lent judge, on.' That any time when Mrs. me I had Y thought I find what I was doing. After that we went to the mu«o- room, and Mm. Everett pUiyed for m ; the murio was lietter than any I ever heard before. Aftei^ ward Douglass came and said we could have our sail on the lake. The maid brought out rugs for us to sit on, to keep our frocks dry ; but I liad seen su much I was getting stupid. I know we went along a iMith with great trees tlmt seemed to be shaking hands over our heads, and they were so dose we could only see a litUe bit of blue be- tween the leaves ; then we came out on the lake. The trees were all around it, and they seemed to be stooping over to see themselves in the water. Some of them were so handsome it seemed quite natural they should like to see their shadow. You could scarcely tell where the trees ended and the water began. Dougkss put up the sail, but it wouldn't go ; and so he took the oars and rowed right out into deep water. I was frightened at first; for I thought if the bottom should happen to fall out of the boat, I would soon be going away up into the deep, blue sky, and someway it seemed quite dreadful just then to die; but if heaven is really better than Grassmere, I suppose it wou. I be a good thing; but we are not posi- lively certain, are we?" 76 MILDRED KEST'B HERO. "Yes dear, positively certain. Queen Victoria, if she trusts in Christ and serves Him, will have a richer crown and a more beautiful home when she (lies than shr had on earth." Mildred seemed hardly convinced, but she went on wit.1 her description. "We had our sail. I didn't tell them I was frightened, but I was very glad when we got on the ground again. Then Douglass showed us the hones, and his own pony and dogs and rabbits, and the doves and bantams, and all sorts of hens and things. Some o.f them came ^vnd ate out of our hands; and we picked a great many flowers. Douglass told us the ones the gardener was will- ing for us to have ; and then we sat down on the steps of one of those marble people, — Douglass told us who it was — I forget now, but he was a great man who wrote books. We arranged our flowers there. I picked every one of these," she said, as if still surprised at the wonderful fewjt, — she who for five or six years had never gathered any choicer blossoms than a weak-looking buttercup or dan- delio;i hi tho.V own tiny grass-plot. " Then a bell :ang, and Dod^^lass said it v/as time to go in to dinner. Only think! they have their dinner at Victoria, will have )me when she went lem I was ve got on red ns the id rahbits, ts of hens ate out of ay flowers. p was will- iwn on the )Ugla88 told uras a great our flowers he said, as — she who any choicer up or dan- Then a bell to go in to r dinner at ORABaUERE. '' six o'clock. But my! it was such a dinner. I wished so much that you could have one just like it. The man that let us in stood behind our chairs and gave us everything we wanted. I 1 ^t hop- ing he wasn't hungry, and could have some of the good things. The table looked so beautiful, and the room was 'most like a church with a round window right in the roof, and it was so high I couldn't help looking up to see the bright clouds over our heads. There were other windows round at the top, like St. Malachi's and some of the panes were red and purple and green. Mrs. Evei-ett kissed me again when she said good-bye, but she didn't ask us ever to go back, and we really could not expect it. Wasn't it just like what we -ead about? I believe I shall remember how kind they were and how lovely their home is, a long time after I get to heaven. If we all get there, wouldn't it be nice to invite them to our mansion sometime, and thank them for all their kindness? I shaU never have a house good enough in this world." She looked at her mother eagerly for a reply. « I do not know if they do such things in hoaven. 'l never thought of it befoi-e; but be sure the very best way tx> thank them will be to be found there. n MILDRED KEKT'8 HERO. •the cup of cold-water given to one of Christ 8 little ones gets ite reward. But now you must go to bed. The little tongue must be tiied, if the feet and brain are not." «I wont want to go to sleep. It will be so pleasant to lie awake and think it aU over. May- be I shall never have just such a happy day again." She said her prayers and kissed her mother good night; but the shining eyes and flushed, ex- cited face did not promise a healthy awakeping. Christ's must go d, if the ■ill be so er. May- ay again." IT mother ushed, ex- ikeping. CHAPTER VIII. MK. rELTON. ILDRED'S attention wandered sadly from the preacher's sermon the following mom- _ ing. She and Paul went regularly to St. Malachi's church on Sunday morning, because it was the nearest and the seats were free, and there was always an abundance of empty ones. The mother attended her own church, a much larger one, in the evening; but it was too far away for Paul to ac- complish the walk cianfortably. The adherents of St Malachi's were a mere handful, and the gentle- hearted rector often got discouraged over his slim following and the poor resulte that his ten years ia the parish showed. Mildred used to wait reg- ularly at the Uttle side^oor to have hiffi shake 79 w 80 MILDRED KEST'B HERO. hands with her and Paul as he passed out of the vestry, and sometimes — but it was a very rare occurrence -he walked down the street with them, and encouraged her tO talk about his sermon. This morning she shook hands rather hurriedly, and was hastening away, anxious to escape conversa- tion with him. But unfortunately he had a fancy that morning to hear her talk. He took his hat and ■ cane, leaving the sexton to lock the vestry door, and overtook the children before they got out of the graveyard, which held a good many of the earliest settlers of the city,— so long buried now that the graves were faUing in, and the headstones were nearly all out of the perpendicixlar, the names and virtues of the dwellers below pretty well worn away by the elements. «You do not seem p^xious to xaflc with me this u^orning, my little Mend," Mr. Felton said, as he overtook them. "No, for I cannot repeat much that you said to us this morning," Mildred honestly confessed. " And why is that?" «I was thinking so much about Grassmere and what I saw there yesterday. I expect it is very wicked to let myself think of those things in church, iii UOT llll , 11 . ll | il . lll l l »» I WiP. I| l) I P I 1i MB. FELTON. 81 lut of the very rare irith them, 1 sermon, hurriedly, > conversa- d a fancy is hat and r door, and >ut of the he earliest V that the »ne8 were names and worn away ith me this said, as he a said to us L ssmere and ; it is very B in church, especially when you are so kind as to tell us how to he good." "I expect it is ; but very few are as honest as you in confessing their wandering thoughts." "Perhaps grown-up people never forget that the minister is preaching. I did for ever so long this morning." Mr. Feltpn smiled, but Mildred noticed that his eyes looked sad. They walked on for some distance in silence. • "I do not think I will ever do so again," she continued, sorrowfully; "but I had never seen any place so beautiful as Grassmere, and mamma says if we get to heaven, we shall have a lovelier heme than that. I began to wonder why everyone wasn't good so as to make sure of getting there, just when you began to preach, atvd then I went on thinking my own thoughts for a long time ; but I listened to you at the last, when. you told us we should try to make each other happy. I am going to begm doing that right Way." Mildred had never talked quite so freely or lengthily to the good rector before. "Bless you, my child! you listened, after all, to excellent purpose; better, I am afraid, than ajjy on else there." MILDRED KEfTT'B .^ERO. i^have a jack-knife and havt, cut myself," Paul remarked somewhat uncertainly. He was afmid jack-knives were not suitable subjects for Sabbith conversation, especially with ministers; but Mr. Felton was very absent-minded, and Paul's remark fell unheeded. ii You have been coming to St. Malachi's for a long time," Mr. Felton said, rather abruptly. «Ye8, ever since papa died. He and 1 used to go together in the morning to Grace Church. It is too far for Paul to|^alk." s'Ts your mpther wing?" »'0h yes, we could not have spared her too. It was very, very hard having papa go." Mildred's voice grew tremulous. "It has never occurred to me to ask where you live. I took it for granted that ycW parenta were connected wiUi owe church." «I suppose it does not make much difference what church we attend, if we only listen well to the preacher and do as he tells us," MUdred said apologetically. "Well, no. I cannot agree with that proposition. It is of paramount importance that we have correct religious knowledge. But I will call and discuss tixese topics more fully with your mother shortiy. MR. FELTOH. 88 elf," Paul ras afraid L- Sabbtth but Mr. I's remark for a long I used to LTch. It is ler too. It Mildred'8 where you larents were L difference ten well to lildred said proposition, have correct and discuss ther shortly. I am getting up a class for confirmation, and may get you to join it You are rather young, but your religious nature seems unusually well devel- oped." Mildred did not wholly understand the minister's conversation; but the confirmation-class struck her as something very desirable, and she kept repeating the word over to herself to keep from fo^tting it. If her mother could not explain its meaning, the dictionary could. She had often sought its help in her rather extensive range of reading. They reached Mr. Felton's comer at lae^,: uhiiii time he stopped, and changing his cane to Ills left hand, shook hands with both Mildred and Pf«.ul. He had never done this before at parting, -in all their acquaintance; and as she continued on her way to Mulberry Street, she speculated as to how much longer unaccustomed and really wonderful thiDgs were going to happen to her. Scarcely a week since she started for school, and now what wider ranges were broadening out to her intellectual vision ! Life had suddenly assumed a wholly changed aspect, her ideal world was fading into thin air, while the real one was growing more bsautiful than her limited knowledge of things had enabled her to picture. Mildred repeated the text and what she could remember of the sermon, as they sat after dinner with their Bibles ready to begin the hour's lesson which the mother invariably held on Sunday after- noons. She had not much to tell, but supplemented this shortage by repeating Mr. Felton's conversation. She had not got through when a timid knock at the back door surprised them. Mis. Kent went to see who was there, followed by the children. Paul looked slightly aUtrmed when he saw Jack Carver's shining face, fresh from a plentiful appUc^ tion of soap and water^but the mother received him so graciously, Paul was ready to welcome him too. .,, ..We were just beginning our lesson, so we wiU go right on with it," M«. Kent said, as she placed a comforteble armchair for Jack to sit on. He did not look particularly comfortable for some time, however; the remembrance of yesterday's episode, taken with the neat, refined surroundings, had a subduing effect. Mrs. Kent gave him a Bible, and with a dolight he had never experienced before that he could read, he readily found the chapter that contained the day's lesson. They were going regu- larly through the Old Testament, and had got as far [le oould tr dinner r*8 lesson lay af tei> )lemented versation. knock at [ent went children, saw Jack ul applica- r received Lcome liim so we will she placed i on. He gome time, f6 episode, ngs, had a Bible, and before that ;hapter that going regu- id got as far as Samuel's call by God to take the place of Eli's unworthy sons. Jack had begun co dip into literar ture, but it was of the most sensational character, while he regarded the Bible with much the same lofty contempt that is meted to it by some of our latterclay scientiysts. He certainly would not have taken the trouble to polish up for this hour's study of it8 pages, but that Mrs. Kent had in some subtle jhshion won his heart completely. She tried to make the lesson interesting to him, and from the look on his face concluded her efforts had not been in vain. She had not confined herself solely to Samuel's mysterious call at midnight, and liis brave response to God, but went back and forth over the long lives of worthies ~ Adam and Enoch, Moees and Elias and many another elect one, — who through their righteousness have be.-n immortalized. « He don't tsdk to folks now-andaya," Jack hazarded at last. His scriptui* knowledge was extremely limited, but he felt safe in saying that much. «I think He does far more than He did in olden times. Now the humblest^ most desolate soul can come to Him with their sins and griefs, and be com- forted and forgiven. Long ago they only- came through the high priest; and he only once a year - -> - ^^^^^^^^iBn l.H»««»'- Se MILDHED KENT'S HEM. entered into the holy place and beheld the Bhining of God's glory. ToKJay we can each of us abide there, and hold continual communion with Him." u I didn't know folks cculd do tbiit. I thought they got religion just to keep them from going to hell, and that it was mostly something like life insurance -you are always paying, and you have to die to get your money back." Mrs. Kent smiled in spite of herself, while the children looked exti^mely horrified to hear any one talk so about religion. uWhen you have studied the Bible longer and learned more aboat the happy lives and triumphant deaths of God's faithful ones, your views will be entirely changed. Do you read much in your leisure time?" Jack colored and felt exceedingly like shielding himself with a lie; but with M.3. Kent's honest eyes upon him, he felt it to be next to impossible. ..I read a lot, but it isn't about the kind you are telling me of. I expect they're the Devil's children, with^ flesh and bones like the others, but nothmg else " «Does it do you any good to read about them?" «No, indeed, but it's exciting, and makes me forget my own aggravations for a while." ^ mmmm shining US abide lim." thought going to like life you have while the ir any one onger and riumphant ra will be our leisure Lingly like l.s. Kent's )e next to ind you are I's children, jut nothing lOut them?" es me forget MR. rsLTOir. *'But it don't help you to bear the unpleasant things aft/erward, nor make you happier, does it?" "I get mad quioker'n ever; and if it wa'n't for the bobby I'd try to do some of the smart tricks the books tell about. I did try yesterday," he added, shame&cedly. "If I lend you good stories, will you read them?" "There's some youngsters home. — If they'd get hold of your books 'twould be the last of them." Mrs. Kent was silent for a moment, for she was very careful of her books, — most of them gifts from dear ones divided now by the wide sea, or the river of death. She looked at Jack. He was gazing a trifle listlessly out of the window. He had the forsaken look of one for whom nobody cares. Was it accident or "the divinity that shapes our ends" that had drifted him to her side? If he could be rescued to stand at last among the shining ones, what matter if some of her books got destroyed? Jack's face suddenly brightened. "Would you mind if I dropped in here at odd times when I had no chores to do, and read your books on the doorstep or anywheres out of your way? If you have a wood- shed it would do me in warm weather as well «s the Queen's drawring-room." "'-'''^^'wffiwiiiitfta'aiiittMaw^^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 '- M l|2:i 1^ ilM 2.2 :i m |M I.I 1.6 1.25 1.4 - 6" Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. HS80 (716) 872-4503 m o ■ji ^° ^ I CIHM/iCMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/iCMH Coilection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques =J5.?"-^ii'"-;,i,.:t,^7..5c.",--;.^i^ i 88 MILDRED KENT'S UERO. Mildred mildly suggested that he should say draw- ing-voom\ but he was too much interested in what Mre. Kent was saying to heed her correction. " You shall sit beside me and read aloud, and we can talk over what you read; so we shall both be benefited," she said cheerily. Jack's face expressed keen delight ; and a very good face it was when good thoughts were at work behind it. "Do you ever go to church?" Paul asked. "Never," Jack responded heartily. "They don't care for coves like me there, who haven't the ready to put in the box." "Come with me to-night," Mrs. Kent said, "and you will find they make you welcome without a cent." " The boys '11 tliink I'm getting good for sure, if I do that." " Do you care very much what they think ? " " Well, no ; but they chaff a fellow if they find he's turning over a new leaf. I've done it my- self." "Do you have less respect for those boys who are trying to do better?" " No, indeed, but there's precious few, turns." "Will you come then to church with me to- night?" should say drato- crested in what rrection. id aloud, and we ire shall both be J face expressed t was when good 111 asked. y. "They don't en't the ready to Kent said, "and come without a y good for sure, they think ? " low if they find ve done it my- those boys who IS few, turns." ■oh with me to- MR. FELTON. Jack stood cap in hand; he looked keenly at Mrs. Kent and then at his own shabby clothes. "You'd be ashamed of me — these are my best dmls." "Can you not believe I am in earnest? I want to help you to be a noble man. Just as I would wish someone to help my own boy if God were to take me from him." Jack's eyes glistened. "I'll go anywhere you want me. I'll be here in time to-night." His voice was more softly modulated than usual when he spoke. Then he turned to the door, saying good-bye in the same subdued fashion. Jack himself was amazed at seeing a few tear- drops trickling off his face as he walked slowly around the house and down the garden-walk; but he got his feelings safely under control be- fore he ventured on the street; for he had a great many acquaintances whose remarks might quickly restore his usual frame of mind. 4 ""mm CHAPTER IX. AT CHURCH. FTER Jack left, MQdred took the children to the summer-house, to continue the Sunday- school in more orthodox fashion ; and pres- ently Paul's treble was heard trilling out a favorite carol as they solemnly opened the school, while the mother was left to enjoy the happiest hour in all the week in the solemn hush of the Sabbath after- noon. Comforting influences were alwajrs about her at this hour, loved ones safely escaped to a serener realm were tenderly remembered, and, better than these, the Master himself drew near and held com- munion with His loving disciple. After the school had been satisfactorily concluded, Mildred, as usual, told them a Bible-«tory. To-day it was that beau- 90 ■■MiiSH AT CHURCH. 91 k the children to nue the Sunday- ishion ; and pres- g out a favorite school, while the lest hour in all le Sabbath after- ilwajrs about her iped to a serener md, better than r and held corn- After the school lildred, as usual, ; was that beau- tiful idyl that has charmed young hearts, Jew and Gentile, for thirty centuries, — Ruth gleaning among the reapers in loving obedience to Naomi, and her romantic union with the rich Boaz, that ended at last in the immortal renown of being the ances- tress of our Lord. Paul ventured the wish that he might be the ancestor of some one remembered in after ages. "Why not be great yourself?" Mildred suggested. " I think it's as easy to be great and good now as it ever was." "It must be pretty hard work to get so high," Paul said warily. The day was hot and their lesson had been long; hence he was not in an ambitious mood. Grace, grown tired of so much food for the intellect, concluded it was time to look after her tea, and had her mother soon recalled to the neces- sary activities even of the Sabbath-day. The hungry little mouths were again satisfied, their prayers said, the evening hymn sung while the mother ac- companied the clear young voices on the harmonium ; and then they were safely tucked in bed, where their tongues could wag as busily as ever, until kindly, refreshing sleep hushed them into silence. Jack presented himself promptly on time, his mmmmmmmmmmm. mmmmmmmam 98 MILDRED KEyT<8 HERO. clothes looking more shabby than ever beside Mrs. Kent's handsome mourning costume — a welcome gift from across the sea. He seemed so uncomfort- able about his appearance that, to reassure him, Mrs. Kent sat with her bonnet on and read to him the second chapter of James' Epistle. "But folks now-a-da3rs don't mind all that the Bible tells them, not even the preachers," Jack said, still unconvinced of the propriety of his appearing in God's house in shabby garments. " If you should some day be a preacher, you will find how easy it is for us to stand outside and self-complacently criticize them instead of taking the Bible as our mutual standard." "I could never be a preacher. They are all gentlemen." " I hope they are ; but hundreds of them were no better off in their boyhood than you." "I'd sooner be an alderman, if I riz at all." "I expect to see your ambition change. I have great hopes to see you a noble man some day." Jack flushed with pleasure, but liis face soon fell. "I've never heard of a single Carver being any- thing but common folks." "There must always be a beginning to every- thing," Mr,s. Kent said, as she locked the door. .-,*,.;'v;^,/li.,;f:i iO. 3ver beside Mrs. ne — a welcome ed so uncomfort- X) reassure him, and read to him ;le. ad all that the hers," Jack said, of his appearing I. reacher, you will tnd outside and stead of taking > . They are all 8 of them were 1 you." [ riz at all." change. I have n some day." lis face soon fell, arver being any- inning to every- ced the door. mtam AT CnVRCH. 93 Jack was inclined to fall a little behind her along the street, for two very good reasons. He felt certain she must be ashamed to be seen with him, and then he was a trifle ashamed to be seen with her by any of his friends who might be out for a saunter. Mrs. Kent humored him, but when they got to the church door she waited for him. Jack knew the church well. He had many a time hovered around outside to listen to the singing, which was hearty and voluminous, and calculated to attract even the lapsed street Arabs. Fortunately, there was a crowd entering, a good many of them very stylish in appearance ; but Jack's practised eye saw that Mrs. Kent appeared as much a lady as the best of them; and with a little swelling of pride he took off his cap and boldly followed her to her pew. A i«w eyes were turned with surprise towards the strangely mated pair; but Mrs. Kent was a heroine in small matters as well aa great, while Jack was so inspired by the organ strains that for a while he forgot Bagge Alley, his ill-tem- pered step-mother, and the other ills of his poor life. In a comfortable way he grouped himself with the rich bankers, merchants, and professional men in adjacent pews, although he had not a cent to 94 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. put on the plate. But lie had what aome of the silver-haired men about him would have given thousands to possess : — youth, perfect health, and a keen appreciation of whatever good things came in his way, that made life almost a rapture in favor- able moments. With these, and a wise friend like Mrs. Kent, and a foothold under the flag of free- dom, the possibilities for him, lying between the present time and three-score years, might be sur- prising. The sermon, the first he ever listened to, was a source of wonder to him. To see one naan do all the talking, and that in such a fearless way, struck him as peculiar. He easily recognized preachers on the street by their garb partly, and also by that inde- scribable air which the dullest may observe and the cleverest fail to satisfactorily explain; but hitherto he had a very indistinct idea as to the work they performed. A thrill went through him as he thought of Mrs. Kent's remark. If only he could stand one day before a mass of human be- ings and talk so fearlessly to them, how proud he would be ! He grew so absorbed in these pleasing reflections that he paid no attention to the minis- ter's words, only conscious of a musical, well modu- mi-.,. ji:^^^V^S'"^*'**!''W^-Ti'*' ■ ■ T tat aome of the lid have given ict health, and a things came in apture in favor- wise friend like be flag of free- ig betwoen the might be sur- tened to, was a one man do all rless way, struck ted preachers on Iso by that inde- lay observe and y explain ; but idea as to the nt through him ,rk. If only he } of human be- , how proud he 11 these pleasing n to the minis- ical, well modu- li r CHURCH. lated voice filling the silent spaces of the great church. Besides, there was so much to look at that had a comforting effect on the senses. Beau- tiful women with uplifted, reverent faces, some of whom might have passed, with slightly altered at- tires, for Raphael's or Michael Angelo's angels, were grouped with gracious effect in the subdued light. Aged women, too, with faces not less an- gelic to the boy's pleased fancy, were listening in- tently to the minister's words. To him it seemed exceedingly fitting that they should pay such earnest heed, since they were so soon to be sum- moned to that country for which people ostensibly came to church to make ready. The sermon Avas short. The minister, an original thinker, believed in condensing his thoughts, and not so fully to explain his meanings as to leave his hearei's no mental effort to maintain. At the close he ex- pected the people to do some of the work too. Without dismissing them, and with* scarce a dozen tired or restless ones leaving, the men and women took up the service themselves, speaking and sing- ing, with an occasional silent hush that to Jack seemed more solemn than either. Mrs. Kent was one of the last to speak. She arose timidly. 1 . •^imm "W 9G MILDRED KENT'S HERO. Jack could see that she wtis quivering, and won- dered, when it was uucli a painful Uwk, that she did 80 at all. Her voice Avtw low, but so well modulated and clear that jjei-sons on the other side of the church seemed to be listening. As for Jack, he experienced an entirely new and strange sensa- tion, that caused him to wink very energetically, and tried to swallow away a very uncomforbible lump in his throat; but his utmost efforts at self- control could not restrain the teai-s, and his pocket being innocent of a handkerchief, he Avas com- l)elled to let the di-ops fall unattended to, save by an occasional dexterous use of his fingei-s. On their way home, unconscious that he was making use of flatteiy, he said very seriously:^ "I liked the preacher first-rate; but you can beat him all holler. My step-mother, no matter how hai-d she might tiy, couldn't make me ciy as you did." Mi-s. Kent made no i-eply. Such remarks were as painful to her aa they might have been to the preacher, had he heard them. Jack, however, pi-o- ceeded with his criticism. "I think you might earn a lot of money if you were a preacher. Seems to me its not hai-dly fair to. ering, ami won- l iiwk, that 8lie )\v, but 80 well 111 the other side T. As for Jack, il Htrange senmi- iry enei-getically, y uncomfortable t efforts at self- ), and his pocket ', he Avas coni- .ttended to, save his itngei-s. On he was making sly : — 5; but you can ither, no matter make me ciy as 3h remarks were lave been to the 5k, however, pi-o- of money if you \ not hai-dly fair AT CnVRCH. 97 for women not io have a cliance too, Hj)ecially when they can do Iwtter'n the men." " The Salvation Army and Quakeiw would suit you. They make no distinction between the sexes ; but it Avould take me a long time to believe Avith them. I find it painful speaking a few woi-ds. To lead a meeting would be tenible." "When it is such hard work, Avhat makes you do it?" "To answer your question perfectly, I must go back a great many centuries. Christ left the pres- ence and fellowship of the Father and Spirit, the adomtion of the glorious angels and His very glo- rious throne in Heaven to die for you and me. If I refuse to own Him as my friend and Saviour, to recommend Him to othei-s, is it not selfish, — horridly, wickedly selfish on my part?" " I should say it was ; but I never knew much about Avhat you say. I didn't know anything about Jesus Christ, only to swear by." " Oh, Jack, can it l)e possible that any one in a Christian land, as old as you are, should be so ig- norant?" "Who was to tell me? Any way, there's lots around that knows no more'n me." Jz |g MILDRED KKNT'B HERO. As pliiiiily lis iM>88iblo Mi-s. Kent lolicai-sed the old, (»1(1 story of tlie iniingor iiiid cioss, the resunectioii and asceiiHinn into glory, iw they stood under tlie ailent stHn* ut her gate. " There's lots of fellows who'd like to hear you tell them things. You'd do more good 'n a preacher, — leastways, some pi-eachei-s. T never rightly know'd, what was the good of 'em l)efore to-night." Mi-s. Kent stood busily thinking over a plan Jack's words suggested. "If we had a room I would meet all you could bring eveiy Sunday aftenioon. That is the only time I can really call my own." "In the summer-time that little house there in your gai-don would be prime. I could stop any leaks that would let in wet on rainy Sundays." "But the wanu weather won't last many weeks longer. The first week in September is ali-eady gone." Jack was puzzled for a moment, but a happy thought came. "We might hold our meetings while the weather was fit. The boys could learn a lot by that time. Why, my head feels fuller 'n it ever did, and I've only had one Sunday. Seems to me in a few weeks I could preach myself, if I 1 ^^^"^•.i^di^i, !,.;^.jiiiai-'. 'ii. • veliciii'Med the lid cruHH, tliu floiy, iw they ^te. to hear you tell 11 a preacher, — • •iglitly know'd, •night." ' over a plan i all you could at is the only house there in ould stop any y Sundays." it many weeks iber is already , but a happy our meetings tys could learn feels fuller 'n (unday. Seems ,ch myself, if I AT CnVRCH. M kept right on." He spoke with a confidence that was convincing to himself, although Mi-s. Kent smiled under cover of the night. She appointed another consultation with Jack, and then said good- night. Jack watched until he saw her light shin- ing brightly, and then with a quite strange and new feeling of unrest and growth, lie turned his face homewaitl, never befoi-e feeling quite such a dislike for the untidy house and brawling step- mother, and wondeiing why lie could not have been sent to Mi's. Kent for mother love and care. Surely a fellow with such slim chances could not be expected to do as well as one like Paul Kent or that Everett lad, he mused a little suUeniy. He slipped into the Carver tenement very quietly, and so much earlier than usual that his step-moth- er inquirad if lie had been cliased by the police. He assured her veiy civilly that he had not been in any such danger, and then hastened to the bunk filled with straw that formed his couch. ')!! 11 p^ ^^im:- - ^ .i--i^ n W W i .t i Hniy i. t« »Wl W ' *"'r '''* -' ** i CHAPTER X. THE MISSION-SCHOOL. ITH her intense, studious nature, Mildred graducally became so absorbed in her studies and the new world of unexplored mystery opening before her, that the old, childish fancies grew dim. She soon became a favorite with the teachers. Trained to obedience from babyhood, she gave no trouble by the insubordination that chai-acterized most of the pupils, while the eager- ness with which she plunged into her studies needed rather to be restrained than incited, as was us- ually the case. The work most congenial of all was the di-awing-lesson, given three times a week by a very competent lady te^elier. After she had got well fitted out with materials *o work with, and 100 :- V .>-;i. ■ lature, Mildred lorbed in her I of unexplored e old, childish a favorite with from babyhood, irdination that lile the eager- o her studies ited, as was us- nial of all was s a week by a r she had got ork with, and THE MlSaiON'SCHOOL. 101 obtained some knowledge of lines and shading, she soon became famous in the class for her freehand sketches of faces and figures. Before her first year at the school was completed, she had so far ad- vanced in the art as to earn a few cents now and then from her schoolmates, who were very eager to sit for their portraits, after first arranging very particularly as to the size of the picture, the price, and the pose of the figure. Beth and Connie consti- tuted themselves her agents, usually, in fixing the price. She had first painted Connie, making a highly idealized portrait, and giving her an expres- sion far more ftpirituelle than the poor child could ever expect to attain, unless it might be after the resurrection. When Beth's was completed, her father was so pleased with it that he had it framed and hung in his own room, but only sent the poor little artist a crumpled dollar-bill in payment. But as this was about ten times her usual price, fifty millions added to Vanderbilt's huge pile would scarcely give him the keen, tingling ecstacy Mil- dred felt as she folded it ui her hand, and then, for greater security, tied it in a corner of her pocket-handkerchief. All through the tiresome school-hours she kept forgetting her lessons, as she 102 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. planned how it was to be spent. But as she walked home from school, she finally decided to give it to her mother without reservation. It would be the first-fruita of her labors, like the fiiwt-f ruits of the soil among her ancient Israelitish he- roes, which were given direct to God. She grieved to think the possibility for such offerings had passed away with that long-vanished dispensation. As she talked the matter over with her mother, however, she discovered that our privileges in that respect were never gi-eater in any age of the world than the present. " Shall I give it to the mission-school then ? It would buy a great many tracts." " We have more tracts now than we can get readers for. They are so cheap every one seems anxious to provide them." "What shall I buy with it then?" Mildred jwked, in a worried sort of way. Already she was beginning to realize the perplexities wealth brings. "You need not be in a hurry to spend it. The right way will present itself if we wait patiently." "But I want it to l)e doing good now. Some one that it might help to be good may die if we wait long." JLI. f^!'tm^m»mas)>^> ESS But as she [ly decided to Bservation. It bore, like the t Israelitish he- She grieved to ^ had passed ation. As she ther, however, a that respect lie world than ool then ? It I we can get ery one seems 3n?" Mildred Iready she was wealth brings, spend it. The rait patiently." d now. Some may die if we m»^ THE MISSION-SCHOOL. 108 "I wish all Christian capitalists were as eager as you to have their dollars consecrated. I would not be obliged so frequently to look at the pinched faces and half-clad bodies of my mission-class; neither would our poor earth carry such a load of sin and misery on its pathway amid the suns and galaxies, — perhaps the only sin-curaed orb among them all." The mother looked out wearily toward the dimming sky, where Jupiter and his brothere and sistere were taking their places in the far depths of space. Her efforts to help Jack Carver had i-esulted in a wider scheme than she had an- ticipated. The summer-house had firat been used as a place of meeting. Only one lad ventured with Jack at first. He was surprised at his lack of success in getting them to come ; but when there were two to go together among their comrades and tell how interesting the school was, and what a kind teacher they had, a few smaller lads came drop-* ping in to see for themselves; and by-«nd-by the girls came too ; so that before very long the sum- mer-house became not only too chilly, but too small to seat them comfortably. Mildred very plaintive- ly confided to her friend, the rector of St. Mala- chi's, the strait they were in, at one of their week- w/^ it:. 104 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. ly hand-«liakings, when he eagerly asked her all about it, and then i)romised to call and talk the matter over with her mother. " But you see, mamma," she explained ruefully, "it is not likely he will ever think of it agpiin. You know he promised to get me aflfinned and has never done it." " You mean confirmed." " Well, it was some such woixl ; I really could not see any sense in it." " But this is much more important than Con- firmation, and you can speak to him about it again next Sunday." Mildred was saved the task, for on Monday after- noon the gentle rector came knocking at Mre. Kent's door. They had a long convei-sation ; for a time Mr. Felton forgot his dislike of listening to Avomen's advice in mattei:s pai-ochial, while Mrs. Kent, still holding her work in her hand, and sewing diligently, told him of her mission- class, and how it had grown from a solitary lad to a score of boys and girls, with immortal souls, but possessed of nothing else worth mentioning. How they had come through min and cold from Sunday to Sunday, like so many hungry lambs to be fed. iiskecl her nil and tiilk tlie ined ruefully, ; of it agfiiiu. imed and has really could nt than Con- lim about it Monday after- ing at Mi-8. vei-sation ; for > of listening ochial, while in her hand, her mission- a solitary lad ininortal souls, ii mentioning, nd cold from hungry lambs THE MISSIOy-SCIIOOL "My heart aches often while I talk to them," she i-emarked sadly, "of Christ and Heaven and the l)eautiful life those have wlio reach there; for many of them can scarcely undei-sfcuid the mean- ing of joy and beauty, their lives lu-e so cramijed and wretched." "Do you have rewawls for them in the shape of pictures or stoiy-books ? " "I cannot afford anything of the kind; Ixjsides, they do not expect it. They do not need to be hired to come," she said with a smile. Mr. Felton looked at her with much wonder and considemble admiration. His experience with chil- dren in mission-schools was not so satisfactoiy. He had found it difficult to keep them with such re- wards as pictures and cards and unlimited supplies of cheap reading-matter, nothing shoit of monthly teas and country excui-sions really keeping them true to the school. He said at hvst : " St. Malachi's is a small con- giegiition, but we have a number of peraons pos- sessed of considerable means. If we can get them interested in your school it would be an excellent thing; but I am not clever at getting to their jmckets. I would mther give the money myself liiiiM 100 MILDRFJ) KENT'S HERO. when I have it, than appeal to my iMiiishioiiei-s for aid." He looked down rather helplessly at his thin, folded hands, while his face, so refined and gentle, impressed Mm. Kent as strangely pathetic in re- pose. While speaking, his hazel eyes grew lumi- nous and his whole expression hecame animated. She could easil}- recognize in him a shrinking, sen- sitive soul, ill fitted to endui-e the roughness of life. She saw that he was unpractical, but eager to serve his genei-ation; and though sorely dis- couraged by his failures and shattei-ed ideah*, he was not willing to give up tiying. Sitting there in the prolonged silence that seemed quit* natural, she thought over again the mixed pi-oblems of life ; some alwap on the crest of the billows, trium- phantly looking down on their fellows buffeting with the ground-swell or caught with the outgoing tide. If the successes could only be a little more equalized, or if one's fellows were not so eager to cheer the one throned on the ci-est of the wave and look with pitying contempt on those wi-estling with the hreakei-s or caught in the undertow. But she grew happier as she reflected that the only One who compi«liends all the perplexed meanings will lit last distribute the rewai-ds that endui-e eternally. ^mmm ?gft>. [jarishioiieiw for asly at liis thin, led and gentle, pathetic in re- yes grew lumi- !ame animated. shrinking, sen- ! roughness ctf tical, but eager igh sorely dis- ei-ed ideals, he Sitting thei-e d quit* natui-al, •oblenis of life ; billows, triuni- iUows buffeting th the outgoing 1)6 a little moi-e not so eagfer to )f the wave and e wi-estling with ertow. But she b the only One [ meanings will jndui-e eternally. Tf/JS .v/ss/ox-scnooL. 107 Mr. Felton's brown study was so profound that he was sttvrtled at last by Mra. Kent's veiy pmctical remark : " We do not need money or anything else very much, except a few cheap bibles and some pictui-e-papei-s ; but what we must have, if we continue the class, is a room eatiily wai-med and with a few seats." " Really, is that all ? Why the school-room of St. Malachi's will 1)6 a capital place. ]\Ia}'l)e we coidd get the jjoor things to conic to chui-ch. Twenty of them would swell our congregtvtion finely." The folded liands clasped each other more tiglitl}', as if congmtulating each other. " I will stipulate with them that their atteiulrtnce at school will be conditional on being at church once on the Sabbath, in return for your goodness in pi-oviding a i^oom. Mildred has described your chui-ch very minutely, and fi-om her I liave learned that there was a lai-ge galleiy with scarcely any one occupying it. Tliey might sit there." " I wish I had you for a vestry-man," the gentle pi-eacher said, with much enthusiasm. "I think I could get my church filled." Mi-s. Kent's face, as a rule, did not brighten at compliments ; for she scarcely had a woman's usual i- 108 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. fondness for such cheap cun-ency. But just now, ii ripple of fun, like sunlight over a field of flowei-s, IMissed over her eyes and lips. "What would Mr. Fel ton's vestry-nifH siiy if they should hear their rector's remark ?" Before he took his leave all the arrangements were made for the change of school-rooms ; and as he wended his way to his lodging, the gfood man felt richer by at least a score of additional hearers. Mi-s. Kent, with Jack Carver's help, announced to tlie childi-en the change of school-rooms, while the foiTOer waited with some anxiety to see if they would flock as eagerly to the chui-ch as to her summer-house. When the hour came on the Sab- bath afternoon, she was promptly on the spot ; but Mr. Felton was before her. In gown and bands he was standing at the vestiy door, waiting with beaming countenance to welcome teacher and children. "I have caught a glimpse, now and then, of a cliild; but they vanish mysteriously before I can speak to them," he said, shading his near-sighted eyes witli his hands. Mra. Kent peeped out also just in time to see Jack Carver dodge behind a tombstone, wliile one But just noWf field of flowei-s, 'hat would Mr. uld hear their a arrangements [-rooms ; and as , the gfood man ditional hearera. >, announced to ooms, while the to see if they i-ch as to her le on the Sab- 1 the spot; but own and bands »r, Avaiting with ) teacher and and then, of a ly before I can [lis near-sighted in time to see itone, wliile one THE MiaaiON-aCHOOL. 109 or two others scuttled out of sight behind a huge monument that served excellently for a game of hide and seek, and from which they seemed to be watching the worthy rector on the sly. "I think I would get them to come in if you would go inside for a few moments. They feel a little shy, probably." Mr. Felton immediately withdrew, while Mw. Kent went out to reconnoiti-e. "Come hei-e. Jack," she called, when Jack in- cautiously put his head out of range of his tomb- stone. Seeing she was alone, he boldly stepped out, followed from one grave-shelter after another by nearly her whole flock. "Why were you hiding?" she asked. " We saw that gi-eat big body in thei-e, and wei-en't suie if 'twas a man or what. Jack tho?. we'd best wait till you came." "Why Jack! sui-ely you Avere not afraid." Jack's face flushed and his eyes fell, but he made no reply. The truth was, all the street vaga- bondage had not slipped from him yet, and he thought it a good lark to frighten the children and bother the rector. The scattered flock were soon all gatliered at the vestry-door save one. i.^lUffiMUi"! no MILDRKn KENT'S HERO. "Betsy Jones is out in the street and says she ain't coming in," Jack informed Mi-s. Kent just l)e- fore they entered. " What is the reason ? " " Her folks don't want her to come among the * Piscopals.' " Mi-s. Kent went to wliere the girl was i)eeping rather curiously at them through the fence. "Why don't you come in with us?" she asked. " Father don't hold to sprinklin' babies, and they do that in there." "You will do worae things than tliat if you stay on the street as your custom has been. Be- sides we do not intend baptizing any of the mission- class. That is not what we meet for." " I don't care. Father says its papist work any- way, and he'd mther not have me mix up with such." She gave her head a disdainful toss. But Mi-s. Kent, although provoked, felt sony for the poor, igno- rant girl, whose training at home was woi-se even than what she got on the street. She was quick to learn, bold and self-reliant, with unlimited con- fidence ui her iivnx ability. Possessed of a sti'ong voice and connect ear, she often led the singing, mam and sayH she Kent just he- ne among the I wa8 peeping B fence. th us?" she abies, and they n tliat if you has been. Be- ef the mission- for." ipist work any- up with such." But Mi-s. Kent, the poor, igno- ras woi-se even She was quick unlimited con- led of a sti'ong 3d the singing. tmi^^k^iZ THE .VISSlOy-SCHOOL. Ill and was, in fact, the ruling spiiit in the school. There was, just now, on her round, plump face a mixed expi-ession. She enjoyed the influence she had gained over her classmates, and had a nat- ural regi-et at losing her power ; but there was also satisfaction in acting spitefully ; for with all her cleverness, this was her ruling characteristic. Her small nose, looking smaller still on her large, round face, was turning up disdainfully, and the deep blue eyes were snapping venomously, as she stood waiting for Mra. Kent to speak. Repressing the desire to reprove her sharply and send her home, she leaned over the fence, laying her hand tenderly on the gii'l's cheek. " I am sony to lose you, Betsy, for your own sake. If you go home and tell your father that I teach you nothing but wliat every branch of the Protestant church, no matter how bigfoted they may be, fully believes, he may give his consent for you to come back." I'll come if he's willing oi not, if I want to," she said, in a quite subdued way. "You must go home firat and get his consent before I can allow you to come in," Mm. Kent said firmly. Betsy gave her head another toss, and started up '§ m ill t r;;|.: 112 MILDRED KENT'S HERO the Htreet for their alley at a steady trot. She couhl rule her father easily, and would soon com- jiel his consent ; hut some time ago she found that Mi'M. Kent was quite beyond her control. Turning back to the church, Mi-s. Kent led the children through to the school-room. At considerable ex- pense and much pereonal labor, the rector luvd done his \ie»t to make it attmctive to the children ; and his efforts were fully appreciated. ♦' My, but isn't this a jolly place I " Jack said admiringly, as he dropped into a cushioned seat and rolled his eyes around at the bright pictures on the walls, and sweet-smelling flowers in gener- ous bouquet* on the cabinetK)rgan, stand, and va- rious other spots. "I wish they'd keep us till supper-time," one blue, hungry-looking little fellow said. "I'd like to stay always if they'd give us vic- tuals and a bed," another responded heartily. "Our house smokes fearful. I wonder if they'd let me come here and stay when I'm not selling papei-s, it's so warm," another, with red eyes and smoky appearance generally, said wistfully. "You bet they won't! Churches ain't lodging, houses," was the quick reply from another. idy trot. She uld Hoon com- 4he found that trol. Turning the children nsideml)lo ex- le rector hivd a the children ; I. B I " Jack said iUHhioned seat bright pictures wer8 in gener- stand, and va- jper-time," one d. i give us vie- heartily. jnder if they'd ['m not selling red eyes and jtfuUy. ain't lodgingf" mother. THK MiaSION-aCHOOL. 113 "I wish they was. What's the use of having thenj shut u{) all the week doing nobody any good, and us living in the smoke, like so many herrings." Jack Carver, who had l)een listening to the con- vei-sation, tliought the Iwy's argument was quite i-eivsoimbie. The fitness of things was still dimly perce[)tible to his untutored mind. But after all, were not human beings letter than brick and wood and cushioned seats? He grew alworbed over one of tliese perplexing problems that older and wiser heads have found too difficult to solve, and was only recalled to present surroundings by the deli- cious strains Mrs. Kent was drawing from the or- givn, and the majestic apjieamnce of Mr. Felton sailing down upon them in priestly robes. The smaller children Iboked frightened, and were glanc- ing toward the open door; but Mrs. Kent turned around reassuringly, and beckoned them to her side. Jack led the way, and presently a score of voices — scne sweetly harmonious, others equally discordant — were singing the hymn of praise. Mr. Felton, ^vith a most peaceful face, was listening near, while visions of white-robed catechumens kneeling for the bishop's blessing flitted before his m !W: 114 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. eyes. Presently a round, rosy face waa flitting in reality before his pensive gaze, in the door-way. Betsy Jones, hot and breathless, had returned ; but the priestly-looking figure, sitting with closed eyes, arrested her steps. But he saw her presently, and came towards her. She fled behind a monument, leaving him standing in the door-way, perplexed at the way the children so mysteriously disappeared at sight of him. He reflected with much satisfac- tion that the little Kents were always anxious to be with him ; an.1 h^ resolved to reward their con- fidence, in the future, with some suitable gift. The school proceeded as usual, Betsy Jones slipping into her place when a favorable oppor- tunity presented itself by Mr. Felton withdrawing himself from the vicinity of the door-way. When the lessons were ended, to which the rector lis- sened as attentively and even more appreciatively tlian the class, Mi-s. Kent gave him the opportun- ity, promised before, to address them. But they grew so restless, and regarded the door so longing- ly, that he only recited about one quarter of the address which he had prepared with considerable cai-e. He wondered why it was they listened so attentively to what Mrs. Kent had to say; it cer- bit; M'lwuir i ifi i If wiii gfe--' \y:~ BO. 1 was flitting in 1 the door-way. ,d returned ; but ivith closed eyes, 3r presently, and [id a monument, ray, perplexed at usly disappeared ,h much satisfac- ways anxious to reward their con- luitable gift. x\, Betsy Jones favorable oppoi^ Iton withdrawing loor-way. When ii the rector lis- are appreciatively lim the opportun- them. But they ! door 80 longing- e quarter of the with considerable they listened so ,d to say; it cer- THE MISSION-SCHOOL. 115 tainly was far simpler than his address, but still it was more interesting to the children. He decided to pay strict heed to her remarks after this, him- self, — possibly he might get some useful hints that would help him in gaining the ear of his own flock; for what drew the attention of chil- dren was pretty sm-e to please beings of a larger growth. But what his words failed to do, the gift of a pretty picture-book to each individual of the flock, as they filed past him on their way to the door, did most assuredly do, and they went to their homes full of the praises of the kindly rector of St. Malachi's. \ CHAPTER XI. MUBMURINGS. RS. KENT left Mildred at home the fol- lowing Sabbath morning to keep hoiise while she went to St. Malachi's to help direct the devotions of her flock, who had all promised to be there. With one or two excep- tions they were true to their wortl; even Betsy Jones so far overcoming her father's doctrinal scruples as to get a grudging consent to come with i;he rest. The usual worshippers regarded with much curiosity and considerable interest the queer-looking crowd surve}'ing the"!! from the gal- lery with equally curious stare. The refined, well- dressed lady, who held them in such thorough con- trol, was the greatest surprise of all. Mr. Felton 116 home the fol- io keep house ilachi's to help who had all or two excep- d ; even Betsy her's doctrinal nsent to come ppers regarded >le interest the 1 from the gal- e refined, well- L thorough con- U. Mr. Felton MURHURINOa. 117 had provided an abundance of prayer-books ; but Mi-8. Kent was not too well posted herself in finding the places, so that the whole service, save the sermon, was a bewildered hurrying over leaves on the part of those who could read, to find the right place. Jack Carver ensconced himself in a corner and read serenely on, wisely reflecting that one part must be as good as another, relaxing his attention at intervals to watch his companions' ex- cited chase, or calmly surveying the worahippeis below, who seemed to have a thorough understand- ing of tlie book, and were making devout responses as the preacher read over the prayers. Jack con- cluded they must be an extra good lot of Chii*. tians, — much superior to the worshippers at Grace Church, where he was now a regular attendant. It was his custom there to listen to the prayers with his eyes open to see what was going on. He us- ually saw many others similarly engaged. The sei-mon was short, but still long enough to satisfy the restless crowd of waifs not accustomed to self- control or inaction. Mrs. Kent continued coming for a few Sundays, and then exacting a promise of good behavior from each of them she allowed Mildred and Paul to go in her stead. j^iU, ■ 118 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. The mission-children were overcoming the mys- teries of the prayer-book, and their eagerness to make the responses kept them so busy diuing that part of the service, that they behaved with considerable propriety. And so the Sundays had gone around until ChristmaK. No mention luid been made of rewards ; but some of the children nevertheless expected the kind-hearted rector would specially remember them then. As he had some- thing for them now every Sunday, siu-ely at Christmas time the present would be different both in kind and degree. They sincerely hoped it might not be something to read, as they reckoned their minds were getting better fed of late than their bodies. Usually they were on hand before either Mr. Felton or their teacher ; the school-room was beautifully warm and inviting, while there were always fresh flowers — of late mostly those which liad little or no perfume, and rather desti- tute of color. But green leaves alone had a charm for these flower^tinted children. Jack Cai^ ver felt too much of a man to express a wish for Christmas gifts; but he was an interested lis- tener while the others discussed the subject. Betsy Jones held steadily to the concertiuiv, Tom- 1 ■M A "1 MURMVRWaS. 119 ing the mys- eagerness to busy diuing behaved with Sundays had mention liad the children i rector would he had 8ome< ,y, surely at different both 'ely hoped it they reckoned I of late than I hand before he school-room [, while there mostly those I rather desti- alone had a en. Jack Cai^ ixpress a wish interested lis- the subject, mcertiua, Tom- my Tuffts to a pair of long boots, and others to whatever they could get. The Sunday before Christmas, conversation on the matter reached a climax. Jack was first at the vestry door. As he opened it and entered, the delicious woodsy smell of spruce and hemlock greeted him, fes- tooned gracefully from ceiling and window-cornice. The place looked a perfect bower. " Oh, my ! " he ejiiculated. Any stronger ex- pression he felt would be out of place in a church. Then he seated himself comfortably, to await with much satisfaction the surprise of his classmates. They came dropping in one after another, and all crowded around him. " Guess if we ain't going to have a time after all. S'pose they'd go to all this trouble jest for Sunday-school ? " Betsy Jones remarked with great complacency. " Maybe they won't give us any other treat than this," one girl said despondently. "Well, if it is all, I say they'd a sight better saved their strength and got us something good to eat. Poor folks can't be expected to admire things on an empty stomach," Betsy replied discontentedly. ■ ' »mm>' .'"■• iU 120 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. "I'd advise you to take what you can get and be thankful. 1 s'pose they're not under special ob- ligations to U8 beggare," Jack said coolly. " What do they coax us to come here for ? I declare if some of us haven't come every Sunday through rain and shine." " I expect you get the benefit of it yourself. I guess Mrs. Kent would just as soon stay at home with them pretty little folks of hers as come here with this crowd. Then that good old i^ai-son heats up his church every Sunday, and he's always here. And see the books and cards lie's given us." " I'm sick of cards and nosegays. If they'd give us something useful, it 'ud be a sight sensibler." " Well, Betsy, all I can say is, if you are so un- thankful for what you get here, you'd better go some place where they'd do better by you." " You just shut up, Jack Carver, I've as good a right here as you, for all you're so masterful, and put on airs as if you run the consarn." The others stood around so interested in their grievances as reheai'sed by Betsy that they neg- lected to be happy in the beautiful, wai-m room. The soft rustle of Mrs. Kent's drapery, as she drew near, caught Jack's attention, but he made MORUVRINOa. 121 1 can get and ler special ob- >olly. here for? I every Sunday it yourself. I stay at home as come here d iiai-son heats s always here, ven us." If they'd give it sensibler." rou are so un- u'd better go y you." ['ve as good a raastei-ful, and n. ested in their hat they neg- [, wann room, npery, as she but he made no sign. She had expected to hear exclamations of delight, but instead she heard the discontented utterances of Betsy Jones and the others. For a moment she was tempted to leave them altogether , but a good angel at her side, — the same who heljjed the old martyrs in centuries long since dead, to fight for the truth — held her, until pa- tience and principle overcame the elementary pas- sion of revenge at their ingratitude. And then, with face nearly as unruffled as usual, she stood in their midst. "I have heard what you were saying, and have been tempted to leave you altogether. Gould you be surprised if I did so?" "No mum, I 'spect not," a freckled-faced urchin with red hair and upturned nose, answering to the well-known name of Billy Smith, answered promptly. Mrs. Kent's rather stem face relaxed into a genuine smile ; then turning, she laid her soft, ungloved hand on Jack's curly head and said : " I am glad there was one to defend Mr. Felton and myself. We have, at considerable sacrifice, tried to prepare a nice Christmas for you, hoping to bring to your mind more clearly the blessed Chrislrchild whose birthday we celebrate. How many of you have h *^T in MILDRED KENT'S HERO. thanked Mr. Feltoii for hi.s goodness to you? Or do you expect to i-eceive all the gifts without any recompense whatever ? " Betsy Jones' round eyes twinkled as if new ideas were getting foroed into her pugnacious head, while the othere looked more or less shamefaced. "I didn't just remember tlie jMirson," Jack said, with a look of regret, "but I've done my best to show I hadn't forgot what you've done for me." He twisted around to the seat liehind him and tak- ing up a bi-own paper parcel handed it to Mrs. Kent. " Is this for me, Jack ? " she said with a good deal of sui-prise. "Yes'm," he responded with unusual bashful- ness. She unrolled the paper, standing there with some two-score eyes watching her very intently. Tommy Tuffts looking at her crosswise, his eyes having an unfortunate cast. " What a handsome gift for you to select," she said, with a look of real admiration as she folded the pure Avhite ^vrap of fleecy wool about her shouldei-s. "It was just what I needed." "I thought fii-st I'd get a book, but you have Tl to you? Or without any if new itlean mciou8 head, shamefaced. ," Jack said, e my best to lone for me." [ him and tak- id it to Mrs. )h a good deal isual bashful- f there with very intently, wise, his eyes X) select," she as she folded }1 about her ded." but you have MVRMVRINOS. Its such lots of them, and they're not much comfort once you've read them." " If I escape my usual attack of bronchitis this winter, you shall get the credit of it." The young people took their seats arotind the oigan much more humbly than usual. They re- alized for the first time that the grace of grener- osity was not the exclusive privilege of Mrs. Kent and Mr. Felton. Mrs. Kent selected for that day's lesson the story of the birth in Bethlehem ; on the earthward side attended with so little dis- play, but on the heavenly side angels passing to and fro in glorious and amazed delight, and a strange, new star suddenly springing into its high position among sister worlds and suns. Betsy Jones especially listened with a look of conscious self-reproach on her face, as Mrs. Kent applied the stoiy of Cluist's great benevolence and forget- fulness in taking, as a lesson to men of all ages, a life of poverty, while enriching the human race as only God could. '*It should teach us all, even the youngest," Mre. Kent continued, "a lesson always to be re- membered. He had not where to lay liis head; and yet, forgetful of his own necessities. He left tL/- 1S4 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. His trade an<l Hia mother's roof, and went up and down the liills of Jiulea and Galilee, and even to the Samaritans, their national enemies, healing l)oth body an<l sotil, comforting the broken-heaited, creating foo<l for thousands of hungry ones, yet neglecting to do so for himself during long days and weeks of fasting in desert solitudes. Now I want my class to learn this glorious art of forgetting self, and to tiy and imitate the blessed Jesus. Each of you can do something for others, and do not let your spirits get soured looking for gifts, and repining if they are not bestowed. Rather try to belong to the world's givers; to be like God himself, since he so gi-aciously invites us to be so." When Mr. Felton opened his book to read the closing pmyer, a glance ai-ound her class assured Mrs. Kent that they had quite new ideas, and would pi-obibly the more gratefully receive the announcement he would make after the benedic- tion. The puise after the final amen was very short. The good man took a childish delight in this festival which, with much cost of money and Isi- bor, he had got in readiness for his scrabby-look- ing young iMirishionere. fis very short. light in this loney and Isv- 8ci*ubby-look- ii ■■I MORMVRINQB. Its went up and and even to healing Imth roken-hearted, ;ry ones, yet long days and Now I want il forgetting lessed Jesus, ithers, and do Jig for gifts, ved. Rather ; to be like invites us to c to read the class assured nr ideas, and y receive the the benedic- " To-morrow evening," he said, "we want all of you to come to this chui-ch at five o'clock pic- cisely. Eatih (»f you may bring a brotlier or sis- ter; and if tliese arc not iivailable, get y(»ur fa- vorite oomjNUiion to come. Now i-emember, we sluill be prepai-ed for just forty alt<»gether. There will lie a tea, with sweet bread and turkey and other meats and good things in abundance; and after this a Chiistmas-tree, when we expect to remember each one of you." The kindly face beamed on them so pleasant- ly that Tommy Tuffts, whose eight may have been defective, whispered to his companion next him, "Don't he look like a angel?" "Angels hain't got no whiskei-s," the other re- plied contemptuously. Tommy was used to having his remarks so treated. Hence his pleasure was not marred. Betsy Jones's face was a study just then, and she slipped out more humbly than ever before. '"J. ^mmm CHAPTER XII. Mil. FKLTON's TKA-I'AKTY. u T would be a difficult task to descrilw the iMijoyment that fell to the lot of each lueiu- \m- of the mission-class at that Christmas tea-party. For the fiiwt time in their presence Mr. Felton walked about among them in common clothes, like any other human being, carrying plates of cake and sandwiches, roast turkey and goose, with hot vegetables and other gooil things in great variety and abundance; for it was no cold char- ity meats that he offered his youthful guests. He had postponed his own Christmas dinner in oi-der to eat with them. A good part of the feminine force of St. Malachi's had caught, to some extent, their rector's enthusiasm in the matter, and were present MR. FKLTONa TEA PARTY. 127 I descrilw the of each mein- lat Christmas their presence m in common carrying phvtes ey and goose, hings in great no cold char- il guests. He inner in oi-der feminine force e extent, their dwere present as helpers on this notable occasion. The children's faces shone from the combined effects of great good humor, and a plentiful a})plicaii()u of soaj) and water. Jack Carver was having the dullest time of any. His little steimister, Adelphine, was in such a hysterical condition he got very poor satisfaction out of his slice of roast beef and gen- erous helping of turkey. Mi-s. Kent saw his trouble, and went to his assistance. Fortifying hei-self first with a red-cheeked doll, dressed in tnrleton, with pink ribbons, she went to her. Adelphine was pleased with it, and insisted on having it in her own hands. "Come to me," Mrs. Kent suid, "while Jack takes his tea, and you shall liave the doUie to take home." But the sjjoiled child wanted Jack and the dull too. "I think she would be qiiiet if she could hold It heiwelf. She is generally crying; so I won't mind that, if only she wouldn't scream so," Jack said looking as wistfully at the doll as Adelphine herself. Mrs. Kent did as Jack requested, and handed over the doll to Adelphine's care, who directly became so absorbed in examining into its construction that Jack was nearly through with r*^ 128 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. his pie and cake when a doleful wail startled the entire table. " Her insides is coniin' out," Adelphine shrieked hysterically, flinging the doll on Jack's plate and giving hei-self over to cries and tears. Jack tried to hush her, his own face crimsonuig at the dis- turbance she was creating, and hastily swallowing the remainder of his feast he picked her up and started for the door. Mi-s. Kent followed him to the door with the doll, whose insides she was se- curing. "Where are you going?" she asked him. "To take this Aveeper home. I thought she'd stop for once ; and to please her mother I brought her." .--- , ■ -.V -■ - -^^ . "I want to go home," she cried, viciously try- ing to bite Jack. He cast a despairing glance at Mi-s. Kent. "It's only her way; she won't do any better if I let her stay." Mi's. Kent followed them out, and getting the child's wi-ajw assisted Jack in the difficult task of getting her into them and out of the house. "You will be kick immediately," she asked. " Yes," he responded briefly, and then disap- I startled the line shrieked v's plate and . Jack tried g at the dis- y swallowing L her up and owed him to she was se- d him. -*- thought she'd her I brought viciously try- s. Kent. ''It's 1 jtter if I let i getting the fficult task of 9 house, she asked. I then disap- MR. FKLTON'S TEAPARiY. 129 peared in the darkness, Adelphine screaming and biting }is they went. The cliildren were a long time getting through; the more alert of them in the act of eating get- ting a little further appetite while waiting for the slower ones, so that it was nearly an hour before the last nut was cmcked and raisin swallowed. Then they i-egarded the remaining good things, of which thei-e was still a plentiful supply on the table, with a mixture of regret and loathing, ft was the fu-st time with most of them that fi-osted cake and lemon-pie ceased to be desirable. The tables were speedily cleared, and the i-e mainder of the food arranged in forty separate parcels for tlie final distribution — a last surprise for the children. After this the ti-ee was unveiled, — when the tiny candles brightly burning, rosy apples, oranges, bags of confectionery, and other articles not quite so perishable hanging there in all their beauty, provoked an uncontrolable exclamation of wonder and joy. Mr. Felton would not tUcw the decep- tion of a make-believe Santa Claus, and canied around the gifts himself as each child's name was announced. To tiie latter it seemed as if theii* /-' IT ISO MILDRED KENT'S HERO. \ \ \ It i '! ■I very thoughts hiul been iea<l. Betsy Jones got a concertina — a second-hand ojie, but still with a gi-eat deal of latent music stored away in its lungs ; and Tonnny Tuffts a pair of long boots, and the othei-s gifts that gave con-esiK)nding satisfaction for the most put. The twenty invited guests received each au ajjple, orange, and biig of confectionery. "I mean to come eveiy Sunday after this," was the whispered assurance heard from every little visitor; Avhile Mr. Felton's face beamed with in- creasing satisfaction at the probable enlargement of his flock. Jack got Iwck, hot and breathless, befoi-e his name was called ; but as that took place twice before the tree wsis stripped, his satisfaction was doubled. Both Mr, Felton and Mi-s. Kent had renieml)ered him, since but for him, the mission- school would probably not have been started. Then he had made himself so useful in hunting up re- cniits and conti-oling the moi-e wayward of those outside of the school ou the Sabbath-day, that hb was i-eckoned nearly equal to themselves. Mr. Felton's gift was a package of second-hand lx)oks; he had heai-d of Jack's unusual thirat for book- knowledge. Miy. Kent had improvised him a handsome overcoat from one stored away in her f Jones got a t still with a .y in its lungs ; boots, and tlio satisfaction for [ifuests received confectionery, fter this," was n every little amed with in- B enlargement md breathless, that took place lis satisfaction Mi-s. Kent had », the mission- started. Then lunting up re- ward of those th-day, that he mselves. Mr, id-hand lx)oks; lii-st for book- ovised him a away in her in MR. FKLTON'8 TKA PARTY. 1S1 own clothes-pi-esses. Betsy Jones's face clouded for an instant at Jack's double supply, but the shadow soon vanished after they had began singing their Christmas hymns, as she, foi-getting to sing v/itli the rest, found that now and then with her con- certina she could catch a stiny choixl of the air they sang. Of course she drew out plenty of dis- cordant straijis; but Betsy was in no wise discom- posed by this. To find her own enjoyment was the principal business of her life. A very thank- ful and satisfied ci-owd of young creatures they all were when the last surprise of the evening arrived. A neatly folde<l and good-sized package of cakes and cold fowl and beef was placed in each willing hand as they filed out of the vestry door into the chill Christmas air, with their faces turned home- ward — so ending the first really bright Christmas day for the most of them. ^ -# s „ i CHAPTER XIII. A VEEY WELCOMK VISITOR. ILDRED'S dollar had found its place in lielping to buy Tommy Tuffts' boots. She did not voice her disappointment in seeing it so applied; but still she could not well reconcile fir.st-fvuits such as the Bible described and long boots for mgged, crass-eyed children. But as her mother accepted her offering and de- cided so to spend it, Mildred tiied to hope that in some mysterious fashion God wculd accept it as if given to Himself. For the most part her holiday season h 1 heen spent in taking care of the childi-en and keeping house for her mother. The latter liati been so pressed with work — lier unusual artistic taste in drapeiies and costumes A VERY WELCOME VISITOR. 133 OB. id it» place in Tuffts' boots. fippointment in sould not well (ible described ■eyed childi-en. fci-iiig and de- to hope that :uld accept it ittost part her aking care of )r her motlier. \\ Avork — lier and costumes generally kept her at that festive season busy, very often, far into the night, — while a hunied mo- ment was snatched whenever possible to help Mr. Felton and the other workers at St. Malachi's, in getting the tea and Christmas-tree ready for the mission-class. Beth and Connie sometimes came around when no better amusement pi-e- sented itself; but tliey, too, had their engagements for Christmas parties, and their succeeding days of ennui and headache as a result of such junketings and injudicious feasting. Tliey dimly realized that an afternoon with the Kent children in then- school- frocks, with a plain tea, was a good deal pleas- anter to review from the following morning's firat awakening than a fancy party with the rich food and gay dresses. Still, they looked foi-ward with feverish delight to these parties, always expecting to find the iiei-fect happiness that had hitherto un- fortunately eluded them. They described to the Kents how they ate and played and comported themselves £(enerally ; to all bf which the three listened witli varying sensations. Paul, with his fine appetite, decided that the supper-room was the centre of attraction; Grace liked best to hear about the games and the nmsic ; while Mildred 134 MILnRED KENT'S HERO. { i tried to picture the beautiful rooms and hrightly di'esMed children flitting alx)ut the rooms, amid mirroi-s and itintures and other interesting ob- jects geneniUy, that Beth and Connie must surely have looked upon, but seemed so incapable of desci-ibing. They would sit and listen quite as attentively and with aa eager interest as Paul and Grace, while Mildred went over that rare visit to Giussmere and all she saw there, but which, alas, had never l)een repeated. Douglass had gone off to Europe quite unex- pectedly with his mother, and had now only just returned ; and the hope was cherished that another invitation might be extended after his return to school. Beth used to Avonder why Mildred's de- scription of that visit was so much more interest- ing than any that she and Connie could give of their elaborate parties. Indeed, to sit and listen Avhile Mildred went over for the hundred and fii-st time, how slie halted on the stejw and stood fright- ened amid the gr.vndeur, the still figures standing unclothed amid the fountains and flowei-s, the row on the blue lake, when heaven seemed so near, Avas fast becoming to all of them like Andersen's Faiiy Stories. But one day, when the holidays ^rmmmmmmmBsmBemsmsmmmsmm* A VERY WELCOME VISITOR. 185 I and hiiifhtlv rooms, amid interesting ob- Connie must u so incapable listen quite as it as Paul and .t mre visit to ut which, alas, e quite unex- now only just d that another his return to Mildred's de- more interest- could gfive of sit and listen ndred and fii-st d stood fright- gui-es standing iwex-s, the row emed so near, ke Andersen's . the holidays were nearly ended and Paul and Gi-acie had bo- come convinced, almost, that somewhere they had folded away safely all sorts of precious things, gifts from Santa Glaus, and were actually having a -most enjoyable Christmas-tide filled with merry sleigh-rides and gmnd dinners, and all sorts of ex- quisite things that existed only in Mildred's imag- ination, there came a "new foot to the door." The quaintly fashioned sleigh that Grace, with amazed glance, firet saw, and half feai-fuUy looked at long enough to see the horae with head tossed high in air, glossy fui- i-obes, and a man in lively standing beside it, made her race to the kitchen with the startling news for Mildred to come and look too. "He's come, Santa Claus himself! His sleigh is at the gate, and I hear him knocking at the door," she cried, in great excitement. Mildred looked alarmed, and hesitated a moment ; then bravely nerving herself for the encounter with man or fair)', or whoever it might be, she went to the door, with the children tiptoeing behind her at a safe distance. The snow was diifting down silently, so that the gai-den-path was effectually concealed; but glancing hastily through the Ai-indow she saw i- 186 MILDRED KKNT'S HERO. footsteps in the snow. Her face was pale, but sternly resolute, as she threw open the door. Her heart gave a sudden, terrified pulsation at sight of the snoAvy figure robe«l iij the glossy seal-skin coat, with the snow clinging to cap and hair. The figui-e was standing with his back to the door, but turned around directly, and doffing his cap, the handsome, boyish face of Douglass Everett confronted her, instead of the rubicund and not over Ixjautiful visage of St. Nicholas, if his portraits are even the faintest likenesses to himself. " I am 80 glad to see you," she exclaimed, with a sudden lighting of the pale little face and Avith a vivid rush of blood over neck and brow. "Ybu looked so frightened, you must have mis- taken me for a robber." " Oh, no ! but Gracie saw your horses first, and she told me it was Santa Claus," she responded with all seriousness. " But won't you come in ? " Douglass looked ruefully at his snqjvy garments. " If you Avill let me come to the kitchen I would like to stay a while Avith you." "We will \te glad to have you come in and sit just where you like," she said, Avith a coi-diality that assured Douglass of his Avelcome. T rlAlMM'iilM OMMiLSiiilMiiU A VERY WELCOME VIBITOR. 187 was pale, but he door. Her ion at sight of seal-fikin coat, ir. The figui-e •or, but turned the handsome, onfronted her, over iKjautiful 8 are even the X claimed, with face and Avith i brow. Qust have mis- orses first, and ihe responded ou come in ? " wy garments, tchen I would me in and sit I a coi-diality I. " These little chaps may ttike me instead of Santjv Clans. I will first go back to the sleigh for some things I have there." He sprang down through the drifted walk to the gate, while the children stood watching with eager, admiiing eyes. "Is he really Santa Clans?" Grace asked. "He is better than Santa Claus. Douglass and Grassmere," she mui-mured, her voice dwelling on the woi-ds lovingly. Meanwhile she watched him gathenng an armful of packages out of the sleigh. When he stai-ted for the house he told the man to drive home ; tliat he would walk out when he was ready to go. The horses started off at a biisk canter, the sleigh-bells jingling meirily. Paul stood watching Douglivss wading through the deep snow. " If I had vecy long biiots I would go and meet him," he said, with effusive hospitality. " Where are your Ixwts ? " Douglass asked, letr ting fall his parcels on the floor, and, catching Paul by tlie shouldei-s, looked down affectionately into the little round face. "Mildred says they're glowing somewhere, just like the boards for my Cotfin; but I'd rather have Uie boots." J tH» MILDKED KENT'S BEBO. "I fully sympathize with you in that wish. Long boots are more suitable than coffins to wade about in the Christmas snow." " But I can't ^vade about," Paul said regretfully. "My boots are only shoes. If I had been a mis- sion-school boy, now, T might have got long boots too, on the Christmas-ti-ee, like Tommy Tuffts; but he squints, and Mildred says on that account he ought to get more things than I." Douglass followed Mildred to the kitchen. A bright fh-e was cheeiily biuning, and things looked so home-like and comfortable he concluded it was perfectly jolly t<» live in a little nest of a cottage. He took off his cap and coat, and sat down in the easy-chair Mildred phiced for him by the stove, while Paul leaned on the arm of the chair, looking up into the handsome face with hungry, admiring ghuices. It seemed so good to be neai- a great boy like this who could wade in the deep snow and play with guns and horses. Little girls weren't much better now in Paul's estimation than i-ag- babies. Grace stood some distance off, watching him shyly through her cuitain of curls. Douglass smiled down into Paul's eloquent face, and then turned to Mildred. A VEUX WELCOMK VIBIfOB. IM in that wish, coffins to wade said regretfully, had heen a mis- I got long boots Tommy Tuffts; on that account ; I." the kitchen. A ing, and things Ae he concluded little nest of » md sat down in im by the stove, ^e chair, looking liungry, admiiing be neai- a gi-eat . the deep snow ittle girls weren't mation than vag- ce o£f, watobiug curls. Douglass b foce, and then '•Have you IumI good times at school?" he asked. "Oh, yes, I am learning to draw." *<She got a whole dollar once for making Beth Lee on paper, and she gave every cent of it to the mission-children for first-fruits; it went towartls Tommy Tuffts' boots." "What kind of fmit is that?" DougUiss asked cmiomly. In all his wide experience of edibles he had never heard of that variety. Mildi-ed's face colored, but she explained to her visitor the his- toiy of the name and its puipose. t'Ah, yes, I romember; but if I thought about it at all, I reckoned the custom had gone out of fashion along with the slaughter of kine and other sacrificial rites of the Jewish service." •« There ar^ oeme things that ought never to go out of &8hion," Mildred timidly hazarded the sug- gestion. •' There are a few things that never do," Douglass responded. ** Getting married and djring, and other customs one would like to see go out with the cut of last year's gai-ments." «* I think it would be a pity for those two tc go out. A home is so much nicer with a father and BSf" 140 MlLMtKD KKMT'a HEKO. mother both ; and then it 's pleamnt to die when one g&U tired and Hick, and they can go to a place prettier even than Oranumere," Mildred mid, reflect- ively. "Pi-etty homeH don't alvrays make one happy. We were visiting at a much grander place than Onuwmei-e while we wore in England, and the raiatresa of the house cried, generally, when ahe looked at me. It was a jolly place to visit, but I was glad to get away." ♦♦I don't cry when I look at you," Paul said sooi-nfuUy. »♦! like to see you coming. Boys are ever so much better than girls." " Why did she cry when she looked at you ? ** Mildred questioned. ^«She had an only son who she thought looked like me ; but he was drowned while bathing in the sea. They were stopping then in Scotland, and perhai>s the water was colder than what he was used to, and he took cramps. When they reached him he was quite dead. When her husband dies, their splendid castle and park and everything goes to a disagi-eeable young man — a distant couan." *'But if she were in heaven, she needn't mind who was living in her castle if she had a better one ; ■<I.WW,MIW" ■ I to die when one 1 gfo to a plnce :lred mid, refleot- Ake one happy, ider place than kgland, and the rally, when tthe e to visit, but I rou," Paul said ming. Boys are ooked at you?** thought looked e bathing in the 1 Scotland, and nrhat he was used f reached him he iband dies, their jrthing goes to a it counn." iie needn't mind had a better one ; A VKMT WELCOMK VIBITOR. 141 or gathering her flowers, if she was among those tliut never fade." " I am sorry to say, very few people I know have such a vivid sense of that other country as you. * A bii-d in the hand is wortli two in the bush,' to most of them." He turned to look at Grace, who, being unobserved, had been drawing quite near. **I think I can find a rather good-looking baby among those pai-oels at the door," he said, rising fi-om the chair. M I'll bring in the bundles ! " Paul cried eagerly, surmiging there might be something for himself. Grace crept nearer, her hair put btusk and her large blue eyes alight with expectation. Douglass took up a long box, and began very carefully to untie the stiings. Mildred wondered at his singular economy in the matter of twine ; but at last he was through, and Could not well tease the ep<ger«yed children any longer. The cover was taken o£f, a fold of tissue-paper lifted, when the most beautiful vision of dollish loveliness the children ever beheld was lifted out and placed in Grace's arms. She held it for a while spell- bound, and then, going to Mildred, laid it carefully on her knee and turning to Douglass, she clasped us MILDRED KENT'S HERO. i her arms about his neck and gave him a hearty kiss on his own red lips. "Well done, little maiden, you have paid me in full for my gift," he said, hugging her affection- ately, and returning her kias with equal wai-mth. She nestled down contentedly in his anna for a few minute*, and then, slipping down, took her doll, and after that took very little interest in anything else. Paul, in the meantime, was watching the wrap- ping being carefully removed from another of the parcels, which was proceeding even more slowly than in the first case ; but at last Douglass handed him a good-*jized box with a lock and key. He took it with a mystified air, soiree knowing what to do. " Turn the key and the lid will rise.*' « Oh, Mildred, just look here ! " he cried joyously. Mildred did as commanded. " It's tools to be a carpenter with I " Paul cried grandly. Already he felt himself nearly a man He took them out one by one, examining each with a fine, critical au-, highly becoming to a full-grown workman, but very comical in such an abbreviated specimen of humanity. Presently he began laying ■ ■-ai!#fiaik*»«»is^-'*"i"" u-"^"' ■^S^kS^^i J^ A VERT WELCOME VISITOR. 143 9 him a hearty have paid me ig her affection- equal wai-mth. his &nns for a lown, took her ttle interest in }hing the wrap- another of the en more slowly Douglass handed : and key. He I knowing what rise.*' le cried joyously. thl" Paul cried early a man He ling each witli a to a full-grown ti an abbreviated he began laying them back in the box, liis eye meanwhile strayinf; furtively towards the parcels still unopened. "You Are not already tired of them?" Doug- lass asked. "Oh, no! but I can look at them when you are not here," he said, very politely, trying hard not to let his eyes stray too fraquently . to thoso mysterioiu packages. "I dare say you are anxious to know what these contain," Douglass said mischievously. Paul blushed, but was not adept enough in concealing his desires to deny the impear^liment. There was the same provoking economy in the matter of twin? as before ; wlule both Mildred and Paul were filled with amazement that the heir of Grassmere should be so caroful of what was so nearly valueless. Careful as he was, however, he got through at lost — when another box was revealed of polished rosewood and with a thick roll of papers. Douglass gave them to Mildred to open, which she did with fingers slightly tremu- lous. The box-cover lifted, and a vision of pos- sible beauty lay before her in the score or more of varying tints of watem^olors — not the cheap, unsatisfactory «oi*t that she had always been tor- fi^^ ' ^ t i ^ Hrr-r^ -- Jf gUJfcT^--^ 144 MILDRED KSNT'S HSttO. tured with, but the Ver}' best manofoctored. The color came and went in the roHe^taled cheek, and the weighted lids still drooped, while a nei"- vous quivering ox the lips told of hei desire to speak her thanks and the impossibility to do so. »«Ai-en't you glad, Mildred?" Paul asked anx- iously. "You look as if you wanted to ciy." She brushed the teai-s away that Paul's words had forced to fall, and then said with a bmve effort at composure: "L is because I am so glad tliat I can't very well thank you." "Please don't try. I am well paid already; for I enjoyed getting the things, and now it's a pleasure to see how well you like them," he said, as if he was the one after all who was having the best of it. " I told a great artist, who vnn painting my pic- ture in Rome, about you, and he gave me some studies for you. If you are really a genius, you can go on yery well alone, for a while, at all events." "But I am not a genius; I just like to look at pictures, and want to make them." " Well, I expect that \» the Mncy they i^l began. One never can tell how much capital stock they ofoctared. The 4>etaled cheek, i, while a nei'- »f hei desire to bility to do no. *aul asked anx- anted to oiy." ^aul's words had a bmve effort ni so glad that paid already; and now it's a them," he said, rho was having Minting my pic- gave me some a genius, you a while, at all It like to look 9m. they tAl began, jital stock they A VEKT WELCOME VtBITOR. 145 may have until they measure the! faculties. I know there are very few girls who take portraits, at least among my acquaintances," Douglass said, as he put on his coat and gloves. He shook hands with Paul iW very solemn fashion ; for already the wee man was assuming all the airs and dignity of six feet of humanity on the strength of his box of tools; while Gracie stood by him stroking very lovingly the rich, soft fur of his ooat. Mildred followed him to the vdoor, bethinking herself in time to ask him to com^ again. '^It is just like sunshine to have you come into the house, you always make us 'to happy," she said shyly. '*That is a very pretty compliment. You can say nice things, which is a pleasanter gift than painting pictures. Most of the artists I have met ai-e not given to polite remarks." Mildred watched him wistfully as he sped down the dnfted garden-walk and along the street until he disappeared from sight. It was so beautiful to know real, live painters, who could first imagine and then make immortal their dreams of beauty. The shadows of night were beginning to gather as she stood watching the whirling snowilakes covoi'^ ing up in their fleecy embiBce all unsightly things. .^55^ 146 MILDRED KENT'S WEJtO. and making houses and fences look like pictures from fairy-land. If she could only watch them falling in the sert, or covering hillsides and farm- steads, and cattle wading knee-deep in their chill heauty, what an unsatisfied longing in her heart would he filled I She turned hack at hist to the dusky room. Her mother would soon he home, and the tea must he in readiness, the lamp lighted, and the home made cheerful for the dear one, after her chUly tmmp through the snow from the grand mansion where she was putting the ftn- ishmg touches to the dress of a pamie heauty who lotaged to appear as a dSbutante; and Mrs. Kent, if any one '*> the city could accomplish such a miracle, was the one to do it W*mm: mm ok like pictures ily watch them bides and biitn- )p in their chill ng in her heart Ic at last to the L soon he home, ness, the lamp rful for the dear fh the snow from putting the fin- 9au^e heauiy who and Mrs. Kent, loomplish such a CHAPTER HIV. DBKAM8. YtYHE holidays ended, Mildred returned to pj I U school with fresh eagerness. With her vast supplies of water^solors she felt pre- pared to take a contract to supply the entire school wiUi portoaits at a dollar a head; while, a great many times, in imagination she expended the money tiius earned. In the meuitime, until orders came in, she prac- tised very diligently on Paul and Grace and the lady Ermengarde, the elegant Paris doll. The two former were growing very weary of poemg, and had ceased to take much interest in their pictiues as they slowly advanced under Mildred's painstak- ing htvah. Next to her hox of water^olors, the Mr 148 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. Btudies Douglass had brought her from Rome were her deeiiest source of satisfaction. By her school- mates who knew anything of her straitened home and circumstances, her lot was regarded as an ex- ceedingly liard one ; but perhaps few of them drew from their multiplied sources of enjoyment a tithe of the genuine satisfaction which she extracted from her few. She was, like the bee, drinking to the full of her few rare flowers, and storing away in the still fastiiesses of her soul rich supplies wherefrom to draw in future days; they were like tiie butterfly which alights on the honey- filled flower without the means or knowledge to extract its wealtii of sweetness. From her lim- ited sources of delight she managed to draw so much i«al and imaginaiy joy, it would be a very happy i)oiiM)n indeed who could afford to bestow sympathy on her. Douglass returned after tiie holidays to tiie Paik Avenue School, which was as exclusively aiistocmtic a.s ever; and tiie older pupils probably regaitltid Mildred with the same contempt as at fiiBt; but the younger ones were very forgetful of tiieir imrents' wealth and social position; while Mildi«d had become so absorbed in her studies JL. m^- DttBAMS. 149 ■om Rome were By her school- traitened home ^ed as an ex- of ihem drew joyment a tithe she extracted lee, drinking to d storing away I rich supplies jrs; they were on the honey- ' knowledge to From her lim- ;ed to draw so ould be a very Sord to bestow olidaya to the as exclusively pupils probably contempt as at very forgetful position; while in her studies that she was usually quite oblivious to caste and society generally; and her peace of mind was Bel> dom greatly disturbed by their reference to her poverty and humble station, or their own afBuenoe and fine social position. Besides, she had such a wealth of imagination that her leanness of pocket was often forgotten. She was fascinating her schoolmates so deeply with her descriptions of imaginary scenes and peisoni^es, that they were often quite awed by her sui,t,rior acquaintances. Her dukes and lords, with attendant knights and esquires, their palaces and parks, — all, it is true, on the model of Grassmere, became at last the peculiar belongings of their dreamy little schoolfellow; while the stories she carried on through days, and some- times weeks, of their I'.oinga and mishaps, were more fascinating than any &iry stories they read ; making them forget her -plain frocks and hats in the brilliance of her imagination. But with Douglass Everett's return to school, and the knowledge that for some unaccountable reason he had taken Mildred under his care, her schoolmates would have been graciously friendly if her imagination had been as weak as their own. _«i. i '» t i ^ 160 MILDRKD KENT'S BEM. Beth and Connin renewed their protestations of x^jaitl, and were exceedingly affectionate when Douglass was in sight ; hoping thereby to get an- other invitation to Grassmere. For u..y were more eager now to go than ever, since they had hiMul Mildr3d describe it so many times over in a 8atnmer<iieG8. To see it in winter, the white stat- ues vieing in purity with the fresh-&llen snow, the frozen lake, and the sleeping flowers all so minutely described by Mildred from her own fancy, would be like a trip to fairy-land. But Douglass paid litUe attention now to either girls or boys. He was a very diligent student, taking but little apparent notice of what trans- pired about him. He took the highest rank in his studies, and generally had received m:^? than his shaie of prizes since he had atteaded the school. This was his last year, as he expected to enter coUtgc. Tno other kds -used to wonder at his eagerness for study, since there was no necessity fov him to exoci. his future boiug al'^ady as- « sured. «« i£ I had a place like Grassmere, with as nuny thousand a year ea he will have, you wouldn't catch me sweating my braLot over hard stuuy, sm m DMMAHa. m rotestattons df otionate when eby to get an- Or u..-y were ince they had imw over in a the white stat- >h-&llen snow, flowers all so her own fiuicy, now to either ligent student, of what trans* lest rank in his k:^? than his led the school, ected to enter wonder at his IS no necessity ng al'iady as- ), with as nuny , you wouldn't hard stuuy, sa he does," Frank Hall, a clasMnate, remarked con. temptuously. *»He is an only child, and they say his moth- er just dotes on him. Think of the pocket- money he can have," Lucius Heathcot made reply, as the group of discontented hids made Douglass the subject of conversation. "He could travel and see things without having to study them up. For my part, I wish I had been bom three hundred years ago and been a knight. They didn't nave to know how to read or write, but just get a horse and sword and suit of armor, and they could make their living, — fight somebody, and get a rich heuress, if nothing eke," Frank responded with a very dissatisfied air. Evi- dentiy he realized that he had fallen on very un- piopitious times. They did not know that Doug- lass Everett's mother was more strict in the train- ing of her boy than most mothers; and if his sup- ply of pocketmoney exceeded theirs, a minute ac- count had to be kept of its outhiy. Every month since his ohiiahood he and his mother had been in the habit of going carefully over every dime, and a debit and credit account kept of his expenditure. Oenetous gifts of whatever nature had gone to the mmmmm IfiS MILDRED KENT'S BEBO. 1 orodit Bide, with the purchase of whatever might be necessaiy or wine ; but selfish or extravagant waste to the debit side. At first the hitter was generally the largest; but the sorrowful look on his mother's face used to send tlie little Itul so humiliated from the postuig of his accounts tliat he would make very firm resolves to do better. Unfortunately he had a boy's love for self4ndul* gence in those little luxuries dear to every child's heart; so that it was the work of many months before he brought the credits to balance the other side of tlie account. His mother had striven faithr fully to train her boy so that he might become a wise steward of his laige fortune, — to make him a knight vrithout fear and without reproach. Hence Mildred, as well as others, was being benefited by the wise training of this only son. Many a story had he listened to from his mother's lips in childhood, with swelling heart and throbbing pulses, of deeds, done Unlay by boys and men, worthy the days of chivahy. Acts of unselfishness and self- repression, of noble daring performed in the. quiet ways of life and that were possible for all to do; so that it was only natural he should be ready, as in Mildred's case, to care for the defenceless, and i^ m^ DBEAMS. 15S whatever might or eximvagant the latter was )wful look on ) little Intl HO acoountH tliat to do better. for 8elf4ndul- every child's many months ance the other 1 striven faith- light become a -to make him )roach. Hence leing benefited son. Many a iiother's lips in robhing pulses, ten, worthy the kness and self- d in the . quiet for all to do; Id be ready, as Lefenceless, and use hU own proud name and position as a shield for them. Besides, the dreamy-eyed litUe maiden hwl somehow aroealed stiungely to his boyish sym- pathies. The look of anguish on her face that first day at school, when her bright airoasUes were sliattered at her feet, and afterward the delight on her face as the beauties of Grsssmere unfolded to her wondering gaze, together witli the pHJtty pic- ture of motherUness she presented whUe caring for the two littie ones at home, made her seem quite unlike any other of his girl-friends. The hoUday joys had nearly passed ^m plewant realities into very agreeable memories, whUe other interests besides the giving and receiving of presents, with festive merrymaking generally, were beginning to absorb the children's minds, when one January morning, when the air was chill with promise of com- ing storm, Doughiss overtook MUdred just at the school-gate, and, after a few words of conversation, invited her and any two of her schoohnat»s she chose to Grassmere the following Saturday. Her face, as she turned it towards him for an instant, reminded him of the illuminated pictures of some beautiful saint, such as he liad seen painted by the old masters. "Do you care so very much for Grassmere?" he asked, with surprise. f^JfiH ;-"ii"ni-m;iii'ii; ■ h !l IM MJLtnSD KENT'S HERO. '» It helpH m« tu iniHgine what heaven is like, and the sort of place my father hai now. Beeides, I like to see it for other reasons," she very honestly added. «*Ah, tliat is right, it makes you less of a spirit- maiden," Douglass said, with a smile. «^ May I ask Beth and Connie again ? " . she in> quired timidly. ^' Anyone you choose, or you can come alone." ^<- Oh, no. If you would just as soon, they would enjoy going so much; and I am getting tired of describing it to them. They have mostly foi-gotten about it. We have been wanting so much to see those poor people standing out in the snow." " What poor people ? " ^ The marble ones ; they must look so cold these chilly days." Mildred shivei-ed sympathetically. '«What an observing little kitten you are! It never occured to me to think of their looking cold. I expect if you owned Grassmere, you would make woolen coats for them." "No; they would look too much like the scare- crows my mother tells me about, in English mmdows and gardens. I would get the man who made them to carve others and make them already clothed." ri leaven is like, and I now. Besides, she very honestly u lees of a spirit- ile. again ? " . she in- come alone." soon, they would getting tired of I moHtly foi-gotten I so much to see be snow." look so cold these npathetically. sten you are ! It ;heir looking cold. , you would make ch like the scare- English mmdows man who made ke them already DMKAM8. IM Doughiss laughed as he sprang up the steps, while Mildred waited for the little figures she spied entering the gate. '« Oh, girhi, I have such beautiful news for you I " Hhe cried. ^*Has your sailor husband really and truly come?" Betli asked. >'Ever so much better than that!" '<■ Do tell us what it is," Connie said impatiently. Her imagination worked with difficulty, and she did not enjoy the exertion of guessing. M Douglass has invited us to Orassmere on Sat- urday." "Did he say for Connie and me to go?" Beth asked incredulously. "He said I might asl: any two girls I liked} and so it is to be you." "You are just a perfect darling I" Beth danced around Mil4ied in great glee. " You are the luck- iest playmate to have in the whole school. It's just splendid to be poor." " It's splendid to be friends with the poor when they get vou nice invitations and things," Connie judiciously corrected Beth's statement. "Well, we have had no end of good times with f ■ !fe^MI?jig ! Ji 156 MILDRED KSNT'B HERO. ■:S ' Mildred, anyway. She got iw fiwt to Orasbmere, and then the afternoon vihits at her phuie witli tlie children, and then the make-believes. I deckre I 'nost think we have a sailor father somewhere. I dream about him lots of times. The other night I dreaiut I saw liim drowning. But I always have bad dreams after eating Icbster^alad," Beth know- ingly added. "■ Did he actually get drowned ? " Mildred asked, looking really staiHed and uneasy. «I 'most foi-get; but it was only a dream," Betli replied reassuringly. "It is only a di-eam anj'way; and if you really saw him drown, we must give him up and get some mourning to wear." "What a queer girl you are, Mildred Kent!" Comiie said with a good deal of contempt "We can make believe he was rescued." Mildred shook hev head. "I can never be cer- Unx about him after this," she said sadly. " Paul ana Grace will cry, I am sure, when I tell them of his death." "Tliere, I have no patience with you. If it weren't for Grassmere I would have nothing at all to do wiUi you for ever so long. Just rs if we ■ ; wrwwswww-' t.^a^.h^.'iUirn - ^ t, .— ^^ ttm mmm SBO. rat to Orasbmere, lier place with tlie ives. I declare I Either somewhere. The other night But I always have aad," Beth know- r" Mildred asked, ily a dream," Beth and if you really him up and get , Mildred Kent!" contempt " We I." can never he oer- ftid sadly. "Paul when I tell them with you. If it lave nothing at all f. Just Rs if we DREAMS. 1A7 couldn't make believe right along, no matter what Belli dreams. She's a gi-eedy child anyway, and always eating soa^ething not good for lier." "I don't eat any more than you; there now," Beth retorted, with flushed face and snapping eyes. "I dwi't di-eain and spoil things, anyway," Con- nie retorted contemptuously. "Tlwt is all Mildi-ed's fault. She is so particu- lar about her make-believes." «I can't help it, girhj. If I don't feel things, I cannot make believe them. It would be like acting a lie." "It is all lies, anyway. You were never mar- ried, and we have no father only our own. No one has more than one father; not even the Pres- ident's children," Beth said, with sudden conscien- tiousness. "I thought we should all Ir: »o happy, ^nd you would be gUd about going to Gi-assmere ; and now we are doing nothing but quan«ling," MUdred said, ver}' sorrowfully, and then went to the chiss- room. Beth and Connie finished their passage at anns outside; each one blaming the other for the breach of peace until the bell rang and termi 168 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. nated their woixiy war. But their uatures were not superfine ; so that they could easily quarrel and as easily forget their small unpleasautnessos — loving each other afterwai-d just as effusively as if no breeze had ruffled the smoothness of their friend- ship. But Mildred was differently constituted and trained. She was not accustomed to broils at home, neither could she easily i-esume the kindly relations with schoolmates when tlie peace w>u broken, when, as in this case, she felt no blame lay wich her. Instead, now, of having a happy morning, filled with gi-acious fancies I'espectiiig their coming visit to Grassmere, she cried away dowa in ber heai*{, as she was wont to describe her sorrowful houra, and wondered at the crooked \(rays of this disjointed, uncertain experience we osll life. mmmmm t uatm«8 were not ly quarrel andaa utnesses — loving usively as if no •' of Uieir friend- r constituted and ed to broils at »ume the kindly I the peace was le felt no blame Imving a happy incies I'espectiiig she cried away iront to describe 1 at the crooked 1 experience we CHAPTER XV. DISCUSSIONS. \ I /HE ^Ay following was one of January's J\ I U fiercest stoiTns, — driving snow and wind, -*> — 80 that Mildi-ed was not only kept in the house all day, but filled with alarm lest tiie Satmtlay's visit should prove an impossibility. *' Winter is so much worse tlian summer. If it storms then, the rain don't diift every place up like snow," she exclaimed sorrowfully, while watching the dreary prospect outside, thinking meanwhile of the stretch of open country lying between the cily ana Qrassmere. ••I don't think it pays to be ex- pecting anjrthing in tliis world ; it is so very upset- ting in its ways," she romarked disconsolately. 160 MILDRED KENT'S HEBO. ♦♦ Never mind, there are plenty of other Saturdays stretching summei-wards ; and Douglass will invite you again," her mother said consolingly. " I don't know if I could live to another Saturday. It seems so far away." "Time won't seem so long to you forty years hence, my child." " Forty years I " Mildred gasped, "• that seems far- ther away than heaven." " And so it may be," the mother said with a sigh, as she thought of her child's intense nature, so liable to be soon burnt up by its own inner passion. ^ I should n't mind waiting a good many weeks if I could go to Grassmere, and have my dinner by gas-light," Paul said, more interested in the dinner itself, however, than the gas-light. His remai-k turned Mildred's attention away from her own disappointment. " I believe I am just as selfish as I can be," she said humbly, "fretting be- cause I can't have what I want right away, while you do not have it at all. But never mind, Paul, I will tell you everything over and over again after I come back." " It makes me hungry hearing about the dinner — the turkey, and tails, and pudding. My, wouldn't ■ "-■ ^J«^^fai»^»w.■spp»f^''i^»"'■" Wit imm ^ rexo. of other Saturdays ouglasH will invite lingly. • another Saturday. o you forty years I, ^ that seems fax- ' said with a sigh, ise nature, so liable ler passion, ood many weeks if ave my dinner by sted in the dinner i attention away [ believe I am just mbly, " fretting be- right away, while never mind, Paul, and over again about the dinner ing. My, wouldn't DiacvasioNB. 161 I eat if I was there ! Do they eat up iii heav- en?" He turned eagerly to his mother. "Do they have plenty of roast xieat and geese and turkeys?" "You terrible boy I" the mother said, gi-eatly shocked at his materialising heaven's pmity. "There ai-e no animals killed there, no death at all, not even, of a flower. You must try to think of heaven very differently from that." " Mildred says there's all kinds of nioe^asting fruits tiiere, and birds. Anyway Td like to go somewhere, so that I can get plenty of good things to eat." "Never mind, Paul; I guess you won't have to die to get good things. You will be a man some day, and earn lota of money," Mildi«d said veiy assuringly. "But it is so long to wait," he objected, after thinking the matter over In silence for some mo- ments. "And I want something good now. Say, mamma, ca»'t we have another Chiistmas goose, with onions and turnips, and pudding witli lots of sauce?" he asked eagerly of his mother, whose face wore a smile, but seemed a taifle sad, never- theless, while she looked at her i-apidly gi-owing 1«S MILDRED KENT'S HEM. boy with his keen, healthy appetite that craved stronger food than she could conscientiously give him. But her work was commanding higher pay now, and soon, she hoped, the wolf would be for- ever driven fi-om her door. «*Ye8, Paul, you shall have another Christmas dinner veiy shortly. We will have our biUs all paid in a few days, and then there need be no more pinching if God gives me health." The debts she <*^>iiJ(e of had been a necessity, since they wera contracted while she was learning the ai-t of fashioning becomingly the handsome gar- ments her customers were now wearing with so much comfort. Paul gi'ew cheerful with the near prospect of another Christmas; while Mildivd, although still casting an occasional anxious glance through the window at the iitging elements without, said no more about her disappointment ; and the home soon regained its wonted oheeifulness. Mrs. Kent, all through her children's lives, had tried to make every day, so far as possiUe, a gala day; not waiting, as so many do, for some imposr sible future in which to be completely happy. Thero was, in the busiest time when she could be ■PMBM DIBCUaBIONB. 168 stite that craved tsoientiously give iding higher pay If would be for- lother Christinas lave our bills all lera need be no Balth." been a necessity, she was learning he handsome gar> ing with so much near prospect of d, although still nee through the without, said no ad the home soon Idren's lives, had s poesiUe, a gala for some impos- tmpletely happy, len she could be with them, the children's hour, when stories were told, very often to the rhythm of the swift gkn- cing needle, and innocent merry-making that made her children, as well as herself, Iwth healthier and happier. Her hands worked all the busier iu the moi-e exciting passages of tlie stories she i-elated or the actual histories she i-ehearsed fj-om a well< stored memoiy. And now she was training Mil- dred to utilize the knowledge she was acquiring from week to week at school by impai-ting it to the, younger ones. The task was, at times, very irksome ; for Mildi-ed was a martinet in the matter of school-discipline, and compelled from the i-eluc- taut childi-en the same silence and industry that was the rule in Park Avenue School. Foi-getting her own early difficulties in overcoming the mys- teries of latter-learning and woi'd-building, she often grew impatient at their inattention and stupidity. Paul could veiy readily sympathize with her lack of this rare grace at Grace's slow pi-ogress in knowledge, but deeply resented it when his own turn came. Mildred was ambitious to teach Paul everything she was herself learning, more particularly her own favorite. d»wing4e8Sons; buttMs branch of instrao- t 164 MlLDRhD KEST'B HERO. tion taxed her patience most sorely of any. His straight lines as frequently represented curves us what hey were intended for; while his cows, if unpro- vided with horns, would do very nicely for pigs or dogs, or any other quadruped, provided cue's im- agination was vivid enough to make up for his lack of skill. His landscapes, which he was par- ticularly anxious to work at, were even worse, be- ing a confused mass of pencil-marks. In replj to Mildred's not very patient criticisms one day, he said impetuously : *< Anyway, I can get more paper covered in an hour than you do in a day; and what's the odds how it looks ? Ai^ybody with eyes can see the out-doors for tliemselves. It's just a waste of time copying live things, for they are only make-believes." " Oh, Paul, how can you say that ? " Mildred re- monstrated " If you could only see the Grassmere pictures, prettier than any out-doois we can see, you would try to be a painter too." '♦ If you want to make them, you can ; but I don't, and I will never make another picture as long as I live." He laid down his pencil decid- edly ; and Mildred's entreaties after that were un- availing in getting him to make any more land- 'n««i niiwri—nifc'Tr' "t ' ■ V^*»-'3^W>^-^^ *■■ 4y rilMMl T /" ly of any. Hie id curves ua what cows, if unpro- lioely for pigs or vided cne's im- ftke up for his ah he was par- even worse, be- :s. In replj to ma one day, he get more paper in a day; and ybody with eyes es. It's just a or they are only t?" Mildred re- e the Grassmere 318 we can see, rou can ; but I )ther picture as is pencil deoid- r that were un- any more land- DiacvaaioNt. 165 scapes. But his aptitude at figures consoled her greatly and commanded a respect that went iax to atone for his incapacity for appreciating art. Though Mildred often grew very weary of ' .;»» ing, her mother wisely believed the discipline ^rool'' be ample recompense for hours of dradg«} ? \v» employed. She had herself learned the «iU"« it any help we get through the journey of life that lifts the soul to serener heights, to wid^ ' Topeo- tives. When there is more to enervate than uplift, anything, no matter how tiresome, that lifts us out of ourselves and to a higher plane of taought and action should be eagerly utilized. She realized her responsibility of motherhood in moulding the charac- ters, not of her own children alone, but of other possible generations through them ; therefore she strove witli all diligence to build characters that might be a help in the world, if God willed tliat tihey should one day join its great host of workers ; if not, that they might be ready for still higher existences, if taken from it. Already, with joy, she saw her work bearing fruit in Mildred's character, in the earnestness with which she took hold of what- ever presented itself in the form of duty, the honesty and purity of her actions, and more especially in her unselfishness. I'' ■f f 1 IM MILDRKD KENT'S BBBO. The Saturday afternoon duly arrived ; the storm had long since ceased, and street and highway were in excellent condition for locomotion of all kinds. Beth and Connie, as on that memorable midsummer afternoon, came to Mulberry Street to await the sleigh from Gi-assmere. Beth's dream was still very vivid in Mildred's mind; and she had decided that some visible token must be presented in respect to his memory. ITie other children very reluctantly allowed themselves to be put into mourning for their deceased sailor father, but only in view of Grassmere and the other benefits that Mildred brought them did they consent to accept her de- cision that they were fatherless, and must preserve the proprieties accordingly. But Paul and Grace, with the satisfaction sometimes experienced by full- grown mourners, donned their badge of sorrow with alacrity. Beth and Connie turned over the generous- sized crape favors Mildred had made and present- ed them critically. " If they ask us at Grassmere who it is for, what shall we say?" Beth questioned anxiously. " We'll say a distant relation was drownded," Con- nie replied. r^ ived ; the storm id highway were on of all kinds, able niidHummer 9t to await the iva was still very le had decided ented in respect very reluctantly a mourning for nly in view of i that Mildred accept her de- 1 must preserve 'aul and Grace, irienced by full- B of sonow with the generous- de and present- it is for, what ixiously. irownded," Con- DtBCUBBIONB. 167 " You should not say drownded, nor tell, a stoiy, either," Mildred corrected. "What shall we tell them, then?" "Perhaps they won't ask; genuine ladies are never inquisitive, mamma says; but if they do we will tell them the truth." "What will be the truth, anyway?" Connie asked sarcastically. "That a make-believe relation a dead," Beth hastened to answer Connie's question. "I really think we had better not wear these bows. Crape don't correspond with my blue dress or Connie's crimson ; and Mildred, your blue merino is a dread- fully bad color to match with oxape." "Very well, I won't insist, but I wish you were willing; and real mourners are never very partio- ular about their clothes," Mildred said sorrowfully. "Suppose we pin them on the back," Connie suggested, with a brightening expression; We can keep our feces to the folks, and then they won't see them." This plan was cheerfully decided on; but Mm. Kent, who had been an amused listener, concluded from the extent of Mildred's bows they would be visible from every point. Precisely at two o'clock IM MILDMKD KMMT'B BEM. the sleigh drove up to the gate. Paul, in hi« eog- eraew to behohl once more the pmnoing hones, darted out into the frosty air, his badge of mourn- ing floating airily in the wind. He met Douglass on the way, whose keen eyes caught sight of the huge bow under the chubby chin. "Why, what is all this crape for?" he asked, with surprise. "We have lost another father," Paul called back proudly. They had so many limitations it was a comfort to have an abundance of parents, if nothing more. Douglass decided it must be a grandfather, while much amused at the visible token of mourning un- der which Paul labored. The girls met him glee- ~ fully at the door, while just behind them stood Mrs. Kent^ looking so happy Douglass reckoned the family must have all their mourning well in sight. "I hope you have not lost any near friend, Mrs. Kent," he tried to say with becoming sym- pathy. "Paul told me just now he had lost a father recently." "It is only an imaginary one that MUdred has been supplying them with. Her fancies are so M.aaar' 4 >• Paul, in hill eog^ pmnoing hones, badge of mourn- [e met DouglaiM fht sight of the for?" he asked, Paul called bock was a comfort if nothing more, mdfather, while f mourning un- met him glee- . ind them stood [glass reckoned >uming well in ly near friend, becoming sym- he had lost a at Mildred has fancies are so DIKUaatOMB. 1«9 strong, she impresses them on the children •• i-ealities." ''And when did he die?" "One of them saw him drowning in a dream, I believe. Mildred has been trying to preserve the proprieties usual on such occasioiw. Per- haps I do wrong to permit it, but they take so much satisfacdon in their make-believe, that I have not courage to forbid them." *'It cannot do them any harm, I am sure," Douglass said, turning around just in time to see Paul standing diuigerously near the horses' heels. Hastily saying good-bye, he ran down the gar- den-path, and was soon at the child's side, swinging him out of harm's way. ' *'I just wanted to touch their legs," Paul said by way of apology, ''I wasn't going to hurt them one bit." '' I am quite sure of that ; but there was danger of their hurting you. No one knows what might happen if you ever tried to do so again." *''rhey can't Ute behind there." "No, but they ought kick, which would prob- ably be far worse for you." Paul surveyed the horbe» with increasing interest, and resolved to have ■,i ,,.^.^:;a8}'" m 170 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. Mildred adopt hones, instead of parents. A span of black beauties like these would seem very real, if v/uiy Mildred got fully interested in them. He felt sure now that he could be of considerable as- sistance himself in finishing th-jm off with harness and other necessary points. He watched them out of sight, and then trotting briskly into the house, divested himself of his mourning, and announced to Grace that he was glad their sailor father was no more ; for he was going to get a span of horses in his stead. Grace looked surpiised, and concluded to take hers off too; more because it chafed her neck, however, than for any other reason. If the drive to Grassmere under the green trees and by the blossoming gardens had been a delight; it was no less so now when these were shrouded by the glistening snow. Mildred's face was a pic- ture when they came in sight of the first hem- lock tree standing in its white shroud. She had never seen i:he like before, save perhaps in dreams, or n some mysterious fashion through the eyes of (^("ad and gone ancestors, in which way alone we can account for the naturalness with which the altogether new and strange sight first appeam to us. RO. larents. A span seem very real, id in them. He considerable a»- off with harness atched them out into the house, and announced lailor father was get a span of ncluded to take hafed her neck, 1. * the green trees 1 been a delight; 9 were shrouded 'a face was a pic- t the first hem- iroud. She had erhaps in dreams, [trough the eyes yhich way alone with which the rst appeari to us. DiacvaaioNB. \n "Could any one but God have made anything so perfect?" slyB murmured, with a raptture that had something of passion Li it. "Why, of course not I" Connie said contemptu- ously. "Nobody ever said so." The light faded out of Mildred's face while sh« shut her lips very firmly. But there was beauty piled on beauty in such profusion at every step of the way as they left the unsightliness of the city uand came into the natural scenery of the strip of country before they reached Grassmei-e, that she well-nigh forgot Connie's snub ; while Douglass, who looked occasionally at the eloquent fc.e, resolved that such a young vixen as Connie De Smythe should not be a third time invited to Grassmere. At last, as they drove up thri>iigh a plantation of evergreens, the lips so firmly sealed flew open. " It is better than any picture ! " she exclaimed. "I wonder if tl ^- have anything in heaven pret- tier than those trees, looking like white-robed priests and nuns." "You are the silliest girl, Mildred Kent. Tc compare heaven to those spruce-trees covered with snow! Why, even our school-house is ten times finer. Why don't you go in raptures over it?" Connie said, with great disdain. 179 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. "It never struck me as being pretty," Mildred said humbly. "It makes me bappy to look at those trees, as if I was listening to the church- organ, or when the wind moans and whistles up in the attic, that seems to me the very best sound Grod has put into this world. I cannot help feel- ing so, Connie; and please don't get angry with me any more ; and I won't speak about those things I like so well, if I can help it." " Well, of all things, to like the noise the wind makes I I would sooner hear cats fighting ; for you know just what that noise is," Beth said. "I expect our eyes and ears are not all nade alike. I have often wondered if things looked just the same to me as to you and other people. Trees' don't, and wind music don't either," Mildred said, looking much relieved, for it was a source of pain that she and her companions regarded things so differently. " I am very certain you little girls are not made at all alike ; there is a world of difference in you," Douglass said, quite politely, but very emphatical- ly. Only that they were his guests, it would have givrn him much satisfaction to have told Beth and Connie out of what very coarse mate- rial he considered they were composed. -r RO. pretty," Mildred ppy to look at to the church- id whistles up in very best sound annot help feel- get angry with out those things i noise the wind ighting ; for you bh said. e not all nade ings looked just r people. Trees r," Mildred said, a source of pain Eurded things so Is are not made fference in you," very emphatical- aests, it would n to have told iry coarse mate- >osed. DIBCUBSJONB, ^^^ Connie looked up curiously in his face, and after a doubtful pause said: "Which of us is made out of the best stuff? I am sure Beth and I eat the best food; so we must be the best, I think." "If it is any satisfaction for you to think so, you are perfectly welcome t» your opinion, ' Doug- lass said sarcastically. MUdred, who had been absorbed in the leaf- less, gnarled branches of a huge oak, descended suddenly to the society of the human rather than vegetable growths. "Please don't let us worry about which is best; only God reaUy knows that; but if we ask Him to make us good, we will be like angels by-«nd- by_8uch glorious beings, maybe, that we will wonder why we ever cared for anything but to be like God." "Don't you think MUdred is the very oddest girl you ever saw or heard tell of? She thinks far more about the angels and such things, I do beUeve, than she does about candy or new clothes ; and she don't seem to think about being grown up, and the good times she is going to have; but all her spare talk is about what a happy angel she is going to make. I declare it often ^ 174 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. makes my flesh creep to hear her talk." Con> nie wound up her harangue with a pretty shrug she was learning to imitate from their new chambermaid. M Perhaps I do think Mildred is the oddest girl I ever saw; but it is a scarce sort of oddity, and a kind that I rather like, or I would not take the trouble to bring her out to Grassmere," Douglass said, a trifle sternly. Connie looked a little abashed, but persevered in her criticisms. "Don't you think it is just as well not to talk about dying and the angels so much? I try not to think of them. If I wake up in the night, I am just sure to get thinking about them and Mildred. I 'most wish sometimes she had u<)\er come to our school." " But Connie, Death and the angels are ahead of you, even if I had never been bom." ^ But you make me think of them so much. You can't look at a goodnsized cloud or a tree without wondering if they have the same kind in heaven, or even as good ones." "Yes, and we naver hear another soul speak about those things outside the church. One don't mind hearing about them thoro; for there's so ■ ■ ■rif,^«iB»sEinw«»«*"'^"' Mfmmmm^H00ik £ 90. ler talk." Con- i a pretty shrug rom their new the oddest girl t of oddity, and old not take the imere," Douglass , but persevered think it h just nd the angels so lem. If I wake to get thinking ; wish sometimes »» gels are ahead of m. them so much, cloud or a tree the same kind in DIBCV8BI0N8. 175 much to look at, you don't pay much attention to the preacher; and there are so many others lis- tening, you let them have a good share of the preacher's advice," Beth chimed in. The horses' heads were turned through the gates, and past the lodge nestling amid the huge snow- drifts. Mildred's face grew less sorrowful as she looked at the snow-covered garden and statues, and the others grew so interested looking around at the well-described scene, they ceased to find fault with Mildred and the angels. '-^-^ other soul speak urch. One don't : for there's so •«* CHAPTER XVI. A JOY BBPBATBa). ^ I / he merry jingle of bells floated up in the ^ I L still, frosty air, warning Mrs. Kent, who ^ had been listening quite anxiously for some time, that her daughter had come. A confusion of voices, and then the clear good-wight went floating starward; and a few seconds after^ ward a litde muffled figure came stumbling up the snowy path. " Oh, mamma, see how I am wrapped up," Mil- dred exclaimed, at sight of her mother in the door-way: "Mrs. Everett said my cloak was too thin ; and here is something she bought for me on the way here. She says it is to be my Christmas present. We all went into a store together, and /■ w;iwi iw <l«»» M ' > «|Wji »»| M" '^?l > ■ " ' " ■T ^ I Wi f ii.<ii '' "|^ '^ff A JOY BEPEATBD. Ill loated up in the Mrs. Kent, who B anxiously for had come. A' clear good-night w geconds after- e stumbling up rapped up," Mil- mother in the f cloak was too X)ught for me on be my Christmas >re together, and I tried on ever so many before she waa satisfied. It cost a lot of money." Mildi-ed was standing by the lamp, now, twisting herself out of shape trying to see it from all sides. "It's better than Connie's, for she said so. Is it not beautiful to be rich?" "It certainly is, if one has a heart like Mrs. Everett; but she is, I am afraid, one in ten thousand, or perhaps a million, of ii« '. ! -)ple." " The Bible says ' it is more blessed v givo than to i-eceive'; and of course it must be so, for the Bible never says what is not true. But really I can't think how Mrs. Everett is going to .^t more good out of her gifts than I do. Hee how much good this blue merino frock and my kid boots have done me; and now the cloak, it is so lovely and so warm I " ' "She gets her blessing in her heart. Yours is a temporal, and hers a spiritual blessing ; and that is the very highest tbat even God can give us." " I expect it is," Mildred said, not fully con- vinced yet, &s she laid the pretty garment on the table and stood stroking it lovingly. "Did you have a happy afternoon?" " Oh, yes ; happier even than the other visit ; for I 178 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. knew beforehand how veiy grand everything was, and so I did not feel frightened. We were in the hott^e aU the time, and I saw »o many pictures. Miu. Evei«tt played for us on a great organ in the music-room, just like they have in the church; and she and Douglass sang. I believe music is nearly as good as painting; only when the sound ceases you have nothing to show for it except the mem- ory. "But memories can be very delightful," the mother said, with a dreamy, retrospective look in her own fair face, that had a trace of sadness in it, as if her memories were both bitter and sweet." "And tantalizing, too, mamma. I am afraid it won't make me any happier, remembering the muaid and pictures, and all the beautiful things I saw there. I was better contented with our home be- fore ever I went to Grassmere ; and I know that is wicked. My text, not long ago, was M'hat St. Paul said when he was in prison: 'In wliatsoever state I am, I have learned thei-ewith to be content.' I am far better off than he was ; and yet I am not content with our little house and old furniture, and the pictures and harmonium." Mildied gkuced around discontentedly. n •mr .A JOT REPEATED. 179 eveiything was. We were in the » many pictures, reat organ in the lihe church ; and music is nearly lie sound ceases ixcept the mem- deUghtful," the ospeciive look in e of sadness in it, jr and sweet." I am afraid it nberiug the musid iui things I saw bh our home be- jid I know that is ras what St. Paul wliatsoe ver state « content.' I am b I am not content iimiture, and the )d glanced around "■ But, my child, you ci^nnot expect to begin in your religious experience where St. Paul left off. It will cost you many years and a thousand heailr aches to learn that what God gives you is jxist the very best. Patience is a flower of Hb own plant- ing, that grows slowly, and with most of us gets sadly stunted, sometimes well-nigh deslanyed." Mildred sat looking intently into the fire for a good while, then with a little sigh she turned away, saying: "I won't be wicked any longer. I will ask God to make His flower, Patience, grow well in my heart." wYou can think of Jack Carver's noisy, unkind home, or the smoky room where Tommy Tuffts stays with his pareuJs ~ one cannot call it living when you get in a rt^pining mood. There are a great mwiy poor homes to one like Grastsmere ; and even Mrs. Everett has her heartrachea, you may be sure." « I wish she hadn't any. It wouldn't make ua any more content to know she was sorrowful." Mildred spoke reproachfully. " My child, it is the lot of everyone in this world to have some trouble. Even the Queen, amid all her splendor, has one of the saddest faces we see '•aak 180 MILDRED KENT'S HEJtO. anywhere. The higher up one is placed in thia world, the more are they exposed to ito bitterest storms." "And yet, I mean to try and get up just as high as I can. I want to be rich and famous some day." « Why, MQdred ! I thought you were trying to be a Christian," Mra. Kent said, quite shocked at the change in her once humble-minded daughter. "But there must be rich and famous people, just as well as poor folks without ambition. I think God would prefer having those who do love and serve him truly to have the best things. I shall help poor people when I get rich, and make them happy, like Mrs. Everett does. She spoke with a seriousness that proved she was confident of her future success in conquering fate. "We should strive for the best things; but I hai-dly think these are to be rich and famous." MUdred made' no reply, but the expression of her face showed she was stiU unconvinced. " But you have not described your visit yet, my child." MUdred leaned back contentedly in her chair, with closed eyes, and commenced the recital by first de- •"mmmammumi placed in this to its bitterest get up just as id &mous some were trying to shocked at the daughter, famoiis people, t ambition. I se who do love things. I shall &nd make them 3he spoke with toniident of her } things; but I and famous." e e)cpression of ivinced. ir visit yet, my 1 her chair, with iital by first de- A JOT MEPMATgD. 181 •orilnng the drive out and their reception by Mrs. Everett in the great hall, where a bright wood-fire was burning cheerily. ^ You would forget it was winter-time, it was so warm and lovely. Flowers were blooming all around — great lilies and roses and hyacinths, all mixed with ferns — and so many other kinds of flowers whose names I did not know. Anyway, I could not take much time to look at them, for tbe fire-light looked so nice in the picture-frames I had to go right away and look at the pictures inside. After a while we went to the music- room, and oh, mamma! it was grand there. I almost wished I could die, if heaven was any better. Perhaps it was selfish, but it seemed such an age before I should get old and be happy again. Mrs. Everett brings more lovely sounds out of the organ than I ever knew there were in this world; and her singing, sometimes,, was like a bird's. She seemed so happy, too, to have Douglass stand beside her and tui-n her music. He sings, too, but not like her. She would look at him as if he were nicer than anything in the world; and I don't wonder; for he is as re- spectful to her as if she were better than dia- "^^T m'mmmmmmm'^mim f I" * ,.y:.. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) in f^^ii^^ -A 1.0 1.25 1^ 1^ lit Ui 12.2 EB4 ■ 1.1 l.*^^ U III 1.6 V] ^/ .^'^ ') c-**^:--' > "'• / ■ V-* Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STRUT WibSTER.N.Y. 145M (716) •73-4S03 L-^ CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHIVI/ICIVIH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microraproductiona / Institut Canadian da microraproductiona hiatoriquaa 182 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. monds. Once she called him her knight, and it made me think of those beautiful old days I have read about, when men were so brave and trae, and women so fair to look upon. Maybe there are just as good and true knights now-ar days; only they have a poorer chance to prove their goodness." Mildred opened her eyes and looked dreamily into the glistening coals, as if she saw there the old castles with their moats and draw-bridges, and steel-clad knights and fair dames passing to and fro on proudly stepping hoises, now all gone to dust, ages ago. "Ohl isn't it a wonderful world? I can see all those we read of in history better after being at Grassmere. While Mrs. Everett was playing, I was looking at the people hanging on the wall; for there are a great many of them looking just like life in the music-room, — pretty women and Uttle chUdi-en in handsome frocks, and men with swords and bunches of stuff on their shoulders, and lots of gold coi-ds. After a while I seemed to see them walking about in the high rooms and bowing and talking to each other, until I got so interested that I forgot the music, and Mrs. Everett, and aU." A JOT nSFEATED. 188 knight, and it old days I so brave and upon. Maybe knights now-ti- lauce to prove her eyes and ng coals, as if ith their moats nights and fair roudly stepping s ago. * I can see all after being at s playing, I was I the wall; for oking just like men and little len with swords dders, and lots ed to see them nd bowing and t so interested . Everett, and "My childf you must not allow your imaginar- tion to carry you away so far." "Is it wicked?" she asked, looking startled for the moment. "Perhftps not wicked; but I do not think you will get on so well in the real world if you live so much in the ideal. Your life probably will be a facing of stem realities and constant work; and it will be well for you to look upon the world as a place of conflict, rather than of rosy day-dreams." "If it is not really wicked, I shall not give up my thoughts, for they will help me to work better. While I think of other days, and people dead and gone, I won't mind things so much when I re- member how many have lived and been happy and sorrowful ; and now they are all gone to dust. When I have troubles, they won't seem so hard to bear when I remember others had the same, and have got over them all, and long ago forgotten them." "If you are going to be a philosopher as well as idealist, I won't say anything. I be- lieve you are getting farther on in some respects than I or most persons I have known." " It must be because I have been so much alone I » 't 184 MILDRED KENT '8 HERO. with the children. I don't think nearly so much now as before I went to school. Things seem more on the surface to me," she said reflec- tively. Her mother looked at her curiously, and with some anxiety, wondering if the mind were not developing too rapidly for the little case it was in, and wishing hor daughter were a little more like other children and less of a spirit-maiden. " Mrs. Everett was so kind to me," she contin- ued sedately. "After they finished singing, she came where I was sitting on a tiny sofa just large enough for two, and not shaped like sofas I have seen before. She walks so gracefully, I couldn't help thinking of my kitten we used to have, that was so pretty. Not that she looks the least bit like cats as some folks do ; but one graceful crea- ture may put you in mind of another far below it in everything. She asked me if I liked music or painting best. I thought a while, but coidd not say for certain ; but at last I said, I always liked painting best until to-day. She laughed, and it sounded just like music, and said: 'That is a very delicate compliment; one would fancy you had been at court.' I told her that I meant it for — — 1 A JOr REPEATED. 185 early so much ThingH seem said reflec- le usly, and with nind were not le case it was ) a little more pirit-maiden. ae," she contin- d singing, she - sofa just large ke sofas I have illy, I couldn't d to have, that 3 the least bit le graceful crea- kier far below it liked music or but could not I always liked iaughed, and it ' That is a very fancy you had [ meant it for truth. She said; 'I know that; I could not im- agine you telling an untruth.' I was pleased then, but I noticed Connie looked hurt, and presently she said; 'Why, Mildred tells more stories than all of us put together. She makes believe she has a husband at sea, and that we are her children, and he was going to bring us home such quantities of handsome presents, only Beth killed him the other night.' w*! presume, then, it is out of respect to his memory that you wear all this crape.' " ' Yes, Mildred made them for us, and we only wear them to please her,' Beth said. "'We pinned ours behind and meant to keep our faces to you ; but we kept forgetting. It has been a real burden on our minds ever since we came,' Connie said, real drossly I Then Mrs. Everett looked at Douglass, and I thought they would like to laugh, and I felt very badly. But in a minute Mrs. Everett spoke so kindly to me. She thought it was beautiful for me to amuse them in that way, it brought out something in my bi-ain — I forget the name— and thdn we were not thinking of miworthy things. Beth was real good. She said we had just lovely times together, and tliat I made ! 'i : IM MILDRED KENT'B HERO. Paul and Gi-ace bo happy at Christmas, describing the pi-esents Santa Claus had prepared for them but had no room in his sleigh to bring them; and then, only think, Mrs. Everett put her arm around me and hugged me right up close to her, and then she kissed me right on my mouth. But she never kissed Beth or Connie," MUdred ended very complacently. "She knew they had so much more to make their lives bright than you, my child," Mrs. Kent said, with grave reproof. She was sorry to see MUdi-ed display the slightest taint of selfishness with her young companions. w I did not think of that. I just beUeved it was because she liked me best," she said, quite humbled. «*Is it a disappointment to think otherwise ? " "I am afraid so; and that is not having the Golden Rule in my heart, is it?" she sorrowfully confessed. «No, dear, but we of ten find it harder to think the Golden Rule than to act it." "I should not be glad to rob Beth and Connie of any pleasure ; for I do believe that I am really better off than they, you are so much kinder than their mothers, and it so much more home-Uke and ■■■■■■■■ 0. itmati, describing spared for them to bring them; tt put her arm ap close to her, my mouth. But ' Mildred ended I more to make hild," Mrs. Kent tfas sorry to see ){ selfishness with 8t believed it was d, qmte humbled, ttk otherwise ? " not having the ' she sorrowfully harder to think Beth and Connie J that I am really much kinder than lore home-like and A JOT REPEATED. 187 coeey here than at their homes. One would get tired even of Grassmere, if there was nothing but the splendid things to look at without love and sociability." "You are finding ii; youth what many people do not discover in a life-time." "What is that?" "The secret tihat happiness does not consist merely in the abundance of our possessions, bu. has its spring in an unseen, deeper source." "To help others is one way to be happy, I be- lieve." " Yes, my child, and a very real way ; we need not wait until we get rich, either, to begin." "I expect there is no one so poor but can help somebody. Jack Carver even helps those terrible children at his home; and, oh, mammal that reminds me we were talking about Jack and the mission-class. Beth and Connie were telling about their handsome Christmas presents, and then Mre. Everett asked me what Santa Clans had brought us. I felt a little ashamed, but said you had to help make gifts for the school, and we made up our minds to have our Christmas cheer in making others happy. She asked me how I en- W 188 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. joyed that kind of a Christmas. I said when I felt pretty good I liked it; but at other times I felt like having presorts too, like other folks. I felt very badly to have to tell her, but I couldn't very well help it when she asked me. She looked at Douglaas again, and I think they laughed back of their faces; but she said very kindly: 'You are an honest-hearted girl, not to make a heroine of yourself.* Then she asked about your school and the presents; and only think I she is coming herself very soon. Won't it be beauti- ful if she invites you and Mr. Felton and the children to Grassmere?" w That is more than we can expect ; but she may give us some presents for the children." "I hope it won't be tracts. Jack told me they were getting tired of reading." "Mr. Felton seems to think they have very hungiy intellecte. He spends a good deal of money on them in food of thht kind," Mrs Kent said, smiling at Mildred's i-emarks. " I am very tired telling about Grassmere now. May I finish another time?" ^he asked very wearily. t»I forgot that you had been talking so long, t A JOl REPEATED. 189 [ said when I other times I ce other folks. 3II her, but I she asked me. I think they she said very ad girl, not to she asked about only think I she I't it be beauti- Felton and the xpect; but she Le children." Qk told me they they have very , good deal of and," Mis Kent s. t Grassmere now. dhe asked very talking so long, my child. Your descriptions are so interesting, I grow selfish in listening to you." "If only the school is invited out, Paul and Grace can go too. I think I could get courage to ask Douglass for them." "You must not build your fancies on such an uncertainty as that." "But, mamma, it is far more likely to happen than I was to get an invitation in the first place. It won't be any harm for me to plan about it," she pleaded. " C«^rtainly not, but a very useless waste of vtor agination." "Not if it makes me happy to think about it; and may I tell the childi-en?" "If it will add to your pleasure, my pet." The mother smil6d lovingly into the little face so near her own that she had but to reach out her hand arid draw it near enough to kiss. "I will go to bed now. Maybe I won't get to sleep for a long time, I will have so much to think of." The mother sat brooding for a long time over her child's future, so liable to be full of pain and unsatisfied longing, with her intense artistic nature. ir 190 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. Then, as all ti-ue mothers must do, she held her tryst with the Friend whose help is always avail- able and always perfect, committing her chUd to His most blessed care. — -1 ILDRED'S first inquiry the foUowing Sunday, on her mother's return fi-om -^ A'*' the school, was to know if Mrs. Everett had been there; and the disappointing answer was given that only Mr. Felton and the usual crowd of children were there. "She Avill come some time soon, I am sure," she said confidenUy; "and I know you wiU love her. She never seems to be thinking about her- self, but how to make others who are near her happy. Won't Betsy Jones's eyes snap when she sees Grassmere, and the oi^ and Mrs. Everett playing on it ! " 192 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. "Why, when will that be?" Paul asked, Bur- pritted. " Are they going to liave her out, too ? " " Ye8, some day, all the rai»8ion-«chool, and you and Grace." "Who told you? Did Mw. Everett say so?" "No, but I feel it the same as other things that happen." "And will we have turkey and all that, as you had?" "I cannot say for certain. Sometimes in books they just give lemonade and sponge-cake to poor childi-en." Paul concluded a visit to Grassmere fasting would be something very superior, especially if carried there by those black horses. For some time Mildred's powers of imagination were greatiy overworked, since Paul insisted on having stories about horses alone. Her knowledge was very slim of animals generally, and even Paul dared to criti- . cise her descriptions of their general anatomy, and more particularly the harness ,with which she atr tempted to clothe her horses. She paid especial attention now to the horses she saw on the street, making timid inquiries now and then about them from her schoolmates, who generally laughed at her. - -1 0. 'aul HMked, sur- lier out, too ? " tiuhool, and you Brett say so ? " 18 other things ud all that, as (letimes in books ige-cake to poor rassmere fasting or, especially if ses. For some ion were greatly 1 haying stories fe was very slim il dared to criti- :al anatomy, and 1 which she at* lie paid especial ,w on the street, then about them r laughed at her. PAUL'S riMST SLKtOHKIDK. IW But one day, summoning courage, she stepped up to Douglass, who had paused for a moment at the Bchool-gate, and said : *'■ Will you please tell me Homething about that horse going past'/" — said horau being a fine animal which a groom was leading. " Why of that particular horse ? " he asked. '*It is such a beauty, and Paul wants me to luive make-believes now altogether about horses. I Iiave been looking for a pretty horse to adopt, and I think I will take that one." ** You have made a very judicious choice ; his owner asks ten thousand dollars for him." Mildred's eyes sparkled. *' What is his name ? " "Cadmor.* "Is he very old?" "About five or six years, I should say." This surprised her more than his great value ; not so old as Paul, and yet the immense size he had attained. '' How much faster he has g^wn than we do ! In some things horses are far before human be- ings." "So are whales," Douglass replied. Mildred watched him until the groom turned a III \ht i '■•^sassasarr 194 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. street corner and Cadmor was no longer to be seen. "Thank you for telling me so much. I shall manage nicely now for a long while." "la your brother, then, so fond of horses?" " Oh yes, he dreams about them at night, and he never tires of talking about yours. I should like so much to know their names." Mildred looked up wistfully into her compan- ion's face. " You might have known that long ago. Prince and Victor. Ask me any questions you wish and I will answer if possible." "The others laugh at me, and I get afraid." " Never mind, they do not understand you ; that is why t^ey laugh." "You understand me, don't you?" she asked, with a very contented air. "Pretty well, T think. But see, would your brother like to come to Grassmere with you, and have a ride on my pony, and see the horses? There are a dozen of them, I believe." Mildred gasped, her breath being nearly taken by such a dazzling prospect. « I hardly know how he could live if I told him, -] PAUL'S FIRST SLEIOa-JtlDE. 195 longer to be (luch. I slmll f horses ? " it night, and he I should like her compan- ng ago. Prince you wish and get afraid." stand you ; that 1?" she asked, Be, would your with you, and ee the horses ? 5ve." nearly taken by ve if I told him, but he would though; for folks hardly ever die with joy, especially little boys." " He must come, then, if it would give him such immense satisfaction. I did not know such little fellows cared for horses." "But there will be Gi-aasmere, too. I believe he thinks it is letter than heaven." "How does he know about it?" "He goes to sleep at night hearing me describe it ; not while I talk about the horses, though. If I knew more about them, I could make »v a great deal better for him." "If there is nothing to prevent, you two can come out next Saturday; remember, just you two alone," he added, quite imperiously. Mildi-ed nodded her head with great satisfaction. She would much prefer Paul to Beth and Connie, for they generally made matters disagreeable by their remarks, first or last. She could scarcely wait for school to be dismissed. The hands of the clock moved with a slowness she would not see repeated, after her childhood had passed, save in some moments of supreme agony, such as soon or late comes to every matured child of Adam. But the home was reached at last, and through 4 'i -; 196 MILDRED KEST'B HERO. the frosted window-panes the bleached but joyous faces of the children were watching for her. She moved her satchel so gleefuUy that Paul assured his mother MUdred had some very good news to tell them. He opened the door, letting in with his sister such a gust of cold air it brought a sparkle to his own eye. "Oh, Paul! I have such news for you; better than any of our make-believes. I would never dared to have gone so far," she exclaimed, nearly out of breath, sinking into the chair by the fire. Paul looked greatly excited, whUe the mother dropped her work to hear the news. «You must not die, or do anything like that when I teU you," she said anxiously. "Oh, no, I won't; just let me hear right away what it is," he said, getting very impatient at MU- died's precautions for his safety. " You are going to ride on a pony and see a dozen horses.' In that instant Paul seemed to make a long step towards manhood. "To ride on whose pony?" he asked, doubt- PAUL'S FIRST SLEIOH-RIDE. 197 d but joyous for her. She Paul assured good news to nth his sister sparkle to his or you; better lid never dared nearly out of J fire, le the mother thing like that 7- ear right away ipatient at Mil- " Douglass says you may ride on his Shetland pony. It hae long hair, and such a lovely tail; and it knows ever so much." Paul stood speechless for a few seconds ; but his tongue soon got over the shock and rattled away as gleefully as ever. "When are we going?" " Perhaps on Saturday." "Will we have dinner?" " Oh, yes ; but you won't think of dinner after yon get there." "Yes, I will, if they have turkey, and other things as you had." " Eating seems to me the very commonest sort of pleasure when you see all that is there. I am sur- prised they go to so much trouble about it. If I were rich and had such ways of enjoying my self, I would hardly think of eating — I'd just take enough to keep me well and comfortable." "But you are only a girl; anything does for girls." "Girls are made of better stuff than boys; so Mrs. Goose says." "Mother Goose 1" Paul retorted contemptuously, "She was an old woman herself, and how could she know?" 198 MU.DRED KENT'S HERO. " You wiU think girls are beautiful when you see Mrs. Everett. She was a girl once," she hastened to correct. ul think she is now, or she wouldn't have such a jolly son. We are just the luckiest family anywhere," Paul said, with great satisfaction. And 80 the conversation drifted on with necessary -inter- ruptions until the slowK^oraing Saturday afternoon arrived. Douglass was not forgetful of his promise, and did not permit more important social duties to pre- vent him from coming for his expectant visitors. His mother smiled at his late developing talent for enter- taining children, but still encouraged him. He got out his pony and the littie sleigh he had on pur- pose to drive her in, which, with a little crowding, would be large enough for the three of them, and started off, the tiny silver bells jingling not un- musically to Rattler's short, quick step. MUdred was watehing the window quite as anx- iously as Paul, for she had a double anxiety. It was such a fine day Beth and Connie might take a fancy to visit Mulberry Street, and that would be most unfortunate, since tiiey would hardly for- give her for going without them; and tiien it was -1 PAUL'S FIRST SLRiail-RlDE. 199 when you see 8he hastened rouldn't have ackiest family ifaction. And lecessaryinter- xlay afternoon I promise, and 1 duties to pre- it visitors. His alent for enter- i him. He got he had on pur- little crowding, e of them, and agling not un- step. )w quite as anx- ble anxiety. It nnie might take and that would rould hardly for- and then it was possible that Douglass himself might not come; for she had heard the school-children talking about the English visitors at Grassmere — lords or earls, some such notables. It seemed even to her or unsophisticated intelligence hardly possible that she and Paul should be allowed to sun themselves in such high presence. Paul's eyes were getting tired trying to watch both ends of the street, when, looking around to consult the clock, Mildred cried out excitedly : "Paul! Paull look! quick 1" He looked, and such a vision met his sight! The tiny horse tossing his mane, the sleigh, shaped like a shell, with its fleecy robes, and Douglass looking anxiously towards the house, but still standing by the horse. They were at the door in a moment; Paul crying out, as he ran down the path, "We. are coming!" and followed more sedately by Mildred. They were soon tucked comfortably in the tiny sleigh, and Rattler's feet dancing along the firm trodden snow. It was Paul's first sleigh-ride, and ' he found it enchanting. His bliss, if possible, was heightened when Douglass generously put the reins in his hands after they were well beyond tlie city's crowd. Rattler seemed to know he had a m 1 200 MILDRED KEST^a HERO. new driver; for he tossed hia mane and skipped along more menQy than ever. Douglass was sui- prised at the skill Paul showed in handling the lines ; hut Mildred explained that he had practised a great deal on Grace, who had already grown utr terly sick of the mention of horses. The litde lad turned of his own accord into the Gi^mere gates, helped in part, no doubt, by Rattler, but also recognizing the place from Mildred's oft-re- peated descriptions. He drove up to the door in fine style, so absorbed in the undertaking he scarce- ly noticed the imposing house and grounds that had weighed so heavily on Mildred's spirite, but catching tantalizing gUmpses of the statues stand- ing amid the snow ; and so did Rattier, who never could get over his fear of tiiese strange figures. He reined him up and held the lines whUe Doug- lass and Mildred jumped out; and then to his regret a groom came and led Rattler away. Paul's eyes were glistening, and his cheeks crim- Boned with tiie frosty air and rapture combined, making him, at the first glance, a more attractive bit of humanity than his sister; but for those who could see deeper than average beholdei-s, her face had a Cham that Paul's could never claim, — the - -] PAUL'S FIHBT BLEIQB-RIDE. SOI ) and skipped ^lass was sur- handling the had practised idy grown utr 8. The little the Gitissmere T Rattler, but ildred's oft-re- bo the door in dng he scarce- grounds that i's spirits, but ( statues stand- tier, who never jtrange figures. 3S while Doug- d then to his sr away, us cheeks crim- »ture combined, more attractive t for those who loldere, her face irer claim, — the subtle beauty of a soul attuned to fine harmonies betraying itaelf in every varying expression of the face. Two young girls were coming down the broad staircase as they entered, in age midway be- tween Douglass and MUdred. They paused a mo- ment at the foot of the steps, but as Douglass ap- proached followed by the two children, they came forward. Douglass introduced them rather awk- wardly, as if just realizing the wide social gulf between his visitors and himself; but Mildred, with a natural ease and unconsciousness of manner that was the very perfection of breeding, saluted them cordially, and then with easy grace stood waiting for Douglass to send them upstairs, whither on her two previous visits she had first gone. After a constrained pause Douglass said: "Where is my mother?" • "In the drawing-room with mamma." For a few seconds he stood uncertainly; and then, turo'Ug to the younger of the gills, he said coaxingly, " AUcia, won't you take Mildred some- where to unwrap?" Alicia very cheerfully complied, while Paul watched Mildred rather wistfully as she disappeared up the long flight of stairs. He began to think '.4 5 i i '"i ■■7-rW »i-7-i5n,UB^™7 '202 MILDRED KSST'S HERO. this gi-eat houHe was more lonely than any house he was ever in; but in a veiy short time MUdred was Uvck again, when they entered the drawmg- room. A sbvtely-looking gentleman stood near the fire-place, looking mther weary and dissatisfied, MiL dred thought, and by the window were sitting Mit». Everett and another lady, much stouter, with a well-defined, red face that bore no resemblance to an angel's, MUdred decided after a close inspec- tion. Mrs. Evei-ett came to Mildred, clasping the litUe hand, timidly given, in both her own, and permit- ting her hand to be vigorously shaken by Paul, who had opinions of his own on the matter of hand-shaking. ^^ "These are some of Douglass's little friends, Mi-s. Everett said, glancing towards her visitors, and then led them to chairs near the fire. Paul's eyes were diizzled by all the wonders he saw, while he kept forgetting his mother's injunction not to sbH-e with too much curiosity at his sur- roundings. A little boy by another fire aci-oss the room kept looking at him with a surprised scrutiny that was growing painful, untU at last he discov- ered it was his own reflection in one of the huge PAUL'S FIRtT BLKIoa-RIDE. than any house ■t time Mildred d the drawing- 8tood near the diusatisfied, MiL were sitting ch stouter, with no resemblance r a close ini^pec- lasping the little jwn, and permit- ihaken by Paul, 1 the matter of 8 little friends," rds her visitors, the fire. Paul's tronders he saw, ther's injunction [)sity at his sur- er fire across the urpnsed scrutiny t last he discov- one of the huge looking^' {seH. As he sat and gazed at the lofty ceiling, the walls lined with pictures, the rugs on the floor that in his eyes were much handsomer than the pictures on the wall, and all the elegant furnishings of the room, which was large enough, he decided, for a church — a sense of desolation and utter loneliness stole over him, worse than he had ever experienced at home, all alone with Grace. He took out his han'lkei'chief and very quietly wiped his nose, at the same time whisking away a few teai-s. The tall man by the fire-place made him feel worse than he would have done, for he looked so proud and silent, as if little boys were of no more account than beetles. A glance at Mil- dred occasionally consoled him a little, for she was sitting gazing most sereneb' ""ound, looking the pic- ture of content. Douglass & at the farther end of the diawing-room, moving about restlessly among some collections of engravings. He wanted to find something to amuse Paul; for he could see by his face that the little fellow was quite miserable. He was finding, as many another host has done, that it is no easy task to happily mix two opposite classes of society; for at her first glance at the children he could see that the Lady 204 MILDRED KENT'S HEM. Hermione had decided that they were not of her station. Her sister Alicia was, Uke himself, some- thing of a democrat, and was ready to be friendly, if duty required, with the cook or chamber-maid, _a characteristic that was utterly displeasing to her stately father and no less haughty sister. Doug- lass grew discouraged looking over the engravings, for they were mostly high art, — so high that even he found them tiresome. So he went to his mother and t«ked what he could do to amuse the children. Lady Merton looked at him curi- ously. "Is it customary in America for lads of your age to interest themselves in mere children?" Douglass colored. "I cannot say that it is," he replied. His mother came to the rescue. " I have taught him to act unconventionally in some things. He can give much happiness to those not so fortu nately situated as he." " A dangerous experiment, as you may some day find, my dear." Her ladyship cast a meaning glance at Mildred, who had risen and gone softly to her favorite picture, gazing up at it quite oblivious of her PAVL'S riRBT BLElOa-RIDK. 205 ^ere not of her ) himself, Home- yr to be friendly, r chamber-maid, tspleasing to her Y sister. Doug- r the engravings, I high that even le went to his Id do to amuse ed at him curi- Eor lads of your e children?" ly that it is," he " I have taught some things. He se not so fortu- ou may some day rlance at Mildred, to her favorite oblivious of her aristocratic neighbors. Mrs. Everett smiled fear- lessly up into her son's face, who stood looking very much mystified at her ladyship's remark. "You do not understand my boy. I expect him to be a knight without fear and without re- proach. Besides, he is too young to make dan- gerous entanglements." "She is a remarkably pretty child— such a one as Millais would like to paint. Why does she study that picture so intently?" " She has a passion for art. The first time she was here she stood looking at that picture — and it is the best in our collection — for more than an hour." "Has she come of a good family?" "I cannot say. Her parents are English; only a few years in this country, I believe. Her father is dead. Would you like to talk with her? You would find her refreshingly clever and original." "Yes, when she leaves the picture. I want to watch her there. Her attitude is perfect. I would like to see her painted in that position." Doug- lass turned and looked at her too, and than his eyes wandered across the room to Hermione and 206 MILDRF.D KKHra HERO. Alicia,- the one a dcBcendant of «tout.hearted yeomen who had earned their bread by the Hwe-.U of their brow; the othern the deHcendanti. of a hne of eavl«, who for hundreds of years had lived by the Hweat of otlier men's faces; and yet the one looked as gently bom as the others. ult is very odd that i)Oor men's children should be as well-looking as the rich. I never thought of it before," he said, still looking at the girh.. "Indeed, I have often been provoked to see them looking much better," Lady Meiton said honestly. "One can scarcely tell by the outward appeamnce nowadays which is mistress and which maid, except by their manner and speech. That is one advantage .ve have. Training makes a vast diffei-ence." uBut is it not strange that the children of highly-trained ancestors are not handsomer and more intellectual than those of the lowly? Other animals are improved in that way," he said, with a puzzled air. « Perhaps if our very best types of humanity were always united in marriage, a portion of the race might become greatly improved, - the product of such marriages, for instance; but the Socrat»8 -1 f Htoutrhearted by the Hwe;it idantD of n line •8 had lived by ,nd yet the one children should [ never thought at the girls. )rovoked to see dy Merton said by the outward jtress and which speech. That is ng makes a vast the children of handsomer and J lowly? Other y," he said, with les of humanity I portion of the 3d, — the product but the Socrates PAUL'S FIRST BLEIOB'RIDE. generally get the Xantippes," the Countixts of Mer* ton said, humorously. ** I believe that God so willed that everyone should have the same start at birth. Most of the really great ones whom past generations liiivo be^ queathed to us have sprung from humble iMrentage. There seems to be a law of comi^ensation running through all human existence," Mrs. Everett said, as she rose to go to Paul's relief, for the pocketr handkerchief was coming into use suspiciously often. She turned to Douglass : — **We must do something for the little lad, or he won't think Grassmere the happy place that his sister does, if some diversion is not soon pi-o- vided." Douglass followed his mother, while her ladjrship watched them with a wistful look on her healthy, good-humored face. If one of her girls could have been a boy like him, she thought, how happy she would be; or, better still, since there was such a plethora of children the world over, if, from the unlimited supply, one boy at least could have been bestowed upon her, how glad she would be I But under her brocades and velvets her heart yearned for more than one cov- eted blessing that would never be granted. 208 MJloneD WEST'S BtBO. Paul ^v»s taken to .ee the hor,e». When .p- pealed to re^peeting the »mu«ment he most de- Ld, a very emphatic reply was gwen m favor of the ho,,o,. Mfld«d very regretfully tore he.^ self a»ay fn,m the pietures and the comfortoHe fl^ide and seleet company, for she rcaUy enjoyed stealing a hasty glance into the *- »' »*' ""^ .caving her romances and dreams ahont what he saw there. She insisted on following Paul to the suhles, assuring them it was a necessity, smce he only ™ted to hear about horses now; and she nust learn aU ahout them that was possible u. order to. gratify him. » And do you not care for them yourself? Lady Merton asked. , .They are very nice before a carriage," Mdd«l said evasively. Even his Lordship smfled at the way slie spoke. , .. • i.^ Pough«s found his spirits rising when he got mto th;s..bles with Paul; and that y™'""' — of horseflesh could hardly be persuaded to enter the hou»> again even for dinner; but h» appefto ™ keen, and after he had tasted the deUeroos viands, he forgot atout the horses, and only w.hed he could stay always at Grassmete and regale h« appetite on such food. - — 1 ). PAUL'S FIRST SLEIOH-RIDE. 809 63. When ap- it he most de- given in favor stfuUy tore her- the comfortable e really enjoyed tee of each, and about what she ing Paul to the jcessity, since he 8 now; and she was possible in yourself?" Lady jarriage," Mildred ip smiled at the J when he got into youthful admirer irsuaded to enter ; but his appetite sted the delicious s, and only wished ere and regale his Mildred went home that night with the welcome hews that on the morrow Mrs. Everett was coming to St. Malachi's, to the mission-school. She de- cided her visit was quite an agreeable one, but not so perfect as she expected. "If the Merton's had not been there," she said, "it would have been the best yet. Those great people don't seem happier than other folks, and I don't think it pays to visit Avith them. Are they made of just the same material that we are ? " "Just the same; did you think they were bet- ter?" " I was not sure. I was talking with the young ladies up stairs, and they e«>id they had never visited with poor people before — I told them we were poor, and worked for our living. It didn't seem just honest not to. I gave Lady Her- mione my hands to look at. She is the prouder one, and every one, even Mrs. Everett, calls them Lady Alicia and Lady Hermione ; but Douglass speaks the same to them as to me or anyone. Lady Alicia laughed when I showed my hands to her sister, and said they were just as pi-etty as theirs, but probably the blood was different. I tried not to mind, but it really waa not pleasant." 1 f ^Sp" 210 MILDRED KEST^B HERO. «No, I presume it was not; but we all meet with the disagreeable in this world, from emperors and kings down. Indeed, I do not know but they have the hardest lot of any - to be supported by the tax-payers as so many drones -^^^/^ °^ life, and .e newspapers publishing broadcast U^e- complaints of these who cannot see why some should have so much without any effort of their own, and others give their st.-sngth to support them m idie- Tdo you meet with disagreeable people, mam- ""l I often think, with more than my share. Some- times those I work for expect impossibUities. They have never had to work, and I do not think they have the same patience as we who have so many difficulties to surmount; but, dear, it is a ve^ necessary discipUne, and I do not usually suffer very much under the severest criticisms. ul mean t« be brave, too; and aft«r all it is a littie hard for tii^e high-bom people to know they are made aft«r the same patt«m as the poorest people in the world." — — 1 t we all meet {rom emperors know but they ye supported by in the hive of g broadcast the yhy some should [ their own, and rt them in idle- )le people, mam- ny share. Some- wsibUities. They o not think they have so many ar, it is a very ot usually suffer ticisms." il after all it is a )ple to know they a as the poorest CHAPTER XVra. AT THE MISSION-SCHOOL. ^HE children consented to keep house the following day, so that MUdred could go to the school. She was so eager to see if Betsy Jones and Jack Carver would be as chai-med with the gracious mistress of Grassmere as she had heen. Her own satisfaction was doubled as she thought how pleased all the children would be with their beautiful visitor, ©specially if she invited them to visit her. Mrs. Kent was obUged to go early ; for her flock were too punctual in presenting themselves a half-hour or more before the appointed time, and they were not always a law-abiding crowd; espe- cially since their number had been so largely in- creased since the Christmas-tree. Mildred whis- pered to Jack Carver that Mrs. Everett was coming. au B- *ii**P'^*" 212 MILDRED KENT ^8 HERO. .Why, 8he'8 a regular sweU! what's she coming for?" , , ,. , uTo encourage us, I expect, " Mildred repUed^ xuther uncertain, when the question was put, which was really he; reason for visiting them. «It seems to me we come weU enough without encouragement from swell folk," Jack said, a littie sulkily. , „ .But she is so kind, I know you wont mind, Mildred pleaded. "Yes, they're kind to us the same as they are to dogs and other animals; but I guess they don't aUow we are made out of as good stuff as them. Mildred's face flushed, for she could not consci- entiously contradict Jack's assertion after hei- in- terview with the Mertongirk. "But we are. Jack; even Bet«y Jones is made like the Earl of Mertons daughter that I saw *t Gi-assmeie. If anything, I should say her material is the healthiest." Jack looked critically at Betsy, who was convers- i„g with another girl, and her eyes wei-e snapping and lips moving viciously. «I don't reckon Betsy very extra clay myself. She's not to be mentioned alongside of your mother." -1 t'a she coming ildred replied, Bras put, which em. nough without ;k said, a little I won't mind," le as they are ;ue88 they don't stuff as them." )uld not consci- m after hex* in- iut we are. Jack ; Earl of Mertotf B e. If anything, lealthiest." who was convers- 38 were snapping :tra clay myself, ongside of your AT THE MiaaiOS-BCHOOL. «I am 'most puzzled about people myself; but the difference in them is a birth-mark, and not be- cause their parents were lords, or poor people.' «I don't know much about lords and earls my- self," Jack confessed. " Don't know as I ever see one; but I've read lots about them in story-papers; and a good many of them are a precious bad lot." "I do not think they are so very happy as one might think." Mildred based this conclusion on the very dissatisfied-looking lord she had seen the day before. "They are useless critters naoBtly, and don't do much but visit at each other's houses, and shoot poor, helpless animals that don't harm anything. I'd sooner hoe potatoes or sell newspapers, than be so useless," Jack said, with fine scorn. "Maybe they are not like the ones you read about. Stories cannot always be believed, you know." " Oh, I dare say tiiere are some good specimens ; but I guess, your mother does more than a dozen average ones." "I have read of some excellent ones in his' tory." .ii tarn »4 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. Oh, yes, I know about them; but take the good and bad together, the world would be just as well off, I guess, if they wei-e all shipped off to the moon, or somewheres." . , * MUdred had a high opinion of Jack's judgment and knowledge, for he came very often of an eye- ninK and read her mother's books and talked with her! as she sat at her sewing, about theii- contenta ; and some of their convereation sounded very learned and superior to her, accustomed solely to her own little brother and sister, and the children at school, whose highest flighte of fancy were about theur clothes or their games. The school opened, Mr. Felton, in his thm, un- musical voice, reading the prayers, while M«. Kent, according to custom, had the young folks g«,uped around the organ, whei^ for a half-hour they sang the Sabbath^bool melodies by which the musical t»ste of the rising generation is mainly fomed. Betsy Jones's voice, through Mi-s. Kent « careful tmning, had lost much of it« shrill, squeak, ing quaUty ; and very much against her judgment she was learning to sing softly. She was very quick in music, and had now become the acknowl- edged leader of singing in the school; and in ,^l- take the good just as well off to the }k'8 judgment en of an eve- td talked with theii- contents ; )d very learned (ly to her own Idren at school, re about their n his thin, un> 8, while Mrs. le young folks :or a half-hour tdies by which ation is mainly gh Mra. Kent's B .shrill, squeak- t her judgment She was very le the aoknowl- school ; and in many respects a most excellent one she was, for outside the school her discipline was much stricter tihan Mrs. Kent's inside, and she compelled them to join in the musical part of the service, no matter how unlike it they might feel. Mildred joined with them in the singing ; but Betsy soon discovered tluit Mrs. Kent's dainty daughter was not of much account in swelling their harmonies. Mildred's sympathies were strongly drawn out just then towards Tommy Tuffts, who could not sing at all, and whose eyes were so ill matched. Plainly he was one of the unfortunate ones, tow- ards whom Nature had apparently acted in a very unfriendly &shion. ■ Forgetting the singing, and even Mrs. Everett's expected advent, she went off into dreamland, planning some grand surprise from fate for Tom- my somewhere along the future, whereby he might become rich and happy, notwithstanding his infirm- ities of voice and vision. Betsy reached around and gave her a punch. ^Why don't you sing?" she muttered. She never allowed any child with a bit of song in it to stand mute during this exercise. Mildred very obediently took up hei broken strain, but in a half-hearted way very dis- pleasing to Betsy. • « lie MILDRED KBNT'B BKRO. A rustie ftt the door drew all eyes. Even Mr. Felton, sitting near the door, got up and, in his blundering, nearsighted fashion, went to see who was coming. A break in the harmony warned Mre. Kent that the chUdren's attention was being distracted; but Betsy Jones, in her swift, keen way taking in the appearance of the newH^omers, and reckoning they were something out of the oi> dinary, .bui«t out with fresh force, casting at the same time a warning glance around the ch«s. They came out, in consequence, tiiumphantly at the end of the verse, and Betsy would have given a good deal to know how much impressed the strangers were witii her singmg. WhUe tiiey sang the next stanza, Betsy used eye and tongue to the utinost of her powers. She had never seen quite such a vision of middle^ged loveliness as this lady who had just shaken hands with Mr. Felton, and was now standing with a tall, handsome lad at her side, kindly regarding the group around the organ. Betsy was well enough acquainted with the fashions to admire the rich grey velvet dress and ele^nt furs, with the pretty Paris bonnet tiiat seemed a fitting crown to the perfect costume. When Mrs. Kent ceased pkying, and her tongue 8. Even Mr. and, in his t to see who mony warned on was being 3r swift, keen le new-comers, out of the or- casting at the tnd the class, riumphantly at old have given impressed the ^hile they sang tongrue to the ver seen quite )88 as this lady [r. Felton, and ome lad at her und the organ, th the fashions ss and elegant that seemed a md her tongue ■MMtM AT THE MIBBION^CHOOL. was at liberty, Betsy murmured with more reverence than she usually exhibited : ** My, but she's a stun- ner I " She was surprised at the ease with which Mildred took her mother to the strangers and in- troduced them, and equally surprised that if her dress was plain, Mrs. Kent appeared as much like a lady as the best she saw luxuriously reclining in their carriages on Fifth Avenue or Broadway. Her mind was active and her perceptions keen ; and just then came to her mind a desire to be dif- ferent from what she was. She looked at Mildred, and instinctively felt that if her clothes were no better than her own, or the family purse not any better filled, she had something utterly beyond what she had ever attained with all her vaunted smartness. The other children, for the most part, were looking with surprised, stolid faces; but Betsy's was far different. A new leaf had just been turned in her book of life; and, although the un- derlying elements of her nature were of a naturally coarse fibre, her eyes were clear enough to see there was something above her; and, with her will- power, to see this and desire its attainment was a long step on the way of her ultimately get- ting the shadow, even if the substance was be- yond her reach. 218 MILDRED KEST'8 HERO. uMrs. Everett caine up the able vrith M«. Kent and took her seat among the children, quite ob- liviouH, api>arently, of the fact that patched boots and garments were brushing her velvet gown and little hands slyly stroking the soft fur of her wrap. Adelphine Carver exclaimed, quite audibly, to a companion: "It's nicer than a pussy cats coat. Jack's face turned crimson under the com- bined effects of his sister's effrontery and the pres- ence of a lad so much better dressed and appeal^ ing than himself. A jealousy seized him lest Mrs. Kent and MUdred would care more for the son of pride and luxury, as he chose to stigmatoe Doughiss Everett, than for himself. With t^e ex- ception of Oie irrepressible Adelphine, the chddren were the pink of propriely, and sat regarding Mrs. Everett with round, curious eyes; while she told them of simihir schools she had attended, and the noble men and women whom she had met working in such schools, some of them the pro- duct of just such efforte. Jack forgot has t«>ubles whUe she talked, so interested did he grow in descriptions of some who had got tiieir t^iming in similar schools, ahd at last securing, in spite of privations, honorable positions in the world. -t ith Mn. Kent «n, quite ob> patched boots et gown, and fur of her quite audibly, a piusy cat's nder the com- T and the pres- ed and appear^ him lest Mrs. re for the son to stigmatize With the ex- le, the children sat regarding l^es; while she d attended, and I she had met them the pro- got hjs troubles 1 he grow in their training iuring, in spite in the world. AT THE MiaaiON-BCHOOL. w Only last summer," she went on to say, ^ I had a gentleman visiting me who was attracted to a ragged school in London by the music and warm room — a ragged waif, homeless and friendless. His mind waked up there — and he h.id a fine mind — and with the help and sympathy of his teachers, he went on step by step until now he is a power in the world, and the best in the land are proud to have him claim them for friends. But you need not be ambitious to become celebrated or rich. Only a few have the gifts to achieve this; and great gifts are the very scarcest things, I believe, in this world; but you can all be good. A very great man. one whose name will be re- membered quite as long as any who have lived in this century, has said : * 'Tis only noble to be good.' After this brief life is ended, you will have leisure and opportunity in other worlds to be great and the companion of kings and mighty ones." Mildred's eyes shone. It was so comforting to know that Mrs. Everett was on the way to heav- en, and was going to have the very best gifts of two worlds, perhaps of many worlds; for lUiildred was forming a strong friendship for the starry hosts 220 MILDHKD KENT'S HERO. which Hhe Studied long and lovingly through the uplifted blinda of her l«d-room windows when her mind was too full of thoughts for her to sleep. Ali-eady she had selected staivclustere as si»ecial Hcenes for study, when she had passed on to the encUess kism^ of eternity. Jack Carver's eyes had a gleam in them that revealed an intelligent soul somewhere in his organism which he especially designated me; and Betey Jones, too, had an up- lifting of countenance as if some sudden insputv tion had come to her to make her life a better thing than she had intended. The others looked more or less interested, but Adelphiue Carver still stroked the fur which she found softer than -..f of her ill-kept cat at home, whom she petted and abused by turns. The chUdren looked consid- ei^bly alarmed when they found Mrs. Everett was to be their teacher for that day. Their igno- ranee of the Bible made them shy of catechizmg strangers. The lesson went very smoothly on, however, while their gentle catechist scarcely asked a question at all, but encoumged them to volnn- teer any remaik or question they wished. They were not eager to i^spond, and her request was followed by a constrained silence; when she again . v^'wwaww ■ "-* -t )r tlirough the OW8 when her * her to Hleep. era as Hjiecial ed on to the irver's eyes liad intelligent houI he especially o, had an up* sudden inspiitir r life a better I others looked elphine Carver ind softer than liom she petted 1 looked consid- rs. Everett was Their igno- r of catechizing y smoothly on, )t scarcely asked them to volun- wished. They er request was when she again AT THE MIBBIOS'SCIIOOL. naked them if there was anything they would like her to explain, Adelphine CaiTer, whose attention was still absorb«<l in the fur cloak, piped up in her shrill, uncultured voice : ^ Is tliis made of pussy cats?" An instantaneous display of ivoiy followed lier question, even Mr. Felton, who was hovering near, joining in the general smile. Jack looked as if he would like to shake Miss Adelphine, but Mi«. Everett answered her question with all seri- ousness. '* It is not made of the pussy's fur. I will send you a book that will tell you all about it," she said, with a genial smile. Adelphine was silent for a while, but still busily inspecting the fui'. *'You kill 'em to get their skins?" she asked. "Certainly they must be killed." ♦'Well, I wouldn't kill my pussy to wear her clothes," she said scoi-nfuUy. Jack's eyes blazed, and he made a motion to carrj' off the obnoxious prattler; but Mrs. Kent intercepted him. Mi-s. Everett folded the restless little hand in her own while she said : '♦ God gives us the animals for clothing as well as food. Your own shoes once formed the coveiing of some poor animal slain to make shoes for little feet" 222 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. Adelphiue craned her neck over to look, and stretching out her feet, revealed a pair of vexy ooaise, well-worn shoes. ..I wish they'd m«le 'em oat of a nicer ammd, then," she said totfully, "like hers, there," - pomt- W to MUdred-s neat kid h.,ots, U.at were stdl dig service as host since that happy summers iay she found them waiting for her at tire door. The other chUdien were looking mo^e keenly in- terested now than when the lesson was gomg on; whUe Tommy T««t.» squinted approvingly at to boots, which l«d been precious as tlie apple of his eye -the tot long boots he ever possessed, possl- 1 the h«t for some years, unless the school should donate another pair. The hour was up now for closing, and M«. Kent invited theu: visitor to preside at the organ for the closing e«H=»^. Mrs. Evei^tt played a piece or two, in which the chUdren joined, and then motioning to Dong^ who was standing apart from tiie ret, she deUgh,«i Mttdred-s heart by singing some of th»e inajesUe strauis as yet far beyond the powers ofthe JU MalacU's mis«ion«hool. Betsy Jones stood mute with ™ptui., for she had a genuine l°-'»' "- A, and had intellect enough to appreciate more **9SW -1 to look, and pair of very a nicer animal, ihei-e," — Poi"*- that were still lappy summer's r at the door, more keenly in- was going on; jrovingly at his the apple of his possessed, possi- Less the school our was up now I their visitor to losing exercises. ro, in which the ing to Douglass, est, she delighted )f those majestic jwers of the St. Fones stood mute nine love for mu- » appreciate more AT THE MISBIOS-BCaOOL. 228 ahstract harmonies than their simple Sahbath-school melodies. When the ai>- had ceased to vibrate with the delicious strains, and the childi-en in thick clusters went homewards, talkmg of all they had geen and heard that day, Betsy walked slowly along by herself. She had so many thoughts she wanted to be by herself,— painful, growing thoughts, making her heart restless and dissatisfied. She no longer w'as impressed with hei-self as the com- plete piece of gu-lhood she had previously imag- ined. The boastful affection with which her fam- ily i-egarded her seemed very poor satisfaction now that her eyes were opened to see what higher types of humanity there were in the world. If she could then have had her life begin over again amid different sunoundings, she would prob- ably have consented tc forego the mysterious rapture one feels, when they pause long enough in the i-ush of life to think deeply on the matter, because of their own personal identity — to know tlut I am myself— that I exist a sentient, soul-blessed par- ticle of a vast creation. CHAPTER XIX. A CONSBCBATIOH. ILDRED returned from Sabbath-school with a mixed feeling of satisfaction and dis- -^ api)ointment. It was such a gladness having M«. Everett bright«n tlie dusky spaces of St. Malachi's with her strong, gracious presence, and to have her mother meet and heai- her sing ana play. But ah« 1 she had made no promise of he.p to the desolate littie flock other than a book to the poorest specimen in the whole school. She went along the street very pensively, and at the crossing where Mr. Felton always dropped away to his own lodgings, shook hands in sileuce. Her motlier noticed her depression, but waited for her to speak. She never forced her daughter's confidence, -- -r A CONSECRATION. 225 bath-scliool with 'action and dis- luoh a gladness dusky spaces of )U8 presence, and lar her sing and J promise of help ar than a book lole school. She vely, and at the fa dropped away in silence. Her t waited for her ghter's confidence, but trained her to the self-respectful habit of beat- ing with quiet resignationthe unavoidable pains of life. Paul was waiting at the door, his hands like ice, but his face eager with expectation. Now that he had thought over quietly the incidents of his visit to Gi-assmere, and realized how much there was to see and enjoy, he >vas deeply ashamed to think what a baby he had been. "When are we all going?" he cried, as he ran, bareheaded, through the snow to meet them. "She never asked us," Mildred said sorrow- fully, while Paul noticed a tear dropping down on her cheek. '♦ But you said she would," he rem<*rked, re- proachfully. " Yes, I know ; but my f eelmgs were mistaken, I expect." "You are too quickly discouraged, my child," Mis. Kent said «ncouraguigly. "It would have surprised me had she asked us to^y. She is too sensible a woman to act so impatuously." "But think how much pleasure they might Jiave had thinking about it if she had promised them a visit sometime." MILDRED KENT'S HERO. .The pleasure may be in stox^ for them yet, and Aey cannot miss what they have never ex- Dected or possessed." .But we do miss so many things that might help us to -be happy." u My child, I am begimiing to fear your acquain- tance with Gi^mere and its inmates gives you really more pain than pleasure. You take eveiythhig so intensely, you make life eitiief a rapture or an agony." Mildred stood looking silently into the glowmg coals, her eyes busy tracin>; the mysterious fa«es forming and dissolving there, but her thoughto intent on something fai- diffei-ent. Were her moth- er's woi-ds ti-ue, and was she not as happy as m those earlier days before she went tx, school and fomid a bmve champion in the knightly h«i and be^vitching solacement in the brief visita to his beau- tiful home? She was silent for a long time, pay- ing no heed to the children's prattle. A long Jaxi^burdened sigh, and then a look of resolution in the soul-lit face. , . ♦!,„ .1 am not going to think so much about the Everetts and Grassmere. God did not mean for „,e to Imve such a lovely home, and to pamt A CONBECRATION. 827 or them yet, ive never ex- s that might your acquaia- nmates gives ». You take life eitheif a to the glowing lysterious faces her thoughts Were her moth- as happy as in to school and jiightly lad and Lsits to his beau- long time, pay- >rattle. A long lok of resolution much about the id not mean for le, and to paint piotttfes, and live that kind of life. I am going to ask Him to take me and make me happy in His own way." <* But, my child, you must not ask for happiness. He may know that unreat and a measure of pain may be best for you." Another pause, and. then Mildred said calmly : «« I will ask Him to give me just what He knows is best, if it is pleasant to have or not" "That is the true way to come to God." Mildred went softly up to her room, and there alone, made her gift in all pure seriousness, and found in the consecration such a new, strange gladness, as made her for the time forget Grassmere and every other strongly coveted earthly good. Alone with her mother that evening, in the happy hour after the two other litilo tongues were stilled in sleep, she asked with some anxiety : " Was I con- vei-ted up-stairs this afternoon ? My text one day not long ago was : * Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.' " "I believe it was conversion. A child's faith is what the wisest pliilosopher miist come to God with. You were sincere in giving yourself to Him ; 9S3 If „3 illLDBED KENT'S HERO. ..dU>e joy yuexperieno^l »»*»-"»=■- compact.' . giience, MUdred sat thinking for «)me time ^" "^ J r.v. ->,««aid- "How8twinge It w that one "^' : 1 g" should look down f«>m heaven BO great as God «hou ^^^^ ^^^^^ upcmapoorUtt^g^ Uke^ I cannot tell beside me, as I felt He ma j you how near He seemed. I wish He would me he a missionary." ^ .The good God will give you ^^e "g^t -orfc to do fofnim, if you a., ready and wilhng to '^.ui we. a hoy 1 would study ; and when I got . :: a man, I would pr^. ; ^ jtlyt ^ to them from a piece ot pape h^ J^^ the Bihle, and get a look at it as if 1 w *.!,•«« Oh. I would stand right up ana ing something. Oh, wo ^^^^ ^^^ talk from my heart. That « the w y to dilate at thought of how s men's hearts to he at peace with^^^ ^ ^^^ .But Mildred, you must remembei " - \ I goal to His e in silence, t is that one from heaven d come right I cannot tell He would let he light work Mid willing to and when I got the people, not er hid away in if I was steal- l right up and way Peter the did. They got ughts, and then pie." Her .yes iier form seemed would appeal to God. nember it takes A COSaSCRATIOS. splendid gifts to reach men's hearte like your f*- vorite characters were enabled to. Preachers now- a^ys are thankful to get a heamg by any means, that is, the rank and file of them. It is only granted to a few rare souls in each generation to have the power to draw their fellow men in great masses, and sway them at will." *»But they could stand right out and talk honestly to them, mamma, and not play hide and seek with a sheet of paper in the Bible. I think it is setting a bad example to children." "I did not think you were so observing. I try not to think of the minister's notes. I am glad to get good thoughts by any means." "But I can't help seeing; and then I get so afraid that they will blow out when the wind comes through the windows, and the minister will have to stop preaching. Oh, if I were only able to do something myself 1 What a pity it is to be a woman I " " Perhaps you may be permitted some day to give up home and friends, and the joys of civil- ized life to go away among savage people in some remote ishind of the distant seas, to tell the igno- rant of Christ." m w ■ "1 lat deal, and 8, was faith- \» those who the rare un- CHAPTER XX. E8TRANGKMBNT8. VryHE winter sUpped away as aU winters, no ] I L matter how drear and desolate, have a ^ fortunate way of doing, leaving MUdred at its close greatly changed from one year before. A resolute expression had gradually changed the gentle child-face, so that when busUy thinking or puzzling over some knotty question in her studies, she looked almost womanly. A rapidly develop- ing intellect, earnestness iu performing well life's lesponsibUities, and an early acquaintance with care, were causing the free-heartedness of chUdhood to give pkce to the becoming dignity of young maidenhood. Beth and Connie were growing less friendly, and were not so lavish in their expres- •'MpaMtMilRMMM 882 MILDRED KENT'S BEBO. Bions of regard, since they found there was no further recompense in the way of visito to Grasa- mere, but they still patronized Mildred to some extent, because of her continued intimacy mth the famUy at Grassmere. Their own fashionaWe moth- ers would have gUidly sacrificed some hundre^ of dollar to secure the same degree ot fnenM.^ which had so brightened and stimulated Mildreds life, and which had dropped down to her like some mysterious gift from the clouds. The two g^rls, along with others of then schoolmates, used to spec- ulate on the strangeness of the friendship that had sprung up between Douglass, his mother, and the humble dwellers in No. 6 Mulbeny Street; but it was a mystery that always baffled their powers to penetrate. Beth used to reiterate that it was not natural. ult is just like what happens in story-books; and anyway, MUdred isn't like other girls. Shes religious; and I guess the Lord does more for that kind. It« only natural He should," she remariced, one luncheon-hour, whUe they discussed tiie mtei> esting, though very perplexing question Another thoughtful girl, well-read in Sunday^chool literati^, objected to Betii's theory. Her researches on the ere was no its to Grass- ■ed to some aoy vnth the onable moth- hundreds of of friendship ted MUdred's her like some le two girls, used to spec- iendship that I mother, and berry Street; baffled their reiterate that I story-books; r girls. She's more for that she remarked, md the inters ion. Anothor iiool literature, sarches on the SBTMAirOSMKSTB, subject of goodness aud its rewardii had, for the roost part, been of a doleful nature, until near the end of the book, when everything turned out satisfactorily. ♦♦But Mildred ia pretty good to begin with," Beth assured them. ♦♦ She makes her own prayers, and Grace told me once that she prayed for us, too ; and then she is going to be a missionary among the cannibals, so she has to get her good things now, and I don't mean to envy her any more if I can help it." ♦♦Why, the idea that you should envy her I" Connie said, with fine scorn. ♦♦Yes, I do, and so do you," Beth said, firmly. ♦'Wa wouldn't talk so much about her going to Grassmere and getting on so well with her lessons, if we didn't. We wouldn't try so hard to find out when she goos out there. I declare, Connie De Smythe, you walk out that road nearly every Sat- urday afternoon just to see, and I go with you fur the same reason ; and we are both as cross as bears if we see lier g^ing there. I do believe we are a real mean, envious lot, and I am ever so much ashamed of myself." ♦♦I should think you ought to be," Connie said MILOttO KKHT't BCtO. 1 ..ii m,t are envious of a newing- woman-. «««enea-faoed daughter." Whereupon the« en,u«l a very hvely eonven* a„n hetween the en.wd of ^hool^prU. wh.oh e,^e,l i„ a general e.tn«.g.n.e„t, lasting for«ve»l day., with much pacing U, and fro of youthful t^e- kea«,r.. with «.rn,w and vindietivenee. gener^y- There may have reanlted some tritog b.n.«t to ' Beth, « M l-one-t confe»ion. of .m w,* Cty re-olve to foreake them mu.t do, erne. *e straightway went to Mildr«l, entering .nto a eom- ^t with her for life-long friendship, wh.ch ^n- Tued without serious f^cture for three wh^e weeks, only to be interrupted at *e end of iha^ toe by Connie, who really oared more for BeU. ^ for any one else in the world, and eou^d n t endure having Mild«d loved better than he«eU_ ^nnle was a fine st^tegUt, and she «>on found a way to supplant MUdred. whose -^em^^ * Ues were se»n=ely superior to a moles. The tatte. tTeved silently over Beth's defection ana broken Sh, while she almost wi.h«l the time had come «„t she might leave for her cannib^, -ce the»^ whatever her other heart«=hes, there ^«ld n^ poesibly be such a thing as shattered ftiendshrp. *'1 of s sewing- vely conversa- », which ended »r several dayij» youthful tale* nesH generally, fling benefit to OS of sin with at do, since she ing into a com- hip, which con- ttr three whole he end uf that more for Beth ^ and could not er than herself, she soon found scheming facul- >le'8. The latter ion and broken I time had come ibals, since there, there could not tered friendship. ESTRANQEMENTB. She wa« slow to learn wh»t an uncertain tiling average human friendship is, nor how sadly human nature was broken in the fall in Eden. Only hera and there, scattered at wide intervals among our acquaintances, do we find a shining specimen of humanity, who has been but lightly injured by this Adamic taint. To hold such a one as a steady, life-long friend surpasses in some respects the pos- B sion of another Kohinoor ; sincj the latter must perish amid the wreck of worlds, while the former may run parallel with the eternities. • The estrangement of her schoolmates was not of a sufficiently tragic nature to interfere with Mildred's studies. Reflections respecting it occu- pied a portion of her nightly vigils, along with castle-building and star-gazing. Girl-philosopher that she was fast becoming, she sagely reckoned that a thing so brittle as friendship, and once broken the cause of so much pain, was hardly worth the labor of cultivation ; and so she resolved to seek her best of thought and companionship within herself, in books, the fair fount of Nature in her multitudinous forms, and, best of all, in Him whose hands fasliioned her, as well as the great suns and systems that she was reading about now ill I m MILDRED RENTES HKRO. To diligently out of study-hours, and which by turns ol™ed .nd l^ffled her, but the^^y w.d^- i„g her ment.1 horizon vastly; for -h"' J^^^^" al of thought and fancy, can learn o the .n^- itely great or small of ci-eation, as revealed by t. e^ope'^and .nicroscope, without a widening of the. „.en^l faculties? As she read and dindy comp^ hended the descriptioios of ste«.luste« --* "ebul« each of to excelling i. extent/ and -bnllxancy our ovm planet, amazement took the place of ig- nm-ance. Their huge city appeared on the map a little round dot no larger thUn a punctuation m^k. Comparing tins with the whole con^nent, and then ^vith the world at large, she taied to grasp thp size of the earth, and further, to compare that with a sun or star sj^tem. But her head tlu^bbed, and imagination grew faint, while for a time he«elf and schoolmates and all the Umited circle of her ac- quaintance assumed painfully smaU proportions. However, it helped her to bear with some phil- osophy the i-ebuffs and slights dealt out to hor by her schoolmates in no stinted measure. Beth .nd Comiie had confided to their particular friends Paul's excellent appreciation of honed tur- key and ham^andwiohes, and the mrity such edi- id which by liereby widen- who, in the n of the infin- jvealed by tdi- iening of their dimly compre- ra and nebula, and •brilliancy le place of ig- on the map ft nctuation mark, inent, and then I to grasp th3 tnpare that with d tlirobbed, and a time herself i circle of her ac- all proportions, vith some phil- ialt out to hor measure. Beth their particular an of boned tur- rarity such edi- EBTRANQEMENTa. **7 bles were in Mildred's home -even :x>ast beef and bacon being scarce, so Paul had assu.-ed them. "Why, they are almost charity people, Beth used to affirm, when feeling specially out of sorts with MUdred. "I wonder what the Everetts can see in them?" But neither she nor any of her friends could get a satisfactory reply to hor query. Paul and Grace began to take turns now in keeping house, so that Mildred x^3ed to accom- pany her mother to the Sunday^chool. Mrs. Kent believed her daughter's influence would be a W^ to the chUdren, ^hose types of youthful chamc- ter were all sadly marred by evil association. And for Mildred there was a peculiar fascination in watehing these untouned youth ; Betsy Jones, par- ticularly, interested her - the interest at times strongly mixed w^th annoyance. Next to Mrs. Kent, Betsy felt herself to be the most import- ant me.nber of the school, and assumed superior airs with Mr. Felton himself; but that near-sighted, simple minded gentleman never recognized the fact. Bet«y took particular pains to snub Mildred m regard to her smging. She could not calmly accept a rival ; and although she assured the cliildren that Mildi-ed Kent could not sing worth a cent, yet she u'.uaUy experienced a jealous pang when she heard ii ■! ! f i f1 288 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. the soft, musical voice singing in a solo. Her owr voice liad twice the volume, if only she was l^mitted io use it; but Mild^^'s voice had a Hweetuess of expression that even Tommy Tufft« ^.cognized and tried to describe u. his .na.i.cu- iate way to Betsy, giving her to undei^tand tl«i he liked it vastly better than aU the noise she could ,„ake Betey shook hin., at tlie same time assur- i„g him that, .vith his eyes, he couldn't judge anythuig coiTectly. . ' I don't heai- with my eyes," he retorted, wish- iuK vei-v much he could sb'-.ke her. ll gie.^ you'll alike inside and out-crooked aU over." .. f .When I'm a man I'll pay yo« up, see if I don't." , ,j « You'll never be a real man, no matter how old you ax-e. I'd advise you. Tommy Tuffts, not to set up for a judge of singuig, or anything else. You ne.d all the sense you have to mind your own affaire." . ^ i.„ *^ir Tommy was forced t» acquiesce, but he tooK his i^venge in gazing with apparent ^ration at Mildi^d while she sang, if Betsy chanced to he looking, and in this way seized as a Mordec. at her gate, whenever MUdi^ was at the school. ,^s ,._^~^~^- a solo. Heif only she was voice luwl A ^ornmy Tuffte his iuai-ticu- Aderotund thnt ioise she could ne tim3 assur- uouldu't judge retorted, wish- t — crooked all ou up, see il I matter how old Toffts, not to anything else, to mind yonr e, but he took irent admiration ^etsy chanced to d 08 a Mordecp' ) at the school. CHAPTER XXI. ONB 8P«AF OATHBBED. SOUGLASS EVERETT took leave finaUy of tlie Paik Avenue School when the mid- summer hoUdays began. He was now suf- fioientiy advanced in his studies to enter collegia, and mother and son would soon be compelled to forego the dear companionship existing since his babyhood. He knew she shrank fi-om the separar tion, but with a boj-'s eagerness to go out into the broader Ufe, it was natural he should anticipate the change with more satisfaction than pain. He ^va8 ambitious to be sometiiing himself, independently of what his ancestor had done for him. He knew he was one day to be a very rich man, but Ins moOier had so nicely guided his instinct, Uiat he Li 240 MIUDRED XENT'B HERO. was eager to accomplish Homething better th^n the mere Blinding of money he did nothing to accumu- late. Many a long hour he and hin mother had spec- ulated as to what his life-work should be, but neither of them had yet been able satisfactorily to de- . cide Her counsel wa« that he should fit himself for any work by having every faculty thoroughly trained, and then look to God for guidance. Douglass tried to submit to this decision with what patience he dould command ; he longed, however, to know what his work should he, and often envied other lads who seemed to know directly what path lay before them among the world's workers. Of one thing, however, he determined to make sure. He studied a« hard as if hU school-privileges wei« as unc^r- tein and difficult as the poorest country lad's who feels the fluttering of a noble, caged soul, and longs to give it room. He could learn i^adily, and without much effort led in his classes; but in his despairing moods -and he frequently had these, which appear to be the inevitable lot of every highly gifted soul -he reckoned it no sign that he possessed gift« above mediocrity to be able to do i,i8 He feared that, after all his efforte, his might be only a common, i-eceptive intellect, that takes -t iter thon tho jr to aocumu- ther had spec- ould be, but factorily to de- fit himself for >ughly trained, Douglass tried at patience he to know what ied otlier lads path lay before Oi one thing, e. He studied mre as uncer- intry lad's who ^d soul, and tm i-eadily, and les; but in his itly had these, lot of every no sign that he be able to do Forts, his might Bct, that takes OlfK BHEAF QATBERBD. 241 in other men's thoughts and the secrets of the universe, so far as others had discovered them, much as the sponge takes in water, but lacking that divine creative power, the inheritance of so few, and which, for want of a better ivord, men call genius. If so, might it not be as well, he reas- oned, for him to enjoy the good things so plenti- fully provided by industrious ancestors, and cease struggling for what lay outside Ids strongest en- deavors? But these thoughts, though forcing a lodgment in his brain, were powerless to weaken his determination at least to make the effort to be something better than a blot on Creation's face, as all idlers certainly are. Stars and animalculae alike fulfil the object of their Creator's intention, as well as all intermediate existences, so far as we know of these, mat! alone excepted. While his mother conversed with him respecting the work accomplished by those who most fill the world's eye in the best sense, at the present day, and some of whom he had himself met near or remotely in their journeyings in Europe and Ameiv ica, he felt his pulses tingle and his ambitions stirred to take his place one day as a poer among the best His mother noted the flash of his eye i-j m ij S42 MILDRED KEltT'B HERO. and indulged in her own dreaim for her boy's fu- ture. A mrely-giftea and cultured woman she felt encouraged, aside from the partial -otherAove, to hope that Douglass had i^ceived as his birthright gifte infinitely richer than beautiful Grassmere and L additional wealth that, with judicious care, might outlast a dozen genemtions. It would be stmnge if the son of such a mother, so carefully trained, his bestinstinctsconstantly encouraged, should disappomt his mother's hopes. For moi^ than tliree thous- and years the promise has st«od for the encourage, ment of parents that children rightly trained would not in after yea« depart from it. Mi.. Everett accepted that promise as true, and acted according- ly; and it was not the lad's intellectual powe« Ine that she endeavored to have highly devel- °^Years before, when Death stepped across the threshold of Grassmere and took from her, at a stroke, the light of her eyes, beside her husband s dying piUow she brought her breaking heart to the com^iom^te Christ, with her babe andher woiW- ly possessions. Unlike many others who receive the inion in bitter woe that He gives, and when the aftertide of peace comes forget the Fnend who -v her boy's fu- oman, she felt lother-love, to lis birthright Trassmere and >U8 care, might lid be strange Uy trained, his ould disappoint m three thous- the encourage- Y trained would Mi-s. Everett toted according^ lectual powers highly devel- led across the from her, at a her husband's ing heart to the and her world- who receive the ;ives, and when the Friend who mm I ONX BHBAF OATBBRBD. S48 brought relief, she never forgot whose she was; and as the years flowed across the rfjnt in her life and partially healed it, there was a growing inti- macy between herself and the Master, until her character, naturally gentle and self-repressed, ma^ tured into one of the fairest usually seen in this lapsed world. She had early impressed on her boy's mind the great honor Ood condescends to bestow on any who will accept the gift. Unlike most, she emphasized the honor God confers by adopting us as children, and not, as is indirectly implied, the honor we confer on Him by giving ourselves into His keeping. She tried to uplift her son's conceptions of the Deity, and to have his first thoughts of God as a being wonderously glorious and honorable, ex- alted far above everything within human concep- tion. There was nothing apologetic in her atti- tude towards religion when in the society of her most worldly acquaintances. The least spiritual could not fail to realize that her religion was no mere cloak, serving as a wrap to conceal the dark- er workings of her soul, but a part of herself, so in- wrought with the fibres of her spiritual being that it would be impossible to conceive of her as other than a disciple of the meek Saviour who taught JL W' S44 w.'\ H- MILDKED KKNT'8 HERO. His foUowers amid the hills and valleys of Pale* 'Tiving in the world', a...,iaUng intimately with the lich and great, she was yet not of it. There was notog of the ascetic in her nature, no mo,^ hid shrinking from contact with any P^^ f ^^^«; She loved her fellow^^reatures, and delighted to „»ake the favorites of fortune happy, as well as those whose path lay in the humble vale of pov- erty and care. She reckoned, no doubt very JusUy, that with either class there was more or less ac- quaintance with the bittemesses of hfe,-the nch Squiring her symi«thy quite as intensely as the p^r, their milUtones, having less to gnnd, tummg r the sated heart. She set herself now m the few weeks left to her of her son's stay at home, to crowd i to that brief space all the pleasure pos- sible. C.mssmere was turned into a i^gular cam- vansary with the coming and departing gueste. The rount«ins wer. sparkV^^ their brightest m the hct midsummer air, the flowed *«<^--f ^"'^ «„ce with a ptodigality in which, no ^^^^^"^^ and bees, as well as human creatures, revelled; the ^n, white scatues in thei. rigid, marble att^d^s „o longer looking chill and uncomfortable amid the -V OSE BHEAF OATBBKBD. M6 flys of Pales- timately with of it. There iture, no mor- phase of life. delighted to )y, as well as vale of pov- iht very justly, ore or less ac- life, — the rich nteiisely as the I grind, turning slf now, in the (tay at home, to e pleasure pos- a regular carar ^parting guests, brightest in the dding their frag- no doubt, birds ■es, revelled ; the marble attitudes iortable amid the sunbeams and blossoms. Busy people, whose loto were cast amid ceaseless activities, paused here for a brief breathin^pell, and let gentie thoughts of heaven and the long rest of eternity faU like soothing balm on their spirite, and then carryinf away with them amid the rush and din of daily care hallowed memories of the saintly mistress of Grassmere, who placed service and love for Christ before everything. Other souls, too, who knew Uttle of the luxuries and refinements that may be used as helpful ministries, were led to think of that country where they too might revel amid aU perfect things. With the natural impatience of youth, Douglass used sometimes to get tired of some of his moth- er's guests, and would have chosen more of soli- tude with her alone. It was quite natural that he should get wearied of the little thrills of e6sta«y of prim maidens long past their prime, but who clung to vouth and ite ^ys, often caricaturing the latter,' or of doleful widows, who had not learned his mother's happy art of forgetting their own selfish grief in making others glad, bnt there was one gathering in those hist few weeks at Grass- mere that, from ite very oddity, he enjoyed so much '' '3 .1 M MILDRED KENT'S HERO. that it made him forget a good many other un- ^ngenialHocial experiences. At la«t MUdred came home f..m St. Malachi's school w»th such a «. diant countenance that Paul inquired if she had met an angel. u Yes, we had one at school to^y; and I have almost felt as if I was in heaven ever since^ .Did she have on a crown?" Grace asked, her face alight with radiant expectation. «Not that we could see." .And was her white rohe just musUn, or was it nicer than silk or satin, and the wing, and everything just like all the other angels? :C fvon't get all thc.e things till she dies. « Why, angels don't die." .K w« only M«. Everett," P.«l »id ^'^l- „You «ai «.y -he to ^orth ™« ^ " *»" » p«, ™u,y angeU, when 1 tdl you what .he to^d rUay. She .nd Doughs were .t «*ool, „d Mr FelU.n «.d m«nm., »d ^1 the «=ho^ ^ invited ont t« Gr«.m.re on Tuesday, and «e are going to have tea in a ,«n.me^.ho««. and Lie. Ida sail on .he lake, and all U.eaower. we can pick.' . , . i ai.« Grade's foce t^ed pale and then pmk. She ^ms !■■ ■■I .-- -X ny other un* Mildred came bh such a ra- l if she had r; and I have rer since.' ace asked, her nuslin, or was tie wings and Eingels ? " till she dies." il said loftily, ■e to us than a a what she told ere at school ; all the schopl Tuesday; and mmer-house, and d air the flowers then pink. She OSE BBKAF QATBBRBD, •*' was scarcely less shy tlmn when she fl«t nuuie Douglass's acquaintance, when she peeped at him from behind a chair; and her heart fluttered at the prospect of seeing that beautiful place the childi^n had talked so much about; and a as, seeing so many strangers at the same time ; but she resolved to go and be as brave as Paul. Jack Carver called that evening to walk to church with Mr«. Kent. He was a very regular wo^hipper now, but only on mre occasions went with Mrs. Kent. He was growing rapidly, and be- ing bright and active, earned many a dollar that few knew of but himself, so that he was able to dress respectably. Aiid now, instead of buying trashy literature, he expended his spare cash m what was useful, occasionally buying a good book, hut relying riiainly on the public libraries for h« mental food. He attended night>«chool, and though he occasionally nodded over his lessons after a specially busy day, he was amassing a consider^ able fund of useful knowledge, so that Mrs. Kent began to feel as proud of him as if she had really some private interest in him. He came that even- ing more particularly t« talk over with Mildred the day's pleasuring they were to have at Grass- (48 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. r^eve. for he was a« gratified at the prospect a. any of the young people; but he had fully deeded that his Btep-mother's family were none of them to be represented there. Adelphine had heanl them tolking, but she did not understand about it with sufficient distinctness to enlighten her mother on the subject; and none of the other schooUludren were anxious to have her know about it, est she nxight continue her criticisms of Mrs. Kveretts costumes or premises. Her mother would, no doubt, pour out all her vials of indignation on Jack's head, so far as she was allowed to do, when she discovered how her precious chdd had been cheated; but Jack w.« developmg into such a n.anly youtix tiu^t he was pretty well out of reach of his mother's wrath. As he sat with Mildred, in the peaceful hnsh of the Sabbath even-tide, - Paul and Grace turmng over quietly the leaves of the great family Bxble and making ti.eir quaint remark, on the pictured faces of the prophets and kings, with Mddred s t. W in the open window wistfully looking mto the still depti« of ti.e summer sky, as if her heart had a homesick longing to plunge into its mys- terious deptixs and pierce the secrets of the to-morrow -^ -1 ' prospect as fully decided lie of them to heard them about it with mother on chool-<;hildren it it, lent she ifrs. Everett's er would, no ndignation on ed to do, when iiild had been into such a 1 out of reach taceful hush of Grrace turning family Bible 1 the pictured 1 Mildred sit- looking into as if her heart into its mys- the to-morrow . ONE BHEAF OATBERED. of Death, he vaguely wondered why his own home could not be as reflned and liappy ; the dif* ference, he decided, was altogether in the women- folk of the two households ; for the money ex- penditure was much heavier in his own home than this. Mrs. Kent flitted softly to and fro, her presence almost as noiseless and fully as be- neficent there as the sunlight. He would have reckoned himself rich, indeed, if he could get his home and kindred at once transformed into an exact likeness of these. As Mildred sat tliinking over their visit to Orassmere, of which they had just been so eagerly talking, a shadow stole ovor her spurits • while she looked around on the hum- ble room and out on their bit of garden in t'^rst, with its feeble buttercups and disheartened-looking dandelions, comparing them with the roses, lilies, geraniums, and other choice plants preparing now to fall asleep in the heavily perfumed air at Grassmere ; while in the lofty rooms, where high- bred people were passing to and fro amid the pic- tures and elegant furnishings, she could almost hear in imagination the delicious strains fi-om the music-room, where no doubt at this hour Mrs. Everett, or some musical friend, was engaged in creating harmonies. 250 • MILBREB KCIIT-a nCKO. Preseatly M». Koat and Jaok left to church ; .nd then the eWMren's prayen, wem «..d, an<t they »ere soon Btraying amid the tantdUing rea ta, . „t dmmland, when Mildml again took her place by the open window and »at dreaming her own dreams while »he half<!on«ionaly watched the snns tat etmy bean., following hard after their dejart. i„g companion,, to cheer other hearte and apacee t .„d the et»« took up their .hining,-her own paUicular atar looking down at her, ahe toced, L one of the angeU of God endeavoring ^ up- lift her from the touch of earth and «lflahBe«. Her mind wa, busy, -not merely engj«ed 'n ux- urio. reverie, but in eameat, painful ttoikuig that left her brain throbbing and weary. She remeuH hered the aapect J«>k Carver's home preeented when she went there not long ago to aee a chad they thought would die, mi even the mem- :^ made her shudder. She readied the look o la^tion depic,«l on his face when he glancec .round at the comfort, of her own home, while conacience whiapered "what if ahe ^ '^J"' with the Carven, and caU that coarae, W..«. tured woman mother, and *are ^J^'^ home with thoae terrible children!" Humbled at I -) t for church; 5re said* w^^ talizing realms . ook her place dng her own bched the sun's r their depart- rts and spaces ; ng, — her own r, she fancied, eavoring to up- md selfishness, engaged in lux- il thinking that r. She remem- iome presented ago to see a even the mein- iled the look of rhen he glanced /m home, while jhe had to live coarse, hard-fea- , the disordered Humbled at »> 3A1 ONE SHEAF GATHERED. remembrance of her dissatisfied fancies a few m^ xuente before, she knelt by her chair and asked God to forgive her for indulging ever in r^pmmg thoughts, and again asked Him to take her and give her what was best, and let her work for H^m Lmewhere. She u-ose from her knees, and hfUng her eyes again to the bright shining of the sta« she tried to look past them to heaven .teel , some- where, she believed, in those far depths of space, Zhere God is amid the splendor of H« throne. room and the glorious ranks of «l>-|;»g J^^^ yet bending His ear to listen to her humble cry. A feeUng of awe, so deep that it reached to pain, came over her while she reflected that only a mo- „.ent before she h«i conversed with tb« -gh^ Being, but, -and at the thought her hear^ sUlled it« frightened beating,-the Christ who died for her was sitting there -God with God Her mother came home, too, that night, in a very grateful mood, for there had been a meeting of very Isual power, and Jack Carver had stood up foi prayer and on the way confessed tiiat for many LL he had found the burden of his sins heavier than he could bear. ult wa« one Sunday when you were talking to i . ■ lUlW I -•* % 252 MILDRED KENT^S HERO. US about eternity," he said to M«. Kent, "bow long it was, and what a little thing might keep xis from Hpending it with Christ. If you remembe^ you talked to us a lot about Him, what pain He en- dured to have u« live with Him forever; and now although He receives such honor fitm aL Hi. sainte and angels, He liste.. to our faintest reques^ for mercy and pity. Ever since I've seemed to see Him listening for me U> come. To-mght 1 forgot about eternity, and those awful things I ve iJlHUch a horror of, and I just seemed te see Christ with the blood on His hands waitang to Uot out my sins. How I ^sh He'd give me a chance to tell Him that I am gratefu^ for wha He has done for me. You see, I can tell you what I think of what you have done for me, and may- be I'll have a chance some day to- do soi.ethmg for you ; but it's different with Him. He .s so nch and g..at, He don't need the help of a poor boy like me; there a. so many in heaven and on ea^ p^uising Him, I am of no account at all no more than one of the sparrows hopping around on the street." , ., Mi^. Kent'H eyes were full of happy tears, whde Jack poured out breathlessly his story. AH the ...— ..I~- nt, "bow long t keep U8 from emember, you , pain He en- 3ver; and now, fi-cm all His faintest request ;'ve seemed to e. To-night I rful things I've seemed to see inds waiting to [e'd give me a ateful for what an tell you what ar me, and may- ». do soi.ething m. He IS so rich p of a poor boy iven and on earth it at all, no more g around on the happy tears, while , story. AH the ONE SHKAF OATHERF.D. 253 plea^ure^eekei. in the world could not conceive Lr joy, as she stood in the mist of the starlight with Jack's fonn dimly outUned, his qmvenng featux^ quite in the shadow, and talked to hxm of his new-found Friend; for on their slow home- waid way, the boy had laid hold of the mystexy of faith and accepted Chiist for his atonement. uGod provides work for every one ready and willing to do it. You willOiave opportunity every day of proving your feai^y to Him. You can be- ain right at once in your own home." «Any other place would be easier than that, was the answer, rather hopelessly given. uWe are not to choose our work. No wise pax^nt does that with children, and we ^ only chUdren of a larger growth; very often willful and W to teach. in Christ's school. If you wm one of your own family for Heaven, what a success your 1 will be! I have always di^aded the thought of ifoing there alone." .ffiut you need not do that any longer. I shall be your boy there, and I am so glad to belong to you in some way-the only mother I have ever """Xil was a quiver in Jack's voice, though the rmm tihat stood iu spoke softly. ,hile the touch B most like a before. CHAPTSR XXn. DOUBTmO CA8TLE. TACK presented himself »t No. 6 Mulberry n street very promptly on Monday evening. iJ Mk. Kent saw that his face looked troub. led; but after a while he began to look lu^p^er as they sat in the twiUght singing, while Mddi-ed played some of the old majestic tunes - the .egacy to the Christian church of some of the mast^i. of musical composition. He had . fine soprano voice that might, in a few yea,«, develop into an equally good tenor or baritone; and Mrs. Kent had en- lavoi^d to cultivate his t«ste by introducing hm^ so far as she was capable, to the moi-e advanced compositions of saci-ed music MUdred had a de- cided ta8t« for ch«sic music, and under her motii- W'^s ' ' 256 MILDRED KEST'8 HERO. er'8 painstaking instruction, since she was able to sit at the harmonium, she was now enabled to ex. U.ct, especially in inspix^d moments, a good degree of harmony from Mozait's masses and the hymns of the Bachs, and some others of the older compo- sers, whose works had come to her mother through a musical grandmother long since passed tx> the world where music may appeal to other sens^ than il.ose of hearing. At last the twUight had 80 far fadad that Mildred could no longer dis- tinguish the notes; when she had ceased pUymg, and the two children, tired with the long days play, had nearly sung themselves to sleep, Mrs. Kent laid away her work and put them tx) bed whUe Mildred, going to the open window, sat watching the «ky with the loving wistiulness Jack had so often noticed before. Getting tnred of the silence he said, at last: "I believe you are home- sick to get up there." uOh, no, I want to live on this earth a ^at ^y xnore years. I expect the people up there ai. far happier than we are ; but I cannot see how they have the same chance to work and make others better and happier as we have down here. «I8 that what you want to live for? m DOOBTISa CASTLE. 257 was able to nabled to ex-- a good deg^e id the hymns older compo- ther through a Missed to the other senses I twilight had lo longer dis- ceased playing, bhe long day's to sleep, Mrs. i them to bed, 1 window, sat istfulness Jack g tired of the you are home- earth a great eople up there cannot see how nd make others L here." for?" "One of the things," she said, timidly. "There will be such a long time to go around among the stars and learn their histories, and to get ac- quainted with all the great people, that I don't feel in any hurry to begin." " Yes, and one has to die to get there ; and that is anything but a good outlook. Besides, if we should find at last that it was all » mistake." " Oh, Jack, we can never do that. It is just as true and real as this world." "Lots of wise men don't think so." "I never knew that anyone thought there was a doubt. I would rather never have existed at all than to be put out like a candle when I die." There was such pain in her voice that Jack re- gretted that he had spoken his own despairing doubts. "What are you speaking about so dolefully?" Mrs. Kent asked as she came into the '•oom. They^ were both silent, and she asked again. " Jack says maybe there is no Heaven, or life after this is done. He says some wise men believe so." "Why, Jack, have you so soon got into Doubting- Castle?" Mx-s. Kent asked cheerily, as if that were not matter for surprise, however. m- M^' 258 MILDRED KEST^a HESO. .Idon'tknowwhe,.Ihaveg«t,b«tit«not the sort of place I was in ^^''''«^''..„ .What has gone wrong with you I^J .Itisno«seformetotr.tobeaChnstu.n. can't and live there." .God never put« «s in any places, J»«^' J^ Mn t« serve him,— not even the pal- 't.t: -%.c^ you »iU s«.n ^^U .„„„«! to get » «i.e and ho»o of .o«r o»n, » I believe VU let women alone when , tot ra like them, ii they were .11 like you, r »Id, tith a ^t attempt a. cheerfnlne., „ « make their famiUee comfor«.ble and happy, Mildred -^ «>^»"^^ ^i„„^ ^ .ome di«e. " One would tmnK you uc » „„„ii„ " e„t order of beings, you epeak«..mpersonally. -1 >. t, but it is not , »» L to-day?" a Christian. I es. Jack, where [)t even the pal- probably it is the aim." larder than with You have no despairingly. U soon be old e of your own," when I'm a man; rere all like you," ■ at cheerfulness, are nice, and they rtable and happy," ;ed to some differ- so impersonally." DOVBTISG CAMTLE. "^ uWell, mamma, I am not a woman. Tlunk of all the days that must come and go first." uBut they will all be gone ■'ome day, and your turn to have a house of yom .w. .nd husband to make happy wUl comeat > V'^^ -id' -t-'^ ^Tr don't much expert . get married. That wUl not be in my wav .f life," she repUed with perfect seriousness. ult is altogether too soon for you to be spec- ulating about such things," rejoined Mrs. Kent « Marriage is a very solemn undertaking and children should not forecast such vague possibil- ities. Live each day wisely, making the best of ite opportunities, and leave an uncertain future »But we may talk about Grassmere. Saturday is not really the futui-e." Her mother smiled at MUdred's request, and gave her consent; whereupon Mildred and Jack fell to discussing the Everette, their homo, aUd their unusual kindliness to otiiers. «You will get a better idea of heaven after you have been there," Mildred assured him. " I really can't x-ealize that I shall have such a home a^ that ,&,- «'fe>j«'.-!^lik\!.^ie-;:..'.. . , ;,■ 1 like to alter *»« «■>'* ' J" '^J when I die. Hike" J »lw»y» «>»k» KatW. ..o.»e .« -ny n».n,.o^. J J^^^^^, i,.,„„y Father-. o-»^^,rln..»-i , expect it U i«.t U.e "^el not n.o™ anx^ou. ^t«r. I wonder poor l-P^ *" \,„„ j^ u. Mr. to die > but one day I wa. ..Ik "g ^ Felton, «.a he ».id poor people lo^ t ^^^^ ™ch.atherich,b«tn»ny <*- „ „, reckoning about heaven at all- deratand it." .^j „ g«Kl right to Uve aa "The poor have just as g Ae rich," Jack »««'*«*• „„„h « live for; „Ohye.butt..y^«n^»» .„^„d .nd then i>«t .o d.e .ndje •» ^„ „^„ to die en.pe«.rs. O"''' * f w^Wng tlorrow on ^i, to-night you might he walking ^^^ i^ .nd have a !«.-.«« !«'*» ffr p^vided you ;- r"-^^; ;, , while longer in „I know, but Id rather si»y_^ ^^ ^^^^ ari. Wd-nowwouldnt yo«^ ^^owledged .p^ed «, o;- *»;:'t«rt'»tday they were d>e UA a good deal rf an. ^ __^,^^^ ^^^„ ■^""^ "" TJZ " - *« *^ '""' *"" to slip out of the ooai, plunging looked too deep and «.lemn .» feel 1 iato it suddenly. mrdB, ' In my I always make iny manwons.' seems to read )t more anxious »bout it to ^' re their liveti as em don't make I cannot un- right to live as luch to live for; ich as kings and you were to die ^morrow on gold, ,ur own, — that is, » a while longer in '" Thus direcUy Ired acknowledged that day they were ,tom might happen the sky just then feel like plunging DOVBTINO CASTLE. •** uYe«, 1 guesH most people would sooner live than die any time, except wHn they a., very s.ck, or have great trouble." .1 wonder if God likes us to suffer and be sad- heai-ted," MUdred said i^eflectlvely. .1 can't say. Mayl. it's good for us, makes us pure, like the big storms do the -^-^^^^. Jack was trying to comfort his heart w.th the thought that his own trials might be a gain m the '"!'l have read a gieat deal about it in the Bible, and when things have been trying at -]»<;« :.\«-"^ it a comfort to read about Moses and Ehjah, and the other witnesseH, as St. Paul calls them. I have often sat at my desk and said over that vei.e, 'For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, shall work out for us a far more exceedmg and eternal weight of glory,' until I wouldnt mxnd things very much." « What things ? " Jack asked curiously. Mildred ca«t a quick look at her mother, to see if Bhe was listening, but she seemed absorbed m a rich dimier^wss she was making for one of her patronesses. Ml MiLDRtD KENT'S BERO. the P»rk Avenue School, in ^^ h„„«., ana ..ep -»-> »* >-; >;;,,«„.;. their mother go odUng . ,^ ^ ,^^^ Siioi:r:r::rgo::o.e/.e.n.^. . """"'■■ ""*^ro:C;tl on the dollar, »na off; l»y th'rty ™ «>"■' „ie „« no cheat folV» out of fte reet. ^^ ^ {"„„ „a,e« better, rerily, than Lggar*. ^^J ^ ^ ^•"^ *- ■::" T ;": *- 'L "- *' *"' 'Ttr the ri^ tave another na™. for rtu:;:-^.---'--"'"'^*^''^^^ "^•"'"f ttkte :::.4cen..whe. Jirritoney." MUarea-. tone ^ slightly reproving. , ^^^i^ I never heard "^•""T'tLtr^tXt-longago, tell of but two that dia ii, «" -\ lor scholar at » live in ftne B parties, and e receptions.'' ^es in a low, them BO many ^k «*aid slowly, d then go all to where they left the dollar, and people are no get from others i then they call that sees the another name for he added, by way eagerly, boyish scorn, sixty cents wher dred's tone was be. I never heard tbfttwas long ago; DOVBTINO CA8TLK. ••■ but myl their families turned out well," he said admiringly, as if the honorable fathers got their recompense in a noble posterity. Mildred sat thinking for a good while, but Jack could detect no gleam of elation brightening her face, as he had expected. It did not seem to give her an ignoble satisfaction to know that some of her schoolmates had a support really more degradmg than pauperism, their beautiful homes and pretty garments secured at the loss of their parents' honor. She bi^athed a long sigh. "It's a curious world. Jack, and things are very badly twisted. Don t you think it would be better if people didnt crowd together so, -if there were more country pkces and not such big cities?" .1 know I wish I had a farm, with trees and holies," Jack said, in a tone of voice that pH>ved the genuineness of his words. » There are millions of acres yet that no one gets any good from, -plenty for everyone to Lw his own wheat and potatoes on, and have Lttle besides. I think dumb creatures are some- times better society than certain human beings. They reaUy seem more refined and respectable than wicked, dirty people you meet on the streets. 'a 'if .J£RKrrrff??ff4^'^,W*«!ttS»WPSW*|B5t*'^«MW'^ 'V'*:Bfl»5*'-' 264 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. Jack's face flubhed uncomfortably at Mildred's words, for he thought instantly of the poor speci- mens of humanity which it had been his lot to herd among ; his own flesh and blood he remembered with a pang. " But the dumb creatures are far below the very poorest, lowest specimens of humsn beings," he remonstrated. "They won't live forever." "But the dumb animals are just as God made them, and the human beings are far worse. A horse like Cadmor seems far higher and nobler than a man like old Shuffler, who lives up your alley." "I have heard father say he was a fine-looking man once. He was brought up in a rich home; but he drank, and has gone through with a for- tune long ago." " The children on the street now caU him names and mimic him," Mildred continued sorrowfully. "But he don't mind if he can only get his grog," Jack said very cheerfully, glad at the turn the conversation had taken. Mrs. Kent ceased working now for the night, and, folding away the silk-velvet gown, she came and had a long talk with Jack. His mother had been more trying than ever ; his temper got be- < .'flM^iiBrtaptcipf iwi^wwu.i.r; •■ DOUBTING CASTLE. 265 at Mildred's he poor speci- sen his lot to he reiTPTnbered below the very in beings," he rever." t as God made vorse. A horse 1 nobler than a , your alley." 9 a fine-looking I a rich home; igh with a for- r caU him names I sorrowfully, m only get his glad at the turn w for the night, gown, she came His mother had is temper got be- yond control, »' worf. in the he.t o p«..on L bee; said that had made hi-n utt^riy a«p. of ew «g«n trying to look to Uie ^nUe Chmt L fo ^ivTness. Mrs. Kent's face looW exeeed^ i„gly Zi «hile Jack honestly confessed aU; and ihont saying anything to hin, P^-'"^^*-^^^ down. Jack and Mddred d.opp.ng sdentiy on «.eir knees too, when she besought God so ea™. estty for pardon for the poor, t«mpted lad, that the Z of Wtter penitence Bowing f^n. b^ ey. were at last sneceeded by tears of joy I and when he s^id "good nighV be went on hU way re,o.cmg "hav^for the time well^igh forgo«»n Donbt. ing Castle and its misery. m CHAPTER XXIII. WAIFS AMID THE FLOWERS. ^HE Saturday dawned at last brightly. So many little hearts had dreaded a rainy day, -Mildred as much as any — that when they saw the sun shining in an almost cloudless sky, they scarce knew how to contain their satisfaction. To some of them the knowledge that they were to wander at will through green fields, and see the buds and flowers really growing, was the principal attmction; to othei« it was the fact that they were to have a ride behind high-stepping horses in a comfortable carriage, and have a saU on the lake; while others imagined nothing could be better than the toothsome dainties with which they expected to be regaled, with gUmpses caught of splendid rooms with all the- beauty of adornment. -1 WAIFB AMID THE FLOWERS. 267 ast brightly. So saded a rainy day, any — that when lost cloudless sky, their satisfaction, that they were to ilds, and see the was the principal ct that they were ping horses in a sail on the lake; lid be better than eh they expected aght of splendid omment. Betsy Jones's family decked her out in an en- tirely new suit of clothes, in style quite beyond her position. One of her older sisters remarked, with spiteful pride, as parents, brothers and sisters stood regarding her with admiration: "That doll- faced Kent girl'll find others can get noticed by the quality as well as her." Befoie the afternoon was ended, however, Betsy made the discovery that other things were essential besides fine frocks and hats to gain the affectionate regard of the favored classes. J)ouglas8 came for Mrs. Kent and Mr. Felton, while the rest of the invited gfuests were taken in at St. Malachi's gate by a team sent on purpose for them. Paul, with much longing, watched the merry crowd stowing themselves into the roomy wagon, and wished his lot had been cast, for a little while, in their way. Jack was given charge to preserve order, and watch that no risks were run by too venturesome spirits — an authority the most of them were inclined to resent, since they felt equal to the task of maintaining the proprieties, and taking care of themselves as well. Betsy Jones sat in uncomfortable state, her ruffles and ribbons matters of extreme anxiety, since Tommie Tuffts' rp» n 268 MILDRED KENT'S BEBO. well-blackened boots kept jostling her dress on one side, while Adelphine Carver, whose mother had found out the secret and sent her along, insisted on sitting beside Betsy, and persisted in fin- gering her finery. To some of the little waifs the drive was cue of unalloyed delight. The com- fortable carriage and sleek, shining horses, the buttercups and daisies nodding at them from road- side and meadows, the trees casting their cool shadows athwart the sunbeams, and better still, the wonderland ahead, of which they had heard so much. Some of them realized all this in a dim fashion, not being capable of labeling their im^ ces- sions, only dumbly experiencing an unknown joy which no doubt to some extent would remodel all their future fancies. One never can me&iure the influence some chance circumstance may hive ; and since life is mainly composed of separate events which we or our associates mainly control, we are to a considerable extent the arbiters of our own and our companions' destinies. The carriages rolled np the long avenue with their living firiight of curious-eyed children. Betsy Jones for the moment ceased to be conscious of her toilet, as she gazed at tho fountain da^icing in - - » her dress ou one ose mother had along, insisted irsisted in fin- the little wai& light. The cora- oing horses, the them from road- iting their cool id better still, the ay had heard so 11 this in a dim leling their imj^cres- an unknown joy rould remodel sdl can me&'iure the 3e may hiive ; and f separate events [y control, we are irs of our own and ong avenue with 1 children. Betsy be conscious of untain daicing in WAIFB AMID THE FLOWERS. 269 the sunbeams, the statues gleaming amid the lilies and roses, and, beyond, the pillars and colonnades and massive proportions generally of the stately mansion looming up in the distance. " I could 'most think it was heaven I " she ejaculated impulsively; while at the same moment Adelphine Carver turned from Betsy's entrancing ribbons, and began shrieking for some flowers. Jack cast her a despairing glance, with a suddenly clouded face, as he muttered, "There'll be no peace with you here. They wouldn't have needed any worse Satan in Eden to pester them than you." « I expect little Cain was another such a nui- sance M her," Tommy Tuffts remarked, as he squinted ferociously at her. " Much you kmow about tho .ble. Tommy Tuffts. They weren't in Eden whei ley had him," Betsy said loftily. "You needn't be so sr. rt: I didn't say they was," Tommy responJe'' \^ Lth a flourish of his feet that was particularly ex isperating, and effectually banished further heavenly contemplation from Betsy's mind. Mrs. Everett was standing on the step«» waiting 270 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. to receive them, a white gown of some fleecy texture floating around her, — or so it seemed to t}ie curious children, accustomed to motherhood clad in very sober and substantial garments ; a bow of ribbon and a tiny bunch of forget-me-nots at her throat being the only colors that she wore, and making her look to Mildred like some kind, matronly angel, if such there are amid the heav- enly places. Betsy Jones's eyes rested more admir- ingly on the tall, handsome lad, whose head was already raised a few inches above his mother's. "Isn't that young fellow a stunner! If you could only look like him, Tommy Tuffts ! " Tommy breathed a deep sigh, and was silent. Betsy gave her skirts a shake, and casting over them a scru- tinizing glance that was also reassuring, preceded the others up the steps, where Mrs. Everett stood smiling a gracious welcome. A general hand-shaking ensued, and before this ceremony was satisfactorily ended Adelphine Carver was among the flowers, pulling away ruthlessly, with the gardener standing guard over those he was most anxious to preserve. Jack saw her, and slipping down, attempted to lead her away, when a shrill scream disturbed to. of some fleecy lo it seemed to to motherhood garments ; a bow forget-me-nots at that she wore, like some kind, amid the heav- sted more admir- ad, whose head ,bove his mother's. itunner ! If you ruffts ! " Tommy lent. Betsy gave over them a scru- ssuring, preceded re Mrs. Everett >me. A general Ms ceremony was trer was among the with the gardener ms most anxious , wn, attempted to scream disturbed WAJFS AHJD THE FLOWEHB. the stillness that usually reigned at Gi-assmere, and Adelphine refused to be conveyed to another spot. Mildred turned with the others*at the cry, and saw the look of mortification on Jack's face as he stood holding the struggling child. " It is too bad for his afternoon to be spoiled," she said to her mother, and then . went directly to him. "Adelphine generally does what I want her to. I will take charge of ;■' *or you." Jack turned to hoi eagerly : " It is awfully good of you; but she will keep you from having a good time." " I have been here before and had my share, and it is your turn now." " She is nothing to you, that you should be pes- tered with her," Jack said, wishing at the same time very heartily that the mite of humanity was noth- ing to him either. Mildred soon had Adelphine conveyed out of harm's way, decoying her cleverly into a wide strip of meadow where, under the apple-trees, she could pick wild-flowers to her heart's content and make daisy-chains in sufficient quantity to adorn the entire Carver connection. An hour or two later Douglass went in search of Mildred, and found her sitting on the ground F ^ ^.^^Mi^mggaMsg Si , ^ 272 MILDRED KEST'8 BERO. •.V Un full of Adelphine'B cliftins, which she with a lap full oi ^ P while «he contin- P'*?' A „« VinM alone?" 1» ..Why hay. you sttayed o« here aion »» J Xro-n, hi^eU Ml length on the g.a,» •"itklnian-t have a good tin.e if Adelphine J:L any chance fo. n^hie.," ^e »ther .r- rowfuUy explained. ^^ uDo you like being here alone . „I would «ometimesr -- the guarded reply. .Doyouto^ay?" ^.^^ He *4l enjoy seeing Jack nave a « „„„ i;te very «ldom h.. -h a chance to have one 1*0 '^tUaHogether for .aok.eake. .hen, that you h.ve bantahed your»eli?" Mildred nodded her head, her eyes very p. enUy fixed on the d.uey^hata in her lap. ..You think a great de»! of Jack? She looked up in »urpri.e. "I .upp»e I do. I never thought of it before." ^--» iilins, which she while she contin- Ired's face was urds the "grounds t of children at here alone?" he ^h on the grass ime if Adelphine ," she rather sor- >?" guarded reply. I good time. He to have one like kke, then, that you r eyes very persist- in her lap. Jack?" »'I suppose I do, I WAIF8 AMID THE FLOWERS. . There is no one in the world, save my mother, who would make the sacrifice^ for me that you are doine for him this afternoon." Twould do . gre»t deal more ^ *•» «or yo» if you needed it. I would love to make eome great Jmee for you," .he »id, with such a «,lemu voiee that it touched a reeponaive chord m Ae lad . hLt, and made him aahamed of hi, jealousy of ^I^Jack Carver, to whom Mildred's geude tad- r„e» wa, one of a,e few glad things in h„ de». late existence. ,.„.™v ..you will forget aU about me when I am away, I won't see you ag«r. until Chri,tm«." He- eyes iiUed with tears. •. I do not thrnk I « ever forget you, not even whe. I get away up there." She lifted her eyes to the calm heav en, lauding aW her, no more '^^fVV^^ they "I have so much more to make rue remem. tarVn you have," d,e continued, with a We ^LsJt that was l^^etic. -I won er ^ „uld have hecome of me at sehoo bu^^fo yo-^ People's heart, break «>me»imes, and mme felt very badly, that day." . „ ^ tf those scliish ..You must wnto and teu me u gi,b torment you again. Perhaps you wdl wrrte 274 MILDRED KEST'S BERO. 9" H« Hiioke as if a new idea had to me anyway? He spoKe iust come to him. ^ „ • 1, ™n t/^ T will ; but I shall "If you really wwh me to, i wui , i* have nothing to tell you." "Oh, yes, you can write about Jack Carver, and vour two schools, and lots of things." ' ! I can't make much out of Jack, for he has mostly troubles to t«ll about. His step-mother « a very afflicting sort of person." DougL »■»« He decided that .f tW you*- ,„.Adelpine.»ho».i«Btthe„p«^U„gMdd«^ h.„d» impatiently, wae a (air sample »' "'"^ of her kin J«=k needed .11 U>e .clement Mddred pould bestow. , . .. ! See here, little one- If you don't keep qm^ I „iU do eomething to you that yoa won t very :: forget." He apoke so etemly to the heU,^ «nt Adelphine that .he st^od ga..ng at hun m r;echleas wonder for . few aeeonds, her ga» m.t Ta look in those »tem, dark eye« *at some day . Iht make on. made o. sten>er stuff than UtUe TLphine quad. Her lip ,uive,.d, and she W.B ahout to break forth in one of her di»»^t sc«.n»^ when he half raised himself, looking at her w^ ,ueh stem command that she suddenly changed her -1 WAIFB AMID THK FLOWERB. m new idea had ill ; but I shall ack Carver, and 8." or he has mostly other is a very lat if the youth- )ulling Mildred's iple of the rest lacement Mildred don't keep quiet you won't very ly to the bellige- ^ziug at him in ids, her gaze met Bs that some day stuff than little ed, and she was iscordant screams, ing at her with ienly changed her mind, trotting some distance off, and appeasing her wrath by a wholesale destruction of any blossoms that came within reach. Douglass lay down again in the grass very calmly while Mildred looked first at Adelphine and then at him, with a mixture of admiration and awe. *' I do not think any one ever conquered her before, and you did it so easily!" " Never mind that little Turk ; it is a sheer waste for you to lose all the afternoon with her." «'But I have not lost it. I do not think you and I ever got so well acquainted before. This is the very nicest time I have ever had at Grass- mere, or anywhere. I did not know before that you really liked me. I thought it was only pity, and because you were good and noble that made you kind to me. Connie told me once you always took the part of lame kittens and things." Her face was quite radiant with the assurance that Douglass liked her for herself; for some way, without any positive assurance on his part, she felt certain now that he did. " We are only boy and girl yet, but by and by we will be man and woman. We must still be friends then. Remember that, Mildred." ■■wst4^a.a 5 ^-< »M, -a i i ijtg,i ( fM i itaa i rii»"it »^» ( V v] '^y CM aJV L--, IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 [SIM m I.I 2.2 1^ IIIIIM 1.8 Photographic Sdences Corporation V .# A f/j V <?<1 ^ 1.25 U |||i/s ^ 6" ^ ». 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 4^ ^ Ki CIHM/ICMH Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Instituta for Historical Microraproductiont / inatitut Canadian da microraproductions hiatoriquaa '^''«Mlp>U,-' -- T 276 MILDRED KKNT'S HERO. " Yes, but maybe you will forget. I won't think it hard if you do, and I won't be surprised; for it is etisier for us to be friends now, — the difference don't seem as gieat as it will then. You know I will be a working woman, and you a rich man Avith a great many friends," she added, with a catching of the breath aa if the thought gave her pain. "But, Mildred, I shall always know you are pure and true, and that God gave you the in- stincts of a lady, no matter how much of a work- ing woman you may be. I do not think I shall be the first to forget." He stood up and looked away across the mead- ■ ows and beyond the trees that lay below then^ on the liillside towards the city, a.' if he was already in the far future, and mingling in the great busy world. Mildred looked up at him as some pure- faced woi-shipper of olden times might have gazed at. the saintly face of hermit or crusader, and did not feel surprised that this ricWy-gifted youth so earnestly craved her enduring friendship. "You must come away," he said, abruptly. "We will put that kitten in a box, if no other plan presents iteelf, and not waste all your holiday ■-' •^'"^' ^^^ ^^^00 ^' - ' ..._. ^-v WAIFB AMID THE FLOWERS. 277 I won't think rprised ; for it the difference You know I u a rich man bdded, with a ight gave her mow you are 9 you the in- ich of a work- liink I shall he ross the mead- below them on he was already the great busy [ as some pure- ^ht have gazed usader, and did gifted youth so dship. , abruptly. "We f no other plan 1 your holiday among the buttercups. Come, we are going for a saU." Mildred stood up obediently, calling to Adelphine to join them, and then burdened herself with the huge bunches of wild-flowers in obedience to her small tormentoi, who was growing fretful already over their wilted appearance. Douglass walked be- side MUdred over the springing grasses, Adelphine following disconsolately behind. She was angry, and longed to give expression to her sentiments; b'jt a new experience had a short time before been gKinted her: that big fellow ahead looked so stem, she concluded her safest course was to keep quiet until she reached Jack's shelter ; then she resolved they should hear from her ; but fortunately it was so long before she got a glimpse of her brother, and so many other attractions presented themselves, that her tear^hfidding was postponed much beyond her intentions. Not until the horses were again reined up at the door and the children climbing into the carriage, their holiday, like all sweet things, too soon ended, did Adelphine recall her usually effective powers of resistance. "I won't go home," she screamed frantically, as Jack, with a tortured look on his face, was trying to force her into the carriage. "I want to stay ill f i HI! iiti "] 278 MILOHED KENT'S HERO. here. I shan't go, there now ! " she shrieked, stnig^ gling to the ground, and rushing blindly over the flower-beds in her eagerness to escape from Jack. But her steps were suddenly arrested; for, chanc- ing to look up, there stood Douglass just before her. " Stand still ! " he said, so sternly that she paused involuntarily, and in a trice her hand was seized and held firmly until Jack came and took her, looking himself more like the culprit. Douglass walked beside him to the carriage and lifted the seK-willed girl among the happy crowd, their laps and hands filled with great bunches of flowers, which Mrs. Everett had allowed them the exqui- site pleasure of gathering themselves. While Douglass was in sight, Adelphine kept her feelings well under control; but the horses' heads turned towards the gate and his face con- cealed, her voice could be heard across the dewy, perfumed 8^)aces for a long way. Douglass went to the little group standing some little distance away, his fine face clouded with impatience and disgust. "What are such creatures made for, I wonder? That boy is a martyr to her caprices and tern- per. "] tmeked, stnig- ndly over the pe from Jack. I; for, chanc- i» just before hat she paused nd was seized ind took her, rit. Douglass and lifted the iwd, their laps les of flowers, lem the exqui- I. Ldelphine kept tut the horses' his face con- cross the dewy, Douglass went little distance impatience and for, I wonder? prices and tem- WAIFS AMID THE FLOWERS. 279 » He told me he was going to leave them, and get a home of his own, just as soon as he gets old enough," Mildred said cheerfully. She felt so mrely content, and the world and life seemed so charming, she could not well pity any one who was alive. «I see he takes you into his confidence," Mrs. Everett said. "We plan together what we shall do when we are grown up." "What are you going to do? Be a great art- ist, I presume." "She is going to be a missionary," Paul has- tened to explain, glad of a chance to add his quota to the general fund of entertainment. "She says that maybe the savages will eat her. I would not give them a chance if I was her, would you?" hfe asked, turning to Douglass, who was one of the greatest heroes on earth, in Paul's eyes. "I must confess it is not a very enticing out- look," Douglass smUed down into the eager, up- turned face. "She may change her mind before she is big enough to go," Paul said, with an air of reUef. ! !-■ ' ' *[ ■ ' I jJ;w W ffi1SB ^ ^ f .« i3ft fei'Ab>i'^.ai M "X 280 MILDRED KEXT'8 HERO. "It is a long way over the seas. The heathens live thousands and thousands of miles away. She says we shall never see her again after she once gets started." Grace's blue eyes were filling with tears while Paul made his speech. This future career of Mildred's was a very real thing to both the children, as well as a very sad one. " She may turn housekeeper for Jack Carver, in- stead. No doubt he will be very anxious to have her when he gets that separate establishment of his set up." Mildred looked up with so much surprise, not unmingled with pain, that Douglass felt ashamed of his words, and turned to Mr. Felton, who was standing a little apart now with the ladies. "You have a great deal to be thankfvd for. Compare what God has given to you with the little those childi-en have, who to-day shared your bounty. I am not sure if I would not rather stand in Jack Carver's place in the last day than yours, if the choice were offered me, your temp- tations are so gi-eat." Mr. Felton spoke with a solemnity that sobered Douglass. The poor man had been struggling with his conscience for some hours. He longed to gain The heathens es away. She after she once sre filling with This future thing to both one. ack Carver, in- ixious to have lishment of his I surprise, not felt ashamed of Lton, who was a ladies. a thankful for. you with the lay shared your uld not rather last day than le, your temp- ty that sobered struggling with longed to gain WAIFB AMID THE FLOWESa. 281 the lad's esteem; but then duty faced him sternly, making it impossible to go on smoothly talking and enjoying the charmmg hospitality of the gra- * cious mistress and youthful master of Grassmere, and then to go away, possibly never again to have an opportunity to do his duty. The majestic fathers and confessors of the church of God through the centuries came out in long array, and there stood out vividly before his imagination their val- orous defence of truth and answering obedience to conscience. With their lives in their hands, and before kings and emperors, they spoke the truth bravely. Should he then dare to withhold his word of counsel from this gracious lad who had )jeen so kind? The very timidity of his nature made him speak the more sternly. Douglass thanked him gently, saying, with boy- ish fi-ankness, " Most persons flatter me, and say how they would like to change places with me. I do not think anyone, save my mother, ever spoke to me before of my danger and responsibility. I shall always think of you, Mr. Felton, and respect you for your faithfulness." " I hope God will lead you in a path of useful- ness and devotion to his cause. " ■ft ^ , ■"\ MILDRED KENT'S HERO. *» I hope He has begun so to lead me," Douglass said, in a voice so low that even Mr. Felton, who stood at liis side, scarcely caught his woi-ds. It was the first time he had ever spoken of the hope to any one but his own mother; and the usual Imshfulnes.^ that makes confessions so hard, made his voice tremulous ; but his heart felt strangely light and glad after he had spoken. But he turned abruptly away, and went back to Mil- dred, who stood looking down into the heart of a magnificent lily. "Do you think it so very perfect that you gaze at it so long?" he asked after standing in silence for a while, feeling nt the same time ashamed of his last words to her, and anxious lest she might be offended. He kept judging her always by the young girls of his acquaintance. She drew a long sigh, — whether of perfect con- tent or sorrow he could not tell, — until a moment after she looked up in his face : " I have been won- dering what our Saviour thought when he made this flower. His thoughts then must have been very beautiful, — not like those he had when he made lizards and crocodiles." «I never imagined Him creating things," Doug- — V WArFS AMID THE FLOW K US. 288 1 me," Douglass Ir. Felton, who ht his woi-ds. spoken of the ■)ther ; and the issions so hard, his heart felt ad spoken. But it back to Mil- the heart of a t that you gaze nding in silence me ashamed of lest she might always by the r of perfect con- - until a moment ] have been won- hen he made this have been very 1 when he made f things," Doug- lass said, with a sudden brightening of countenance. " I always thought God, the Father, created every- thing." He was struck witli the unworldliness of the girl, going down so far beyond her present surroundings, and the strong fascination he knew Grassmere held for her, to speculating on the thoughts of the great Maker of all things, when some specially fine work of creation was com.let- ed. He had been blaming himself just now for troubling her with his own narrow, selfish fancies about Jack Carver, and in her strange unconscious- ness of such things she had been forgetting about the both of them, her meditations taking a vastly higher range. "Don't you think about common things, MU- dred?" he asked, with a curious, boyish impa- tience. "What do you call common?" she asked, a deeper tinge coming into her rose-leaf cheek. "Oh, such things aa all girls talk and tvjik about. Do you really mean to be a missionary, as Paul says?" "Yes, if God will let me." "And you do not look forward then to having a nice home of your own some day, and making -'\ 284 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. some favored person perfectly happy with your lev- ing care?" "I expect missionaries have little homes of their own, and they can make such lota of poor people happy. Have you never read particularly about them?" She looked up timidly, but with surprise at his unexpected ignorance of such high matters. "Oh, yee, I have read about them, certainly; but I shall take more interest in them after this if you are going to join them by-and-by." "If you would wait until then, I could write such lovely letters," she said, rather too eagerly; the correspondence Douglass had spoken of was already weighing on her mind, for how could she frame a letter that a young man at college would have patience to read? " If you were thousands and thousands of miles away, as Paul says, I do not think I would have much heart to write to you; you would seem to me then like the angels away above us." He glanced up at the far purpling depths where the stars were modestly taking their places along the welkin. "Would you like that flower?" he asked, sud- 0. ' with your lov- ittle homes of Bh lots of poor sad particularly^ lidly, but with }e of such high ;hem, certainly ; them after this nd-by." , I could write ler too eagerly; spoken of was r how could she at college would >u8ands of miles think I would ou ; you would away above us." ng depths where leir places along ' he asked, sud- WAIF8 AMID THE FLOWKRB denly turning the conversation. for you?" " I had rather not," she said, laying her hand on his arm as he reached forth to pluck it. " I will like to think of it as mine if you will give it to me, but still llviag and growing here. I think I can keep it mine until the snow comes. You know I won't see Grassmere again very soon, perhaps never, for you will be too much of a man next year to think about us children." She gave her head a pathetic little nod, and then swept a wide, loving glance over all the fair landscape on which the twilight shadows were fast deepening. In a short time the carriage was waiting for them, and Mr. Felton and Mrs. Kent and the chil- dren said good-bye; and at Mr. Felton's request the coachman drove them slowly home through the gathering night^hadows. .. The day has been so perfect," he said dream- Uy "I would like to lengthen it out as long as poLible. We workers do not have too many such seasons as this." I ''^^If^'f^f^fS^', I -1 CHAPTER XXIV. PORTRAIT-PAINTING. \ I /he holidays ended, Mildred returned with ^\L. much eagerness to the Park Avenue ^ School for her second year. Her mother no longer needed to practise such stem economy, for she was becoming' well known as a highly skilled needle-woman. If it was necessary to work very often from dawn to sunset of a long summer's day, she always had her work now at home in her own well-aired and sunny rooms, with her bright-faced, cheerful children for companions. Mildred now was able to wear whole shoes and garments made out of good material, so that she no longer expected to be sub- jected to the martyrdom of shabby clothes, with "1 ,».,..«..5S^ returned with Park Avenue r. Her mother stem economy, n as a highly ery often from day, she always own well-aired -faced, cheerful now was able to de out of good jcted to be sub- )y clothes, with PORTRAIT-PA INTING. 287 outspoken criticisms thereon by sarcastic school- mates ; but she found, after all, that her return to school had its measure of desolation. There was no one henceforth to stand between her and im- pertinent schoolfellows. They could sneer at her mother's humble calling and her own lowly posi- tion in society without let or hindrance from the one who had hitherto shielded her. As Mildred returned that evening along the hot, dusty streets, she wished one's education could be picked up in the happy fashion that the robins and bobolinks get their training for a life of usefulness; and it must be confessed she looked forward >vith a strong measure of desire for the time to come when she should slip away from the environments of our high civilization to the dark^kinned tribes whose keenest recollections of each other's ancestors would prob- ably be how they tasted after a careful and judi- cious roasting. "But I expect their great-grandchildren will taunt each other after I am dead and gone for not being as rich or well connected as they are," she said to herself, with a sorrowful regret that human nature was naturally so very cruel; while she wondered if it was really worth while intro- f m 17 — 1 288 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. I ducing among the ignorant tribes of heathendom the defects of our splendid civilization, since the good and evil go hand in hand mostly. "I am surprised that things don't get wound up and the wrorld made o^er again," she said to herself at last, very wearily. As she turned into the school-yard gate that morning, she saw Connie De Smythe a little way off, stepping along in a very stylish new suit. Mildred went to her, pleased to be with her old playfellow again; but Connie met her icily, and scarcely responded to her greetings. Mildred turned away and did not attempt any further overtures at friendliness, but entered the school- house alone. She hung her hat. and lunch-basket in the cloak-room, and then sat down at her desk with a set, resolute look on the usually patient face. Down in her still, strong nature a new resolution sprang into life. Some day, in this or some other world, she would prove to Connie De Smythe, and all the unkind crowd of haughty schoolmates, that she was their equal, as God reckons equality. She took out her books and set her desk in order, — a fly droning on the win- dow near by the only living presence in the room . m m. PORTRAIT-PAINTINQ. 289 of heathendom sation, since the mostly. "I am [)und up and the to herself at last, )l-yard gate that irthe a little way tylish new suit, be with her old it her icily, and itings. Mildred mpt any further tered the school- and lunch-basket lown at her desk 5 usually patient g nature a new e day, in this or ve to Connie De rowd of haughty r equal, as God her books and set ling on the win- lence in the room whose voice wa« within the compass of her hear, ing. It soothed at last the commotion in her heart, as she sat looking up at its vain attempt to pene- trate the glasa and gain the freedom of the out- side world. " Everything alive must have its limita- tions and perplexities; not anything or anybody, from tbe fly on the window t» the queen on her throne, is perfectly liappy," she said to herself, try- ing to console herself with th4 reflecUon. Her drawing-teacher. Miss Leslie, came in, and seeing Mildred alone, came and stood beside her. « I am glad to see you here," she said very kindly. "I expect these little fingers will accomplish some excellent work in my department this year." Mildred's face looked brighter, while the thought suddenly came to her that she might find a com- panionship more assured in her studies, and mor« particularly in her drawing-lessons. «I am going to do my best," she said quietly. "One don't get disappointed in these things, as they do in human beings." "I am not sure of that. Very few persons get their ideals satisfied in art, any more than in hu- manity." "But duty is always the same, while people are i!' 290 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. sometimes very kind, and at others they will hardly speak to you,— at least, that is the way with gu-ls." " And the girl is mother to the woman. Human nature, unassisted by Divine grace, does not outgrow its early defects, as a rule. Our wisest plan is not to expect much from anything that belongs to this world solely ; if we do, life Is certain to be one con- tinued round of disappointments." Mildred looked up quickly: "But there are people who find things to their minds. The rich girls have everything they want." "Study their faces closely, Mildred, and see if they look happier than others not so highly blessed by fortune. I have thought for a good many years that the rich get really the least good out of life ; that is, the ill-trained money-holders. They do not know how to use their possessions wisely, and they have the unrest of idleness, with the terror of having at last to face death when they will be stripped of all their enjoyments." " If we have our best treasures within ourselves. Death can never rob us," Mildred said reflectively. " We can carry our knowledge and the joy it brings us into other worlds, if we love God." ^W^^^i.^fif^ TORTBAIT-PAINTINO. 291 hey will hardly the way with Oman. Human )es not outgrow jest plan is not belongs to this I to be one con- But there are linds. The rich ired, and see if lo highly blessed ;ood many years ood out of life ; s. They do not wisely, and they terror of having II be stripped of within ourselves, said reflectively, the joy it brings od." " You are young to learn that. Have you discov- ered the secret of loving Him?" Miss LesUe asked, with surprise. "I believe He gave me a new heart last win- ter," Mildred said gently. "Then you need not mind the indifference of school-fellows, or the scorn of the world, or life's miseries generally. The young have usually a good many of the latter." "I try not to, but one likes the pleasures we get from both worlds." "You must think a great deal for one so young." "Perhaps I do. I never went to school until last year." The teacher smiled. "You ar« not complimentary to the schools. We generally suppose they are to waken and stimulate thought ; but we will talk over these knotty subjects by-and-by. I am very glad you are coming into my class this year as a reg- ular student." » I am more glad than you can be ; for yoii do not treat me as the other teachers." Tlie lady smiled again at Mildred's frank words, but she understood her reference to the other teach- ers. She had ideas of her own respecting the relar — 1 mOMtm 292 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. tions existing between t«acher and pupil. She had never found that in treating the latter aa perfect equals they had presumed on the concession gen- erously given. After this, Mildred made no further advances to Connie or any of her schoolmates. Without any words on her part she felt instinctively from their attitude that it would only end painfuUy ; and, tak- ing Connie's rebuff as the final decision of all, she shmnk altogether within herself until at last she was regarded among the others as little more of a per- sonality than their own shadows. The children at home for a while asked why Beth and Connie no longer came ; but Mildred's answers were not ef- fusive, and soon they ceased to mention them. The days and weeks slipped by, not so joyously, it is true, as they might have done for the solitary child; but the discipline was, no doubt, of itself an edu- cator. Her mind was cast on its own mt«mal re- sources for companionship, and thus it became more active and intense in its operations, while every fac- ulty was at the highest tension. Her mother was not ignorant of the isokted po- sition Mildred occupied in the school, — not fiom anything she said, however, but from her very si- lls PORTRAIT-PAINTINO. 29d upil. She had tier as perfect 3once8sion gen- ler advances to Without any /ely from their fully ; and, tak- sion of all, she at last she was more of a per- rhe children at and Connie no \ were not ef- ion them. The ) joyously, it is e solitary child ; f itself an edu- )wn internal re- ) it became more while every fac- the isolated po- lool, — not fiom om her very si- lence in regard to them ; but as she usually main- tained a quiet cheerfulness, and her health was certainly not being injured, as she had never been more robust, she concluded it was wisest to keep silence herself on the matter, and let her remain at school until she graduated. The weeks wore on with such even monotony that Mildred, absorbed in her studies, scarcely noticed their flight until the air was beginning to grow chill, and a few stray snowflakes heralded the grand army rapidly approaching; while from every group of school-fellows she heard mention made of what they were going to have or do on Thanksgiving Day. Her own mother stUl kept up in her fam- Uy the old English custom of celebrating Christ- mas as the chief galaxy of the entire year, and had not yet caught the infection of Ainerican Thanks- giving rejoicings. But Mildred fell to thinking about it, and made up her mind finally that she had" a very just right to observe the day, for she had certainly great cause for thankfulness ; while 8he felt a desire throbbing i-estiessly in her heart to include some one else, not so richly blessed as herself, in her sacrifices of gratitude. She became daily more anxious to earn some money, so that M .„ _. ^-^ — T 294 MILDRED KEUrS HERO. she might help Jack Canrer and a few others to be thankful with her. Her portrait-painting had died a natural death from the lack of patrons, but she concluded to try once more. So choosing one of the faces among her daUy companions that she liked best, she set herself with all dUigence to reproduce it on paper. Finished at last, she took it to her teacher for inspection, asking timidly if it was worth any money at all. Miss Leslie took it with a humorous gleam on her usually sober face. "Is it possible you are so ambitious as to turn porti-aiirpainter?" she asked, unrolling the picture for inspection; but as she looked her ex- pression changed, and MUdred's turn for surprise came while she listened to the words of commen- dation that feU impulsively from her teacher. "Is this your first attempt?" she asked. "Oh, no, I have been taking likenesses for years." " But an old artist might envy you the soul you have put into that face. Magdalene Grant will never look so thoughtful m that,— it flatters her." "That is a trouble I always have with them. I give my portraits a better look out of their eyes — t few others to it-painting had jk of patrons, . So choosing )mpanionB that all diligence to last, she took king timidly if iaa Leslie took ■ usually sober ambitious as to , unrolling the looked her ex- im for surprise rds of commen- er teacher, le asked. r likenesses for jrou the soul" you lene Grant will [lat, — it flatters ve with them. I lut of their ey^ PORTRAIT-PA INTISQ. 29fi soul, than they really have. Perhaps I paint the as it might be if they were always good." "Why, Mildred, surely you don't try to pamt the soul." "Yes, that is why I like human beings' por- traits better than those of cows and other animals; besides, I see very Uttle of animals, — only dogs and horses on the street — and one don't care for only bones and hair." "What strange thoughts you have, Mildred 1*' Then, after a pause, she added: "You should be a famous painter some day if you make up your mind to hard work. I could not do anything equal to that, if I tried for years." "Oh, Miss Leslie!" Mildred gave her teacher a look of pained surprise, and then burst into tears. "Why do you cry, my dear child?" she asked, stroking back the clinging, soft brown hair from the brow. With an effort Mildred dried her tears, and then said humbly: "It frightens me to think I might be famous ; and then it hurt me to hear you say that." "Say what?" i i I "\ 296 MILDRED KESra BERO. ♦' That you could not paint a better picture than that. I love you." "But it need not grieve us to be more higlily gifted than those we love. If God has given you unusual powers and faculties of the mind that may amount to genius, think how much you can do for Him, — how many more you can make happy." "That was why I painted this picture. I wanted to get some money for Thanksgiving." " I believe I can gratify your wish. Magdelene's mother will be very glad to pay for this pic- ture." "Won't I take lessons fi-om you any more?" "Ah! I understand your teai-s now. You must take lessons a long time yet. Even the noblest genius is improved by culture." "I am glad, because to be with you reconciles me to the other things I have here. " Never mind the other things. If you perse- vere, you can make your own tei-ms of friendship by-and-by with the best of them." "I shall not want to choose my friends here, no matter what happens," she said, with a gesture that betrayed a good deal of heai-tsickness. ■■~---'\ ter picture than be more highly haa given you the mind that much you can yrou can make 6b picture. I aksgiving/* h. Magdelene's y for thitJ pio- any more?" low. You must iren the noblest i you reconciles B." . If you perse- a» of friendship my friends here, , with a gesture sickness. PORTRAIT-PAISTINO. 297 "When one has foitune's wheel under them, they have no trouble t' choose friends. But to retum fi-om that rosy future and to the likeness, as you call it, -I will take it to Mi>». Gmnt this evening, and set my own price." "Last year, when Douglass Everett was here and made the girls kind to me, I painted some of them, and Beth Lee's father gave me a dollar for here. Do you think that w»»s too high a price for me to take? I let the othei-s give wliat they liked. Connie De Smythe only gave me ten cents for here. She said that was more tlian the paper and paints cost, but she would not be very particular about a few cents." "Your conscience need not be troubled about the pay you received. I shall take more than a dol- lar for this, or else bring it back to yon." "But it cost me less than ten cents,' ildi-ed said, anxiously. She would much prefer the dollar to having tlie picture back on her liands. "I will make it all right, and you shall liave more than the dollar." All that day, in intei-vals of leisui-e, Mildi-ed was adding up small sums in arithmetic that could not be satisfactorily balanced with a less — 1 29« MILDRED KENT'S HERO. Bum than two dollai-8. With that she could make a fairly good Thanksgiving for tlie limited num- ber she had decided upon. -1 he could moke limited nuin- CHAPTER XXV. PROFPERED FRIENDSHIP. 'he keen motliei^love quickly detected the brightened expi-ession on Mildred's face tliat evening, and hoped her school-life had suddenly become more cheerful. With a good deal of self-resti-aint Mildred forbore to mention what had taken place until she could lay the piX)of» of her genius before her mother's eyes. Her (li-eams were troubled that night. Part of the the time she was busily engaged on the portraits of dusky faces, — her missionaiy chai-ges, — and again her whole life was absorbed in the labor of becoming famous. She awoke with the uncertain and tantalizing feeling of one who has a duality of cai-eera. As she walked along the street on her U'l --1 800 MILDRSD KENT'S HERO. way to school, she was startled for the moment when Magdalene Grant stepped to her side and bade her a very cordial good-moming. Mildred i-esponded with the coldness that a surprise often causes ; but Magda- lene, who had stood up for her long ago, was not to be repulsed ; for she had made up her mind to take charge of the girl as Douglass Everett had done. " How did you come to paint that lovely picture of me?" she asked abruptly. MUdred flushed un- easUy, and was so tardy in answering that Mag- dalene asked another question. "Was it because you like me better than any of the others? But, really, you can't care much for any of us." " No, I do not," Mildred responded with charming frankness, " and none of you care for me." Magdalene winced and looked annoyed ; but after a pause she said : " I am going to be friendly with you after this. I had no idea you were such a genius as Miss Leslie says you are." "I do not know that I care to have your friend- ship if that is your only reason for giving it to me. If I were as slow to learn as Connie De Smythe, I should like to have folks friendly with me just as much as I do now. Maybe stupid people feel worse about such thiugs than those who have good -1 e moment when i and bade tier a i-esponded with 1868 ; but Magda- ago, was not to her mind to take tt had done, lovely picture of ed flushed un- ering that Mag- Was it because B others? But, .f us." d with charming r me." loyed; but after be friendly with ou were such a lave your friend- r giving it to me. anie De Smythe, with me just as people feel worse who have good PROfFKRED FRIRNDBHIP. Wl thoughts of their own." Mildi-ed spoke with such calm dignity that Magdalene suddenly realized how cruel they had all been, as well as blindly stupid, to treat one suiierior to them all in such a way. " I believe we have acted like a crowd of young savages. I never really thought of it before." .»Not so badly as that. Savages would have eaten me long ago; but people do not eat each other here, since it is contrary to law, and I KupiK«e they do not have a relish for such food," Mildred con- tinued in her odd, reflective way, as if, after all, her schoolmates were not much improvement on can- nibals. , . V *. "Well, you must recollect our school is the most exclusive in this whole city. It in very expensive. I have heard they planned it so t« keep common children from coming. I do not see how you hap- pened to come here." uDo you suppose God calls some of us common and others uncommon?" Mildred asked solemnly. "I never hear anyone speak about Him out of (jhurch, and where we attend is very high-toned. The minister speaks mostly about art and poetry and philosophy, you know." il: ^^^SB^F""™^' -A 808 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. "I did 1 ot know anything about it; but art and philosophy are veiy low compared to God; for He thought them all first. Besides, He reckons purity and holiness higher than any other created thing." "Why, I believe you could preach. You must be smart at everything." " I am getting tired of hearing about smartness. Let us talk of something else. Are you going to keep my picture?" " Keep it ! I should say we are going to. Mother gave Miss Leslie what she asked for it, five doUai-s; but he said afterwards it was worth three times that much." Magdalene paused abruptly. She recollected too late that her con- fession was ill-timed. Mildred stood quite still, swinging her satchel nervously, her face working with strong emotion. "Do you think five dollars not enough?" Magdsr lene asked uneasily. "No. I only expected to get a dollar. I be- lieve I shall have two Thanksgiving days, — to^iay and the real one." "Are you so very fond of money?" " Yes, when I earn it myself. I can help others then." '-1 J^iESi, fl- ^i . .i-^^i^^^f^'^ •' ■?'5?ywfe^|i53^}3 ; it ; but art and i to God; for les, He reckons ly other created ich. You must about smartness, jre you going to are going to. he asked for it, ^rwards it was [agdalene paused e that her con- ning her satchel strong emotion, lough?" Magda- a dollar. I be- Lg days, — to-day ley?" I can help others PROFFERED FRJENDSBIP. Magdalene was silent; but she began b'^^ter t» underatand why the Everette were so fond of Mildred. "I wish you would be friendly with mc. It is true I have neglected you ; but I am older, and the larger girls as a rule pay scant attention to those who are two or three years younger than themselves." «If you wish, we can be friends," Mildred said rather indifferently, and then added after a pause, "I think very few people have enough of the material that friendship is made out of in their composition to make them genuine friends all their life through. At least our schoolmates cannot have it, for I hear them quarreling after they have been such fast friends for a while. I do not care to make any bargains for such friendships." " Well, I expected you would be deUghted at my offer; but you make me feel that it is you who confer the favor, not 1." " I have found out that even if one is lonely sometimes, one has less worry and heartache than when there is a crowd to please. Books and my own thoughts make me better content than people as a rule. But you asked me to be your friend; t.-;---«r.:i,i':'^'.'T'JS'"--r*'H.-' 304 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. you must have wanted me, or you would not have made the request." "I had no idea any young girl could be so in- dependent. I \mh I had been treated like you,— maybe I would have been very clever then." » It is like medicine, — hai-d to take ; but if you can be patient, afterwards you feel stronger." When they reached the ohool-yard gate, Mag- dalene paused and said very kindly: "My mother wishes you to come home with me some evening soon; she is anxious to know you." Mildred murmured her thanks but did not make any promise. She was getting confused at such a down-pour of friendship. They entered the school-room together ; Magda- lene still chatting in a very cordial way with Mil- dred,— a cireumstance that was a matter of sur- prise to their schoolfellows. At recess Miss Leslie brought Mildred the money, — a sum so large that the poor giri had little poace of mind for the remainder of the day, for fear it might slip away from her in some un- guarded moment The skies seemed higher and bluer, the dusty, faded green of the leaves on the trees in the Park and gai-dens as beautiful as when -^ i would not have could be so in- ited like you, — ver then." x> take ; but if I feel stronger." yard gate, Mag- y: "My mother e some evening »ut did not make nfused at such a »gether; Magda- &1 way with Mil- a matter' of sur- ht Mildred the le poor girl had inder of the day, her in some un- Bmed higher and the leaves on the beautiful as when PROFFERED FRIESDBHIP. 806 the soft June sunshine glistened on them first; while she could not find it easy to pity even the raggedest creature on the street, since they had a share in a world where there is so much to encourage and make glad. She opened the kitchen door on reaching home and walked all the way through the house to the little parlour that was 30 rarely used. It was the one room that never looked really homelike. Her mother was in there with some visitor, she concluded, of more than ordinary excellence, since Mr. Felton, as well as their own beloved- paster, Doctor Stornaway, was always ushered into the living-room, where the mother's work was convenient. She paused at the door, which stood slightly ajar, and listened to the voices. Her heart gave a mad surge, for Mra. Everett was speaking her own name. Surely, she thought, here was too much joy to be crowded into one brief day. But then it would be green in memory, perhaps, for a good many ages, she reflected, while she stood quite still a moment to let the waves of glad- ness enfold her sQently. In a cuiioud, intro- spective fashion she held a little int«nial consul- tation with thought and fancy, as to the meas- 'II irM- --i 806 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. lire of her happiness, and then with a radiant face, but otherwise quite calm, she walked into the room, and going directly to Mrs. Everett, her whole soul shining in her eyes, with an impulse too strong to be easily conti-oUed she put her aiTOS ai-ound her friend and kissed her on the cheek — a caress that the fair lady returned on the willing lips of her girl-friend. "I could not help it, mamma," she said, at sight of the sui-prised look in her mother's face. "Mrs. Everett would foi-give me if she knew how glad I was to see her." "You funny child, you must always kiss me. I have not received such a welcoming look for a good many yeara, — never since — " She stopped abrupt- ly, Avhile the tears spmng suddenly to her eyes. Afterwai-ds, talking over the visit wth her mother, Mildred said: "It was her husband she meant, don't you think?" With teare in her own eyes the mother replied: "It was her husband." Mildred remained standing beside Mre. Everett, her hand laid carelessly on a fold of her di-ess while she answered her questioiis. "Are you getting on well at school? and Doug- --1 \0. ivith a radiant le walked into Irs. Everett, her rith an impulse d she put her sd her on the dy returned on ," she said, at t mother's face. £ she knew how tlways kiss me. g look for a good e stopped abrupt- aly to her eyes, with her mother, and she meant, I mother replied: ie Mre. Everett, )ld of her di-ess chool? and Doug- nOrFERED FRIENDSHIP. lass bade me ask you if your schoolmates are friendly?" "I miss him very much," she said evasively, a hot flush sweeping over her neck and brow. " Ah, I understand. Well, never mind, you will have fewer interruptions with your lessons; and now that I am at home again and so lonely without my boy, you must come very often t» cheer me, and keep from getting overworked your- self. Your mamma has consented to let me have you over Sunday. When those girls see you with me in church, they may change their tactics." *• I do not mind them so much as I used to ; but am I really to go to Gi-assmere again? I bade it a last good-bye when I was there." "Why did you do that?" ♦*I thought when your son had left school you would not trouble yourself with me any more. I could not expect it, for you had been so kind." "Even so, was that any reason my kindness should cease? I am afraid you have a low esti- mation of my friendship. I hope to hold you as my friend while I live." Mildred did not think it necessary to make as- surance of her undying regard; it seemed a waste SaMt*^'.:. -1 308 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. of words to tell Mrs. Everett she should always love her, — the fact was self-evident. " Then it is settled, you are to come on Friday evening and remain until Monday morning. Are you willing to give yourself to me for that length of* time?" "If mamma is willing, I will go with all my heart." "She assured me that she is willing; and now that my errand has been so satisfactorily fulfilled, I will go, for I see the carriage has returned." Mildred accompanied her to the street and then 'Watched the carriage out of sight. She entered the house with a face unusually happy, — for its expression of late had been a trifle melancholy, — and going to the kitchen, where preparations for tea were commencing, she took out her five dol- lars and told the pleasant news. "It is almost too much for one day, isn't it mamma?" she remarked sedately, when they had quieted down from the firet thrill of surprise and joy. "But then it is mostly the way. If we have troubles, they come in heaps and nearly crush us ; and then when the good things begin to come, they pour down on us so thick we nearly lose our breath." PROFFERED FRIESDBBIP. 809 should always * ome on Friday ming. Are you that length of* » with all my lling; and now storily fulfilled, } retvimed." itreet and then fc. She entered lappy, — for its melancholy, — )reparation8 for t her five dol- *'It is almost mamma ? " she [ quieted down ind joy. "But I have troubles, ih us ; and then )me, they pour le our breath." "I believe events do occur in some such way, but I do not think I have thought of it be- fore." "I did not expect to see Mrs. Everett again. It is so long since she took any notice of us, I had been making up my mind that our happiness had all come to an end.* "Mra. Everett explained why she had not been here. She was at Saratoga with Doughws before he went to college, and since then she has been traveUng with friends. She seems to have had a charming autumn. The worid has strange ex- tremes. I kept thinking of my mission-class and their overworked mothers, while she talked." "Don't you think God will give poor people a better chance to improve their condition in the next world? If we could see each other's souls I am almost sure some would be all cramped and scarred with the trials and crosses they have had. Some- times, in school with the others, I like to think we shall have our chance there, and what we may be like a thousand years hence." She stopped abruptly, remembering she had said too much ; for she did not wish her mother's heart pained with the knowledge of her lonely life. -1 810 MILDRED KENT'B BERO. " Why have you never tol4 me how your sohool- mates have boycotted you?" "What is boycotted, mamma? I have seen the word, but do not really know what the mean- ing is. I looked in the dictionary, but it was not there." "That is answering my question by asking an- other." "It would do no good to tell you, and only make you sorry. Besides, I think it may have been the best for me. Their mothers did not have them well trained at home. I expect they were so taken up with parties and society, they hadn't time; anyway, they are only about half -fin- ished in the way of being friends. I don't think the best of them hold longer than a month. It would not be worth my while to get to like some of them very much for so short a time. Do you think it would?" "A month is quite a period in a young girl's life. I would be very glad for you to have the privilege of a girl friend for even that short period." "Well, I promised Magdalene Grant to^y, but I am not very anxious for her to Kold to the bar- -1 9w your sohool- I have seen rha.t the mean- but it was not by asking an- you, and only Ic it may have )thers did not I expect they id society, they r about half-fin- I don't think ,n a month. It et to like some time. Do you a young girl's )u to have the ven that short rant to-day, but hold to the bar- PROFFERBD FRIENDBHIP. gain; for it is not really me she wants to be friends with, but the Mildred Kent that may be a genius. I am almost sorry I can see so far into people's motives." She spoke sorrowfully, as if average human beings were a moral faUure. The conversation soon drifted into happier channels; for there were the plans to be made for Thanksgiving Day. She decided on the gifts to be purchased and the guests to be invited. This five dollars she called second-fruits. Such were certainly not mentioned m the Mosaic ritual; but Mildred's ideas were original about things generally, so that she was able to rob her daily life of its common-place aspect by the way she classified its various meanings. A very gen- erous dinner was provided, Mildred purchasing the turkey bereelf, as well as all the other requisites for the banquet. Her mother, with a wisdom that foreshadowed future years, permitted her to do this, hoping to have her daughter grow to be a prac- tical woman, capable of fulfilling discreetly all the obUgations ot womanhood. Jack Carver and Tom- my Tuffts, with two others of the most forsaken ones in the school, were there, while Mildred had insisted on providing each of them with a gift from 812 MtLDRED KENT'S HERO. her own money. When all was provided there was not a cent left for herself; but she drew comfort from the hope that other poitraits might find pur- chasers. Tommy Tuffts squinted at the various ap- pointments with such hearty approval and enjoyed the dinner with such evident satisfaction, one could not look at him without a corresponding feeling of comfort, such as steals over the least benevolent at sight of animal enjoyment among the lower ordera of creation. And then he listened with such a pathetic look in the poor, defective eyes, while Mildred played some of her favorite airs. An occasional sigh, pai-t of content at his con- genial surroundings, and part of regret that it must so soon be exchanged for his smoky, ill-conditioned abode, escaped him ; but with the glad hopefulness of youth he pictured for himself just* such a dwelling-place with another such piece of woman- hood as Mildred promised to become, installed as its misti«S8. Jack Carver, as he sat in his favorite arm-chair and watched the firelight dance along the dusky pictures and gleam on the bright frames, and listened to the music, meanwhile thinking over the delicious repast he had just swallowed, con- cluded, taking it all in all, that this was about PROFFERED FRIENDSHIP. 818 vided there was B drew comfort night find pur^ the variouH ajv al and enjoyed itisfaction, one I corresponding over the least oyment among hen he listened poor, defective of her favorite itent at his con- ;ret that it must r, ill-conditioned [lad hopefulness f just* such a aece of woman- ae, installed as ^t in his favorite it dance along le blight frames, le thinking over swallowed, con- this was about the very best day of his life — not even that long to be remembered visit to Grassmere quite equalling it in solid comfort. Mildred won- dered at the rare generosity of Mrs. Everett shar- ing the beauties of her home with the humble members of her mission-school, but was not con- Bcious that she was herself worthy of equal praise, when,- with her slim earnings, she gave such content to others who helped to swell the Thanksgiving joy that welled up that day from a million hearts. Where there exists the desire to make others happy, God seldom withholds the weans. .' i-Ji.ifts'^av-^ftf^'^'^- -M CHAPTER XXVI. ORADITATINO HONORS. VryHOSE Ave years, very important at that ^ I (_ formative period in Mildred's life, wore "^ away, leaving her no longer the child- hearted girl we found her when we met her first on the play-ground of the Park Avenue School. They had been ><Jiy busy years. Like a care- ful husbandman, who utilizes every hour of the precious seed-time, she had endeavored to make the best of her opportunities, and with such suc- cess that she was able to graduate with highest honors. She had taken in addition a course in drawing and painting. Miss Leslie had long since given place to a more competent teacher, but she still took a deep interest in the girl-artist, whom -M 4m A. iportant at that ired's life, wore :)nger the child- ^e met her first Avenue School. Like a care- Biy hour of the aavored to make I with such suc- ate with highest ion a course in e had long since teacher, but she girl-artist, whom OnSDUATINO HONORS. she regarded as the one genius among the many to whom she had endeavore*! to open the temple of art. MUdred had grown to a beautiful woman- hood during those years, mind and body alike de- veloping nobly. Her childlike delicacy and timid- ity liad given place to a robustness of mind and body that argued well for the purity and wisdom of her training; hence she possessed the most per- fect human combination — a well-developed mind in a healthy body. With wide, fearless gaze she faced her future — the future of a working-wom- an, with not her own bread alone to win, but the brother and sister to educate. Her mother, she decided, must be relieved of tliat burden. Paul had grown to be a bright lad, with a very healthy appetite for food, both mental and physical. The missionary drep;o that Mildred used to speculate over so much in those early years had not faded; but the oppoitunities and possibilities of a higher civilization had for her active intellect an irresistible charm. To go away from these, buiying fai- out of sight her hopes of one day painting a picture that might thrill other hearts as her own had been by a few she had looked at, seemed at times the greatest sacrifice of all. A daily conflict was thus -V 816 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. earned on in her heart, that often made her ob- livious to annoyances that would have wounded or embittered a less generous and noble spirit. With a high sense of duty, as ,.ell as honor in regai-d to promises made to God, which she held fully as binding as if made to a fellow-creature, she was forced to walk uncertainly as to the ordering of her future years. Distinct as any past recollection was that act of self-consecration that wintry Sab- bath day in the long ago, when she gave herself to the One who died for her; and wit something of the self-abnegation which W3 see gleaming through the darkness of past ages through the few elect souls who were in the world, but not of it, she could think of no acceptable offering but what would mean utter immolation of all her ideals of culture and development. The one way for ac- ceptable service seemed to be mission work in the remotest spaces of heathendom. Wlule teachers and classmates regarded her as absorbed rather sel- fishly in her own thoughts and abstractions, she was only wearily going over and over the ques- tion as to what was really duty. But at last peace came, as it will eventually come to every sincere soul who yields the will to God. Like a I 1 --1 ERO. 3n made her ob- d have wounded loble spirit. With honor in regai-d she held fully as creature, she was ) the ordering of T past recollection that wintry Sab- she gave herself id wit. something ) gleaming through fh the few elect t not of it, she Efering but what all her ideals of one way for ac- ission work in the Wliile teachers bsorbed rather sel- abstractions, she id over the ques- ty. But at last y come to every to God. Like a GRADUATINO HONORS. 817 revelation the thought came: "What God wants me to do I will accept as my work, and tnist Him implicitly to show me what that work is." After this she was enabled generally to bitnish all perplexity; but sometimes in moments of depres- sion, the old, recurring question relocated itself with wearying obstinacy. It was not a matter for surprise with teachers or school-mates that, after her close application to study, Mildred should graduate with much more than average honora ; but what did cause very marked astonishment was the essay she read. They certainly expected something more than com- mon from her, since composition-writing had been one of the easiest of her school exercises, but were certainly quite unprepared for what she gave them. At the closing exercises of the school, when the class of pupils who had completed their studies and were to graduate read their essays, the audience listened with grave sui-piise rs the tall, but exceedingly youthful giri read the sen tences falling calmly from her lips. It waa no common school-girl's composition, the y'nt product of pupil and teacher; Mildi-ed had quite finnly insisted on doing her work unaided. As they """'Wm: 818 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. listened, her teacher concluded there was little chance for improveiient on their part. A fresh touch of genius would be required ere they could produce anything so original and masterly as what this quiet, self-contained girl liad thought out, mainly while watching the stars move noiselessly on their ceaseless journey to the west. In these lonely vigils of years, the mind, to such on nu- usual extent had she been thrown on her own re- sources for companionship, had matured with a rapidity uncommon in this age of frivolity and diffuseness. When she had finished, and with &ce paler than usual took her place again among the graduates who encircled the.platfoj-m, a hush not usual on such occasions held the large assem- Wy. A suspicion that such a literary effort was beyond the creative power of that slim pirl, with rose-leaf cheek and innocent bi-ow, kept some si- lent ; amazement at the gifted, silent young crea- ture who had come and gone with such still meekness through all these years, withheld pro- fessors and pupils for a time from the burst of ap- plause that late, but all the more welcome, fell with such blessed consolation on the girl's fright- ened heart. Was it then a failui-e, this group- mm '.RO. there was little ■ part. A fresh jd ere they could masterly as what id thought out, move noiselessly I west. In these 1, to such Oft nu- n on her own re- matured with a of frivolity and nished, and with ilace again among ■platform, a hush 1 the large assem- iterary effort was lat slim firl, Avith >'W, kept some si- silent young crea- with such still jars, withheld pro- m the burst of ap- iiore welcome, fell >n the girl's fright- failui-e, this group QRADUATINQ BOS ORB. 819 ing of ideas that had been swelling in her brsiin from childhood, and was it all a mistake? she said to herself, with a cold shiver of desolation as the intense stillness continued. But once it was broken, how the flowers came raining at her feet — rare hot-house blossoms intended for other hands than hers. Connie De Smythe, who sat nearest her, gave her a vigorous nudge, saying with a good deal of discontent: "You have every flower in the room, I believe, except the bunch that old gentleman over there is holding; but most likely he is deaf." Mildred raised her drooping eyelids and saw not only the clusters of lovely blossoms, but a tliou- sand admiring eyes directed to herself, among them her own mother's, which gave her most comfort of all. The burst of enthusiasm having expended itself, the exercises went calmly on until the close, — too calmly, indeed, for those who had to take part. After the exercises were ended and the audience had in part dispersed, and the I'emain- der gathered into friendly group i, Mildred stood apart from the rest and alone. Other schoolmates had their hosts of friends to greet and congratu- late them on their handsome costumes, if nothing :._.^. -M nMM 820 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. else ; but she lived so far remote from the great world's ongoings, very few there knew of her ex- istence until that day. She stood watclung the gaily-dressed crowd, her eyes wandering from one merry group to another, unconscious of the fact that she was the center of atti-action to a much greater extent than any person present, when, from the farther corner of the hall, where the principal and several notabilities had been standing, she saw Mrd. Everett suddenly emerge from the group, — the first she had known of her presence in the room, or indeed, on the continent, since she had been absent *or some time with her son in the Old Worid. To her delight she saw that her friend was making her way to her side. Her greeting was characterized by the old-time grace and sweetness, and after a few woi-ds had been spoken, she said: "My dear giil, you have made us all so proud of you to^iay. I believe I am as proud of you as if you belonged to me." «I io not understand it at aU," Mildred said, with a look of bewilderment. "My essay was just my own simple thoughts, — childhood's fancies, a good many of them. After it was read, for a while I was afiaid it wes all a mistake until the people were so kind." ' • 1 \R0. ) from the great knew of her ex- ad watcliing the idering from one ions of the fact ction to a much I present, when, hall, where the lad been standing, smerge from the of her presence in itinent, since she with her son in at she saw that to her side. [ by the old-time a few woi-ds had ar gill, you have Hiay. I believe I belonged to me." ill," Mildred said, "My essay was childhood's fancies, it was read, for El mistake until the ORADUATINO HOSORS. 881 "You should thank God for the gifts of such thoughts. You are richer than most of ud." " I am very glad to see you to-day. The time has seemed very long while you were away," Mildi-ed said, turning the conversation abruptly. " Yes, we ai-e both glad to get back to Grassmere. Have you noticed my son in the audience?" "I had not seen even you until you came to me." • " You would scarcely recognize him now, he has changed so these last few years. Mildred swept a keen glance over the various groups for a few sec- onds, and then with brightening face said: — " That is he, standing beside a beautiful girl in pale blue satin. What a lovely ci-eature she is!" Mrs. Everett smiled at the look of genuine admi- ration in the girl's face, as her eyes rested rather on her son's companion than himself. " You do not have any praise for my boy. Is he not handsome, too?" Mildred looked at him intently. Then she said, with a sigh of vieep satisfaction. "Yes, they are the most perfect pair I have ever seen. Human beings must sometimes come pretty near perfect." "Do you still think as much of angels and their abode as you used to?" ■ --1 ■ik« 322 MILDRED Kl.NT'S HERO. "I should think moi-e about them. I am four years older since I saw you last; that is a long strip of the journey of life." uDo you share the common regret of the young at seeing your youth slip away?" Ml did not know it was a usual thing. No, I rather enjoy the thought of approaching another life. Not but I think our existence here is a gi-and gift, but it haa its uncei-tainties »nd limitations, which will 1)6 unknown thei-e." Another sigh was softly breathed, but not one of satisfaJction. Mrs. Everett, with a keenness of perception that surprised Mildred, said: "You have not then discovered what is to be your work in this world?" " I am afraid God will not accept a divided heart, nor the imperfect work such a heart can offer," she said, with an expression of sadness. "He knows the temptations of youth, its allure- ment, and He pities as well as comprehends. But we will talk of this some other time; you must let me take you to Douglass. He has often wondered if you would continue as pure and unworldly as ever." • »Is it the Lady Alicia whom I saw once at Grassmere, who is with him?" she asked, somewhat nervously, as they drew nearer. - — 1 ORADUATING BONORB. »S8 em. I am four that is a long rret of the young al thing. No, I roaching another ce here is a gi-and )^id limitations, Another sigh was latisfaction. Mrs. iion that surprised n discovered what ?" pt a divided heart, heart can offer," adness. ' youth, its allure- iomprehends. But time ; you must let las often wondered and unworldly as n I saw once at e asked, somewhat "You have a fine memoiy for faces, I see." Mildred hesitated, and then said with a touch of constraint: "Will she be pleased to have me pre- sented to her? I remember she and her sister won- dered if common people were made out of the same kind of clay as themselves. You know I am very, verj' common." A hot flush swept over the pure high-bred face that was itself a denial of her assei^ tion. "That is very unexpected news to me ; we had the impression you were made of very uncommon clay. It seems to me that was the general belief here to^ay. However, I assure you Lady Alicia will make any friend of ours welcome." Mildi-ed walked along rather reluctantly, with a keener realization than ever that her plain muslin frock made her conspicuous amid all that richly- dressed throng, especially when her nearer approach revealed more clearly the Lady Alicia's elegance of attire and manner. Douglass turned to her with his old, boyish cordiality, his face lighting with a sudden glow which surprised her, since their sep- aration had been so long and so complete, none of those promised epistles having been forthoomr ing. --1 824 UILDRBD KEHT'S HERO. « I recognized you at once," he said, "even be- fore you charmed us with voice and thoughte." They had been chatting together then for some time, and in the crowd they had become separated from the rest of his pai-ty. She looked up at him, for he was still a good head above her, with something of her old hero-worship in foce and eyes. "I am very glad you have not grown altogether away from me. I made up my mind long ago that such a pleasure as your friendship and the visits to Grassmere were not to be again repeated in my life." She spoke with the same sweet humility that used to thrill his boyish heart, and make him long to be the knight without fear and without reproach that her presence and words used to picture. «I think if there has been maiked growth any- where it has been with you, Mildred. I did not hear a theme at Oxford this year that, taken all in all, I would reckon equal to yours. Really, you miist have breakfasted and supped with Shakespeare and Carlyle, and dined now and then with some of the great German thinkers, bo have got into the company of such elevated thoughts." u Since you went away I have been dependent -,-. --1 said, "even be- and thoughts. then for some lecome separated I looked up at ead above her, ■worship in foce have not grown de up my mind lur friendship and be again repeated De sweet humility t, and make him ear and without words used to rked growth any- ildred. I did not - that, taken all in ours. Really, you . with Shakespeare d then with some to have got into Lghts." re been dependent OKADUATJlfO HOSORB. on books mainly for company, save my mother's; but I had a beautiful world with them, quite apart from any my eyes beheld," "Ah, I understand; those gala there fell back into their old ways." ♦* It may have been my own fault ; I was too easily discouraged in makmg friendly advances ; but pos- sibly it helped rather than hindered me. Don't you think one's mind gets clearer in solitude ? Com- panions, unless they are superior, are a hindrance to one's development." "The danger is that the mind may develop too rapidly and rob the body. Human companionship helps to keep both mind and body in a healthy state." w If one could choose one's company ; but in Mul- berry Street," — she paused, and her smile was very biave, yet sweet, as she looked up into his face. "You are a genuine spirit-maiden, Mildred. In the middle ages they would have made a saint of you, and painted your face in their churches to worship." "You have always reckoned me a great deal better than I am," she said, with a pained expression, while a flush not of pleasure swept over her face. [ 826 MILDRED KEST'B BERO. "Those of your sex do not tell me that usually. Their right to he admired and worshipped, is mutely insisted on ; hut it is not that sort of worship you would liave received in medisBval times." u I wonder which age will he called the nobler by the people of the thirtieth century, - ours or Uie one you speak of?" * "Your forecast reaches a long way ahead, Mil- dred. What will we be doing when that time comes?" "If that question could be truly answered we would be more impatient than ever to begin that unknown life." " We have drifted into a strange topic for this gay scene. The present is very tangible and very enjoy- able." « I certainly find it so," she said, with such a contented exhalation one could not call it a sigh. Douglass looked at her intenUy, whUe her own gaze was fixed wistfully on Lady Alicia, who held court some little distance away, standing with a very queenly mien amid a group of admiring youths. His eyes followed hers, and another expression came into his face. The one appealed to the highest and but rarexy touched elementa of his manhood; the - 1 j^ me that usually. ipped, is mutely t of worship you aes. 3d the nobler by ir. — ours or Uie OBADVATISa ffONORS. 887 other to his more worldly and material instincts. Which would fulfil his ideal of perfect and most desired womanhood when bis intellect would be more matured, only time could teU. Presently they joined the others, and their odd convei-sation was not again resumed that day. way ahead, Mil- when that time ily answered we ^er to begin that topic for this gay e and very enjoy- aid, with such a call it a sigh. y, while her own Alicia, who held inding with a very liring youths. His expression came to the highest and his manhood; the CHAPTER XXVIl. IN THB GREENWOOD. TTbir ILDRED'S indecision regarding her fu- l\jy ture work became more and more per- -^A^ plexing. She went home from the day's triumph in anything but an uplifted mood. The path of life seemed to have came to an abrupt termination. She was still too young to expect a '^xwition in the city as teacher, and any further i.i8truction in painting was equally unattainable, since the teachers she would require would be too expensive with their slender means, and the other children had to be provided with books and suit- able equipment for the public schools. Neither could she expect any mission-board to accept for their home or foreign fields a girl so young and IS THS ORE as WOOD. SM 1. D. )garding her fu- B and more per- ae from the day's [ted mood. The e to an abrupt roung to expect and any further lly unattainable, aire would be too [8, and the other I books and suit- schools. Neither ard to accept for irl 80 young and inexperienced. No wonder some thoughts came unbidden that made her sad as she stood watch- ing the stars when all in the house, save her- self, were asleep. The two whom she had watched tliat afternoon as they walked side by side, — the most perfect-looking pair it had ever been her lot to gaze upon, — came back vividly to mind. How far removed their lives were from hers, crowned with the richest gifts of this world, no painful uncei .unties clouding their early morn- ing, the highest culture within reach, all con- genial things within their grasp! The face up- turned to the midnight stars was full of a longing they could not satisfy; for to-night her heart was no longer the child's heart that had, through the years, held communion with them and been comforted. She had. suddenly drifted into deeper, mord troubled waters, whose ground- swell brought echoes from far-off continents never dreamed of before. But if pain, that pain which the soul alone can experience and which there- fore is the nearest the infinite, is a handmaiden to lift us to better things, to pity her Avould be waste of sympathy. Rather should we call that an evangel which forces us in ihe solitude of i^--.. -■--.-. 330 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. the so'ul to seek fellowship beyond the best of hu- man kind. No matter how desolate the lot, it is still an enviable one where the soul is in harmony with the Divine. At last, turning res- olutely from the window, she prepared for those houw of unconsciousness, which bring rest and strength to the wearied body. With the morn- ing light came fresh resolution to continue the mental work that had so fully occupied the last few years. She compared herself to an unskilled workman with a few tools and some slight knowl- edge of his craft, but its real mysteries still unconquered. Education had given a partial glimpse of the laws that regulate our world and its occupants ; but, as yet, that glimpse was io faint, it bewildered rather than satisfied her, m- tensifying the desire to penetrate more of these secrets of nature. So while her needle was fly- ing swiftly in and out of the shimmering fab- rics which her mother was teaching her how to fasliion artistically, her brain was equally busy. With an open book at hand she was able, at leisure, to assimilate its contents and perhaps got more of its spirit than if, with idle hands, she had sat down to peruse ita contents. ~ T ERO. nd the best of hu- olate the lot, it the soul is in last, turning res- prepared for those I bring rest and With the morn- to continue the occupied the last ilf to an unskilled some slight knowl- sal mysteries still given a partial late our world and it glimpse was io a satisfied her, in- ate more of these er needle was fly- e shimmering fab- aching her how to was equally busy, she was able, at itents and perhaps I, with idle hands, Its contents. m |>BBiBmffm«"''fiW°ff- /S THE GREENWOOD. 831 While no other work presented itoelf, her mother concluded to teach her to be a skilled needle-woman. "Any work," she said to her a day or two after school was ended, "is better than idleness; and to know how to make one's own g.mnents skillfully is one kind of educa- tion." " You may find dress-making very useful among your cannibak. One of the first tilings missionarjes' wives do is to set them to fixing up some clothes," Paul said lightly. He was more averse than ever to having Mildred waste her life in such uncivilized parts of the eart'o. "Is Mildred going to be a missionary's wife ? " Grace asked sutpTised. "Why, of course," Paul responded. "Young ladies who go out as missionaries don't have to wait any time for husbands. If I was an old maid, that is where I would go.'' Paul was twelve years old now, and felt more of a man than most c'd gentlemen do at eighty, while he assumed a knowledge of things in general quite out of proportion to his years or size. He was as proud of Mildred as ever, and his keen, boy- ish eyes bad noted her rare type of beauty, 'jm 882 MILDRED KENT^a HERO. ' While he was equally proud of her inteUectual endowmente. He and Jack Carver occupied to- gether a back seat Commencement Day, when 1 had her ovation. "I t«ll you, any feUow would be proud of her «- ^ ««^^' ' ^^^ pered, with flushed cheeks, as he watched t^e Le™ falling about her chair. Since then he had bestowed a litde more consideration on her, having unwillingly admitted to himself that she was nearly equal n, the average boy, -a com- pliment of the finest quaUty a lad between ten and eighteen years can give to a girl. Aiter that age, for some years, tHey go t« the other extreme in striking their averages between the 'Turing these years the u^ission^hool at St. Malachi's had continued to flourish, while Mrs. Kent still kept charge. Other cUisses had been formed, and teachers appointed, to keep pace with its growth; and the benefit thus commg to the church through Mrs. Kent had been fiur ^ater than all it» c^her combined forces. Betsy Tnes sat in the choir now, at St. Malachis, and when her famUy at home proved refractory on a domestic subject, she easUy reduced tivem , ^wtHW^'^Ww*- V" rm iifflmiitfif»-^«»'«'>««»-''*«^i»««°^^ ',R0. her intellectual ver occupied to- nent Day, when you, any feUow siBter," he whis- he watched the . Since then he isideration on her, himself that she ige boy, — a com- i lad between ten to a girl. After r go to the other :ages between the ision-Bchool at St. ourish, while Mrs. classes had been ed, to keep l*ce efit thus coming to ent had been far bined forces. Betsy , at St. Malachi's» e proved refractory asily reduced tlaem IN TEE OBEBSWOOD. 333 to submission by threatening to join Mr. Fel- ton's church. The youthful Carv re, patterned very much after their sister Adelphine, had dropped into the school; Jack still came and vas as attentive to the lessons as when, years ago, the Bible began to supersede m his affections the Foliee Newt and similar literary productions. He was now earning his own living respectably, and lodging with an old couple only a short dis- tance from Mrs. Kent's. He frequented night- whools. Christian Associations, literary societies and kindred institutions, and was becomiug quite a light in his own circle. Indeed, he had confided to Mildred and her mother his intention of be- coming a public speaker, and getting his bread by the use of his tongue. "It seems the most unlikely of one's members to make one famous; but if it is limber there is no surer way," he remarked one evening short- ly after Mildred's truimph. » "But it needs the bram behind it to do the work," Mildred suggested timidly. She never liked to discourage Jack, and consequentiy hii air-castles never appeared so gorgeous as when erected in her society. 'M 884 MILDRED KENT ^8 HERO. »Oh, yes, some biitins, cei-teinly ; but not nearly so much as for a good many other thii^gs. I have been following around aft«r the popular speakers for a good while, and I have come to the con- clusion that only about one in six makes a hit with their brains. It is other qualities which at- tract the people; I am not always quit« sure what it is, but for one thing, they must have an easy way about them, as if they owned the ship and walked the quarterdeck too, and the rest of us were all common sailors. ^^ I notice those are the ones folks praise the most." u I believe we do like t« be governed and have some one to look up to,"- Mildred repUed, while Jack continued his descriptions. uYou must have unlimited faith in yourself , and a good voice, and know which words to empha. size; then if you are able to make the audience laugh and cry, and once in a while give them a thrill, your success is certain." Mrs.' Kent had been an appreciative listener to Jack's eloquence. . .j •+ »I think, even according to your own idea, it requires a good deal of abiUty to make a pubUc -'} -,».....^.»«.»»....-.,«»>,...M^^ «»>»-,^^.^ y ; but not nearly er thiiigs. I have popular speakers ome to the con- six makes a hit [qualities which at- ilways quite sure they mu8t have an y owned the ship »o, and the rest I notice those are governed and have Ired replied, while lith in yourself, and I words to emphar make the audience while give them a reciative listener to your own idea, it ' to make a public ;JV TRE a BEEN WOOD. 885 " I have decided it takes a good deal of that article now-a-days to make one a success at any- thing ; but it won't hurt to try, and you will be as well off at the end as those who don't attempt anything," he said resolutely. " I would be the one in six that uses the brains if I were you," Mildred recommended. "You may be sure I will use all I have, — one can't do anj more, but I am trying for the other things, too." "Do you ever lecture ? " Paul asked eagerly. "Well, not exactly lecture, except in my own room or some place where no one is around ; but I speak at every opportunity I have in the Association and our literary societies. I am going to the country in August, where there are plenty of trees, — I think that would be a superior place to prac- tice." "Will you live among them all the time?" Paul inquired. "Yes, it is the most economical way. I shall take a tent and board myself — make a fire out of doors to do my own cooking, and catch my own fish." Paul's soul was looking most eloquently through ^^ 886 MILDRED KENT'B HERO. his flves. ">\on't you be lonesome, old fellow, there aloie?" «0f a rainy night, or when the fish don't bite, perhaps; but one can't have country privileges and city company too. Only the wealthy indi- viduals, who rusticate at Long Branch and Sara- toga, are able to do that." ♦'I'd much rather go with you and sleep in a tent, than with Douglass Everett to those places, and be with a crowd of women and girls." "Would you like to come with me?" « I just would, if all are agreed. Would it cost much?" "I could meet all the liabilities, and not risk bankruptcy, if your mother >vUl give her consent." They both turned anxiously to Mrs. Kent — Paul with a mutinous little frown already gather ing on his brow. "I am very grateful to Jack for his generous offer. Do you think I could safely trust you in the woods and by the water?" « Trust me ! I should think so ! " answered Paul. " I will endanger my own life to save him if he should be exposed to danger," Jack said loftily. Already he practiced high-sounding words in com- mon convereation, to accustom himself to their use. Mi*i BO. some, old fellow, he fish don't bite, lountry privileges he wealthy indi- Branch and Sara- you and sleep in tt to those places, i giris." ;h me?" ,greed. Would it [ties, and not risk ive her consent." to Mrs. Kent — iwn already gather- jk for his generous afely trust you in J ! " answered Paul, e to save him if he Jack said loftily, iing words in com- Imself to their use. IN THE ORE ES WOOD. 887 «<That would be risking both of my boys. I would rather have the promise that you will both take care no such sacrifice would be required." Jack's eyes glistened, while he was ready to make any promise to the woman who had just called him her boy. " How long will you let Paul stay with me ? " " How long a time will } o i want him ? " " I have been planning if you would let him go, that we might stay two or three weeks; that is, if he did not get homesick," " HomesicK I " said Paul contemptuously, while Mildred asked curiously, "Were you thinking of taking Paul with you before this evening?" " Why, yes, I have been thinking of it for a summer or two, but have not been in a position financially to put my desires into execution." " It's a capital thing, having friends with plenty of money. I believe we are more fortunate than most folks in that respect." "Money is not everything, Paul. Your mother has helped some of us more than if she had laid out hundreds of dollars on us," Jack said impul- sively. "That is like history repeating itself. St. Peter •— *-1 '7^^f.ft<ip.-::A.->.^. 898 MILDRED KENT'S BEMO. said to ihe paralytic, 'Silver and gold have I none ; bui 8uch as 1 have give I thee.' God's people ever since have been doing, to some extent, as St. Peter did." .*l>on't let us talk Bible any more," Paul pleaded. "I want to talk about camping out and catchmg trout. Do you wado in after them? "he asked nervoufily. "Why, Paul, don't you know more than that about men's sports ? " Mildred asked, quite ashamed of Paul's ignorance. .«Hov/ could I know, shut up aU my life with a lot of women-folk?" he said hotly. "You have a long pole, with a Une at the end, and a few feathers made up like a fly, or else an angle-worm fastened to a hook; you throw that into the water, and the fish come and nibble at it," Jack explained. 'What is the hook for?" Grace asked. "The trout get it fastened in their mouths, and yea whisk them ^ut of the water." » Does it hui-t / " she asked pitifully. "Certainly it hurts the trout; but they don't think much of that after they are whisked out of the water." *-1 mmm to. jold have I none ; e.' God's people ame extent, as St. re," Paul pleaded, out and catcbing them? "he asked T more than that iked, quite ashamed p all my life with lotly- a line at the end, :e a fly, or else an z; you throw that come and nibble •ace asked. 1 their mouths, and ter." pitifully. ut; but they don't are whisked out of IN THE OBEENWOOD. 889 "You won't want to catch them, will you, Paul?" " Indeed^ 1 will ; and you will want to eat them, too, — the beauties that we will bring home with us. I will take you to the market to-morrow, and show you some." "I wouldn't care to eat anything that had been 80 cruelly killed." "Why, you baby, everything has been killed — beef and chickens and turkeys." "What a dreadful world it is! But one must eat. They don't have to kill anything to* get bread and potatoes and butter, do they^" she asked with a shiver. "Certainly not," Jack replied. "And if human beings did not consume animals, they would not exist at all ; and a few months or years are better for them than never to have lived. Besides, it is less painful to be killed instantly, than to suffer the pains of dissolution for months, like human beings often do." " I never thought how much death there was in the world; and we must all die, some time." Grace was growing very dolorous, and her mother endeavored to change the conversation to more healthy topics. ' t 840 MILDRED KEST'8 BERO. The day came at last when Jack waa ready to go. The August sun was making life in the CTXJwded city more of a burden than deUght to others besides Paul, who had never seen the hou« move so slowly before. The morning Jack called, and he and Paul walked together to tiie depot, there could hardly have been found m the whole vast city two happier individuals than these two youths. If there were, they were certainly to be envied. Paul staggered along under a basket of eatables that Mrs. Kent thought would serve them for several days, thereby considerably lessen- ing Jack's expenses. Paul had many a time watched, with longing eyes, the cars moving away with their living freight, Uttle knowing how many a sorrowful, anxious heart they contained; but this was his own first railway excursion, and a bunch of thistledown was scarcely as light, just then, as his glad heart. In a very large pocket, book, which he had purchased the day before, lay the money for his ticket and other incidental ex- penses. With a very unnecessaiy flourish he took it out as he stood beside Jack at the ticket office, and waited his turn to invest. He glanced at some mgged urchins hovering neai-, hopmg they -■'--r a BT ^ yy .' itww - t 10. k was ready to ng life in the than delight to : seen the hours morning Jack together to the m found in the iduals than these wrere certainly to under a basket jht would serve nsiderably lessen- i many a time lars moving away lowing how many y contained; but excursion, and a sely as light, just ery large pocket- ie day before, lay iier incidental ex- y flourish he took A the ticket office. He glanced at neai', hoping they IN TBE ORE ES WOOD. 841 would get a glimpse of the repository for his cash. His desire was granted. "Say, lend us a fiver, Mr. Pocketboo^," one of them said with a grin, while they all came crowding up. Paul very hast- ily slipped his cash-book out of sight and hastened after Jack to escape their jeers, — he found very early in his travelling experiences it was just as well not to make a parade of one's wealth. The morning's ride had a charming freshness for both of them, but Paul grew very impatient to get to the wide, healthy breathing«pace8 of the open country. It took a good while before they had passed all the houses of the city, but once they were in sight of the woods and meadows, with cattle feeding on the hillwsides or standing knee- deep in the streams, his rapture was unbounded. "Whatever do they have cities for?" he cried impatiently, " when there is so much room in the country?" "Most people prefer cities. They find the soli- tude of the country irksome, and they crave the excitement that multitudes of their fellow-beings bring." " They can't be very sensible people to get lone- some out here. Will it bo countiy like this where we are going? " iiw p iiyifiii R ff H imm^^ MILDRED KENT'S BERO. will hftve "Yes, even more so than this, no houses in sight. "I wish I was an Indian," Paul said after a long silence. He thought their brief fortnight would too soon end, when they must go back to the suffocating, dirty city. " When I am a man I shall go away off where land is cheap and get a thousand acres. Then I won't have folks crowding me," he said decidedly. « I shall reside in the city. A few weeks' out- ing in the country will suffice in the heated term of summer. Advantages for culture and acquiiing wealth are superior in the city," Jack remarked, with the superior knowledge of six additional years. "Money is only one thing. There are a gi<eat many other things I would rather have, if I had to choose between them." "Money will bring you everything." " I don't believe it," Paul said stoutly, whUe there flashed frem memory a vision of that weary- looking lord whom he had seen at Grassmere so long ago. Their arguments always ended amicably, and soon theu- conversation drifted into other chan- nels. We will hftvo i said after a brief fortnight gt go back to I am a man I «ap and get a I folka crowding ew weeks' out* lie heated term ) and acquiring Jack remarked, six additional ere are a gi-eat have, if I had I stoutly, while I of that weary- t Orassmere so ended amicably, into other chan- II Jt^-i IN TBE ORSXNWOOD. •*• When the newiMtgent came around with hi* stoi-es, Paul eyed him admiringly. The goods he had, and the military-looking costume, made him seem a veiy important personage for hia size. "I wish I could keep store like you," he said while affecting the purchase of a fine orange. The news-agent's usually set features relaxed into a broad smile. "I never heard this called keep- ing store." »♦ Will they let any one come here and sell ? " »*A8 you are a veiy decent-looking boy, per- haps they might allow you." "There are other requirements than respectabil- ity," Jack said coldly, while he wished Paul would not be quite so effusive. "You want to be a farmer and a news-agent both," he said, after they were alone. "I expect there are a good many other things that, if I knew about them, I would like to do," Paul said evasively, — the world that morning was broadening out amazingly before him ; he had no idea before that our world was such a seductive planet. They reached their destination a little after mid-day — a quiet, countiy place, with few houses, and not far from a dense foi-est in whose "-1 844 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. shadows Jack was bent on erecting his tent. When Paul stood on the platform of the small station- house, and watched the train sweeping far away, a feeling of loneliness came over him; but Jack spoke bO cheerily, while he pointed out the broad stream where thr trout were jumping, and the sheltering woods wherein their tent was to be pitched, that he soon forgot his slight attack of homesickness. A shambling, loose-jointed fellow was hovering near, as if in search of an easy job. Jack secured his services to assist in setting up their establishment. They gathered up a part of of their belongings, leaving the rest in the station- master's care, and started across a stretch of dry pasture land where a few dejected-looking cows were busily cropping the stunted grass ; then they crossed the stream by a delightfully flangerous- looking bridge, which Paul admired far more than the massive structures to which he had been ac- customed- M Y*-:. must make your fires down by the stream, _ all the campers have to do that, or else quit the place," the man informed them. "Then we had better not ei-ect our tent too far withm the forest's depths," Jack suggested. ■MSiSUfM'-kT. - t .^M ' " -: ■Ml •aOm RO. his tent. When le small station- jping far away, a him ; but Jack d out the broad imping, and the tent was to be slight attack of ose-jointed fellow I of an easy job. 8t in setting up 3d up a part of !8t in the station- i stretch of dry 5ted-looking cowa grass ; then they itfully flangerous- red far more than he had been ac- iwn by the stream, that, or else quit lem. ect our tent too fack suggested. IN THE OREENWOOD. 845 "Somewherea near by your fire'd be best. It'll help frighten away the mosquitoes — they're power- ful thick here." "We are not airaid of 'squitoes," Paul affirmed courageously. Already the stillness of his 8Ui> roundings was growing awesome. "Maybe you're not; but you'll find these fel- lows have sharp teeth." "'Squitoes have no teeth." Jack thought the argument had proceeded far enough, and set the man to putting down the stakes, while Paul hovered near. The tent was soon in position, a fire burning merrily on the beach, and a heap of spruce boughs laid in a comer of the tent for a bed. They got a box from the obliging station-master to serve for pantry, where Jack put his own and Paul's goodly supply of provisions, and then went to a neigh- boring farmhouse to hire the use of a frying-pan and kettle. They made arrangements also with the same convenient neighbor for their supply of eggs, butter, milk, and vegetables. Paul's spirits were on the point of effervescmg when, their arrangements all completed, and their domestic machinery in good running ordei, he followed Jack to the stream to 846 MILDRED KEST'B HERO. get some trout for supper. Thfcy fidhed for some time without success. Neither of them had ever cast a line before, and it took them a good while to do it skillfully enough to entice a trout after their bait; but at last Jack drew out a speckled beauty. Paul was in raptures, a number of times feeling cei-tain he had a bite; but the only game that came to his hook wei-e tree-bi-anches and roots. Jack's success was veiy limited, but they were able to say, in their first letter home, they had trout for supper the very evening they came. Paul took a stroll through the woods after tea, while Jack went off by himself to practise a lesson in oratory. As ho wandered through the dense green spa- ces, Paul felt his spirits growing lighter. There was nothing here to terrify; none of the silence and awful solitude he had expected. Every inch of ground seemed to be inhabited with healthy living creatures busy about the impatient concerns of their every-dey existence. The trees seemed to be a vast concert-hall, where birds of various kinds \,ere twittering soft lullabys to wee nestlings, or pouring out glees and madrigals and choruses with a prodigality of vocal energy that amazed the city KO. 6dhed for some hem had ever cast good while to do trout after their speckled beauty. of times feeling ly game that came nd roots. Jack's ' were able to say, trout for supper 3 woods after tea, I practise a lesson dense green spa- ig lighter. There le of the silence icted. Every inch ited with healthy impatient concerns le trees seemed to ds of various kinds wee nestlings, or I and choruses with lat amazed the city IN THE OREEN^OOD. 847 boy, who listened to them for the first time in his brief existence. He wished very much that Mildred was there long enough to give expi-ession to his feelings. He felt his own powers of expres- sion utterly inadequate and there was iiomething actually painful to him in having so many new thoughts that he had no language to voice. Mil- dred always seemed to have such a convenient faculty of saying what others felt in moments of strong emotion, that he never realized how useful she was until that hour, while for the first t^-me it occured to him that she was something like the poets whose «eords touch deeper chords in the human heart than any others of the children of Adam — no matter whether their sentences rhyme or not. He went back to the tent at last his thoughts still . unuttered, and lying down on his spicy couch was crooned to sleep deliciously by the frogs who were singing in a marsh way across the river. '••1 .d^iSS^^ CHAPTER XXVIII. BVS B-BBB. yrrfO Paul and Jack those days seemed to go &l}9 on "dove's wings," there was so little jar and turmoU in them. Before the hist day came, Paul had been many a time thrilled at sight of an excited, speckled trout dangling at the end of his line. He could cUmb a tree now as mmbly aa any country boy, walk the fences, milk the cows, and could distinguish at least half a dozen different bird-notes, with sundry other accomplishmeniB only to be acquired in the wideness of the country. He daUy regretted that his lot had not faUen in a farmhouse with the prospect, at majority, of a farm provided and stocked, such as the farmers' sons in that vicinity received from 848 ■-■ "l i.a4il!i»*aBBa.*,'A'--^ii..- m III. days seemed to go lere was so little a. Before the last a tiiue thrilled at trout dangling at I climb a tree now , walk the fences, iguish at least half 8»rith sundry other ired in the wideness retted that his lot with the prospect, I and stocked, such jinity received from SET FREE. 849 their thrifty parents. He actually regretted the ne- cessity for sleep, and abbreviated it at both ends as far as he was able. At night there were har- monies not heard in the b I,»ht sunshine, — the water rippling past their tent had a different mur- mur; the frogs' voices rang out more clear; and now and then the note of a night-bird sounded so str-age and weird, he shivered comfortably on his bed of spruce, and thought of them in their nests in the highest branches of the trees, feeling very glad he was not a robin perched away up there. With reluctance he bade good-bye to all these, and the farmer folk too, who had been unusually kind to him, going so far in their kindness, in some cases, as to invite him back the following summer to stay a week or two with each of them. He ex- pressed his surprise to Jack on their way home in the cars, that they should be so good to him; but Jack accounted for the phenomenon by assuring him that it was because he had been so obliging and pleasant himself. "I assure you there is nothing pays one better than to conduct one's self in that way. One never can know when his courteous acts may come back and greet him." «5j;-,.,™. »».MUW<)^4t^i.^^?SI --1 860 MILDRED KEHra HERO. Paul reflected silently on back's remark, and then said: Mif we are good-natuied with iieople because we expect to get paid for it some time, it won't amount to much." "Possibly not, if one weighs those things cai-e- fully ; but if we are to be successful, we must take aU these things into account. It is the minute actions veiy often that have the greatest influence on our careers. A pleasant word and polite act may get us a vote a dozen years hence for some coveted office or emolument." » It might do for politicians to spend their time smirking at their fellow-men, but I don't mean to be a public servant. It costs altogether too much for all the honor it brings," Paul said wearily, for Jack's ethics had a depressing effect on his spuits. The welcome awaiting him when he reached home made Paul, for the time, forget the scenes he had left so reluctantly; besides, there was a special piece of good news to be communicated to him. MUdred had work, and so much better than she had expected that they were all elated at her success. After he had told eveiy incident of the past fort- --t JERO. 8 remark, aiid then ith people because mie time, it won't those things cai-e- issf ul, we must take It is the minute B greatest influence ord and polite act irs hence for some JO spend their time I don't mean to be ether too much for d wearily, for Jack's his spiiits. len he reached home t the scenes he had ;here was a special nmunicated to him. ich better than she s all elated at her ent of the past fort- jL mm' SET FREE. 861 night that memory held in trust with lingering minuteness, Grace, who had listened veiy atten- tively, said with a sigh of deep satisfaction, " We have had oui* smprises too. We have all been out to Grassmere ; and only think ! Mildred is not going among the cannibals, not for a while, any- way. She is going to teach in the Park Avenue School." Paul looked the surprise the occasion required. "Why, how did she get such an offer?" " We are not sure ourselves ; only have our suspicions. The tnistees wrote a few days ago of- fering her the situation, and she has accepted it." "It must be the Everetts." " Yes, we believe it is to them we are indebted." "Now I can go to college as soon as I am able to matriculate." "Will you need so much education to milk the cows and raise potatoes and. chickens?" Grace asked. " I shall want a home in the city in the winter. I won't care to live on a farm, only in the sum- mer," Paul said evasively, for the life and activity had charmed him as he came home through the crowds on the street. m MILDRED KFNT'8 HEm. I am afraid you are getting too ambitious, my son. Not very many can afford such luxuries as rt. But a college course will not prevent you making a good farmer; and I think if all goes well we can promise you that." "It seems to me we are very lucky." " I do not like the work lucky, my sen. We should rather say, God has helped us in our ef- forts to help ourselves." "Well, anyway, we have good friends on eartu who help us." " You have a good sister, Paul. If Mildred had become discouraged when she first went to school, and staid at home, she would not have had the chance to aecept the fine situation offered her now; neither would she have formed the charm- ing friendship that has brought us all so much pleasure. I hope you will follow her example when you meet with difficulties." "She didn't get us Jack Carver and the mis- sion-school, anyway," Paul said, with some tri- umph. It was not agi-eeable for him that Mil- dred should get the credit of all their pleasant happenings. "If you recall the circumstances I think you will Ent. too ambitious, my such luxuries as not pre\ent you think if all goes lucky." ky, my sen. We )ed us in our ef- d friends on eartu il. If Mildred had »t went to school, aot Lave had the lation offered her formed the charm- i us all so much How her example xver and the mis- id, with some tri- for him that Mil- all their pleasant ces I think you will 8ST FREE. 858 find it was through her means we made Jack's acquaintance ; but let us forget all that now, only to give credit where it is due. Mildred has helped us all to bear our burdens while enduring her ow" silently." " I am going to bear this family's burdens p^ • soon," he said valiantly. You can begin at once ; every day gi-^es opporlimities." "Where is Mildred?" Paul asked, tunu. ^ ;he conversation with much cheerfulness. He was get- ting tired of so much practical advice. "She went to see the Carver children. They are very ill with scarlet fever. The air is so hot and close everywhere in the city now, especially in narrow courts and crowded tenements, I am afraid some of them will die." "Won't she be in danger of catching it, too?" " She had it years ago, when Grace was a baby, I had you all sick at once with it." " We are a very — " he paused uncertainly and then said — "providential family." He was afraid to use the word lucky again in liis mother's pres- ence. While they were talking Mildred came in, looking pale and troubled. ;„,..-..J 864 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. "Are any of them dead?" Paul asked, after Mildred, with brightening face, welcomed him home. "Yes, two of them; and, oh, mother! there was no one to get them ready for the coffin, hut their mother, with what help I could give." Mil- dred shuddered as she thought of the painful scene. "Why don't the neighbors help her, or else the undertaker?" "The neighbors are afraid, and I tlunk they could not afford to hire the undertaker for every- thing. Jack came as soon as he heard about it. I was so glad to see him coming. I was afraid I should feel it my duty to stay longer ; it would be cruel to leave them all alone Avith their dead. Oh, I wish there was not so much misery in the world, or that I could forget about people's sorrow and need of help like otlier girls do," MUdred sobbed. "Is it Christ-like to crave forgetfulness of the bm-dens our fellow-creatures totter under? He gave His life to us. Should wo not think it liigh honor to be permitted to follow in his steps ? " Mildred wiped her eyes and looked out over the immm fERO. Paul asked, after 5, welcomed him >h, mother ! there for the coflfin, but could give." Mil- it of the painful )lp her, or else the and I tliink they dertaker for every- iie heard about it. ng. I was afraid I ly longer; it would ne Avith their dead, iiuch misery in the (out people's sorrow girls do," Mildred forgetfulness of the totter under? He 7C not think it liigh V in his steps?" looked out over the BET F»Ett, 8A5 dust and unrest of the huge city to the sky flecked with light summer clouds. How pure and serene it seemed in contrast. "I am glad those two little creatures are free from their suffering. What a change for them, from the burning fever and stifling room to the green fields of Paradise ! I am so glad God takes such numbers of little ones from the city's slums." "It seems to me, Mildred, that you thank the Loi-d for nearly everything," Paul said, as if just awakening to the fact tliat she generally found some rare bit of blue in all sorts of skies. At least she realized that behind all clouds and storms the skies were still shining and she drew her light from depths infinitely removed from the mists and vapors that cloud too often the view of average folks. It is a grand experience to dwell always in those still places; but only those attain them whose thoughts are wide and high enough to grasp eternal things. Mrs. Kent replied to Paul's remark: "If we keep close to God we shall be able always to thank Him for what He gives us. St. Paul had that experience. I ask for nothing higher for my children." ■\ i'i I MILDRED KEST'B HEM. "I wonder why it is so difficult for people to trust their interests in God's hands: there are so few that really do it," Mildred said; and then, after a moment's reflection, added, " We may for a while, in some uplifted moments ; but afterwards we are troubled and i)erplexed. I wonder God is tto patient with us." »»I believe that is a mystery to all xran; but for His imtience, the Adamic type would have been destroyed long ago, and some better one dwelling in our places to^ay. But our conversa- tion is getting too visionary. It is useless specu- kting on subjects so far out of range of our experience or possibility to understand," her mo- ther replied. " I think Mildred is a good deal given that way ; but still I missed her sometimes when I heard voices and saw things I couldn't explain the mean- ing of out in the country," Paul said. "You wanted me there to label your emotions," Mildred said humorously; then getting her draw- ing nwterials, she sat down to sketch from memory the two little forms so soon so be shut out from the sunshine. " Mrs. Carver will like to have them to look at '■\ tito. lit for people to ids: there are so Haid; and then, 1, " We may for \B ; but afterwards I wonder Ood is ^ ■•fpp'*' ■P9P! iST FMEK. 857 after they are buried from her sight," she said to her mother. Paul and Grace watched with consid- erable solemnity as the two little faces and rigid forms came out with vivid reality on the paper. to all Iran; but type would have Horae better one But our conversa- ; is useless specu- of range of our erstand," her mo- al given that way ; les when I heard explain the mean- . said. b1 your emotions," getting her draw- Letch from memory be shut out from e them to look at --1 .i-irta(5S&^\^/' CHAPTER XXIX. PLEASANT PICTUBBS. yrdW ILDRteD'S duties as teacher were to begin V3IM tl»e following week, and it would be no J^A longer safe for her to visit the fevei> stricken i-ooms where the Carver's lived. She took her sketch of the two little ones to Mra. Carver, whose surpiise at the excellence of the likeness was only equaled by her gratification at liaving something tangible to recall their memory. The hard lines of of her face gi-ew soft as she Aviped the tears away, while giwing at her lost darlings pictured before her. Mildred bade her good-bye, explaining why she covld not come again. Mrs. Carver bewailed the loss of her one friend in need, — her face as- suming its natural oppression while she expatiated 368 X. XES. acher were to begin and it would be no to visit the fever- r'a lived. She took I Mrs. Carver, whose 3 likeness was only ImAdng something The hard lines of iped the tears away, igs pictured before •ye, explaining why rs. Carver bewailed need, — her face as- trhile she expatiated PLEASANT PICTURES. 359 on the ingratitude of some of her neighbors, more especially the Joneses, whom she had succored in seasons of affliction. " It's all that Betsy's fault. She's gettin' so stuck up she'll try to make out the old man is somethin' moie'n a cobbler ; but bless you ! he couldn't make a pair of boots to save his neck." '♦Is mending shoes not as respectable as making them or wearing them ? It all amounts to the same thing; labor of any kind is honorable." "Ah, miss, few folks look on things like you do. It would be a more comfortabler world if they did. My old man says you've made him realize religion better'n all the preachers in the city. I shouldn't wonder if he'd perfess and jine your church. He says he's bound to go where you do when he quits this world." "When death comes it softeire our hearts, but we soon forget the lessons it brings." Mrs. Carver did not reply ; it was painful for her to linger long in a tender mood, gentleness and thoughts of death and the soub were alien to her nature; but she was a great worker, and so was not utterly desti- tute of worth of chamcter. As Mildred left she wondered if it were possible ■^ sa^aUitiik'uAum'^vm^s^ns^^'V!^' 7 \ MILDRED KENT'S HERO, for Mrs. Carver's nature to be elevated by the re- ligion of which she talked so flippantly. She met Jack a few steps from the door. " Have you been there?" His face lighted up at sight of her. "Yes." "It is extremely good of you. I should not go there if it wasn't for my father." "I wonder if she is not as God made her?" "Certainly not. It is true God made snakes and lizards as a species of scavengers in creation, but their counterparts among human beings are only to blame, or their parents before them, for being as they are." " Pray, what evolutionist has taught you that ? " "None in particular; but I have been studying the matter up, and am learning how to account for a good many of nature's queer productions." "I imagine your new philosophy shifts a good deal of the blame for our own defects to our own shoulders." "Yes, T should be a fatalist if I did not think we were in fault ourselves for our wrong-doing, or that oui- environment and parents had a share of the blame." "Then I hope you will show us what possibili- — r \ P BERO. levated by the re- ppantly. She met " Have you been ■j sight of her. I should not go od made her?" God made snakes rengers in creation, nan beings are only :e them, for being taught you that ? " ave been studying how to account for productions." ophy shifts a good defects to our own if I did not think our wrong-doing, or mts had a share of f us what possibili- PLKABAST PICTURES. 361 ties are within reach of a resolute soul bent on its own uplifting." "I will do my best." Mildi-ed said good-bye, and Jack went into the house to find that his stepmother had been watch- ing them from the window. " Well, do you think that girl '11 ever marry the likes of you?" * He gave her a look that would have warned a wiser woman, but she only laughed scornfully. "I did not come here to discuss that question with you, nor to ask your advice." "Well, I can tell you, whether you want my advice or not, she'll never have anything to say to you." " I could not blame her, seeing what connections I have," he said, with a sternness that warned her to say no more. "Tell father to come to my rooms as soon as he gets home." "You can deliver your own messages. I've been your servant long enougli," she muttered, too angry to try and make the peace she had so ruthlessly broken, although she well knew it was worse than folly to quarrel with him now that he was in a position to be a good deal of help to them. Jack 362 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. left, shutting the door with unnecessary vigor be- hind him, the light all gone from his face that the interchange of ideas with Mildred had brought, and he walked along moodily, wondenng if it was any use for him, with such relations, to tiy to be anything. He quickened his pace, thinking to overtake Mildred and tell his troubles. • She always soothed his heart-aches; but afte^ a brisk walk he saw, some distance off, a carriage stop, when Doug- lass Everett sprang out and greeted Mildred. Mrs. Everett and the Lady Alicia tvere in the carriage. Jack lingered in a doorway watching the group, for Mildred had gone to the carriage and was standing beside Mrs. Everett, who held her liand with a cordiality that was awakening pangs of jeal- ousy in two of Mildred's old schoolmates^ who, like Jack, were watching the distinguished Grass- mere party. Presently Mildred entered the car- riage, and taking the vacant »eat beside Douglass, was carried out of their sight with a very contentr ed expression on her face, which Beth and Connie did not fail to observe its she drove past them. "It is just ridiculous the way the Everetts pat- ronize that girl," Connie said indignantly. "They won't notice people worth their hundreds of thou- . /^"^fe„ '" - ■ 1 ERO. eceasary vigor be- rom his face that dred had brought, ondering if it was ions, to tiy to be pace, thinkuig to ubles. . She always >r'a brisk walk he stop, when Dougf- )ted Mildred. Mrs. sre in the carriage, itching the group, carriage and was vho held her liand suing pangs of jeal- Bchoolmatesv who, iistinguished Grass- 1 entered the car- ,at beside Douglass, with a very contentr A\ Beth and Connie drove past them, ly the Everetts pat- indignantly. "They r hundreds of thou- ../^ PLEASANT PICTUREB. 868 sands, who live in elegant houses, but can't pass her on tlie street without gushing over her as if she were a duchess. I am so glad that Douglass is going to many tliat Lady Alicia Merton." "Why so?" Beth asked. " Because he can't many Mildred. He was look- ing at her just now, though, in a way I would not want the man I was engaged to be manied to some day, to look at a pretty girl. If Mildred is poor, and her mother a di-essmaker, she is every bit as beautiful as any of those English heir- "I am going to call on Mildred. She always made roe feel better when I was with her, and made me wish to be good. I don't remember any- thing in our school days pleasanter than going to her place, listening to her stories and taking i i; in her make-belioves.. I wish, Connie, we had c her be fnends with us. I know she liked us id wanted to be fiiendly," Beth's voice trembled " That was all there was to be gained in 1 lug her for a friend." "Why, no, indeed, Connie. She got i twice to Grassmere, and I am sure we have boasted about that ever since, without acknowledging how we came to go there." .-.^... (.=(»«*»■ ", 864 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. Ww "I expect you will di-op all your old friends after you get inamate with her again," Connie said, coldly. " Mildred is not that sort of girl ; I used to like all of you better when I was with her. She used to make one feel friendly with aU the world. "She will get you more invitations to Grassmere. It will pt>y you to go and eat humble pie with her." "I shall not seek her friendship for anything so mean as that; but ever since I heard her es- say I have wanted to be like her. Connie, I would be willing to be poor and have to earn my own living, if I could have her mind." "I am afraid you are getting reUgious; then we cannot be friends any more, — not as we have been, anyway," Connie said, anxiously. "My religion won't interfere with our friendship, I can assure you ; but reaUy, I never thought be- fore that it was religion that made her so different from any one we know." "Why don't you call anyone else that we are acquainted with religious?" " Really, Connie, I do not see any difference in any one of our friends such as being real Chris- EM. I your old friends igain," Connie said, f'vc\ X I used to like dth her. She used all the world." btions to Grassmere. lat humble pie with adship for anything nee I heard her e»- ke her. Connie, I id have to earn my mind." J religious ; then we — not as we have ixiously. ) with our friendship, I never thought be- made her so different ne else that we are see any difference in as being real Chris- PLEASANT PICTURES. 365 tians ought to make. I believe if a whole crowd of us were dropped on a heathen shore, we could not among us all teach the people how to be fit for heaven." Beth laughed nervously. Probably she had never given the subject of religion so se- rious thought before. Connie was getting nervous too. She never found religious conversation com- forting, even in childhood, when Mildred was in the habit of discussing such topics. Ho^^ever, they agreed to call in company on Mildred it: many days, and try to regain their lost footing in her friendship. But Mildred, as she rode along towards Grassmere that day, had no thought of Beth and Connie. Other fancies were crowding her brain ; but the underlying thought of all was, " Could it be possible that the little Carvers, recently set free from the noisy tenement and stifling court, were looking on fairer scenes than these ? " Mrs. Everett, noticing her intent look, said: "A penny for your thoughts. They must be pleasant from the look on your face." "A penny would be a poor exchange," Doug- lass answered for Mildred, as he watched the rose- leaf tint deepen in the sensitive face. "Were you thinking of Grassmere? When we - X h ■ % 1, I '■• MILDRED k£ItT8 BERO. knew you long ago, it seemed to occupy more of your thoughts than other things." "It was of two little children who have just died in a crowded tenement. They hardly knew the taste of pure air — never such perfumed air as this," she said, with a long inhalation. " I have been speculating if they are findmg heaven more perfect than this. If they do I am so glad they have escaped to it." "What an odd ideal" Lady Alicia said. "I never thought of heaven as being a place — cer- tainly not like any I ever shall see on earth." "I always think of heaven as something like Grassmere — the flowers and pictures and music. But I can never conceive of myself as enjoying it continually, without having to look after the sick and desolate. To have no such duties would be one of the gieat joys of heaven," Mildred said tim- » Why, are you compelled to care for them now ? her ladyship asked, arcliing her fine eyebrows. "We are surrounded by poor people and sick children, and we must do all we can to help them," Mildred said, as seriously as if to help othere were, without question, a part of her daily task. — - X y ERO. to occupy more of •en who have just rhey hardly knew ich perfumed air as lialation. "I have iding heaven more I am so glad they y Alicia said. "I sing a place — cer- L see on earth." as something like jicturea and music, lyself as enjojring it look after the sick ch duties would be n," Mildred said tim- care for them now ? " r fine eyebrows. )or people and sick all we can to help iously as if to help , a part of her daily PLEASANT PICTVREB. 887 "You should come to England and marry a clergjrman : your husband's parishioners would soon style you Lady Bountiful." Mildred's face flushed, but she said gently: "There is no need to cross the ocean to be help- ful to the poor — we have too many neglected ones here." The carriage had reached the door, but when they alighted Mildred was in no haste to enter the house; the picture that filled eyes and heart all around was too fair to pass hastily in order to look at the picture just come across the seas which Mrs. Everett had insisted on her coming out di- rectly to see. "It is discouragirg to look at," she said to Douglass, who lingered at her side after the others had gone in." "Why so?" , "No artist could do it justice, at least, not in this world. After centuries of near companionship with God, Raphael might be able to do it justice ; but the birds and bees and perfumes would be lack- ing, — and the life," she added sadly. "I do not think anything will satisfy you, Mil- dred, short of the power to create, not merely copy with materials all provided." 4i.i»in MILDRKD KENT'S HERO. "Oh, no; but it Beems to me we can do nothing higher than to think God's thoughts— not tiy to materialize them with brush and paint' "Are you losing your passion for art?' » Not when I am shut in with brick and stone ; but out hex« I get so discouraged, — to reproduce that scene seems like a caricature. Men must dis- cover something besides i)aint and oil to imitate ti-uly that atmosphere and those superb distances." She stretched her hand to the west, already flush- ing with the sunset's glow. She had forgotten her errand, standing there with that look of rare content on her face, that Douglass remembered of old. " Don't you think one gets tfUmpses now and then of other worlds than this?" she asked after a pause. " I seem to have done so to-day in thinking of those little children. I could almost fancy I saw them straying among the flowers and music of Paradise. But you did not know I had come from there," she said, seized Wh a sudden anxiety. « How terribly forgetful I have been ! Those chil- dren died of scarlet fever." Her face was as white as one of the white lilies at her feet, when she looked up at him. "It would be a thousand KKO. we can do nothing ghts — not tiy to paint." for art?" 1 brick and stone; ad, — to reproduce «. Men must dis- and oil to imitate superb distances." ivest, already flush- id, standing there on her face, that (glimpses now and " she asked after a to-day in thinking Id almost fancy I lowers and music of )w I had come from a sudden anxiety. been ! Those chil- sr face was as white her feet, when she lid be a thousand PLEASANT PICTVREa. 369 deaths to me if I brought death to Orassmere — to you?" she munnured. He was looking down at her so steadily that her fears increased. "Are you very angry with " she asked. me " I do not think I could be angry with you, Mildi-ed, not even if you brought me face to face with death ; but do not be alarmed. I have ex- perienced all the burnings of scarlet fever, I im- agine, since my mother thought in my babyhood it would leave her childless." They entered the house then, Douglass leading the way to the drawing-room, where the picture was hanging. Mildred stopped abruptly ; for there looking down at her was her own self, as she had looked that first day she came to Grassmere, while standing with timid awe at the threshold. She stood now, looking up with parted lips, the color deepening in her cheek. "Do you recognize the portrait?" " Yes, it is my child-self — but idealized, made beautiful. " "My mother considers it a very true likeness." "Was it your mother's son who painted it? Allow me to compliment the artist." She turned to him, seeing he did not answer her question. "-MSKtfy„**fc^a5^ m- ' IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) ^ <^\^ \ 7' 1.0 I.I 1.25 S U£ 112.0 122 II 1.8 1.4 1.6 Photographic Sciences Corporation %■ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716)872-4503 v iV •^ \\ '^ ■^' Wk-mm o v.. \ CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHJVI/ICIVIH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian da microraproductions historiquas ■.mmmmmmki.i,. T^iti'ifcBHiaa ig n.>>w^ww-ft*''**^ -, — »^'T- '.";j;«ti'<>y'," 370 MILDRED KENT '8 HERO. «I can take but Utile credit myself. A genuine artist finished it for me." uBut did he ever see that little girl standing there?" "Only through my eyes." «I shall not give the foreign artist any credit then ; but I should thank you for the honor you have done me. It will be pleasant to think of always being here. I can easily fancy that littie girl en- ioys standing here amid all this beauty." uYou have a peculiar faculty of individualmng yourself." ult is difficult to realize myself the very same all through these years, -first child, then girl, and now woman." "Scarcely woman yet, is it?" » At least a wagc-eamen" Mrs. Everett entered the room and came to her side. "How do you like our picture? Do you know it has been honored with a place in the Pans Salon?" „ ^_.,, , " Then my criticism will be valueless.' Mildred was getting nervous, and felt dangerously like c^- ing It'brought much the same sensation that she felt after Heading her essay. Lady Alicia joined the fseli. A genuine le girl standing artist any credit r the honor you X) think of always lat little girl en- )eauty." )f individualizing If the very same child, then girl, and came to her picture? Do you I place in the Paris ulueless." Mildred ingerously like cry- ) sensation that she dy Alicia joined the FLEA8AST PICTURES. 871 group. "Some faces remind me of animals or birds; but that face looks Uke some flower," she said, regarding the picture critically. " That is a fine compliment, MUdred," Mrs. Ev- erett said. "Flowers are not so high in the scale of creation as beasts or birds; far less complex and lacking the touch of nature by which all animals are allied in a sort of brotherhood from man downwards." "You would rather resemble some fine animal, then, than the most perfect flower?" Lady Alicia asked. "The soul that looked at you from my face — yes. I can trace a likeness to man in your collie," she said, turning to Douglass, "a likeness to God in Ralph's master." " I never knew a young girl who always went so deep into every subject. To think your thoughts would weary me," her ladyship said, as she strolled to the other side of the room and sat down at the piano. Douglass joined her presentiy, leaving Mil- dred and Mre. Everett standing by the picture. "She should have exquisite thoughts if her mind is as perfect as her body," Mildred remarked, with a wistful look as she regarded tiie pair* by the piano. P -^7'- v,r^-.-''V-^-i''jt^ -■ r- 372 MILDRED KEST'B HERO. « She is very lovely, but has not the high thoughte ^t my own Utile girl here has." M«. Everett touched the thoughtful brow lovingly. .She has so many other things she does not need to think; but intellect among high and low i« the stamp, though flesh and blood may differ. «Ah, you still brood over that unfortunate re- niark; but Lady Alicia is not like her sister. As you know more of her you wiU love her as we do. , «WiU Bhe Uve .t Gra«ioew after the ma- Tjlgla^ to strn t»o young to think seriouely of marige for «.me year.. With boft of them a d„„,ge of faney may take place ; but they eeem strongly attached at present." Mild.*d watched them IntenUy for a while, and ften eald «th a Uttle sigh, - whether of content at the sight or longing to have some such ,oy of her own one could not decide from her espressjo,. „I am not surprised Ihat they love each other I wonder if there are such beautiful creat««, and pleasant happenings in the other planers and s^ tome? There are a great many dehghful thmgs m ftis litUe planet. What «=ene. God overlooks ev- ery day." --1 PLEASANT PICTURES. 878 high thoughts Mrs. Everett she does not high and low d may differ." unfortunate re- her sister. As ill love her as after the mar- think seriously L both of them a ; but they seem for a while, and ether of content ome such joy of d her expression, ove each other. !ul creatures and planets and sys- slighful things in od overlooks ev- •* Mildred, you must be a changeling. You were originally intended for the Sun or Sinus. Your thoughts go ranging in such high altitudes." " Oh, no, I am altogether an earth-maiden ; be- cause I think of these things is that I have been so much alone." Mildred looked pained. "Then the solitary confinement of youth gener- ally might develop a better race of thinkers ; but I believe, to spea^ in earnest, that our young peo- ple are amused and assisted more than will be likely to produce a race of intellectual giants." "It is very gratifying, no doubt, to be happily situated and have abundance of leisure, with money and friends, but one may be stronger to endure life if they have a limitation of these. I like to think that all my allotments are planned a little ahead for me by a higher than human wisdom." " Do you not find difficulty in believing that ? " "I do not find it impossible." Lady Alicia began to play. The music was a revelation to Mildred, and touched a chord in her heart that perhaps had never before responded to human things. "What is it?" she asked. "A passage from Lohengrin. Have you never heard it before?" 874 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. . I have never heard any classic music, save what you have played for me." uThen I shall enjoy your raptare when you hear Wagner and Beethoven properly rendered. You must go with us to O^e concert to-morrow evening. There is to be some good music there. .1 am afraid you wUl ruin me altogether for W, practical life, giving me such glimpses of what will be the impossible for me. ^ ^>^« ^*' erto been content, lacking ^. knowled^ &a there were such harmonies in this world. I do not tiunk I can be henceforth." -Nor ne.d you b.. Snch mmio mU be qmte withto ««>h ot your poedbame., with ooneert, and oto mudcal eBtertoinmento frequentty oooumng. "Are they not very eipensiyo?" uKo, indeed, eepeotaUy Uie rehe««.a^ whieh are „ good » any. But you -hdl go with me when- ever you wish." Mildred m«rmn«d her thanto, and then «A listening <« Lady Alicia ptayed on. while .he thought „t the luree, for enjoyment th. rieh and cultured ^ c music, save ure when you perly rendered. - Lcert to-morrow I music there." altogether for ch glimpses of ,. I have hith- rledge ih&t there I do not think ic mil he quite nth concerts and ently occurring." »> jarsals, which are o with me when- j, and then sat while she thought rich and cultured CHAPTER XXX. visrroB. ILDRED started for her school the day it opened, more anxious than on that -u. morning years before, when first she en- tered its doore. Paul and Grace accompanied her, __Paul with resolute face, deteitnined to begin the college career Jxat was t« lead to an office in the city and a country residence, with cows and hens of his own. Mildred's anxieties abated as the day wore on. Children, as a rule, are everywhere more mflu- enced by gendeness than by the other extreme, and the Park Avenue flock m her charge were no exception. As the days wore into months, she found that the best way to gain control of her 875 /'x ■ . .^«gR^oijTWf»"--''™r'-~ '1 376 MILDRED KESrB HERO. pupils was to have her own nature in thorough control. Hence nhe discovered that wliat she had expected would be her most formidable task, was really her lightest. She found her greatest joy in awakening and developing the intellectual faculties of the members of her little ohiss. She was too original in her modes of thought and work to follow rules framed altogether by others, so tlmt class-room No. 6 was conducted differently from any previously in operation there. Teacher and chUdren went out on little excursions of their own which were not set down in tlie text-books. Not content herself to slip along the surface of problems that confronted each onward step, she trained her scholars to ponder for themselves the reason of things. With her vivid sense of the greater importance of the other life, she tried to impress on the plastic minds of her charges the grandeur, as well as the security, of living Avxsely in i-egard to the eternal state. Her lessons were in many cases repeated in homes where religious questions were as carefully avoided as the small- pox; but her unusual cleverness in awakening the dormant faculties of chUdhood condoned this (rf- fence against the proprieties of school metixod. to. re in thorough t wliat she had idable task, was r greatest joy in ellectual faculties s. She was too it and work to r others, so tliat differently from e. Teacher and }ur8ions of their n tlie text-books. g the surface of onward step, she >r themselves the fid sense of the life, she tried to her charges the , of living Avisely Her lessons were I where religious ed as the small- n awakening the ondoned this of- ' school method. A VISITOR. 877 Some of her pupils, she discovered, knew as little about revealed religion as so many young Pata- gonians. Until she could begin mission work m real earnest she resolved to take advantage of whatever opportunities came in her way. Being now a wage-earner, she felt herself rich enough to take lessons in painting from one of the best art-teachers in the city. The class was large and select; but Mildred was so accustomed to sol- itary work, that she did not seek recognition from anyone, but took her place each Saturday at her easel, soon growing so absorbed that tlie presence of others was scarcely heeded. The teacher vras a dissatisfied-looking individual, with few words of praise in proportion to die faults he found ; but he was growing interested in the shy gui who came and went almost as noise- lessly as the sunshine, and whose work left him so little chance for criticism that he was sometimes angry with it for that very reason, and at times gave her more difficult tasks than any other pupil in the room of the same age or experience. Mildred accepted everything so patiently, he was growing bewildered over her and her work. One day, while she was sketching, with many ■ w I'ij I Mh! «' » - * 878 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. ftu internal shiver, a painful anatomical subject, he came and stood at her side in silence for some time, and then asked her abruptly: "Are you g*> ing to be a teacher of painting, or do you aim at being an artist some day yourself?" "I have not thought of being a teacher; but I have been trying to make pictures ever since I can remember." "That is not answering my question. Do you expect some day to be an artist?" "The world is wide and free. If God gives me the power to copy His works, can any human be- mg question my right? " A quick flash that gave him a shock of surprise came into the eyes she turned upon him. "I presume no one wishes to do so; but it would be better if young persons would make cer- tain they have received that power. There are al- ready too many smearing canvas and wasting good paint." "I work hard five days in the week. Can any one in this worid or elsewhere deny me this, my only relaxation?" This silent creature, whom he fancied could be crushed as easily as a moth, faced him with a courage no pupil had ever shown before. tERO. A VIBITOR. 879 iiatomioal subject, silence for some y : " Are you go- or do you aim at If?" a teacher; but I es ever since I can question. Do you If God gives me ui any human be- ick flash that gave into the eyes she to do so ; but it 8 would make cer- rer. There are al- and wasting good ) week. Can any deny me this, my ireature, whom he lasily as a moth, )il had ever shown ** If you take such satisfaction in your work, you probably have talent enougli not to waste paint and canvas. Besides, the pleasure you take in it will in any case be an offset to the loss." He spoke quite mildly now. " Then it is not necessary we should continue the subject further," Mildred said, with a diguity that would have become Queen Victoria dismissing some troublesome courtier. For the remainder of the lesson Mildred contin- ued her disagreeable sketch, scarcely thinking, how- ever, of what she was doing. For the question was perplexing her : *' Was it wise to waste time and the price of her lessons, if her teacher, who must be a judge, considered her work a failure ? " She lingered at her easel until all the others had left the studio, and then, going to his side where he stood retouching a portrait, she said: — «'I have been thinking the subject over, and have concluded to cease coming here. Canvas and paint are the smallest waste in the matter. My time and the cost of the lessons are of more importance. Besides, I shall think of other things in my spare moments." He turned upon her a look of genuine regret; Hi 1 . ^-'^ 880 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. for by the tone of her voice he realised that her decision was arrived at by the slow process of reason, and would not easily be shaken. »*I am very sorry I spoke to you on the sub- ject. It is a habit I have with artHstudents. You have no idea how conceited they often are. But I see heroic treatment is not required in your case. "If you were merely trying to deceive me I could not easily believe you again. If so, how can I know certainly when you are telling me the truth?" "Bless my heart! Where in the world have you sprung from? You must have lived among saints hitherto." "I have lived with my mother. She never de- ceived me." "Well, henceforth I will use crystal truths with you. I will begin now with the statement that I believe you have sufficient talent for painting to warrant the expectation that you will be a genu- ine artist if you persevere — mind, you must work for it." He held out his hand, —a shapely, nervous hand, that betokened the skilled workman. "You will forgive what I said this afternoon? ISBO. A VIBITOn. Ml realised that her le slow procesH of I shaken. you on the sub- artrstudents. You sy often are. But required in your tc deceive me I itgain. If so, how Du are telling me in the world have have lived among her. She never de- ) crystal truths with tie statement that I mt for painting to >u will be a genu- -raind, you must hand, — a shapely, B skilled workman, id this afternoon? It is the first time I ever made such a request of a pupil." *^ On condition that you do so always wlien justice requires it of you." She gave him her hand. "The conditions are too sevens; I have your hand and I think your forgiveness also." " I had nothing to forgive, really. No doubt I have conceit, as well as the others, which needed to be humbled." "I think not. You will come back now and practise the same industry as hitherto ? " he asked somewhat anxiously. "Yes, I will come. I could have shed a few tears as I finished the muscles in that hand just now, thinking it was the last time I should paint them. Not that I particularly enjoy painting mus- cles," she hastened to explain. " You take life entirely too seriously. Even if you had no talent for the work, when you find so much enjoyment in it, you would be vei-y foolish to give it up." "Not if it was a waste of time. That is the worst pit)digality youth can be guilty of. At least, I feel so." MILDRED KENT'S HERO. "I am glad we had our little unpleasantness. We might never have got so well acquainted." "Perhaps not. I do not easily make friends. I have very few." "But they are genuine ones, I am certain." Her face brightened: "Oh, yes; they give me such a sense of opulence; as if I were a million- aire, instead of a timid gul with a very small salary." " You are not timid, as I have found." He lin- gered as if content to continue the conversation indefinitely; but Mildred, as if recollecting herself, said good-bye abruptly and left. She wanted to get alone and think over the professor's comfort- ing words, while she decided it would pay to have a good many shivers over anatomical studies if at last she could put some splendid form on canvas. To paint Miriam, in the forefront of the Israelitish host in some green place in the desert, had long been a cherished fancy. The hours spent in the studio after this were the red-letter ones of her life. Lady Alicia's visit came to an end in mid-au- tumn. She wished to enjoy part, at least, of the Indian summer of the New Worid, while she ,™-3S. A VIBITOn. 883 HERO. ttle unpleasantness, well acquainted." asily make friends. J, I am certain." yes; they give me if I were a million- with a very small ave found." He lin- lue the conversation I recollecting herself, eft. She wanted to professor's comfort- it would pay to have tomical studies if at idid form on canvas, ront of the Israelitish the desert, had long ! hours spent in the id-letter ones of her an end in mid-au- part, at least, of the V World, while she wished also to have the voyage across the ocean well over Iwfore the fall storms set in severely. Douglass accompanied her, while his mother, left alone at Grassmere, had a number of benevolent projects of her own to attend to. Mildreds mat- ter-of-fact way of accepting uncongenial duty had been powerful in influencing her friend. She had never realized so clearly her own possibilities of helpfulness, with the corresponding responsibili- ties. Doughws and Lady Alicia left one bright Oc- tober morning. Mrs. Everett went to the steam- ship and saw them away, and then, with a catch- ing of breath at tlie thought of the lonely ocean that would soon roll between herself and her boy, she went directly to Mulberry Street. It was early on Saturday morning, and the cottage was undergoing its weekly garnishing, which Mildred now performed for the most part alone. The doors were standing open. A powerful hammering back in the woodshed, where Paul was engaged in some carpentering operation, effectually drowned the sound of her gentle knock, so she went in, following the sound of a scrubbing-bnish, which made itself heard above Paul's hammering. Mil- 884 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. dred was on her knees, the white, slender hands handling the brush as skillfully as a few hours later they would be applying paint to canvass. Mra. Everett paused in the doorway, a strange thrill of homely enjoyment at her heart, as she took in the pleasant scene. Everything was so beautifully clean. The stove shone like an ebony casket, the deal table and floor, from their dazzling whiteness, forming one of those fine contrasts that often occur naturally in unexpected places. Mildred's back was towards her, and she was sing- ing, much as the birds sing, from very joy of liv- ing, the Pilgrim Song from Lohengrin. Her voice was finely modukted, while she gave sympathbti- coUy the expression the great Maestro might have approved. Mrs. Everett waited until the narrow piece of floor was completed, and then said softly: "Good morning, Mildred, I did not know you could sing so well." Mildred turned a very flushed face towards her visitor. "Have you been here long?" she asked, bestowing a nervous glance on her faded cotton wrapper. " Long enough to hear the Pilgrim Song. But may I sit down in your dainty kitehen? My HERO. hite, slender hands ly as a few hours aint to canvass, doorway, a strange her heart, as she Everything was so hone like an ebony , from their dazzling hose fine contrasts unexpected places, r, and she was sing^ •om very joy of liv- thengrin. Her voice le gave sympathtti- Maestro might have d until the narrow md then said softly : did not know you led face towards her I long?" she asked, m her faded cotton Pilgrim Song. But inty kitehen? My A riBlTOB. ^^^ great^ndmother must have had such a one, for it strikes a strangely responsive chord away down in my heart." ul shall enjoy remembering that our kitehen has been been brightened by your presence," Mil- dred said, her accustomed ease of manner quite re- gained. She brought an easy^jhair and placed it by the window, where a linnet was swinging on ite perch above the roses that crowded the wm. dow-sill. , . J uHow charming!" Mrs. Everett exclaimed, as she sank into the comfortable seat and turned to the fragrant window. " Why, you have things more homely and heartsome than anything at Grassmere, my child! I wonder that you go into ecstecies over our place." Mildi-ed smiled, and then excused herself. An open book lay near, but Mrs. Everett found it ^ only a school-book, with "Paul Kent, Esquire, written in various places in it. Mildred presently returned - a fresh gown having replaced her scrub- bing-robe. u I am alone, and in my loneUness I came fii«t to you. An apology is due for my unceremonious morning call," Mrs. Everett said. 386 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. "An apology is never needed for your presence here." Mildred spoke so heartily, it reminded her companion of old-fashioned hospitality. "I cannot descrihe the sense of desolation that nearly ovei-powered me, as if a terrible cloud were falling between us, as I said good-bye to my boy and saw him turn away. I had not realized, Pince my great trouble, what a world of farewells and bitter separations this is." The blue eyes filled with tears, as they looked at Mildred with a pite- ous appeal for consolation. She was silent for a while as a swift sense came to her that her friend's desolation would be her own, and then she said softly : " God will have him in His keeping. You told me once that you had given your son to Him. "We present our dearest ones to God, and then take them back again." "And we often judge ourselves more harshly than our Heavenly Father judges us. But is not Douglass a Christian ? " "Yes; if the ocean swallowed him, I should feel certain he was safe with Christ." " Then does it so much matter what world he is in if he is in harmony with God ? Ever since my rEKO. for your presence y, it reminded her tality. of desolation that terrible cloud were ood-bye to my boy . not realized, pince d of farewells and le blue eyes flUed :ildred with a pite- i a swift sense came ion would be her " God will have him once that you had )s to God, and then lelves more harshly jes us. But is not d him, I should feel t." ter what world he is rod ? Ever since my A VIBITOB. ^'^ mother assured me that our home in heaven would be better ihan Grassmex., I have looked upon death as a friend^a genUe friend. I cannot feel sorry for those who die in the Lord." «I thought you would smile at my fears, and assure me they would get across safely and my boy would come back ; but you never look at things like the rest of us. And, dear, you l^ve comfori. ed me mo«. than any one else could." She drew the pure gulish f ace to her and kissed it lovingly, ui wish you were my own child, MUdied. • u Don't you think there are many things we can enjoy as rtuch as if we really owned them, without having the care of them? I think I do." «If you belonged to me, I would not be com- pelled to go back to Grassmere alone." Mildred looked pex-plexed for a while, and then said timidly: "Did you ever teke your dinner m such a very, common house as this?" uYour question is rather irrelevant to our con- versation; but I have taken my dinner in much commoner houses. I think, my dear, this is a very uncommon home. «But I mean so plwn and humble." .What are you preparing me for? Please do 86S MILDRED KENT'S HERO. not perplex me with conundmnui," Mrs. Everett said, with a smile. ulf you would dine with us and stay with my mother while I take my lesson, I would then ac- company you home ; that i« if you care to have me go." ,- ., "Thank you a thousand times. I would rather take my dinner here to^iay tlian anywhere else on the continent. But my presence may interfere with your mother's plans." "No, indeed. She is on a shopping expedition just now, ^vith a lady who has her head so full of moi-e important thoughts she has none to spare on the matter of dress. So she employs my mother to do that kind of thinking for her." "And you will get the dinner all alone?" " I always do on Saturdays and Sundays. They are my mother's holidays." "I have never helped prepare a dinner in my life. May I help yoti?" u Our dinner will not be like yours, Mildred said, with . flush. "You will wonder at my holdness in asking you to sliare it with us. But I am not used to having help, and I will get you a book while I am busy. There is a good while yet, however, before my work wiU begm." !R0. a," Mrs. Everett nd stay with my [ would then ac- ou cai-e to have , I would rather anywhere else on may interfere with opping expedition tier head so full of I none to spare on jloys my mother to r." p all alone?" d Sundays. They re a dinner in my ke yours," Mildred ill wonder at my ■e it with us. But and I will get you 3ie is a good while will begin." A riBITOR. 889 Mildred brought her sewing, and soon they were ahBorbed in the mc.t natural and ^f -*«. -^^^^ sation they had ever held. Mildred —d her school methods and the mission^chool, w.th M. FelWs increasing congregation; several of ^e chUdren having joined and b..ught the. parents with them. .,^ .1 would like to have t«k.n *.m to our own ehu^h," Matod tonkly oonf»»«l ; "but it « o«r- „„wded now. Beside., it did not «en. houo»Ue towMd. Mr. Felton. when he g.ve u. .ueh ««.!> L, .nd they .« .uel. • "«•* '" «"""«.*: .„pty ee.., .t St. M.UehiV P«.r Mr. Felton ,«,L\ounger now th.n he did -«;»/»;' ""^^^ ^d to dip into » ^^ '•»' -* '»'»; *» *° p„ye« .nd eenuon. He »,» h. wou^d he o». Lt a we would unite with him; but we dudl never leave our own chnioh." »I beU.™ we should love our churoh » we do our kindred," M«. Everett srid, reBeetively. " One never thinks of easting o« one's toily t.,s and adopting new ones." -H no one h«l ever done so, w. would stdl to to U.e darkness of the Medieval ages. We should tot make sure our church is in harmony with the *, PESffl^.S^ 890 MfLDHED KEST'S HERO. Bible. After that we niay love her absorbingly. If the world continues to emerge into clearer light it is difficult for us to realize to what excellence Christians will attain in the lapse of years. I would 3 ike to have waited for the thirtieth century." Mildred s voice expressed much the same longing that the average girl's wouM have for a coveted article of attire or jewelry. Then, after a while, she said: "I suppose each one of us is specially created for the age in which we live, and any- way, I shall be somewhere in creation." »af I permitted myself regrete on the subject, I should be sorry I was not a child of our first parents, with the traditions of Eden fresh about me. Think how many centuries of existence I have lost already. Indeed, I would not wish my advent into life postponed a day kter than God gave it to me." "I never thought of it in that way before." Mildred sat for a good while thinking very in- tently on the subject, her needle flying m and out of the glossy silk she was fashioning. i'l cannot express how glad I am that God ever thought about me, that He ever made me," she said at last with an air of supreme satisfaction. VKO. her absorbingly, into clearer light what excellence ipse of years. I thirtieth century." the same longing ftve for a coveted len, after a while, of us is specially «re live, and any- ■eation." bs on the subject, child of our first Eden fresh about 88 of existence I [>uld not wish my ty later than God ; way before." thinking very in- I flying in and out •ning. am that God ever 3r made me," she me satisfaction. A VJBITOJt. 891 "I have been watching your face and wonder- ing what your thoughts were so ahsorbed about. You seemed to fo- -et the outsido world." »' Yes, indeed. Even the dinner to which I have invited the friend, next to my mother, I love best in all the world." "You dear child, why did you never tell me that before? You are so odd and reticent, I did not know you cared for me at all only aw your eyes revealed it to me." "It did not seem necessary to toll you. It would be like assuring the sun that his shining was agreeable." " I shall pity your lover and husband if you are so silent with them." "What more can a man ask than to have a woman give herself to him for life? If I ever do that, he may be sure I would give my life for him, if it were necessary for his h at good." "I often wonder whom you will marry. Girls of your age generally have their head full of love and marriage. Won't you confess to me ? Do you never think about your fairy prince ? " "I must wait until I know if he has been cre- ated for me," Mildred said, with a rose tint flush- ^\ $M MILDRED KStfT'B HERO. ing cheek and brow. "I would rather talk of other things, anyway." "Oh, you shy, perfect maiden! You almost make me wish I was a lad to woo and win you myself. You would take me for Grassmere, I suppose ? ' " If I loved you I would take you for yourself, if you came to me in Tommy Tuffta' form, and with his prospects." "Yes, you are unworldly enough for anything. I expect nothing else than you will throw youi- self away on some of those mission-school lads — that Carver boy, perhaps. "I do not think Jack was created for me. I really hope not." "You have thought on the subject then?" " Jack has spoken to me about it. He thinks it is my duty. His life has been so unblessed by womankind." " Your duty, —people outside of royalties do not have to many from duty —that is the penalty that class have to pay for their honors. Tell Jack never to think of such a thing again." "I certainly will. One must not carry duty too far, I think." The girlish face brightened, and she began preparations for dinner. A ViaiTOH. 8M <to. [ rather talk of n ! You tilmost H) and win you or Oraasmere, I you for yourself, Tuffto' form, and gh for anything, will throw your- lon-Bchcol lads — Bated for me. I bject then ?" t it. He thinks it HO unblessed by of royalties do not LB the penalty that mors. Tell Jack again." not carry duty too brightened, and she „Tbat girl i. th. odd»t nUxtu™ o. g-^ ;^ innocence -geo-- '':^"l Z'Z^M knew," M«. Everett M f h.«>t » ^^ ™ Mildi^d aitUng gmeelaUy U. and fro, » j:„p...d...e™eu.^---:r: appetizing flavor, bhe ^au. ;r. -he Uid the cloth .oj. I^^^J^^ ,^^,.t«erecHeH.Hedh.r^-«^-^^^^ P^^nUy *- ""'jrT.lkl tir«l and wo. n,„.e„t after, Mr.. ^ "^J^'-^ „^^ ^.». ried, entered with the ""» ^ » M„. Everett i--^'' -J^ ::rfeU «. per^n >«th exceUent luj. «l-o ^.^ ^ perfectly at home "j"'" " ' /^^^^ ,^. „„„,,, ^ 0, human face, ^'"l^" ^j"^^ . ,nick lecture hy the hour. Mn, _K»t - l^ her companion e«,t a longmg glanceat t . u «.,t Mm. Kent'e patience was m neat UHe. But Mn.. ^^^ ^^^ ^^^^ termination, «he decKlea lo g"" customer. 894 MILDRED KENT'S MEMO. " I will toke yon to another room and fit your dre8« directly ; ho that you need be no longer de- tained." The woman awured her that she wan in no huny whatever; but Mi^. Kent could be aa digni- fied .w her proudest cuHtomer, when occa»ion de- manded. Mildred looked reUeved when she saw the door close behind her. "I wa« afraid mamma would not be firm, and she would have spoiled all our pleasure. Do you think intellectual people ai^ diffei-ent from othe«? She is the only Uter- ary person I have ever met." uYou innocent child I Why do you call her literary ? " u Why, she tells us herself that she is. She says her name will go echoing down the ages for thousands of years. Sometimes I hope people will forget about her before that time." "Are you envious of her?" »I hope not; but she does tire us dreadfully." "She is a veiy coramon-phice woman; but she has the faculty of getting people to listen to her nonsense." uit iB a relief to hear that She wastes a great deal of our time, but one feels it to be a duty to ■■■ T X VIBITOH. S96 1BM0. room and fit your i be no longer tie- it she WM in no could be as digni- when occasion de- veA when she saw was afraid mamma »rould have spoiled c intellectual people la the only liter- y do you call her hat she is. She says lown the ages for \ I hope people will me. tire us dreadfully." kce woman; but she jple to listen to her She wastes a great la it to be a duty to ^e «cri«o» (or ol.v« p«.pl.. Vou M » U .nd lx«kB by Having then, their worry • ..Yo«r own ide« ar. ™.Uy .up.r.or U. any to ta.h. o«. manufacur.," M». Evr." -"n^ duUe. intent. „, Th« dinner, though Umite.1 tn 11 _. orWle their KUestenjoyeU it oourw., WM excellent, while tne g more by way of variety, tlurn one of lier "wn ehib- ::: dLe« that eoet ten time, the an»«.t of time and money. _^ .J. t*. - -, mil mi wm M CHAPTER XXXI. CLOSE BY THE GATES. ^HE days wore on until Mrs. Everett began to 1' V feveiishly for a cablegram from Douglass, while others besides her shared her anxiety. Mildred was at Grassmere now nearly every day. No one was able to cheer the lonely woman like the calm, pale-faced girl who was herself growing whiter every day, but bore her anxieties silently, whUe stUl maintaining that Douglass was in safety somewhere. There had been a terrible gale about the time they might be expected to enter the channel, which had disa- bled or completely wrecked many vessels. The days at Grassmere wei-e passed now, by its heavy- hearted mistress, in waiting for tidings from the txi. SPATES. Mi-8. Everett began ■ a cablegram from B besides her shared jrrassmere now nearly to cheer the lonely faced girl who was day, but bore her 11 maintaining that lewhere. There had B time they might be lel, which had disa- many vessels. The 3d now, by its heavy- for tidings from the 897 CLOaE BY TBE QATEB. . . ffin« the niehts in wakefulness or fitful shippmg office the mgh ^^^^.^^ .^ '^""";r T^ 1 I food for fishes in l^e the wild, angry seas or „«.„.. horriMe, sluny depths. How ««% ^ Tri-At be. and eheery p«.enee e«ne heto™ her ^S Witt fte hopes a».t h«l heen oonteml m rrds^rrthron...r.he^»^.;^ "*:rr«orrr.h\n>».o. mourner » *« ^" annihilation, bat rnrd:it:twhtherw...nd»th. ride .he desoUteone, their conver»>t.on dnfted 1»^ ^ dl ocean's depths or the «-- ^^^^^ Le to broader and cWr region., where to soul tolit. sndless resting-place, though engaged, no doubt, in unceasing activities. * beUeve God dir«=ted yon to n», and has b«n „ for mv comfort all these years, ^"^IS ^d " Mildred one owning. All --! 898 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. kept the mother fi-om utter prostration of heart; for she shared with Mrs. Kent a little superstition respecting this sixth sense with which Mildred seemed to be endowed. The wind howled dismally without, the freez- ing December air penetrated the closely curtained windows, making the desolate mourner shudder at {bought of her boy, tossing somewhere on the wUd, stormy seas. "If I only knew that he was sheltered some- where to-night, even if it was under -a mound in Greenwood, I could be content," she moaned. "And have you, too, ceased to hope?" "Yes, I have ceased to hope; for you all • say to do so is useless. I only feel that he is still living; that is more assuring than hope. It seems like those vivid impressions of chUdhood that rarely deceived me." They sat for a long time in sUence, only the rustle of MUdred's work, as she busUy pUed her needle, broke the stilhxess; for no matter what the care or sorrow, she still worked on. Time seemed too precious to rush by unimproved, while Mrs. Everett confessed to being comforted by Mildred's industrious ways. CLOBE BY THE GATES. 899 tration of heart; little superstition which Mildred bhout, the fi-eez- closely curtained urner shudder at here on the wild, I sheltered some- ider -a mound in b," she moaned. --J.- - pe; for you all feel that he is g than hope. It ons of childhood silence, only the 1 busily plied her lo matter what the on. Time seemed »roved, while Mrs. jrted by Mildred's »When you are not heW' she said to her, "it seems as if there were a perpetual funeral going on in the house; but you bring back, with your hands full of work, a sense of life and comiort. M™. Everett lay down on the sofa which MU- d..d drew up within the circle of the fU^light u Won't you sing something? I am afraid if I do not grow calmer I shall lose my senses." Mildred went to the piano and presently the room was filled with the comforting stmins of old English hymns that have kept many a des^irmg hea'rt fi^mTtterly breaking. The loving AU-Father seemed nearer and moi. precious. His care more unfailing as the mourner listened. The tears forced themselves through the hot lids, bringing ease to the heart, and for the first time in her awM anx- iety she was enabled to say truly,-"Thy will be done." The household was summoned at last to the customary reading of prayers. When the exercises were ended, the servants went with soi^ „wful faces from the room; while Mildred con- tinned some time longer to read the Bible aloud. She closed the book at last, for it was growing late, and she had to be early astir on account of her school, when a sudden ringing of the door- -■ t ^x ""''"'" w 400 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. beU surprised them, and a few momenta after the servant ushered a gentleman into the room, cov- ered vvith snow, but liis face shining with pleas- ure. Mre. Everett sprang to her feet, for it was one of the owners of the ill-fated steamship. " You have news for me. Is my boy aUve ? " "Yes; he is among the saved." "Where is he? Will he be home to-night?" "We only had a cablegram, very brief, of couree ; but it gives the names of the survivors. The ship foundered in the gale; the crew and passengere took to the boats. Only two of the latter have been heard from. They were picked up by a saUing vessel bound for Lisbon. Your son is there now." "When shall we get further tidings?" "In a few days at furthest. Meanwhile you will know everything is being done for them that is possible ; they were subject t« considerable ex- posure, and may not be able to come directly." Mra. Everett looked alarmed. "Douglass is Uttle more than a boy yet, but with all a man's, daring and unselfishness, I shall leave in the next boat for England." Mr. Brenton, instead of dissuading her as Mil- " ' ■ -■''.■W^ISlBSii&'i ■■1 lERO. momenta after the ito the room, cov- hining with pleas- er feet, for it was ted steamship. \ my boy alive?" )d." I home to-night?" km, very brief, of !S of the survivors, rale; the crew and Only two of the They were picked for Lisbon. Your r tidings?" St. Meanwhile you done for them that , to considerable ex- to come directly." med. "Douglass is but with all a man's, lall leave in the next suading her as Mil- CLOHE BY THE GATES. ^^ dred expected, encouraged the undertaking. She looked at him keenly. He met her iS^--^^^ ^ his face sheread more than his Up. utt«red He sat for some time making suggeBtions about ti^ journey, and at last said: *» WUl you go alone? ' Mrs Everett looked wistfully at Mddred:- "Won't you come with me? u Yes, if my mother will consent, and the school- trustees." __ -. ^„j »I win arrange it wiA the latter. May I -'nd . me«.nger t,.oight to your mother? I could get some deep i« I ta-«* y<>« "«" ^ ^ "^ °"» I will write a few lines while the man to getr tinir ready. ShaU I ring?" f I will go m,«U and teU him. You ^U ^d writinit materials in my desk." Wton .he had left the room MUdred turned ahmptiy t« Mr. Brenton. "You have not told «. ,11. Was Mr. Kverett hurt?" , , ,. »He to dangerously iU in the hospital at L* b„„. He robbed himself pmbaWy of both food „d elothing for the sJce of m women and ehU- -^When Mrs. Everett returned the note w« -t 402 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. written and the messenger was despatched with it. The answer he brought back was what MQdred expected; and but for the secret Mr. Brenton had confided to her, she would have been a most hap- py girl that night at the prospect of a journey acitjss the ocean and td the historic shores that she had so longed to look upon. Mrs. Everett seemed her old, happy self again as she kissed Mildred good-night. Mildred was early astir and without waiting to disturb Mrs. Everett started for home in the grey dawn. Her mother's face looked sad. Plainly it was not a joy to her, as to her daughter, this stormy ocean voyage and long separation. The tanink was packed and prep- arations all completed when the carriage, came for her. With sorrowful hearts and tearniimmed eyes her mother and Paul and Grace bade her good- bye. HBKO. despatched with it. was what Mildred ret Mr. Brenton had e been a most hap- «pect of a journey historic shores that pon. Mrs. Everett igain as she kissed was early astir and [rs. Everett started Her mother's face ot a joy to her, as ocean voyage and as packed and prep- be carriage came for and tear-dimmed eyes race bade her good- CHAPTER XXXII. * IN THE HOSPITAL. That oc«». voyag. w™ Ml ot joy to Mtt- a^. Probably no other voyage wodd - be i«.t equd to it in her exbtanoe. T^ r«t^ .naking he. *->"*^ '"^"''^T, wide leaguea of toMing «»v«.- Sl» ^ ^ "'f rtin Z other p.»«.ge« i" '""'■^^ *« ««••' her wonderful expenences. Ihe omy her won « ^^^^gj j^ cared for now was the Bible, ii «" -1 404 MILDRED KEST'8 BKBO. be in keeping with the mugio of the soughing wind and the moan of the never-weary sea. The other passengers watched the tall, fau'-faced girl sitting in some sheltered nook, reading and watch- ing the sea by turns. She seemed, however, to have little more curiosity about themselves than the seagulls that occasionally circled about the masts. A new light came into her face that Mrs. Eveiv ett fancied she had never seen there before — a look of deepest content, as if life's perplexities had vanished before the vastness of nature. She had never before come into such harmonious con- tact with it, for the country had been a sealed book, save in the glimpses got through the lawns and flower-gardens of Grassmere. As they neared the English Channel the weather changed and the ship's officers began to scan the distant horizon and sky with greater intentness. In conversation with a friendly sailor, Mildred was charmed to hear that a storm was expected ; and while every other soul on board devoutly hoped that in the race between wind and steam the latter might win, Mildred as eagerly wished she might see the green restless ocean in its wildest fury. Even to be enveloped by it and -1 BSBO. of the soughing ver-weary sea. The tall, fair-faced girl ;, reading and watch- eemed, however, to b themselves than the ,ed about the masts, ice that Mrs. Ever- en there before — a if life's perplexities ess of nature. She iich harmonious con- ' had been a sealed )t through the lawns sre. Channel the weather s begfan to scan the 1 greater intentness. ndly sailor, Mildred storm was expected ; on board devoutly 'een wind and steam id as eagerly wished 'estless ocean in its enveloped by it and IN TBE HOSPITAL. 406 carried to the still depths below; for the long Bleep did not seem terrible - rather *« ^e ^ ferred than the wearying sickness and narrow bed of those who die on hind. The steamship made excellent time, but the storm had stronger propelling power; for it caught them ere they had reached the shelter of docL; but only from the closed state-room could MUdred enjoy the war of elements, - Mrs. Ever- ett positively forbidding the risk of a peep on deck. Mildred sat with eager shining eyes revel- ing in the mad plunges of Ihe ship, as it fought with the elements, trying to imagine what the wUd sky and wUder ocean looked like in one of its clearing^up moods. At Ust, to the great re- lief of every one else, they were safely moored at the dock, when MUdred, with throbbing pulses, aaw the land that after all was her real home, where her imcestors for a score of generations had Uved and loved and died. It was not, however, untd they had got beyond the smoke and crowds of Liver- pool that she really felt at home; but as they swept past cottages nestling amid trees, bare and leaaess now, and stately mansions, the hauntmg feeling that she had seen it long before came vxv- 406 MILDRED KEST'S KBM. idly, making her believe that through other eyes now long gone to dust, she was looking on a familiar scene. Mrs. Everett's hotel was in a fjwhionable square, whither they went directly. She liad felt certain of meeting Douglass at the Htation, having telogmphed to Mr. Inglis, the pro- prietor of the hotel, just before leaving New York; but to her great disappointment there was no one waiting for them at the depot. On reach- ing her hotel she learned the full particulars of the shipwreck, and of her son's heroism and self- forgetfulness, thereby imperilling his own life; but she did not know how dangerously ill he were until the telegrams that had been coming for several days in expectation of her arrival were produced. MUdred opened the yellow envelopes herself, for Mrs. Everett was nearly prostrated by grief and disappointment. The first read, "Your son very low ; we still have hopes." The next, a day kter, "Crisis not yet reached, but fever increasing." The last, "Come direcUy if you Mrish to see him alive." Mrs. Everett turned to Mr. Inglis: — "How cai^ we get there quickest, by land or water?" « By all means take the land route. At this sea- son it is safest and the speediest" .^smsm^^^BZ - T TKMO. hrough other eyes M looking on a hotel wafl in a ley went directly. |g Douglatw at the Mr. IngliH, the pro- ifore leaving New intment there was e depot. On reach- full particulars of rs heroism and self- ling his own life; gerously ill he were i heen coming for af her arrival were i yellow envelopes » nearly prostrated The first read, Btill have hopes." not yet reached, but '♦Come directly if nglis: — "How can or water?" route. At this sea- et." rir TBt HOSPITAL. 407 *♦ When can we make connections at Dover ? " " You will have three hours to rest, and then be in time to take the train at Charing Cross for the night boat. I will see you safely on board the cars. You need have no further anxiety about it, but try and get some rest, and a little sleep, if possible." She thanked him, when he withdrew, leaving the two alone. Mildred tucked her up comfortably in bed, drawing the curtains closely, hoping she might get the much needed sleep, and then went to a window anxious to catch every possible glimpse of London. The crowded street and huge brick buildings seemed little different from what she was accustomed to, but the associations were not the same. Centuries before the New World had been trodden by any save the red man's foot, this same street had been the centre of active life. Men and . women had passed to and fro upon it talking, it may be, of their good King Alfred, or the wild doings of the cioiel Normans ; or specu- lating as to the success of the Crusaders, or eager of the news of the martyrdom of Cranmer and Wyokliffe, or the execution of the fair Anne Boleyn. Shakespeare had no doubt walked there 1^ u '^^■-. imMlltWiiHi ' } 408 MILDRKD KSNT'B HEMO in company with Shylock and Romeo and Juliet and those other wonderful children of hi» bmin, less like Hhadows of the people of tonlay than the men and women who walked the streets with him. A knock at the door disturbed the fancy that hiul gone 80 far afield, and with it the summons to be shortly in readiness for another journey of a thou- sand miles and more. When she entered Mrs. Ever- ett's room the table was laid for quite an elabo- rate dinner. " Must we eat again so soon ? " she asked with some consternation, for they had betu -supplied with hot cocoa and toast when they came. "You are in England now, where eating is the extreme of fashion," Mrs. Everett said with a wan smile. "But we may not have such a com- fortable dinner for some time, and I want you to enjoy it." "And you?" "I shall dine and sup on sorrow for the rest of my life, I fear. I find it soon surfeits." She burst into a passionate fit of weeping, Avhich alarmed Mildi-ed, who had not learned that the most dan- gerous grief is tearless. The woman waiting on them had known Mrs. Everett for years, and said omeo and Juliet n of \m bmiii, of today tlmii the streets with him. he fancy that had 16 aummonH to be ouniey of a thou- intered Mra. Ever- r quite an elabo- she asked with Id be MX supplied hey came, lere eating is the rett said with a lave such a com- id I want you to •w for the rest of ■feits." She buret If, which alarmed (it the most dan- oman waiting on ir years, and said /If THK HOariTAL. 409 tenderly. " A h, that will do you good, ma'am — I was hoping to see you cry." There was something so strong and patient about her that Mildred took a liking to her at once, that increased as she saw more of her through the coming years. Mr. Inglis soon came to take them to the station, and after that the hours went slowly as they left mile after mile behind them, though Mildred watched with eager eyes the constantly shifting landscape from tlie car window. Distant mountains, a glimpse now and then of the ocean, villages and quiet hamlets, long stretches of lovely country, with now and then a busy city, lay in their line of travel — until at last their journey was ended. They had left the winter somewhere behind them, and it seemed de- lightful to step out into the warmth and sunshine of May. Thoy went directly to the hospital, finding it a gloomy-looking building, presided over by dull-faced monks and nuns, whose natures had be- come dolorous by reason of their 8unx)undings. Mrs. Everett shuddered as she explained her er- rand, in French, to a hard-faced monk who listened stolidly, and then conducted them through long, dimly-lighted corridora to the cot where Douglass lay tossing in the delirium of fever. But it was such --1 410 MILDRED KENT^B HERO. rapture to know thex^ wa« life, if nothing more, that her face after a time lost something of ite ashen hue. This English milord, as they reckoned him, received the best their hospital afforded in the way of nourishment, attendance and skill ; and the monk led the two ladies to the sickbed^ with a very conscious air of deserving their thanks. Douglass was tenibly changed; but stUl his mother did not requii^ the name marked on his hnen to prove his identity. As Mildred stood looking at L, the conviction came that with his mother s pray- ers and tender ministries, his case was far from hope- ..You will give u. directioM and permit m to assist in taking ca« of him?" .he asked the doc- tor, who «s at the hedside. The constmotion ^ ™„„mav *e found quite easy hut her Wngue id ^work so readily a. her hrain in . atrange Ian- ™^. He gave her to ondemtand .t ™. eon- ^to their rule, to permit strangers such pnvr- leJI. Mrs. Kverett.lK,ke eagerly:" We wUl pay any sum you name for the privilege." He ah«>k hie head douhtfully, but Mddred fancied there wae a wavering look in his fece^ »Tell him Douglass wiU be 8u,« to get weU J. HERO. :e, if nothing more, it something of its )rd, as they reckoned hospital afforded in dance and skill ; and to the sick bed, with serving their thanks. but still his mother rked on his linen to red stood looking at with his mother's pray- ase was far from hope- ns and permit us to " she asked the doc- The construction and y but her tongue did rain in a strange lan- deratand it was con- ; strangers such privi- agerly : *' We will pay privilege." btfully, but Mildred ig look in his face. sure to gfet well if IN THE BOBPITAL. 411 he has those he knows about him," she urged Mrs. Everett to say. Whether it was the two pleading faces, or the hope of a rich gift to the hospital, that influenced him, they could not de- cide; but he began to relent and promised to lay their case before the authorities, and in the mean- time gave them permission to remain until a de- cision was arrived at. Then, recommending a hotel that was near at hand, he despatched a mes- senger for the luggage. Tii-ed and travel-stained though Mrs. Everett and Mildred were, they did not think of rest un- til they had first attended to Douglass. Mildred discovered the scarcity of ice, and soon had that most necessary article abundantly supplied, while many another comfort usual in sick rooms was also conspicuous by its absence. " My poor boy, how he has suffered ! " the mother mojined. Meanwhile she very vigorously set about having a radical change made in his attendance. Mildred was a novice in a sick room save what she had learned among such families as the Carvers; but she had a genuine woman's nature, and the light touch and healing instin '; came to her nat- urally. More than this, her cheerfulness and coup- iVimirti'vi 412 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. age upheld them wheil they were ready tp despair. The fever turned, and Douglass still Uved; but the vital forces were so overdrawn, the question ^ whether nature could ultimately rally. The rdtemations of hope and despair were bitteiN but when the delirium was passed the mother found an aUeviation of her pain in the look of recogiai- tion in her son's face. He was too weak to show surprise when he saw ihem at his beside. At fi„t in the dim light he mistook MUdred for Lady Alicia; but one morning she was surprised to hear her own name whispered. "Are you here, too, MUdred ?" "Yes." »*When did you come?" «With your mother, a week ago." "And Alicia; is she not here?" «She had left for Enghmd before we c*'"*'- He asked no more questions; and after that Mil- dred did not hear her name mentioned. But she wondered if it was the usual custom wi^ lad,es of i^nk to leave their deareat friends to the care of strangers when near the gates of death. As the daya wore on, the fear grew stronger in the hearte of those who tended him that Doug- --1 HERO. ire ready tp desptdr. ^ still lived; but rawn, the question imately rally. The iir were bitter, but the mother found ;he look of recogni- LB too weak to show Bt his bedside. At K)k Mildred for Lady was surprised to hear • d?" k ago." ere?" . before we came." is ; and after that Mil- mentioned. But she il custom with ladias of friends to the care of )8 of death, he fear grew stronger tended him thatDoug- 418 IS THE HOSPITAL. U« had been «U.d with . .peedy decline, and but tor Mildred-, bright *u>e and eheertul wora^ both he and hi. mother would have given up hope, in eve,y other face he ™«1 *' "T"^ „«. of hi« ».».; but when he turned to her, « ah. bent over Uu^ bathing W. hot face «.d .d- „ini.t.ring m«Uoin. and nouri.hn,ent w.* *. a„,u»nd other offlee. the loving watche.- by the riekied minlBtens he «emed .» gabx the u»P-»- tion of conrage and .trength from her .trong v.t.1- 1 When the enmrner eome^ and we get you homo to Gm^mere. yon wiU get weU din»>fly," .he «d one day, when the eonverMtion h»l beon dr.ftmg dangeron.lv near to dea&heds and gr«v«. «A long >«t tb.re, and work for a good many ^ befL heaven-. .«.t will come," .he »nd, ^ cbeeiv ily, that he asked: — "How can you speak so certainly? Every one else, by their faces, assure me that I will never do any work again." u Perhaps it is the Lord," she said solemnly. "I have asked for your life ., great many times, and I always feel that my prayer will be granted. uBe i^. unto you according to your faith," Mrs. Everett mt^nnured fervently. bi)..,.,wm!fl -t 414 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. 44 If I get better you wUl have more to do with it than doctora, or anybody, I believe. Your face i8 like a tonic amid the sun-ounding gloom." "It would be grand missionary work to help you to live," Mildred said with great satisfac- tion. "You can do so much good with your money and talents." "You are still thinking of missionary work?" "Yes, I have the impression that I shall be one some day, the same as I have tluvt you will get well." "The prospect for the latter is veiy poor just now, but who knows what miracles are aheatl of us? I may oe well, and you a missionaiy, in the course of time. 44 1 do not think it would be a mu»cle for me to be a missionary. It is just the overcoming of a few obstacles — that is, if G<hI wants me." "But you cannot be a missionary and artist both. My mother tells me your teacher expects g.eat things from you some day." Mildred looked at Mrs. E /erett with flushed, surprised fa >. "Did he speak to you about me?" 4' Oh yes, several times. But you seem so in- different to praise, I did not repeat his words t« you." - -t HKRO. re more to do with elieve. Your face iding gloom." ary work to help ith great satisfac- good with your isHionary work?" that I shall be one tluvt you will get is veiy poor just •acles are aheatl of a missionaiy, in the y& a miracle for me , the overcoming of od wants me." lissionary and artist ■our teacher expects v/." ;/erett with flushed, I to you about me ? " ut you seem so in- repeat his words to 415 IH THE HOSPITAL. **" ul am not accustomed to it, but if I believed I waa worthy of it, I would like it." she saidhou- estly. 1 .1 am glad to hear you confess to that weak- ness, if it is a weakness. Most persom. disclaim their liking for it, but they are the ones usually . «ost eager to have the admiration of their fel- lows," Doughiss said. , ^ , uif I were away on some beautiful island where it is always summer, I could teach and paint, too. I would have few distractions." uBut what would be the use of painting, ihere would be no one to admire or buy your pictures." «I would need veiy little money among those simple people." u You have reached an altitude of unworldhness so elevated, it nearly takes my breath away." "Your breath is very short just now." ult would have the same effect on me if I were a prize fighter. .That is a healthy remark. You will live to be an athlete yet." .Not if I must lie on this tiresome cot m this crloomy room." , , „ * uBe patient just a little while, and we shall get -'] 416 MiLOBSD KENT'S BERO. you out Of this hoHpitol. It wiU be like passing into another world to get into an easy carnage and go out on the lovely lanes and countiy roads outside of Lisbon. I am anticipating the pleasure we three will have admiring all those beautiful bit« of scen- eiy together, instead of one alone." »'Then you have quite decided not to send me to the cemeteiy," he said with a cheerfulness that charmed his mother. ul have never felt aa if we should pUnt you there and go back alone to Grassmere. Thei-e is such a long stretch of life in the next world, I like to hold closely to this one that is so brief, and yet so impoi-tant, and to have othei-s who may be a help to this world do the same." .alike to hear you talk that way. Geneinlly you seem so unworldly, and like some stmy spmt from brighter places than our earth, that you give „,e an uncanny feeling very often," he said, while watehing her getting ready for her daUy walk in the park and public gardens. uMust I get a printed phicard with the assui^- ance that I am of the earth, and fasten it Uke the Jews' phylacteries on my forehead?" she asked with a smUe that was still not joyous. 1 ^.ii~#<*fc,...._^_- BEBO. be like passing into asy carnage and go (untiy roads outside the pleasure we three eautiful bits of scen- one." led not to send me I a cheerfulness that e should plant you Irassmere. There is e next world, I like to is so brief, and yet thei-s who may be a ne." that way. Genei*lly like some stray spirit r earth, that you give often," he said, while or her daily walk in Mjard with the assur- , and fasten it like the forehead?" she asked not joyous. -'\ CHAPTER XXXIII. HOME AOAIX. 'HEN the June nwes wei-e in bloom, and Grassmei-e looking like another new-creat- ed Eden, Mra. Everett and DougUws came home. The latter was still sometlung of an invaUd, but all immediate danger was passed. Mildred was glad to get home to Mulberiy Street too, although the monUis she had spent loitering in the splen- did ai-t^aUeries of Rome and Paris and London, and in the coucei-t halls of those gi«at cities, had been the i-ealizatiou of a dream that with the mar jority of people is never fulfUled. There was a good deal of discoui-agemeut mixed with her eager- ness to be again at her easel; for she had brought back with her humblmg ideas of her abiUty to ao- «u ■ ^'--'.■' *-*..-■, ^y^f»*''^i — 1' aOME AGAIN. 419 XIIT. N. wei-e in bloom, and ke another new-creat- bt and Douglass came letliing of an invalid, massed. Mildred was Sti-eet too, although iteiing in the splen- Paris and London, ose gi'eat cities, had n that with the mar filled. Thei-e was a nixed with her eager- 1 for she had brought of her ability to ac- complish anything worthy the expenditui* of time and money, or to add pictures to the vast number p,««rved so carefully by the gwat cities in their splendid galleries of paintings. Some weeks after her arrival home, she calmly announced to her mother that she was going to of- fer hex-self directly to the Mission-Board for sei- vice in any pai-t of the world they chose to ap- point her. "I am sui-prised, MUdred, to hear you say that. I thought you had decided to be an artist. You have such a love for painting." "I have thought about that. Pictures are not Bpocially needed in the world now; at least you would not think so if you were to visit the ci-owded galleries. Besides, I cannot feel free to give my- self up wholly to art." "But you have such talent for it, and I have hoped to see you famous." u I would Uke to have people look at my pic- tures with admiration, but they would go away and soon forget picture and painter, and not be really helped either to love God or help their gen- eration, by looking at them. If I can do the people good themselves, that wiU be a work done ■***«SSt*?*«S6»^^f^' " ^ .^ 410 MILDRBD KENT'S HERO. ihftt will IwJt forever. I think those who do such work are the ones the angels reckon fumous." " My life will be veiy desohite without you, my child." wYou will know I am in the world loving you still, nnd in (lod's keeping, doing His will." "If God cjiUs you, that must decide." Mildred wais silent ; but at last, raising her eyes, which were full of tears, she said: "You must not think it is no hardship for me to leave you and the children and my other friends; and I would choose to be a painter, if it were right; but I have found my work lies far off from aU that I love best. Maybe God wants me to go away alone, to show me how much He can be to me, because it cannot make much difference about my work; for I am only a weak girl, with littie power or influence." "You >vill not lack those qualities, Mildred, if you give yourself up entirely to the Lord. I wUl bid you God-speed, and send you cheerfully to the remotest comer of the earth, if the Lord calls you." "We shall have a long eteniity together, mother." 'HO. lOHe who do Buoh (Oil fnmoiu." without you, my world loving you His will." decide." b, TiUMiiig her eyes, said : " You must me to leave you r friends; and I if it were right; far off from all wants me to go uch He can be to ih difference about k girl, with little nlities, Mildred, if the Lord. I will 1 cheei-fuUy to the if the Loixi calls eternity together, Mi ffOMK AOAtH. 4tl Mildred's voice trembled as she sjioke ; but after that neither renewed t);e conversation again. When the answer came to bur application, and titey found that she was to be sent the Indians in Dakota, there was a veiy perceptible lightening of counte- nances in the family circle at No. 6 Mulbniry Street. The salary was so much in excess of her expectations, that she began to think the chances for self-immolation were greatly inferior to what they once were. Now they could send Paul through college; and if he was only able to do his part, he might make choice of any profession, and be able to succeed. She went out to Orassmere one bright morning in August, to carry her good news. How fair Mother Earth looked as Mildred walked under the trees ; the busy span-ows hopping nlong at her side ; the higher-toned birds canying on their loves and industries in the leafy fastnesses, or higher still, a little below the clouds in the far blue ocean of ether ! It seemed so grand to her as she walked there, very indifferent to th<) fine oaniages with their ele- gant occupants rolliiv_; past, to be in harmony with the God who made all this beauty and to work Ml % 422 MILDRED KBST'B HKMO. for Him — to be Hii». She Bcarcely conf««ed t« heiw^lf Hhe had a fancy aH to what earUily love might mean; but i-e»olutely punhing «uch thoughts away nhe found her joy - i)erlmp« a higher one- in letting her life be a thoroughfai-e for the sin- ful and weary-heai-teil, mther than for the one who might have been too idolati-oiwly loved. Her face WW beautifully serene m she halted, accoitling to custom, on the marble steps, and looked around at a scene such as she might not again feast her eyes on, after she had said good-bye to friends and home, until the heaven wliich Giiissmcre had heli.ed to make real should become her etemal habitation. As she stood, after ringing the bell, in the hush that pervaded eai-th and air, fi-om the distant musicroom there came the heavy tones of the gimt pipe^i-gan. The maid who answered her summons infomed her that a good many visitors hml come within a day or two, and that now a music prefessor, all the way frem Gei-many, wa» playing on the organ. u Will you go right in? There's so many they won't know but you've been here right along," Bhe said encoumgingly, for Mildred was especiaUy liked by the Grassmere sei-vants. i i «■ JKMO. roely coiifewMMl to what etirtlily love hiiig HUch thoughts iw n higher one — hfara for the sin- ail for the one who y luved. Iler face alted, accoitling to find looked ai-ound lot again feant her jfood-bye to friends ilch Giiuwnicre had become her eternal ringing the bell, in and air, fram the the heavy tones of I who answeitNl her good inany visitors o, and that now a i-oni Gei-many, was lere's so many they hei-e right along," dred was especially BOMK AOAIN. 4M ** I can listen just as well outside tlie door of the music-room." " For ray part I think it soundii better outside. He makes such a noise sometimes, you'd think the whole house shook. I've liad to Iw in and out a good many times with messages." As Mildi-ed listened, the souikIm piYKliice<l wera certainly very uncommon. The music, for the most part, was new to her; but she was thrilled as by the thunder's rail or roar of ocean. A voice witli- in her, or k it seemed, whispered: "Wliat a loss, to go off among uncivilized people and never listen to such hai-monies again!" She listened dreamily to the sob and swell of the organ i-esponding to the touch of its master like a thing of life. Sud- denly the measure clianged to a minor key, and a now spiiit spoke to her. It was as if voices of tlie lowly and sorrowful wei-e ciying for succor with an infinite despair to those who could help, but were at ease. Dusky hands seemed lifted in pleading and sad faces ^evQ tui-ning to the dark- ness of death without knowledge or hope of the hereafter. Tlie tears fell softly on the dimpled folded hands, nor were they teai-s of regi-et, — rather of gladness, for the music had brought its message - ! 424 MILDRED KENT'S BEXO. >lKi of strength. It was like a battle-call to duty, while presently the fancy grew upon her that there is in music a spirit which, in other worlds, we may see embodied in form of splendid seraphim. At last the organist ceased, and then through the half-closed door there issued pleasantly modulated voices, from the flute-like tones from girlish lips to the deep bass of the burly German Professor. Then they began drifting out into the wide hall where Mildred was sitting. They were all strangers, until at last Douglass appeared in the door. He soon spied her sitting apart from the rest, a trifle ill at ease, and he came directly to her. " You have come to spend the day?" he questioned, eagerly. She cast an eloquent look first at her own simple morning cos- tume and then at his guests, and shook her head. "Never mind," he whispered, *nth manly disre- gard of such trifles ; "You look better than any of them." "How can you say thfctl" she said, with a smile. "I will leave it, if you are willing, to the gen- tlemen present to decide." He turned mischiev- ously around and cleared his throat. " Oh, no ra 1 I will go right home." _.: --t „.«>»ftU»ii^ilS'J-' BERO. ie-call to duty, while her that there is in rorlds, we may see aphim. At last the 1 the half-closed door ted voices, from the to the deep bass of Then they began where Mildred was gers, until at last He soon spied her rifle ill nt ease, and I have come to spend pgerly. She cast an simple morning cos- its, and shook her d, *jith manly disre- k. better than any of " she said, with a willing, to the gen- He turned mischiev- throat. ; home." HOME AQAiS. *25 uThen I shall drive you, and it will be cmel to take me out in the dust this morning, you have no idea how it makes me cough." «I thought your cough was nearly well," she said, anxiously. " It is not so bad when I keep out of the dust," he said drdy. "We are going to have luncheon under the trees, and afterward a sail on the lake. The bottom is fastened securely in the boat; I ex- amined it myself, to make your mind eusy, for I expect you will spend a great many hours in it after this." He smUed down into the rather wist- ful face; for Mildred thought the hours weie very few that she would spend on the leaf-bound lake. Mrs. Everett presently joined them. " You are just in time, dear, for a long day's outing. Our visitors are all strangers to you, I think. You will let me present you," she said, taking Mildred's arm. She was charmed especiaUy witii Professor von Staaden, her eyes wandering by turns from his mobUe, intellectual face to the long, muscular fin- gers, which had such skill and strength to bring out the organ's hidden harmony. Before very long he had dJaoovered her hero-worship for men and 426 MILDKED KENT'S HERO. women of genius, and repeated story after story from personal reminiscences, more for the pleasure of looking into the eager, enthusiastic face than for any particular interest he took in them, save for the gifts they had confeiTed on the world. " I would like so much just once to ioimh hands and speak with some one who will be admired five hundi-ed years hence," she said at last with a sigh of regi-et at the improbability of her desire e/er being fulfilled. "What gain vould there be in that?" "It would seem to keep one in touch with an age so remote from us. It i» melancholy to look ahead a century or two and know that sun and earth and men will not know we ever Lved. One's great-grandchildren might hold our memory for a century, but probablv not for two," she said so- berly. The professor smiled to hear this pure-faced girl talk in such a matterof-fact way of possible great-grandchildi-en. " But we have our lives now, and they are very good. What need we think of centuries long after we are dead?" "I know it is childish, but it grieves me to think there will be a time when Grassmero will HOME AOAIN. 427 ERO. . story after story e for the pleasure iastic face than for in them, save for the world, nee to lonoh. hands irill be admired five It last with a sigh )f her desire e/er in that?" in touch with an nelancholy to look low that sun and ? ever Lved. One's our memory for a wo," she said so- hear this pure-faced ct way of possible , and they are very centuries long after b it grieves me to len Grassmero will not retain the faintest memory if ite present gentie mistress, who makes so many glad." ult is the fate of nearly all ho come into the world. Is Cleopatra any happier to be remembered now than the forgotten beauties of her day?" ul should much prefer the fate of the forgotten ones," MUdi^d said, cheerfully. "Then you will acknowledge it is only a moi> bid sentiment, this longing to be held m remem- brance by generations coming after you." ul am enjoying this day very much, even with the certainty of ultimate annihilation of all trace of me under the sun. It will b. one of the days I shall relive when alone, and perhaps a bit sor- rowful." "Yes?" he said; with the rising inflecUon of voice which means so much when poUteness forbids a question outright. "I am going away," she explained, seeing the questioning look in his face. " I have been ac cepted as missionary teacher t» the Indians of Dakota." He started with surprise. "Why is that? Par- don me, must you do it from necessity?" Mildred smUed genUy : *' The same necessity, to - - 1 M ■fl m 428 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. compare the small with the great, that compelled St. Paul to tell ijeople of Chiist and the way to be happy forever." The professor was silent. PerliaiM he thought they liad remained long enough apait from the rest for he presently proposed joining them. On tlieir way Mildred said: — « I should like to have some more of your music by-and-by. I could not tell you how it helped me to foi-get mj'self this morn- ing. Probably I sliall never hear such music again until I get away up tliere." She raised her eyes to the sky above them — not more serene than they. "I am sony you have chosen such a lot." Douglass joined them then, and tlie professor said: "Did you know your friend hei-e is gouig away? To Dakota, is it not?" he said, turning to Mildi-ed. Douglass stopped abruptly. "Nonsense! She is not going anywhere untU her teacher says we may send her to Italy." " But she is going to teach the Indians, she tells me, and that veiy soon." "Can tliat be tnie, Mildi-ed? Surely you would have told us firet." There was surpiise and pain both in his voice. - 1 rili TEXO. it, that compelled st and the way to erliaps he thought gh apart from the joining them. On should like to have id-by. I could not jet m^'self this mom* iAV such music again ihe raised her eyes t more serene than II such a lot." and tlie professor iend hero is going " he said, turning ahruptly. ing anywhere until her to Italy." he Indians, she tells Surely you would suipiise and pain i BOMK AOAIS. 429 ''I ciune out on purpose to tell you to-day. I should not have mentioned it to Professor Von Staadeii only that his music helped me to be strong tills morning," she said, with a break in lier voice. **Then you would radier stay with us, and go on with the painting?" **It is not what one would rather do, but what God wills." ^ But there are plenty to go who have not your prospects. It will be no loss to have tliem buried a few yeai-s among savages. You must not go, Mildi«d." She binished away a few tears, and then quick- ly regaining her self-control said quite calmly : " We won't spoil this perfect day, with arguments. Let us cease thinking of any day after this." '**I cannot do that. We must spend hvmdreds of other days just as perfect together. You would rob me of all chance to pay the debt I owe you. Do you know. Professor, I believe that but for Miss Kent I should be in my gi-ave? You have no idea how clever she is — entirely too clever to waste hei-self on a parcel of dull Indians." " Please, Douglass, let us leave that topic." He looked down cmiously at her. Only onoe vm- V*' 480 MILDRt:D KENT'S HERO. before Uwi she spoken hU name in Im hewing. Some way it never sounded so musically from any lips as here. He would willingly have heard it drop lingeringly from her lips veiy often. "I want to enjoy the boaUail, but cannot unless you give me the promise." "It's a melancholy fate to be an only child. They ai-e never content unless they have theix- own way," Mildi-ed remarked sympathetically. "And you must help to spoil me." She did not give the promise, however. She liad no other opportunity that day to discuss tlie question fm- ther ynth Douglass, or his mother either. She was giieved to learn that he was opposed to her work. She had not ex)>ected anji^hing of the kind; mther she had looked for their hearty congratulations that the plans of her youdi wei* bemg ful- filled. ^ , , When she got home in the evening, she found a letter from the Mission -Boai-d awaiting her, with the request that she would start for her new field of labor du-ectly. Her face giew pale as she i-ead, and thei-e was a veiy peroeptible ti'emor in her voice. Giuce laid her book away and began to cry, whUe Paul left. the i-oom ti-jdng to whistle, ffOMK AGAIN. 431 me in his hewing, musically from any ngly have heai-d it M veiy often. " I but cannot unless > be an only child. 188 they have their sympathetically, poil me." She did ■. She liad no other ass tlie question fm- ther either. She was opposed to her work, g of the kind ; mther learty congratulations itli wei-e bemg fui- 10 evening, she found n-d awaiting her, with tai-t for her new field grew pale as she i-ead, eptible ti-emor in her ; away and began to oom tiying to whistle, ,„, it ended in a dismal failu..Th ef- face suddenly l«ded. Butshesa.dbmvely:"It.« „„ honor, my child, to be called so young by tJ^e Loid to make such a sacrifice for H« work. uYou ai-e willing to let me go, mother? uYes, willuig, though a little heaaiso.^ at ^e long sepai^tion. But we shall have a meetmg by- a,^d.by, to be followed by no farewell." For some time thero was silence save for Graces suppressed weeping, and then the mother sa.d, w.^ J accustomed cheerfulness: " Did you have a mce visit?" "Yes." . * r»„. uWhat do they say about youi- going to Da- kota ? " ul l«d no good opportunity to mention xt to M™. Evex-ett, but DougUss spoke strongly agaxnst it. Oxxly think! he spoke as if they meant to send me to Italy afU,r I got tWgh wx^ -X teacher here. Thuxgs genexully happen that way The good we cxi.ve for half a lifetime comes just "^uyI' must not think of what might have been. God loves a cheex-ful giver." . -a^ .It has been a Uying day, and I am a trxfle gloomy to-night." 482 MILDRED KENT'S HEHO. *»Why has it been trying?" .Oh, everything was bo lovely the«, and I ,W«d the thought that it waa one of my la«t • f- the very last, if I had but known -and visits— tne very "w«'i -rwak- then Douglass seemed so sorry," m.. added, speak "'pI^'^L summoned and they had prayers, and no mor. was said that night about tiie approaching separation. MUdred went out to Graasmere agun thrTollowing day to say good-bye, but found them .11 away. She left a message for M«^ Ever^ and Douglas, and then went to see Mr. Fdton and her other friends. Thei« was a painful same- ness in their remarks, for each «id all seemed to tiunk she could do as acceptable mission work at home as to go away among Indians. The hour came all too soon when the farewell had to be taken of the dear ones whose faces ri. dexed the pain they felt at separation. And the ioumhy began without the pleasing anUcrpaUon of 1 con^nial tormination among friends ..d happy surrounding., which so gi^.ay hel;« to hght.n the tedium of a long and solitary journey. I HEKO. Lovely there, and I g^aa one of my last id but known — and ^," tu~ added, speak- ihey had prayers, and about the approaching t to Graaamere again i-bye, but found them ige for Mrs. Everett Qt to see Mr. Felton e was a painful same- ch wid all seemed to table mission work at Indians. K)n when the farewell ones whose faces in- separation. And the jleasing anticipation of jng friends and happy iy heli« to lighten the ry journey. CHAPTER XXXIV. mtSIOlI WOBK. ®i® otato region »!»» neither 6tr»«n nor lull ^ to r.«>h of MUd»d-. lone^hted ™.on. A loneline.. « d.y. wore into »»««, tat*™ e^. .tao * growing <^<^» '"^^ ^'J^^ty dow but «» nntoMing of «>-~"»' » "^ pupiU, n-king her gn,w -'•-■'««"'"* ^ « 1 J „t tahor The ohiUron by degree, oanght the XlTheren^^^^^^^^^tS - fr. V»«r ewrer attempts to waken tneir UD in response to ner e^wr «»«"« r Iw in Jeo*. Her reUgion w» «. n.«eh . p»t 434 MILDRED KENT^B HERO. of her nature that it influenced the minutest actions «s well as words of her daily intercourse with them, while in her own experience things unseen were becoming more i-eal and delightful tluin anythmg connected with this world. There was, for these half-civilized boys and girls, a peculiar fascination in her descriptions of the spirit-world, - its inhabi- biutB, its glories, and the occupations that were in no danger of interruption by death. All the employmenta of their daily life, their lessons, their Illations to each other and parents and friends they were taught to regard in the light of unending existences and the worth or worthlessness of aU worldly things as measured by these. Her modes of instruction were not regulated after any models she had herself been taught, while for each one she had special rules which she considered best suited, to his or her individual needs. Her classes wei« not trained like masses of soldiers under drill as is nowH^ys the rule, as if childi-en could be cast in moulds like so many candles. And day by day, as she saw her work changing the actions and habite of thought of her pupils, it brought a con- tentment of heart that she had never found at her easel. Each morning was welcomed with fresh rsRO. he minutest actions ercourse with them, hings unseen were ful tlian anything lere was, for these peculiar fascination world, — its inhabi- upations that were by death. All the , their lessons, their mts and friends they light of unending worthlessness of all hese. Her modes of utter any models she e for each one she sidered best suited, to Her classes were not jrs under drill as is ildi-en could be cast ,es. And day by day, ing the actions and ils, it brought a con- id never found at her welcomed with fresh MIBBION WOHK. "^ „tiA«tion «. .he l«ok«l o»t over th, d.,'. dutie» , «ch evening m* tluuJdulne- .t Uie ™»«re of .ucoe» th.t h«l oK-wned th. Ubon, of the day. There w-re dtoeoumgemente «.d hitter he.rt«ch,. over th. nemdichl. t»int .in h«l l.ft in eon., of her eh^ge.. while gr-e and p.ti.no. wen, ri.ke proved to the ntmo,t in dealing w.th the«.. And L th. d.y. «.d month, had flowed on nnt.1 they rolled into year^ withont a glimpK. of one farnd- i„ f^. She tried to hu.h the cry m her h«rt for mother and home and th. familiar «.n«. of yonth by cnltivating a home.f..ling for herapher. of toU. By day, amid it. oe.«le» »ot.v.^«* '"^ h.d a me«.«re of .acee«; but in th. hour, o ™k.fnln«» that one h»i h..n p««d m ple«.nt fanoie. or .tar^p^lug. the old heart-hunger or hem „, c«n. hack in fnll fore.. She h«l pa.n^ th«n „ many time.. .. well a. the fr.end. at Gr»^ n,.r., L h.r pupil. «<^ » -" '^^''^'f ^th them a. wi& th. dignified prmeipal of to .ehool, who .«dly took le« p«t in it than a !«. novoUnt neighbor might do if .«oh th«e h»l l«.n Z th. vioiJty of th. «=hool. Toward, the clo.. 0, her third ye« her motner, for th. iiret t,m. «- pre»rf a wiah for h.r retom home; and «Aed that V I' mmm miii 486 MILDRED KENT'S BEBO. it might be immediate. With Bome Burpri-e but a Hudden lightening of heart, she i^ceived the com ,nand, and prepared to obey it. There ^vere hUU Home Bix weeks remaining before the school closed for the summer holidays; but they were the very gladdest weeks perhaps she had ever expenenced. Only those who have denied themselves for dutys Bake, and still, in obedience to duty, accept what their hearts cry out for passionately, can understand the full measure of her gladness. She bade her pupils good-bye: -a few weeks sepamtion fmm their teacher did not affect them Beriously, and they watehed her departure with stolid faces. Each sta. tion reached on that journey sent a thnll of pleas- u,^ to her heart; and when the final one was i^hed, and a glimpse wan caught of her mother, BO little changed that it might have been yestei- day that she had parted from her, she felt it was worth while having been created for tlie rapture concentrated in that brief moment. Mildred ran to her outwai-dly calm, only the shining eyes and glad face betraying any unusual emotion; but she was not prepared for the vigorous grasp in which her handt were seized by a tall, handsome youth, and her lips saluted in most impetuous fashion. irfMi mm J\ BEHO. orae surpriae, but a I received the com- ,. There were still re the school closed they were the very 1 ever experienced, henwelves for duty's » duty, accept what ately, can understand less. She bade her eks separation from m seriously, and they tolid faces. Each star sent a thrill of pleas- i the final one was caught of her mother, ;ht have been yestei-- n her, she felt it was lated for tlie rapture loment. Mildred ran the shining eyes and isual emotion; but she jorous grasp in which tall, handsome youth, t impetuous fashion. MIBBIOS WORK. 487 u l8 it Paul ? " Bhe asked, amazed ; for no other lad would act in such unseemly fashion. .. Don't you know me, Mildred, that you ask that question?" ul would never think it was my dear brother Paul," 8he said, squeezing the hands that still wer^ holding her own. " And is this Grace ? " she asked, turning to a slender golden-haired maiden who very slightly resembled the sister she had left. Jack Carver was there too, with a full-grown moustache and stylish cane, and looking genei-ally BO comfortable that one would never have taken him for a member of the Carver family. After they got home from the station and the tea had been taken, and they sat chatting in the twilight, they found,- though Mildred had changed httle in either looks or costume, for they could see her garments were the same she took .nth her and the fashion uniiltered,-itwas not the same Mildred that had left them. The soUtude of soul in which her days had been passed had matured and elevated her, as it only can do the noblest natures. Jack stayed so late their patience was nearly ended with him; for in these first hours it was each other they wantr ed exclusively. And then Jack had so much to H 4S8 iilLDBED KEtff'S ttSRO. tell about himself, his success as a lecturer and man about town generaUy, ihat he was reaUy the only hero of the evening - Mildx^d's work and sac- rifices looking very humble in comparison with his acMevemente. But Jack tore himself away at hist, and then, with a satisfaction such as they alone know who have a conscience at peace with all the world, MUdred looked at hei own home-circls. « Do you know, this must be something like the homcHsoming to the heavenly phices when all our loved ones are safely gathered there." u Everything is Heaven with you yet, Mildred, Paul said. "It ought to be, when she had only Indians to look forward to in this world," Grace remon- strated. "She is done with Indians now. I guess Jack means to keep her for his missionary, by the way he watched her to-night." "I would prefer my Indians to Jack's conversa. tioa for the rest of my life. They have the .jrace of ^iilence to recommend them, if nothing else." " When you see Douglass Everett, you will reckon your Indians are only savages. He has improved, if Jack hasnV M^ wno. as a lecturer and he was really the ■ed's work and sac- lomparison with his imself away at last, ach as they alone i peace with all the wn home-circla. I something like the laces when all our there." you yet, Mildred," tiad only Indians to rid," Grace remon- now. I giiess Jack ssionory, by the way J to Jack's converse- They have the flfrace I, if nothing else." irerett, you will reckon I. He has improved, 489 MIBBIOS WORK. uTell me all about tlie Everetts,'^ she said, with brightening face. u They are away a great deal. Douglass studies and works as hard as if his living depended on it. "What is he going to do?" «He is literaiy; M-rites for the magazines and reviews. I've heard say he is smart." «I am so glad, so glad." She spoke softiy, with a thrill of joy in her voice. « Ever since that first day at school, he has seemed to belong to me in some mysterious way. I hope he wdl be a very great and very g«K)d r..an. I am certain he will be brave and noble." « I hope you won't say all those fine things to him, Mildred. You are so unlike every one else," Paul said, anxiously. "It would be just like you; and men don't always understand some girls. "Why, Paul, what do you mean?" i* Never mind; only promise not to say anything .Uke that to Douglass Everett." '»you need not fear, my cautious brother. What- ever I may say to him, he will unierstand what I „,ean. To hear you talk and look at you makes „,e feel as if you were some other girl's bi-other, she said, with her ams about his neck, her lips pressed fondly to the downy cheek. 440 MILDRED KENT'S BERO. Tii-ed nature assei-ted her rights and the convex satiou was suspended for k few hours. The next morning Mildred announced that she was going out to Gi-assmei-e. "Won't you wait for them to call on you first?" Paul asked. " Why, Paul, how fastidious you have grown." "They are the leaders of fashion in these parts I guess. Anyway, they ai-e neck and neck wd., the best ; and its the fashion to wait until folks call on you." "Kot very elegantiy expi-essed. My boys would never use such slang to me." » They talk like the dictionarjs no doubt. I ex- pect they are a precious lot of piigs." « Oh no ; they only talk like well-trained boys. I do not encoun^ pedantry." Paul had no suitable reply ready, and so was compelled silently to watch MQdred put on her old-fashioned hat and start for Grassmere. He had been more successful in making fiiends among his schoolfeUows at Park Avenue, and had thei^ fore imbibed the pi-evaUing spiiit of the school far more deeply than she, and was foreed to endure the pettiness and i-estrictions of a social world in which he had no foothold. M^ [its and the conveiv hours. The next hat she was going I call on you first ? " you have grown." hion in these parts eck and neck witl. to wait until folks ed. My boys would ir)', no doubt. I ex- piigs." le well-trained boys. ready, and so was Mildred put on her Grassmei-e. He had king fiiends among mue, and had thei'e- iiit of the school far ras forced to endure of a social world in 441 MISSION WORK- As Mttdred walked along the accustomed street, AS Muareu ^ ^^^ which years ago had been mo« Id, L houses in many places separated by fields ^g^lns, she was grieved to see these green *i filled UD with gi*nd residences, spaces mosUy filled up jn ^ Already she was beginnmg to miss me ^ledom of Dakotan soUtudes. Like -y a. other she was often t«mpt«d to wish human be- C ;- ^ewer in number and of bett^r^^^^ Sh^ loitered along the way after P^-g ^e ga^ keeper's lodge and receiving a shy BmUe ^om^e little t«t8 who peeped at her through the roses, littie t»t8 w F-^ ^^^^ ^^y^ The eldest was a »«» *»^y ^™ ^ , . _i,_ ^d now thei. were thi^ smUing a^ her. Ab j^ nearcd the house Paul's suggestion began to trou^ neareu « , „ ^_- „,,d with no messages her. After so long a time, ana wiw •«„ f^ and fro save what was conveyed in her passing to and fro sa ^ mother's letter, they might not, i k ready to begin an intimacy intennipted thi^e years :t.. wl finally she reached tbe -h^^^^^ ' on which her feet halted timidly on her fii.t visit Li., something of tiie old feeUng -M— of her; but quickly ascending, J^^^f^;^;^^^^ A familiar face gi^t^d her coMiaUy, foi t .e^ vanl« at Gitissmei. remained in Mi. Everctts em- i 442 HILDRED KENT'S HEM. ploy year after yeaiv and Urn maid had known Mildred ii-om a littie girl. " We did not kaow you were home. M«. Everett and Mr. Douglass will be veiy glad to see you," she said, heartUy. "Have you many visitors, Jane?" MUdi-ed asked, anxiously. "Not many. Lady AUcia Merton is here, though." »I am only going to stay a short time. I would like to see Mrs. Evei-ett just a few min- utes alone." Jane led the way to the libi-ary. "You ai-e pi-etty sui-e not to be distuibed hew so eaily in the morning." How weU Mildred remembered the great, dim room, with its huge piles of books lining shelves that reached fi-om floor to ceiling all around the walls. It was little changed. The same luxurious fumitui* in- viting i-epose of body, whUe the mind was luxu- liating in realms of fancy or abstract thought with a favorite author, foi-getting for a while mental pain and worries of life. Presently a portiere was was dmwn aside, and Mrs. Evei-ett came swifUy to her side. How reassuring her greeting ! " Is it really Mildred come to us again? You ai« wel- M«nBVV|^m>*H''M<^'i«l'^ ■Mi ^^mSmm nERO. maid had known We did not kaow , and Mr. Douglass ' she said, heartily, le?" Mildi'ed asked, k Merton is here, r a short lime. I tt just a few niin- library. "You ai-e id hei-« so eaiiy in lered the great, dim jks lining shelves that around the walls. It uxuiious furniture in- the mind was luxu- ahstract thought with or a while mental pain intly a portiew was Everett came swiftly her greeting ! " Is it gain? You ai-e wel- MI88I0S WORK. 448 come, my child," she said, saluUng ^^ - J^^ ^dlips. "Are you glad U, be home aga^n? uToo glad, I am afmd. It seems so pleas- ant." , u When did you reacli home/ wnen oi y j did not wait long for "Last evemng. You see i ui« a. fflimnse of Grassmere." ft giraipse o ^^^ ^^^^ u You are one of the lew wuu their friendship with the yea«." ^^ uNor with the eternities, I hope, .^e same old MUdred has come hack ^t left ^. The spirit -world stiU holds y^-J^^^^^^ But I must tell DougUss that you ax^ hex^. You will stay with us to-day." :, J ten, ^ you have ™iU,r,. I d«e »ot ttie m. for a femU Wp V«i ^u^'- »Yo» a« my gueet and Wend, Mdd«d. It » I „ho decide il your e«tu.e ta •«"»«»• J*^^ ^ »*aed ^a. yoor .pP«>»-o- iwdir-""* ^d fetch IX"*;;"" ^, ,, .„^„d «.h hi. A few moments atterwaruB v^„-i«d mother Could it be possible this bxt>nzed, beax^ W bovish k^gbt and hex.,? He came :irwir.^:lne^ of oUxer da. in voice I -^ -1 444 MILDRED KEffT'B HERO, and manner. "It is the same Mildi-ed -- almost luichanged, who left us so unceremoniously with- out even saying good-bye; but we wUl forget the seeming neglect in her promptness to say How do you do?" There was a trace of the boyish voice in the tones, deeper, moi-e musical now. "I came out to say good-bye, but you wei-e aU away. Did not the servant tell you? "This is the first intimation we have had of youi- thoughtfulness. Not even a line to my mother." "I am so pained that you so misjudged me aU these yeai-8. And I would so ghidly have writ- ten if I had thought my letters would be wel- come." Her face looked very sorrowful to the eyes studying it so intently. "My mother trusted you all the time, MUdi-ed. She never changes to the few she takes into her heart of heai-ts, and you may be sure you have one of the warmest places there." "Next to himself I believe you have the warm- est. It is so good to liave you back with us," Mrs. Everett said, in a A^-ay that brought the Uood bounding veiy i-eassuiingly to the lightened heart. ■Htoi HKRO, le Mildi-ed" almost iceremoiiiously with- t we will forget the ptness to say How trace of the boyish loi-e musical now. lye, but you were all »U you? on we have had of ven a line to my so misjudged me all BO gladly have writ- Btters would be wel- r sorrowful to the eyes all the time, Mildi-ed. few she takes into ou may be sure you aces there. a you have the warm- [>u back with us," Mrs. t brought the blood r to the lightened 445 MIBBION WORK. .And back for good, is it not, Mildred? " Doug- lass asked. , , . t «0h, no! I think we all understootl that I was to return when my vacation was ended." "Thi-ee yeaw must satisfy your Indians. The painting must have its turn now. Or have you laid that on the altar of sacrifice too?" uNot wholly. I have painted Gi-assmere audita n^aster and mistress a good many times." Mildred bethought hei.elf then of Paul's words, and wished she had not made her confession. uYou wUl let me diive you home this evening, and grant me a look at your studies." «But I am going now. I nhould not have de- Udned you so long from your friends," she said, turning to xMi-s. Everett. uWe have no friend that gives us so mucb pleasui-e to look at just now as you." «Ard lie music, Mildred. We have an organ- i«t witii us to-day almost as good a« Von SiBaden whom you admired so much. You must stay wi^^ ^_yom- motiier will not look for you. He touched the bell. , ,, * • There w» . look o. app«d on MUd^d'e f^e » d„ t„™ed to M». Everett, «.d mumuted, "Wont ■ ^^i^'-^m^-^i^m 44G MILDRVJ^ KFST'B r'lfX you excuse me? It would 1- too W discipline to meet vour vi»itoi-8." »N„„^,«e, my cWld. Betm«d ™Won.ne» ... not .urix-ed to l>e «l.re»»t of Ih. I«-hio.«. ..Wtat »!■« you talking about, moUie.? "StoU I tell liim. MiU.-eJ? But men do not .l«y, .ympatluze «tU «- i" our litUe martyr- *Ti ,vin go home now," »l.e »iA decWvely^ » You mn»t fl«t come to the muMCroom Where to Alim?" he questioned of hU moUiev. "Is Lady AUcia the organist?" -Yes. I l,Up superbly no.. She »U1 be gl»d toWosuchalUtencr.yo..." He was h*w.y r,,^,.e stai., .hen he turned sudde.dy a,«und llw down at his mother and Mildred, who W Il!d him into a.e hail. - You must ,uahe her the off her hat. I sl».ll have the feeing tha *. „m slip a,v»y from us if we »« not watohmg. ;rs,llve;autho..aUvely. "She has a *.ulty "'D:';l!!CHndly manner put her tho^ughly at JZ, so she took off her hat obediently, and and dropped it auelessly on a ohau-. !ir"your custom to treat your milli~e.y - n r-nx B too luud discipline iUMied missionaiies ai-e f the fashions." »out, moUier?" 1? But men do not in our little mai-tyr- lie said decisively. lie rausic-ioom. Whei-e £ his motlier. nist?" now. She will be glad oy " He was half-Avay u-ned suddenly aiound, 1- and Mildred, who had » You must make her Mve the feeling tliat she • Ave ai-e not watching." sly. "She has a faculty 51- put her tlioroughly at her hat obediently, and on a chair, ta-eat your milliner)' in 447 MIS8I0S WORK. in that unceremonious fashion? I have been led to regaid that portion of lady's attii^ with gieat 'Tyou need not exercise that faculty on behalf of mine, smce I manufaotm-e tliem myself " .They wUl be greater objects of x-eve. .ce an ever if I find your skUled ftnge« h, 3 ^ them. I shall look upon them as ^-^ - nJx.n She l«.ked up .t urn oddly. ..Y.«d,dn^». t„U».,n.e. P.ul h« told me ^v. . «ul «>■"«» .bo«t you, tat-" .he .topped .bnipfly. „You do Bot think hi. de-cription doe, mo jm- U„e. After *e have been together . wWle longer^ you may make di»=overie. yom«>U," he «.d humo^. "tyon o«> make me feel beautifully at home here. That i. an art you have not lo.t. »Why, MUdred, you looked .u. t<ghtened »hen I came into the ™m io ».e yon ju.* a mom^ .go, ,. you did yea. ago, when you ^ck^ the door the fti^t Ume you came here. H I had m Mgea - -«««'• '"" "°"'* 1-ve .hpped out Tl 1 hou» like a gho.t and been half-way home by this time." 448 MILDRED KENT'B HERO. 1 1 .« very near dipping out Wore I ™.^ in, «hen J«.. told n,e of your oompW.__ II ^o™ .0 ataurd tor me to be here with them. „So it doe», now that I tbrnn o But never mind, you -hall have the mn..e. Md "Z wine«l at hia remark, «.d onee .^e -h«^ hereelf at home. Looking at h™ presently ah. «.„ a miaehievoo. gleam in his eye. ..It ia like a ehapter ont of romance, to be teaching Indian, one week and a,e nest hobnob- teacmng Mtreme of bing with society people, lakmg «i Uf/at a hound, ao ., .peak. No «»*«' J™ "^^ UtUe aelf^oneoioua .l»ut your appe««>oe: but we are not «. particular about •?>?<»«-«" """J "^ feUow. at Park Avenue m^d to be. »«* '■"'>"'*. ^ i"ul to them , Uithad notW'-*--^^^ ^ I should never have discovered you, and bu Tyou, Mildred, I have the impreaaion I .hould no^ Z, atanding here." Hi. faee wa. «.h.r now, hn^ T ■„. ™der a new emotion that made him eyea .oftemng under a new ^^j;^ taide look positively regal to «» girl .landing wL With a sudden introep«=tion .he wondered^ ^^ a sort of »lf-pity. « "» "O"-* »"' X :,, again a. at ...t — ^^7— the rustic of musUu drapery on the floor ' JJ«^8fiKV»*''S«*-*f^'''"*-''' HERO. )ut before I was well rcompwy. It seems ivith them." think of it calmly, tave the music." Mil- nd once more wished It him presentiy she his eye. t of romance, to be ,nd the next hobnob- ftking the extreme of No wonder you are a u- appearance: but we ipearances as our school- to be. But I should be t been for their snobbish- iBCOvered you ; and but mpression I should not je was sober now, his emotion that made him 3 girl standing beside gpection she wondered, she would ever be so oment. A moment after ry on the floor recaUed 449 MIBBION WORK. I:: Lady AUoia .ppr««h-a puz-led .ad not „,.r*>ttofted .xpr«.ion on hor taoe. .Ah, here yon .«1" DongU« ».d^ "*')'«* Wy Mad«d Aonght, when «idre».ng -noh . leMly MU ^^ ,OT you, notable pe«on. "W'r,' „^„tar e«.h to get some muBio. You wui " °^,^y AUei. howe,' ^th a aUtely '««^'y l"^ „ j.Ung to poor Mildred, not acou.ton.ed .» th. ™y,o..uohhigh.b«l<olk. u Shall we l!0 direotly to ui" Madred ia going to give «. *• day, "- ^, aa n>uoh of it a. V^^^ »»- *« " ^"^ „„ immolating heraelf upon aavages. .. My boy. and giA are not «.v.ge.. They have aiity.ndg.ntlene»Idonot-w^^d among more highly oivai«l people, Mdd«d ».«, "'!',^rn:Ctthey.em.^l.o.in^^ ., ae.lopment, -a c^poH t..^W« w,^ th. g,«,ity of young philowphe.., Doug Lvoualy. "I .toll cerU"dy go a^d «» yo among Ihom, if you in.i.t on «t""™8- , „We win be honored by your p«»nce. MllDRED KESra HERO. ' Lady Alicia was moving leisurely towani« the Mildi-ed'8 e'as following her, while mu8ic-room, Mildi-etts e ^ uJv»hin re- haIf.m.co„»=ioa.ly .he ptotu«d her Udyl"? ^ daced to poverty «.* compelled to mo«. w.th the aacea i" f" ^ i,„„„«,ive« »t the dinneriioor oelerity of average houMWive. » with hidl « doien hungry moutlu. to BatuJy «» Tied. -Sheeould never do iC.h. "id -"her- t^ --people ... not created .like. I am .ore. Her MyLp h«l -aohed the door ^ - lookL J .^ «hy her audience atiU Ungered^ MuL quickened her Bte^; for -he «. ge^ ting .Ld of her. She entered and e.t h.ck "ear Td^r-her n,ind turning «ith n..n.o„» hater. " hile the .kUled anger, drew fron. the great „I' it. ..ored-up hannonie. She li,.»ned ad^r- •nX MechanicaUy it ^ a «- ^f^"' •""" ■J^" udicious training; hut it lacked «» .»u^ L U, and which only a few are ho^-* .nd that no amount of tiaimng «m produce m rl U»n . M«=h«l Angelo or Shak^p.-. «- Tmaae W order. Do„gl«. watched ^r ^ ^ knew that .he wa. not perfectly »t«fl«4- «« tr.th.ir ncrher and whispered, "You .« Wtople^e. I fear your lndi.n. have made you critical." T 5 HERO. leisurely towards the following her, while red her ladyship re- led to move with the res at the dinner-hour (loutluj to satisfy un- it," she said to hei> ted alike, I am sure." the door and was audience stiU Ungered. eps; for she was geb- ered and sat back near g with memories bitter- ;ew di-ew from the great en She listened admir- , a fine display of skill ut it lacked the touch Y a few are bom with, aining can produce any elo or Shakespeare can 188 watehed her face and perfectly satisfied. He i whispered, "You are rour Indians have made MiaSIOS WOHK. 451 .You must not nee in faces what may only ex- U.t in your own imagination," she murmu,.d softly. .lunderstandyourface too welltobe m«^ taken. You may as well confess to your lack of appreciation of the music." ^ , , , ..^j," uThe execution is quite wonderful, I thmk, Mildred faltered. "But lacks soul; is that it?" .1 tivink you ait, very insistent in finding out "^r^rtou -ember you admired her playing ^Tr/but when one has listened for hours at a time to nature's harmonies, it makes one diih- cult to satisfy. You must rememl^r I have hved vei-v near to nature's heart, these last years. He turned again to the piano, while Mildred took what satisfaction she could out of the exact blen<^ I, of chords and rendering of the composer s scL- but he -grew tired listening, and glancing r:«.dti.en into MUdred's still face, he l.^n studying her more closely tiian he had ever done, andTondered as he watehed her sitting tiiere m her old-fashioned gown, of material far from ee- gant, with tiie graceful pose and unconscious dig- ?««'' mi 452 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. mty that a duchess might envy. How did she de- velop so heautifuUy away off there ou the confines o! civilization, with nothing but a few books and her own thoughts to uplift her? He looked a her with an intentness that at last made her ill at e.«e-the flush growing deeper on her cheek. At hist she i-ose and, going to the window, drew back the curUins and stood partly concealed by its friendly shelter. He n>se to follow her, for the first time in all his life realizing that standmg there, in her rare sweetness and humility, was the one woman in all the world for him. He forgot the proud girl waiting for him at the other side of the room, who had waited with what patience she could command for yea«, and whom in a Platonic fcvshion he had i^gard.d as the probaWe companion of his futui^ years -forgot too the proud family to which such an alliance would admit him, mth its wealth and prestlg^. The Lady Alicia intuitively felt that her music was failing on unheeding ears. Her jealous instincte, always on the alert where Mildred was, led her to glance around just as Douglass arose, his face turned from her; but she was none the less ceit^m that he wa- watching Mildred. A bi^ak m the B HERO. vy. How did she de- there on the confines but a few hooks and her? He looked at at last made her ill deeper on her cheek, ig to the window, drew partly concealed by its to follow her, for the realizing that standing and humility, was the Id for him. He forgot him at the other side ted with what patience years, and whom in a garded as the prohable years — forgot too the ich an alliance would th and prestigip. The It that her music was Her jealous instincts, 8 Mildred was, led her Douglass arose, his face was none the less cei-tain Idled. A bi-eak in the MISSION WORK. music, and then the abrupt ending of the measnre stai-tled the hitter, when she turned and saw her ladyship approaching. " You do not find Brahm's music interesting. Miss Kent?" she said coldly, and then, without waiting for reply, added : * One's musical talent, it is asser- ted, can be gauged by their abUity to appreciate his compositions." "I must plead gmlty then to a lack of talent; for I could not tell if his music was intended to make one sad or glad." "Ah, you are veiy much in the dark. That symphony was one of his most decided ones.' "Brahm's admirei^ ckim him, if I mistake not, as the high-priest of intellectual masic. But I am like Mildred. I want something human, passionate, not mere abstract intellect." "Why, I thought he was one of your especial favorites. You used to admire that very quality in his compositions," she said, arching her bi-ows. "Possibly 1 may have changed. But we m^ast not stand here. Time is too precious, when this is Mildred's first holiday for yeai-s. What shall it be?" He turned to her now, the glow retummg to his face that Lady Alicia had banished for the ■« ■"WKSSS^ — — -'\ 454 ^^ MILDRED KENT^B HERO. romeut. "Wovad ,ou like . »il on the W«? That «»ed to be your favorite »-»""«»'■ «' would you prefer looking »t the new hook, .nd ;LrJ? Anything yon cho^e, .or the day belong- "".flTwUl be one of the specU day. of my Wo, 1 beUeve." She tried to speak lightty, buther Upe ',n^:: Dough^e w. n„king ^^^^''^ L her to «tain her comp»u«, with Lady Aheu. looking critically on. "it -honld be a bright day, -hen .here are a tonsand or more dull daye for a ^^f^^' .My days among my l»y. and girls were not dull. One may to happy in diflerent ■:^y.. An Z, eonseienee brings its own peeuli«- sat«f«>tmn _ Z looked at him eagerly -her eyes « sud- denly falling Wore «« expre«,ion she met onh,. '^Shril we look at *e pictures iirst? The« ^ some new one. I would like you to see. „yes, I believe I am hungering to look at a good pointing. One .nanage, U, "eep desues to t im%ble in .p.-ion, but when they h^™ po^ibiLes, the longing -"e-ay sp^g. to Jie^ m " She turned to the door ss J eager to make 8 HERO. a sail on the lake? irite amusement. Or the new books and «e, for the day belongs K5ial days of my life, ak lightly, but her Ups jking it terribly hai-d sm-e, with Lady Alicia lay, when there ai-e a , for a back-ground." ays and girls were not in different v:ays. An ffn peculiar satisfaction." iriy — her eyes as sud- ipressiott she met on his 5 pictures first? There Id like you to see." mngering to look at a ages to keep desires for ,n, but when they become suddenly spiings to fiercer door as if eager to make MiaaiON WORK. , *"" np for loet time. Lady Alicia hesitated a flush, certainly not of pleasure, lismg to her fece. She did not cai-e to leave Douglass and Mildred alone. Her pride forbade her meekly trailmg thi^ugh the house after them. As she hesitated at the door, to her great relief Mi^. Everett joined them, when she felt safe to retire with the dig- nity the occasion demanded. To her chagrin Doug- lass paid no attention to her while he st,K,d beside Mildred, who had paused to listen to sometog Mrs. Everett was saying. The whole length of the long hall lay between them when Lady Alicia turned at last to look at them again. Douglass was stiU looking at MUdi-ed, as if he expected to see her suddenly vanish from his sight. A moment after M«. Everett left them and came to her. " Are you not going with them?" she asked, «or shall wo join the others? I think they are all m the conservatory?" «I am going down to the drawing-room. I want to hear Miss Kent's mptures over the pictures." uYou mistake her entirely. She takes her pleasures silently." Her ladyship bowed coldly in response to Mrs. Everett's defence of her favorite, and then followed "I 45(1 MILDRED KEST^a f!E&fi. the two, a8 she nupposed, downstair.; but Doug- lass had, for some i-eason of his own, gone first to the picture^Uery. Thei^ wex-e a few new paintings there which MihU^d soon found; while immy of her old favorites wei. hanging in their still lovelmess on the walls. She stood lookmg at one that pu- ticularly satisfied her. uHow can you enjoy them so deeply when you have planned your life is dii^ct variance to aU they imply?" Douglass asked, - bmisliing youi^elf fi-om everything your heart cmves after." «i am not banished from everything." uYour mother i-ead to me, fi-om one of your let- tei^, a descxiption of your house and sui-roundmgs. It seemeJ the abomination of desolation to me, though you endeavored to give it a few voi^ol- owd touches." She quoted in reply St. Basil's words :^" As the guest of God, all places ai-e aUke to me." u You ai-e not a father confessor, worn and world- weaiy, but a young girl foi-med to be happy -to make othei-s supremely happy." uHow can I do that better than wnei-e I am/ You would almost convince me my sacxifico has been an uttev faUuxe." i f rn stair* ; but Doug- own, gone first to the few new paintiugt) d ; while iniiny of her their still loveliness dug at one that pvr- (i so deeply when you dii-ect variance to all i, " btvnisliing yom-self cmves after." everything." , fi-om one of your let- luse and sui-roundings. of desolation to me, five it a few ixjseHJol- lasil's words: "As the alike to me." f essor, worn and world- ned to be happy — to ter than wnere I am? 1 me my saciifico has iriir MiaaiON WORK. 457 "It is a sacrifice, then, Mildred? You do care for us here, and feel the separation ? " "The whole world would not tempt me away from all I hold dearest, if there were not other worlds beyond us." She spoke vehemently, though scai-ce above her breatli, while her face was pale even to the lips. He turned abruptly and walked the whole length of Uie room, standing by an open wmdow that framed a more exquisite picture than any hanging on palace walls — Mildred, through a mist of teai-8, stood looking up, scarcely conscious whether a blank space or gem of art w??s befoi« her eyes. At lust he came to her, speaking her name differently fioui what she had ev i heard it pronounced befoi-e. Tui*mng' to him, she saw that he was moved by some strong emotion. " I have made a discoveiy this morning, Mildre^^ I can- not let yon leave us again. I must hav< on here, my bride, my wife." Her face was ashen low: "I gave /self away long ago." "To whom?" he anked humedly. "You have not promised yomvelf to one of t' «« missionaries, svroly," " I liave given j-uyself to God. You knew that, 1. ,111 468 MILDRED MENTIS HERO- Douglass." • How softly she mumm-ed lus name, as if those little letter formed a sweeter sym- phony than Beethoven's best. .You have fulfilled that vow. AH the world would absolve you." 4»If I cannot absolve myself." ulf you loved me, Mildi-ed, you would not hes- itate. But I do uot think you have a heart like the i-e t of us, — like average human bemgs. «If love gives a claim to your common hu- manity I cannot think .my one has a sti.,uger one than I." , ^j "Have you ever loved any one? • "Yes." "Mav I ask who it is you love?" u The one who was my friend so long ago, who protected me when my heait was nearly breaking." Her voice was tremulous, but she looked up at hmi bmvely. „ . , u- T* uAh, no, Mildred; that b only friendship. It i. not love, or you would leave all the world for me." He spoke sadly. ui would do so wiUingly. I would go Avith you into exile, into a cabin, on the pmirie, oh, so gladly, if duty and I could go with you, but HERO. [nui-raui'ed Ills nuiiie. led a sweeter syiii- ow. All the woiltl f." yoii would not hes- ou htive a heai-t like human beings." 9 your common Itu- )ne has a sti'ouger one y one?" a love?" fiend so long ago, who was nearly breaking." b she looked up at huu is only friendship. It Leave all the world for )\ I Avould go with on the piuirie, oh, so d go with yoa, but -«■ .^ a, -"t ,4ri|bi. .■inwipn""*^'* iirsaios WORK.. **J> not othenvwe." She too spoke sadly, but with a flmnesa of resolve that was maddening to the one who watched her. "Did you always love me — ever since we have known each other?" he naked at Ust. "You wei-e always my hero, but — " she hesi- tated, and then murmured, "I did not always care for you in that way." "How long have you done so?" The rose-tint came back, flushing neck and brow, and then after a pause she answered bravely, "Since I saw you and Lady AUcia at the Paik Avenue Commencement. I knew then you were going to be maiTied; I realized how rich she was to have your love." "I shall never many any one but yoiT., — prob- ably become a wanderer — for you and Grassmere henceforth will seem iit8ei>arablo. Is your decision unalt»mble, Mildred?" Both fcuje and voice pleml more eloquently than the mere woi-ds he utleml. "Perhaps in heaven God may let me know and love you better than any of His shining ones." Her expi-esfeion at that moment might have baen caught by one of the Old Masters and immortal- ized for "a martyred t^vint on the eve of her bndal with Death. ^ ,4'fefta.re*« KMBJWHHB*^ 460 MlLDltKD KENT^B HEM. . It i« not then I long for you, but here, now," he naid passionately. ^^_ Tl.e door opposite opened, and Lady a Jd Douglass turned abruptly away and left rim, while Mildred, her .1M.««^-^-^^ gone, st«od helplessly awaiting her ladyships ap- ^"^^' t tn have enjoyed the pictures uYou seem not to have enj J itv mastering ner gm^ o ^„a?" I „ked .gato, "Wh«« l"* «'-^™"'"^'"'' «T iln not know." »1 tto nov „:^*„-e8 in the drawing- "Have you seen the pictures m w room yet? "' ■"" "°'''.t»n« tot he left without trf^- "It is very strange inai- Jit™. w« «g.iuea .0 that.he™.b.e^«* l.»rf clones., to n.„ve i^ p.*™ j« P- tu«, looking »t .hem about ,. W-"'^^^'^ fl„v had been Mto of blurred paper. Her Umn !: i^^a whir, -herheart erying out pa.>onaU,ly. Lwuinirly agatat the deei»iou of her «J^. WrAliereonoluded flnany that Dougb» ~ -'^ififl^^^lSff.rex^v^^''' you, but here, now," and Lady Alicia en- iptly away and left gelf-ijosseasion utterly ig her ladyship'** ap- enjoyed the pictures she said, her curios- ding. After a pause s Mr. Everett gone? »» tures in the drawing- t he left without tak- yhile gradually the lost that she was able, with 9 fi-om picture to pic- it as appreciatively as if irred paper. Her brain crying out passionately, jcision of her will, finally that Douglass MIBSIOtf WORK. „».t h.v. W trf..n .uddenly iU, .nd d^ided that Ihey .hould go in «.roh of h.n> or h« !lr. Mnd«d t.r„«d ...Hly. Sh. oorU.n^ Tooked m eno.gh to l« in M- At th. door .he Ued hack ^««ny »t the -pot v,h.oh .oM heneeforlh hold the «»lde.t, s^-eet^t memory for her in aU life's victory- ..You admin. thi8 ph«e exceedingly. When M.. Everett ^ • f»nuly, you -hould hecome gove.^»» to hi. chadren," Lady AUcia »>id wiU. a I«tn>n.«- i.g air, »hieh wa., however, quite *">»" ""J rince queation. and hla„di.hmenl. were alAe un- h.«led. When they reached the draw.nr"0">. »» Mildr«l-. reUef L«ly Alicia left to go m .«»rch „( Douglas. The door had h«dly clo«d on he when I)ougl.« «uter«l and came « M.dred. Z^. within an alcove on the farther "de of ,l«room. The .hadow h«l Ufted from ta ooun- wmmce, «.d with hi. ueual cheerfulne* he >«A: »I won't trouble you any more Kniay, my darluig. Aft« hearing your confe«ion I feel certain every- thing wiU turn out right. ».d you mu.t make np ' mind to have a perfect day. Shall we go Lto the garden tat, or WiU you look at the pic- tures?" ■ ■ ■ ,. ^ ij .ii i. !. >Li^ii j i ij. iii w Lji i wt. . ija immmmmmii mmmmmmBmsmmm ;^Jif^:£Ml-A3«'«'^^'^^'^^>^'S^'«'**^tt^^K^«^MSV. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I ■so '■^™ ui Iii4 2.5 2.2 20 1.8 ":^ 1-25 1.4 1.6 .« 6" ' > Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 wist MAIK STRUT WiBSTiR.N.Y. 14S80 (716) 872-4503 \ iV SJ [V '^ L-^ f/. J <^ \ CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microraproductions / Institut Canadian da microraproductions historiquas ,igSSw«»Sii«»>5 *»"■"• 462 MriDBED KENT'S HERO. .1 had rather go into the gaiden." .You would rather not have any one "*^" -^i, o amile— "I will leave She looked up with a Binile, that for you to decide." .Aa vou will do everything after th«, ■"8-" »You forget your prom«e. „It i, impo^ibk n,t .« do «. -Mo you „e„ n.e," he »id ..e^ly. He p.-*^ *«^^ totiehUn.other'^P'rfe"'"'""''"'''^ ta very beeoulng «o yo»." ^,„„„ heart latt«r looked ^^^^'^^ ^i^^^rful expression lass walking along ^vlth a very of countenance. „ |^ „We are d«>med to interrupUon. H^^PO „iay, but ,>U -e «s n«« *^ J^ ^ J ,,p»Ue„t. Wheu -^^;;7„„.^ ^ hour she said curiously: "I saw yo afillHiWMli M1B8I0N WORK. 463 n. any _"I will leave ex this, ^lildi-ed. J heart is passion- i I will he exact- so while you are aused ai the door her head. "That ,ttle between heart rcely. To her re- le garden she saw approaching. The hen she saw Doug- cheerful expression ptions." He spoke one the less veiy [dp reached them, a not half an hour ago looking the picture of distress; and now one could fancy you had some internal illumination, your face is so bright." "May it not be your fancy, or else the sun- shine which has ^vrought 'the miracle?" he said coolly. • She looked baffled, but ventured no further re- mark. By a little skillful manoeuvering on her part she secured Douglass, and left Mildred to wander beside Mrs. Everett among the flowers. Mrs. Everett was keen enough to discover ' that neither her son nor Mildred were just themselves, but did not for a moment guess at the true state of affairs. The day passed drearily enough for Mildred, although they had a delicious hour on the lake, and the pictures alone would have made her supremely content for at least a month amid her Dakotan solitudes; while Mrs. Everett carried her off, in the hour before dinner when the other guests were busy in their rooms over their toilets, to the library to exhibit her son's literarj- pi-oduc. tions. She only had time for a hasty glance at them; but even that was sufficient to reveal to her the fact that Paul had not exaggerated when speaking to her of his literary abUity. They had S«(i»SK< ■-gjgiJlSa?<iitwwA&i>i»K9l*«'*' %.. MILDRED KENT'S HERO. 464 . been lone in the dmwiug-room after dinner not been long ^^ ^^^ A ™ have had a surfeit of society M^y- lZ\Tl he re^ue,.^ »*, on going .nto '"^ rtf-haT t^ ;v?:!^«eUon, whe« give her her hat. »n »» ^^^^^ „„j The soft t..ts «^ >^^ 4^ the ,«>» looked *^^ "■: r^l T^ -loaded ett.er on down tenderly through tD . j^^^^ suns ,„ uttie pi«.e^ip -'^\:::;"\::^r„. <«e ^a systen,. ™ - -J ,„, „, ^,, , :: :Tunl:i: ^ seeded . «;j^ r. into the seat l^a. the rnan^on... 10^ „^y le», than her God. ^'"' i ^^^t to«^ the •■---trthrJ tilTit athed ""^ r ZtZ. A. the horse «lked offered to her that day. ^^^ Blowly through the perfumed an:, Doug to her and said : — "T RO. )m after dinner said lihe carriage shed her to slip sure to have an V we are going, ciety to^ay." L, on going into ag there consider- ■aas' command, to , directions wliere Mildred went out. jht were gradually ile the stars looked iclouded ether on ong the larger suns ry burdens ol care d full of perplexi- to Mildred, as she man whom she loved ,e turned her eyes n and stately against first time it flashed idid place had been , the horse walked air, Douglass turned MtaSION WORK. 465 "The day is done, now, Mildred, and my prom- ise is fulfilled. I want you t« tell me to-night when the hour wUl come that I can keep you at my side always." ^^ "I told you this morning all I could tell you, she murmered. "I shaU not take that answer. I have thought it all over. I liave thought of nothing else to-day I believe, and cannot permit two Uves to be wrecked bv a mere sentiment." ' " If you could be a missionary, I would go with you to Greenland, or to the lepers of Molokai, to the most desolate spot on earth, and it would seem like heaven to me, if you and duty went with me." She turned to him eagerly; the friendly night concealed the smUe her words provoked on his face. "I have not been called to that work. Every- one cannot be a missionary. The poor things would soon starve if everyone gave themselves up like you." "There is no danger of such a thing happening for some centuries," she said calmly. "You will be guided by your mother's decision, Mildred. Won't you consent to leave it with her?" MILDRED KEST^^ BEHO. a^d by her iu everything my conscience xviU allow. «^ tVina''" she cried, torture me thu« to be my wife? .Is it torture to urge yo ^^^ ^^^^^ • .ItiB when I must refuse. ^^^^^ ,^ai ...ndrne. inthad-na^mere^^^^^^^^^ have stifled my love for a^ ^^^^ ^^^,g those so dear to me, and Indians?" understand such self- «No, Mildred; I °*^°' reverence it. Some ..negation, but I can aam.r^;tj^^^^^,,,, day youi- mind may change, that blessed time^' ^^^^^, pe.haps " ^'^'"t^^ forget me, and be happy, - iu a few yea« you val f o ge ^^^ ^^^^^ -^^^^^^tii:°c;ri^«^e^---^^' ti-embled; plamly the pici ,vith ber heart's blood. ^^^^^ ^^^,^„ .Could you blame^^-; ,^ ,e smiled He spoke soberly. ^^^ "^ ^ ^ i,t. to himself under cover of tiie g ^^^^^ uNo." Her voice sounded like ai «^''''' f vears bence we may look back, -- uA score of years n« wiveenus, and you and I,-«* "'»«'"""""'* M MtaBION WORK. 467 a everytb'ng my bt, is it manly, to , be my ^fe'" Can you not under- re caprice, would I liigher culture, for ried myself among deretand such self- reverence it. Some and I >vill ^*^* ^°' Grassmere. Perhaps xtie, and be happy,— , woman Her voice sUe di-ew was tinged ^f I should forget?" not know he smiled he night. M like au echo among we may look back,-- „tineut bet^ee^ us. and with boys and girls waiting to enact these scenes over again, our well-loved partners at our side, and cailo «t the bitterness of to-day." «I will never be able to srnUe at it, Douglass. I shall never have any husband unless G^d gives you to me," she said with a sob. His only reply was to chisp passionately the hand that lay on her knee. The horse walked sedately along; Douglass probably had never driven so slowly over that road before, yet when they came into the busy, lighted street, it seemed but a moment since tiiey left Grassmere. "I brought old Roger on purpose, for he walks so slowly now ; but he has made good time to-night," he said, witii surprise not unmixed with vexation. He said good-bye at the gate, ujack Carver will be quite sure t« be there, and probably Mr. Felton and others," MUdred ex- plained, by way of apology for not inviting him m. •.: -., CHAPTER XXXV. AT WOEK AGAIN. , OUGLASS «»ne and .en., «M1. her mother, '""1 .U«ul f«=e, eeeonded h».«.t. -J ^ though .he s»ld very few words. M ■« J w he WW the lover's longing in ^ mysttfed; for he saw t ^ r^rvi^-ir-^J-rM^i^s . fortnight had p.»ed,^y « ^^ / _^^„^^ ^ ^«.n. hut none *- '«» r^^j^ k„^,„ D. to assume chwge of » sehooi kot*. MS AT WORK AGAIS. 4M LV. N. b, whUe her mother, onded his suit, al- few words. Paul lover's longing in ore plainly than in )rally cei-tain he waa rding to Mildred's no satisfaction by ended when scarce letter very politely mphatic, asking her d in Northern Dar uOh Mildred, this is bitter," her mother said, her habitual selfniontrol for the moment forsaking her "Surely, can God require such sacrifice from you -from Douglass? How can I let you go?" Mildred was silent. She never reasoned with any of them now; but the face, daily grow- ing whiter, revealed the conflict going on m her soul The sudden summons, in some respects, was a relief -she wa* glad to get back again to hard work, and away from temptation. The bitterest moment was when DougUss came to say good- bye. It was in the early mommg, and she was to leave that night. It chanced to be one of those dreary days we have sometimes even in the heart of summer. The wind was from the east, with sudden gust« that drove the rain fiercely agamst the >vindow.pane, while it moved like a spuit m pain. She met him at the door, dripping m his long mackintosh, his face wet with the rain he had faced from Gra^smere. He threw off his wet coat and turned, without waiting for her to lead the way, into the seldom-used parlor. « Oh do not go there," she cried, " it is too de*- olate." « No j)lace is desolate to me where you are, - 1 *'® V 1 .itv will be tlmt." Mad,.a. To.n.om>« the »^ol.j">';; ^,. ^„ He .tood looWng down « ^^_^ Do you remember, m. and girl then." thousand other kindne«e». Yet ^^^ ^^,, ;„ ^y^t She Wd her h«>d down ^ ^ ^^ a™. oJ uncontroUble «MP»g- ^„«. ,er iorUtude h.1 i'>"^\^. „„^h, Mildred, He laid his hand on l>e^"«^ ^.t," he .»W to is ««. .«.-»» "'» ' „„„ to the hnr- hoarsely. "I -^^ ■'°' "'t.T I « »°' *'"" dens J see yon have » • ^^^ ^^ ^,,y, yon snfieied like ">J«"- ^ a>e promise low, hui won't yon che« ». - , ^,^ *-''""C"Gr^.»elpyou-- *' ''°'* ^. rUtioes h. doe. not demand' ,„« are n>ak.ng s«.* , „ wk ""g"* H« it never o"""""* *" J°„ „y ^tfe. d>»n as an l« „ore helpful t»*^»/l,^„.. r- ohsenre teacher m *. ^^^^ ,„, j ^„„t „ OK y- » , w I feel honnd by ny ■»^''^\t'«Tte«aWidMwife,«.dyon promise, just «» « - 1 XT WORK AOAltt. m to. ty will be that." .a have been ^ay I came here. , were only boy . thousand other requited them?" ,e table in a burst ^a8 the first time in his presence. uHush, Mildred, the rest," be said , more to the bur- I did not think will say good-bye B with the promise , see you, and vrith ly help you to see , does not demand? that your work migbt my wife, tiutn as an of Dakota?" times; but I cannot I feel bound by my wedded wife, and you sued for the hand given to another. Sm<v God ZL g-l a right to expect a fulfillment of a • promiselsoneofus;butmaybemypu^sewai falter. God fo.^ve me, if I make a nusUUce. «You are forcing me to worship you, M^W-<1. by your heroism- your superb ideal of duty. ''slK«e, her calmness returning by a ^up.me effoHofwiU. « Our good-bye need not bo final. You may join me in my work some day. roTyou -y come to me." He stooped <lown and kJed her, the fi>.t lover's kiss that h^ ever pressed her lips; -^ ^^^ ^« TM^ went out into the storm -tbout speakmg aga.. She packed her trunk and got eve^ythmg m readings for the cab that was to come ^r her a six- some hours earlier than was neces^ry She wLtooresUesstosit quietly and talk to her ZZ or listen to Paul and Gx^e, who specu- ra^7;icK>mily on ..eimprol^bility of seeing b^^^ befoi/another three years had elapsed. Paul ^ Zed he might be well on in his coUege cou..e Tythat time; and if she should double her term he might have the nucleus of a family about Inm of his own raising. , ■ .1 am not going to follow your example and 47t 4„ mildr^:d r.nST'B mM. . 1 Folk- that get nianied, and do M live Bmgle. tok- t g^ ^ ^^^^ ^ the W mteuded a, m ^^^^^ .euHible," he remarked, m «'« ° * « f.irailv usually fftiw i"»*'- the one .»»« "f » '"""'f . , . 1„ ,„»«, force with «-'PV«-«'"""7*::,"'l.»dneverbe.o. „„. took po«e«>o.. ol l«r, ». j^ dUpo».l of l.er U-ggage "* ^^;",, „e knew ,VM DougK- who 7 ™7j°;':Hhe»e« the .he would he too «H« ^^ ^ „ the 1„„^ ot a ^-^^I.^'^Za to these seo- dWng«loon, !■» *»°^'^j^ ^„„y «„ tave .c „.d„y n.atje« ^™»^,«:;^,, ,he re,ne.t. oompanied her, but dared Wmd^tep, The whWe Uew, and, .to a^^W ^^^ he left her to pa» out .nto the A-k. ^.^ to Meet they knew no wh™, .t -^ ^^_^_^^^ the l«»ibmty of entu.ly changed™ _^ they look mto each other-, eyea aga.n. 11 0. lied, and do M ural M well as i-acular way that fulls into. , a rnei-e fai-co with had never before jt, — and through hing i-ain they said J ftt the sad-faced ,n the platfoi-m and talwart, fine-looking d attended to the rot her ticket. It 'for her. He knew to permit heraelf the regular meals in the ttend to these sec- vould fain have ac- make tlie request, r a long hand-clasp, le darkness and storm, n, if ever, and with nged i-elations should res again, for few hu- AT WORK AOAlH. „.„ Wng. «. true*»rt«l .nough U, hold, Om-ugh H .ho W on«ed our ,«.a.wy o,. ti» ftngen. of one hand. , Th«t journey U. th. W»t h«1ced the keen Je U„,,t of U,. other A. h«l ..ken only » «ort».ght , -^ -» «nt without itB consolations, before, but it was not witnoui lu. «.a f>,at she had conquered self, and The consciousness that sne nau i.u h .t the lo™ of >vh.t ^ d«>«.t on «nth, h.d.««l «nn»g.iu.tt.npUtion. brought it.i.«.rd. Wheft- „ the ^orifice ... wi« or no, mu.t be d.o.d«l by each ^cording to hi. light, but that .he deemed ; «> ».d 2 true, proved U»t .he .» ^oned „mething like the martyr, of our holy reUg-ou Tl>. journey ended, .he found her new home mo« de.ol.U than the tot. The »=hool had b«u o^y a short time ..taUiAed, and her P-P-^ "'"/'J" .The teacher placed m charge itable little mvagea. IM teacner p . . . ,„ Cd given up in deeper, leaving the a»>.tant to ^ige them alone untU another -Id >« -u-^ T „ txmiral frontier abode, with lew The house was a typical iroiiu« of the appliance, that tran«fon„ wood and mortar into a genuine home. The children ..a«d at her ^of^uriou. bh.k eye., taking m her person. 474 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. aUty little more intelligently than bo many well- U.i;.ed animals. The teacher came out to xneet her -a rosy-faced, bright-looking person, we 1 on m her thirties -whose eveiy gesture betokened the pi-actical, keen-witted business-woman, as devoid of sentiment or the higher types of enthusiasm a. a marble statue, but who could estimate the dol- lar's worth with perfect accuracy. She led the ^y tough the group of dusky faces to the room appointed for the principal of the school. ul tried to fix it up for you, but it looks bare enough at the best," she said, throwing open the door; and truly her woids described it« mtenor. A bed, a single wooden chair, yellow linen bUnds at the windows, and an unpainted wa^hstand; not even a strip of carpet to reUeve the coldness of the dingy floor. ul am surpiised so good-lookmg a girl aa you are should come here. Pretty girls can generally get their pick and choice of a home without burying themselves alive," was the next si^rtling remark^ Mildi-ed looked her surprise at the words. Do you not work here for something better liian a home or money?" she asked. ul teach in an Indian school because the pay AT WORK AOAIS. 475 RO. HI SO many well- ime out to meet person, well on resture betokened -woman, as devoid J of enthusiasm as estimate the dol- cy. She led the f faces to the room ne school. , but it looks bare throwing open the scribed its interior, yellow linen blinds ted washstand; not leve the coldness of kmg a girl as you iris can generally get (ne without burying :t startling remark, at the words. "Do ething better lihan a hool because the pay is good and the work not so difficult as among white children. I wouldn't stay hei-e alone with them from a sense of duty, I assure you. Miss Marks left because she got discouraged over their wickedness and stupidity. I told her we did not create them; and if they were a failui-e, it was not our fault. But she was a liigh-strung, hyster- ickey creature, with fine notions of duty and self-eacrifice. They are the kind tiiat break down easUy I find," she added, self-<3omplacently. «Yes, and they are the kind too that move the world," Mildred said, quite as calmly. uOh, well, it takes all kinds to complete the circle, and if I had been one of the shrieky kind you would not have found a school here. 1 have kept every one of them, and we have had lessons light along too; but I must go and see about your dinner. Those Indian girls are better at eating the food than preparing it." Mildred saw the door shut behind her loquacious assistant with reUef, and then exchanged her travel- stained garmente, putting on a pretty cambnc gown, -one of many gifts from Mrs. Everett dur- Tns her visit home. She resolved te be as partic ular about Lcr toilet as if her pupils had been of ;^.j ...,-*.^*^--»-' ' t .,- MILDRED KKST'8 HERO. , „- fViose who attended ^ ,li«cerninK class as those wi the same discerning ^^^ j^^^^ ^ted. WVule she toed to .WMA support natm. ™ta "er 7 ^^ jr/^,. 1 *^u m-ftteful for her moUiei » wib« better, she felt gmtef m knowledge of ing which liad included a thoroug ,„„ ,„.o» «ueh aw HU=h«. w«J ^^__^ _^^^ u-it is not always safe to juy le^ly moved f.»m *« *»"'=• »~^° " J ..outwent into »« --"^„^^^„, .„™ „I „»,e tried a>e ■=~k*°»*'^^'='' ;,^„ ^ „, the messes W been dr^«^; ^^^ j,,, I„di».» drew the line .t «°™.°' *' ,^ „„t ^ „re»»ed. I Wievo printed d^eotioM "» C^M o,. al«y»: *e«r.^»' »""'"'» * ,^^-^.. ...,^^-. ■•■■— ^"^^ "■ * \ RO. lose who attended dinner »he found tly prepared. Tlw tatoes soaked with liied up, instead of allow something to u^nds could provide mother's wise teach- ough knowledge of ,r," Miss Brand ex- take any pains; as , cooking, and I can't J was as ignoi-ant as r looks I don't expect ft work." , judge from appear- moredly, as she hope- unable to force any nwilling lips* ,oks lately, and some di-eadful. Even the me of the dishes I've directions ax-e not to is almost sui-e to be a 477 jlT WORK AGAIN. ,,e .oat .com,., -ip- B-'*''«»-Tr': hetuv .tor to. Ml .e beg,u no. _ A^ - .„ »t p«»e„t con.tHu.e.1, «ho.e»n,e W to the tody i. even mo« nece»».y th»n mentJ ood. '^'l gave fl.e »chol«s . holiday, and »nt hen. o« to It g«nes, except the older girl, v-ho help I Tk-Cen, thinking you .onld want U> r^ and have the ho.»e qniet after your jom^y^ „Y„u are very thoughtful, but I *«'' f J^^ U,e .^t I need superintending some ooo^g °P« .i„n. I would noon stM've on that diet •"^Zy Lt - work h. good ear^e-t-the Ind^n g^rdlviding their «dn...>g g.-e» ~J^ Lw .«aoher'» beautMul appoaianoe and deft hand. S An appetizing «lor «H,n pervaded th r^tn whUe huge hatches of l^ we., beg..." 'w ^ ri» hollfully in the kneeling tray^ nrng to r _ Mild.«d, who regarded etched over carefully by Muo.^ toead ju-t now as her main staff of 1. e Wate. !rJeanwhile heated, and relays of g.rU set to HZ closet, «.daoo™, and the house geue. aUy. 478 MILDRED KEST'S HERO. «.id «r»logetioany to Mi« B»ad, ",.h» lie hou«. one lives in to perfectly clean." Mi» B»nd smUed grimly. S«cl. gomgs on vre,e . TeT Ph.«. of mto,ion-»ork in her expenenee ;:Jonly.«.U-nd..Hto.MU^^^^^^^^^ Udv's ideal of activity was of the pui-eiy ^;ind._.l,en.ecl»nicMt»k.inU,eholdn^.u her estimation a very «K=ond.,-y place A au»^t, I the bov8 and gi.l« ^cro »»»emUed for plKy- : M^ooUed I the well-w,.hed .ae», and Z at the clean .^.m, a, .he took hevpl.ce at rdbinet organ to l««l the singing, and ,™ su. jLd at tUe fndden content that W taken poa- session of Ixer lieait. - I [ERO. Batisfied," Mildi-ed "when the house uch goings on were in her experience. ,8 Marks, and that tlxe pui-ely intellec- ts in life holding in r place. At sunset, assembled for pmy- ll-washed faces, and 5 took her place at singing, and was sur- that liad taken pos- CHAPTER XXXVI. IN BXTBBMIS. ^ELL-COOKED food, a well-ordered home, and a firm, steady hand, soon reduced the nrfi-actoiy school to submission. For the fii^t few weeks, however, Mildx-ed was kept so busy she could scarcely snatch time for a humed letter home, or a moment's indulgence for her fa- vorite pu«uit«; but U.ere was :.st - forget^ulness in this ceaseless activity that brought a healthy glow to the white face, and a moi-e peaceful look out of the troubled eyes. The early froste soon foreshadowed the bitter win- tor that was stealthily approaching. With no stronger arm than her own to lean on, MUdred -^ umlWdreaded the cold and storms ; but she fortified 480 *^''^*'''' '^'''"'' "'"''' *>ia+ she would only house, eh. B«d, «^ ^ ^,j^, ttau out, te the ve^ g^ .^^ ^^ ^^ ^ „ork m the early ^ ^^_^j„^, j^, hou«, quite up «» *« * „,^„ ,^^,ere t^t. «hile the vanters '"^ »" ^yi a„ Ap.1 .Uies would he^*»^.^^^^„^^^„ The lad, o-teredhe^^ly-nto P ^^ ^ ^ ^u^ly «.- epec^ t».t at ^^^.__^ W day'. -oA; whJe .t«ly ,„ «* ".-« -* .^':,„t^eas«,t ae the parties eh« those evenmg. vrere m P toVemout. B-f '"*"' „,„ moments of tot each day brought, there _ heart-loueliue* that these were powe.le» 1ER0. t she would only k time, though in thei-e might be a piled into one. the hai-dshipB of the *t teiTifying. The shell; and after a J indoors was better jason that the drifts ,t the larger boys to ing eai-th around the iows, to exclude the and other stores were tie^to last until the r tenderly above them. » her plans; for there jat at the close of a budy for that evening spent in story-telling, .rthaBi-andused to de- s pleasant as the parties ^, in her native village the stirring activities here were momenta of were powerless to cora- JS EXTREMIS. *®^ fort, when the question, ever unanswei^, if the way Mildred had chosen was the one God meant for her, would present iteelf. Like a tiirobbing pain that no remedy can reach, the perplexing tixought kept repeating itself : Was it required of her to stifle the craving for a fuller knowledge of ait, for a higher culture, and more than this, tiie one supreme passion of her life, and live amid tiie wUds of Dakota, a death in life so far as what she craved most of earthly good was con- cemed? But she held steadily to duty as she read ite page, hoping sometime to findherlife had not been marred by her own blindness, as to what truly was God's purposes toward her. The days grew shorter. Christmas came and went, which she worked hard to make very joyous to the children, who were now dimly comprehend- ing the meaning of the Christmas celebrations. After that tiiey settied down to the uphill task of nurturing mind and body, tiirough tiie storms and cold— a very difficult thing to do; for tiie frost had so many crannies at which to fi-eely enter, that the sohooUhildren found it nearly as much as they couU do to keep their bodies from sufEeiing, Avith- out paying much attention to tiieir mental out- fitting. — - 1 f"" "buT^tpt cheerful «.d content Sh. facturea, but *. m ^„„,, ^ «„ v«jr -^eU «.t»««l «'"' ^,^ J her I«y « 'he «.»» ^-^^ _^,^ „, ^ OTrd to d»a., «>d the remo He. U.e h«i heen e.ng«h^ly ft« ft ^^_^ tad, thu. ta ^» rit^aon, taken .. -r M «. .te«Uly inc«»»ng now, the on. The cold «. ."""y ^^^^ yjj^,^ t.i^ -err.: : -^o^ .Lu. - ^ '*™'^ .K ,t rchUdrwe« taken .udde^ ■*« ""»*« °* ^t, ta eoch c»e being e^oUy rim- ly ai — the symptoms in e«cn c JN ^XTBEMIB. 4M BRO. iVie pel-son out ol could be mftnu- and content. She r salaiy, whicli waa [or; ftud so »Ue got dthout looking foiv tote reward* of au npenae. ^ free from ronuince, year of her savings b exciting and fasci- t situation, taken as portunities to further 1 with her environ- reasing now, the one eeding bitterness being ore intense, since th« me, and the »un h»A d journey towards the coui»ge was just be- fancied the woi-st ex- paased away, when one en wei-e taken sudden- ly case being exactly sim- ilar. She applied the simple I'emediea with which the medicine chest was supplied for colds and the usual ailments of the young, but found them unavailing. lu her extremity she de- spa^'hed one of the few well h«Js after the near- est physician, who lived some six or seven miles away. He came, and as Mildred accomi^med him fi..m cot to cot in the long, chUly domi- tory, his face became veiy giBve. She asked at last what w.« wrong. His reply was very bnef, .. Measles." She shuddei-ed, knowing so well what that meant for her dark-skinned boys and girb. A stove was set up in both the boys' and girls dor- mitories, and blazing fii^ kept buitung, while the doctor st»id with them all night; and it chanced to be one of the seveiest of the the season. A^ the wind howled, and the stoi-m laged wildly, Mil- dred could not help smiling at herself for feehng so safe amid the fmy of the elements fmm the mei^ fact of bavin strong man in the house. The doctor left her ai the early dawn with the premise to return as soon as possible, and cairyuig with him a telegmm to the neai-est mission^taUon whei-e help would be likely to be avaiUUe, begging for help. But it was two days before he wtui-ned, -K. 484 ^^ MILltRKD KENT'S HKRO. other a«U.. l.n,«»tively denu«.<tog to !«"■>«• When l.e enW^l '!■« >•»•»» *■« "«"* °™' °.t tanU,.. him, while -tiU other. -" ''^'W'"* Tt ^ d«.th agony. Mildred'- 1^ « .!» "-•« h-™ «' "^ d<K.r of *e girW domutory, .«ra«l hun w.th *^ look ol mi«.ry. -"rhey are .U gomg to d^e. I W Ueve," .he murmared hop.le»ly. "I •» »'™* !;lph;herialu»«t in, their thro.W.r.«h.te«.d ™fw7r remedies are you n-ngr the doctor ^kA more t» turn her thought, into ^loAer ehan- :!;tL with the .>cp«=..«on that *e had been erappling with the terrible di«.« he.»U. T[ tav. been burning bri».ton. ««l Mowng .ulphur into their thr<«t., M.dwia> t>»»««5«'0J Jd a g«gl. very frequenUy. and I g.ve br^n^ and berf teain a. h«ge qu«>t.t.e. a. c«. foree r»n .hem I have been afraid of making dmnk- Z. of my boy., in »» the, get over thi^" ^ «ad with a pitiful .mUe. „D„ you tod Mi«. Brand a good nu«7 ..She h«. not been in the room. W.4 ft. '^ ^ fte evening after you were here. She » afra.d of the diphtheria." . . ,„ „How do ftey get on while you are deepmg? MMMHMW mam •■«■ T IS EXTREMIS. 485 » HKKO. nding his presence, iree rigid forms ooiif rare straggling in the M she met him at the jtartled him with its U going to die, I he- asly. "I »*n afraid hroats are white and using?" the doctor fhts into another chan- ,n that she had heen igease herself, irimstone and blowing id with the larger ones y, and I give brandy untitles as I can force xaid of making drunk- ley get over this," she 1 a good nurse?" he rooms with the sick vrere here. She is afraid rhile you are sleeping?" «I am not conscious of having slept since you left; but they have died in spite of all my care, she moaned bitterly. The doctor turned and examined the throat of the nearest girl. , ,. i... • a«, uit is one of the worst types of diphthena Are you not afraid?" he whispered, so. that the chddren could not hear. "Yes." . . «?" "What will you do, -leave here at once? .Not unless death releases me until competent nurses come," she said with grieved surprise that he should judge her so lightly. ulf I assure you that by remaining m this putnd air in your present exhausted state, your life is al- most sure to be the forfeit-what then?" .If you will stay to-night I will gladly rest and sleep; but I shall certainly not leave ^ ^^^^^ ened, suffering children to meet d«*^^ *^7 . J^^ spoke calmly, the weary, sad face turned pitifully towards a little child struggUng in the agony of death by suffocation. .Then T shall most assuredly remain. Go and tell Miss Brand to warm your bed and get a hot fire started in your room, -or stay, I wUl gxve my 4ge ir/AMM xejvra hero. ,, . ..;«iv — "without doubt ,„„ „o«W OK-ute them y"-"- «^f ^ ,„^ tal history. i^^ deli- „i „.™.h jd P« y^^ ^^^ ^^^„^ ,^ , *» '«>""• .*^r sh. WM doing her be.1 here *. „vy cheerfully. Sh.J»" J Mttdred gh».eed .,„„efor.hor«o,»ng^l««he_^^^^ ^ .^ .t the i.ict»«» ^ *« "" „„a .11 ih. „*er ™„.e,, her ovrn mother, !»'«"'• " „ ^ thought, When «ould. he greet th«» g- e,er, on the«, e«thly ehore. ^,_^^ She h«i not written -> ^^^y^^^^ ^-<^ """'*.,""? n! B^d «a. etching her. her «'»'=«;/'!™^ mother .nd let her uYou should write to yom HERO. y »4 without doubt 4011. Besides, I mu«t d. I uhall be ioroed ger." little creature'* »ido tiful liftnda for bor It was an hour bo- w struggle was ended liad begun iU immoiv ,r own room, its dell- kde it seem next thing there, busUing about loing her best hew to ,here. Mildred glanced m Gi-atwroe'* ^^^ ^** .rtrait, and all the other i filled her eyes as she , greet them aU again, if «? v xer mother since the sick- l the anxiety such tidings ey would be wondering at «nd was watching her. jrour mother and let her IN KXTKKMIM. •" b. pr.p««l i.> c« »' ^ •"'""•" "'" ■*"' "Twe M !«>" nvmy thing, undon. U»t w. for th.m to l.«.r fn.™ .tn.»B«" «"' 5"" "'™ d..d, .nd th.y not knowing that you *.« even "ti ,m not .iok, only d,»df»Uy Ured," «. ..1 know that, .nd if you'll g.t rigl" i"""*"* ni bring you . W ot hot br«.dy ».d w...r. The doctor ori.r.d m. to give it I" y<-»- ..y, on, poi«.n kill, .notheri «.d b™ndy » on, ot the be.t poiwn. for diphthoru.. .1 have not got th. diphth,ri.," MddK^ ««d. looking .lightly »lann«i. , ..M.yb, not, hut h, «y. yo" .y..«m mu.t l«, in,pr.gn..«l ^^ it «» •»- «"-" »" h.v, b«,n in that dr»dful "'«'"?'-"" ."'Zd ul „iU trf« my poi«n ^-^ay .hen," Mddrod «ad with . .nul,. Her comp^^on left th, room "prp^e it, «b,n Mildr«l k„,lt .t h,r W..de, X in prayer th, oon.ol.tion only G^ - gi„. W J M«th« Bn.nd r,tum«l wth h« t 488 MILDRED KESra HERO. Licine. *e found her p.Uont l™*";* '^ .„d very weary, but with eouutenanoe .. autroulW as a child's. , „V„„ do beat anyone I ever knew for keep^ i„g up under trouble, really you look qmte hap- ^^:rer'; look otherw^e while InOod. Ueepin^r- She .poke «.My. «.d more to hereeU than to her companion. , i„ it . Your religion i. different tan. n.oet P«>Pl"- " A T>iprfl is more diner- seems i-eally to do you good. There m ence in religion than anything I know of. ence ^" » medicine, and turning on her Mildred drank ^er medicine ^ pillow, was sound asleep before Miss « left the room. rr.^ She awakened wi* a ..«t and 1«>^«*2bI^1 ^„ wae flooded with eunehine, and Martha Br«.d ""llCveT'e been .alee." ahe »id with a '^"oltu Have, fo— «- hour. - the longest nL I ever watched over before .n n.y life." uTs it another day?" ^ .;ye.,andwellon.odinner.tin>e. I wa. gett"* tS EXTXEMIB. 489 HERO. lent looking white mance as untroubled ver knew for keep- you look quite hap- yise while in God's and more to herself rom most people's. It There is more difEer- ^g I know of." le, and turning on her fore Miss Brand had t and looked up. The hine, and Martha.Brand sleep," she said with a about fifteen hours — ched over before in my iner-time. I was getting uneasy about you; and besides, the doctor wants to leave; and those poor little Indians are dying off like so many sick chickens. He says they mustn't be left alone any longer than can be pos- sibly helped." . u I will be there dii-ectly," Mildred said, nsing so hastUy that she turned dizzy and faint. uDear mel if you get sick what will become of us all?" her companion said dolefully. "The Lord will provide." u Maybe so. Any way, its high time provision was made fi^m some quarter. I've written to your „.other, and a dismal letter I made of it ; for just as I was beginning it, late last night, the doctor came in and said two more were dead." "I believe you meant it kindly, but I am very sorry that you wrote, my mother wUl be in such distress." -^ uThey will be prepared for 'most anything after they get my letter, and worse news won't come BO hard on them," was the reply, very cheerfully jriven. , , "You are incorrigible," MUdred murmured, and and then ceased the argument; while she rapidly completed her toilet and hastened to the doctors 490 MILDRED KEHTS HEM. ^Uy ,» the Utoheu or ^ ^^ ^^ When it was eaten, sbe was ag*"* the sick and dying- BERO. as to know which aped to the higher e sent her back di- txe breakfast Martha 18 to make palatable, again left alone with CHAPTER XXXV^II. HBSLP AT LAST. NOTHER sad day and night for Mildred and her sick ones passed slowly away, and _ when the doctor came the following day, he found five more still forms among his littie patients. Martha Brand, who ventured no farther now in the stricken house than the dining-room, beckoned him in by the back way. Her usually contented face was getting haggard and terror-stricken. She told him how busy death had been there in his absence, and then with more cheerfuhiess added: "One good thing. Miss Kent will be able to lay back soon, and rest, even if they don't send nurses, for they'll all be dead." 492 MILDRED KENT'S HERO. uAre none of them convalescent yet?" the doc- tor asked. u Well, yes ; she did call t« me through the door this morning that she thought four of them were out of danger now." "Why did she talk through the door? "Well, you see, I am getting scared of her, - one can't be too careful whei« one's life is con- cemed, ite all we have, and those children are nothing to me, now are they?" , , _,, Thus appealed to, the doctor said shortly, .It seems not." He left directly, after giving or- ders to have MUdred's room warmed at once, as he intended remaining in order to give her some rest. i_ When the hour came just at night^fall to waken her, his heart smote him; for she was sleeping so Boundly, he had difficulty in arousing her. He spoke encouragingly when she joined hmi in the girl's dormitory. .There wiU certainly be nurses here by to-mor- row," he said, "I sent a telegram again yesterday more peremptory than the first." ^ ul am not sure that I can endure the stram „,ore than Another night. My brain feels strange- ly," Mildred replied. leRO. mt yet?" the doc- e through the door 'our of them were the door?" ig scared of her, — , one's life is con- those children are actor said shortly, tly, after giving or- warmed at once, as ir to pve her some t night-fall to waken she was sleeping so urousing her. len she joined him in irses here by to-mor- gram again yesterday St." an endure the strain [y brain feels strange- BELT AT LAST. 493 uYour throat is not sore?" he asked anxiously. ulTiere is nothing wrong with me but loss of Bleep, and the strkin of overwork and anxiety. You cannot imagine how dreadful it U for me to be alone with the dying. I never realized what death was until the h«t few days." She shud- dered. u * •* t "It is bitter leaving you here alone. But if i stay another life may be sacrificed. What do you advise ? " ,, uOne must do their duty at whatever cost There was a quiver of pain about the lips tfiat still spoke bravely, but he could not know how she longed to have him remain through the night. "If I had not given my promise I should run the risk and stay. It seema as much my duty to be here as anywhere." He stood irresolute. "Is it a littte child whose life w in danger? "No, a woman's — a mother's." "That decides,-her necessity is greater than mine." , "Tliank you I" The doctor said no more, but left abruptly. The night was intensely cold, to keep the fires MILDRED KEST'B HERO. baring would have .lone given .uffleient e«n>n« I » average won»n; but in '^^ ^J" ^r^t attention that the very ..ek r-i^^fZ U performed by two tired h«>ds. When the ^orTng b^k. and the .un .hone Wb% -- a. .tiS, white prairiee, .he tried to f»» *« t^ke „, another day. but her atreng* wa. «■ w-^ <^ ,he reali^ « ^P -" "°' '°°; '"■;l«r Z „uet Buffer for the care she could no lou^r P"^ The two Urgeat boy, in the «bool. and the m«t aifflcult to control, ahe hdieved were mp^y «^ Zlung Ae chiU river. Ve.7 aUently liey h«l ^rworde Tahe h«i urged *eu> «« /"k *« Jrd She felt an anxiety .or theee Ud. such a, rid not experienced .or the others whom she b^ieved were either .00 young U> be accoun^ble riir -■ or who had given her com.o*ng evidence be.or. they died that they we« ready Z the great change. Every sp«e —.-«<'; t:tedJth.m. Their coia stood s^^ by »^ ,he could conver«, with them together. Tovmrfs truing .a she was pleading witb .hem, one o. the 1^ u,urmured. "What are you oryng for? „For grief to think you must «. «K,n die and cannot enter heaven." - ^ HERO. a sufficient exercine , addition was the sick require, all to hands. When the aone brighUy across ed to face the tasks th was so wasted that soon sent, the sick ■ould no longer give, jchool, and the most ved were rapidly ap- 5ry silently they had olid faces listened to d them to seek the or these lads such as the others whom she ing to be accountable given her comforting that they were ready f spare moment was de- stood side by side, and jm together. Towards J with them, one of the e you crying for?" must so soon die and HELP AT LABT. 495 iil would go there if I could; I don't want to go to hell." His face worked convulsively. She opened her Bible and read the story of the thief on Calvary who in his hour of mortal agony asked for a place in Paradise, and his prayer was grant- ed; then with a few words of entreaty and coun- sel she turned to still further promises to sinners such as they, ending with that most gracious promise of all, — " God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever be- lieveth in Him should not perish, but have ever- lasting life." "I have been praying for a good while, but I don't seem to feel any difference," he murmured huskily; "long before I got sick." "So have I." the other lad said, with equal earnestness. "I believe if you will tell God out aloud just what you want, He will answer your prayer. You have been ashamed to let us know you were seek- ing Him ; and He does not hear such prayers." The hoarse muffled voice was raised as clearly as disease and wasted strength would permit, ask- ing for pardon and a place with God in heaven," while Mildred on her knees at his bedside softiy 496 ^'^^**^ '^^^^'^ '^''^' .* A. to her Father in heaven for sobbed her gratitude to her answering her prayers. _ .Teacher, I do believe ihe Lord hea« yj^ , n,at he will take me to be with Hvm ng er, and tl«t he wu ^^^ ^^^^ ^f ,,ay. ««-";^\'t^ryou get there. I won t it is years and year^ be^ y J ^ ^ ^^^ forget, never, never. His voi .Msp^r but his face w« «^ • ^^^^^ ^,^ ul shall remember to look *<^ ^ j ^^ ^„ Ma. .a >-'^^ j^^rrr HOW U«»ea eoontry when God •»*" , chrtot L .nd learned 1.0 to love h^l S a.e hair h«ok fcom the cold, aamp brow movement of the IM y,,^ ^,. at^ntiou. She t.rn«l ; ^<2,\^ ^ ^^, o. ™bively. but aeafli w». too ne« ^ >" ^ ^ -Won-t you •^/-'^r^^La ChrUt, .v„t soon ..art on *at long ^nme^^ _^ a.. Lord Je.n., to b=" ^* ""' ""^ .^. - 1 HELP AT LAST. IVI EBO. ther in heaven for )rd hears my p«y- , be with Him right etching for you, if L get there. I won t ce died to a mere at. for you among the 8tUl waters of the kes me there. How we learned of Christ l^iml" She stroked damp brow whereon J. u gave up your happy aians and teach us of up at her as she stood Lewy eyes. A resUess other cot arrested her face was working con- j near him to permit of K>k to Christ? You too ag journey, and Christ, Ith us, waiting to make vou his chUd." Sh« spoke with an eagerness only those can understand who have stood by a soul unsaved in the moment of death. u Won't you pray for me ?" He turned his eye. imploringly to MUdred. When her prayer was ended, he added a few broken petitions of his own, a gkd Ught shimng through his eyes as she arose and looked down at him. -I don't think Peter will have to go alone to that lovely place. I shall be with him," the poor, trembling lipe murmured. ''How good you iTve been to us 1 But the Lord, I think, loves me more even than you do; how I want to see Him and thank Himl I wish I'd found it out before. I might have helped you so much; but now it is too late." , , « Never mind," Peter whispered, "there wiU be tame by.md4,y to show how much we love her -in the green fields," he murmured ^^^^^yj^^ death was fast settling down upon him. He passed away first; afterward his companion followed hm peacefully, under the guidance possibly of some splendid seraph who, no doubt, bore the untutored gpirit of the Indian hid with equal delight as if it had been the Queen of England, passing on to »• earthly shores. ^^ ^ome, '"'°''**itln^oT«.o*„ night. Bleep - '»•' Tt ZL^' -*"='- " g„„ upon her that « *. n^t .o ^ ^^^^^ overcom., .nd *« « ^^^ ^ j^ p«t.d Bu. .t nin. o dock ^J g ^^^ ^„ ^„ „, her. No .tram of -»"»■"*• ^j „„m„oni.taco Wl ,»ch Wcom. harmony^ « t ^^ ^^ went to the door, h"* M"*'^ ^^^ .trough cai.. »w her conducttng two u™ her. She »» _^, ^^ mefc.„ fir.. Mildred returned to her on rg. _^^ .U« a very natural *«°".*° '°1* a,em «*e.»^ i„lw.oh«..nd.«»t«^^g^*;^_^,^^^ „en... Their t«v^r-nk>ng o«,up ^^ ^ „a then *«^ 7;;^;:; „ Zy looked ,„„«n, with » world of »^^J .^^., h., at fl>. lac of the teav. g"l ^ho h«i t mth .uch MU«onfee. ■.'^pi*ifc" HELP -AT LABT, 4M lERO. ver Been on these 10 help had come, jrror, Mildred f«wed ather night. g her. While «he . iniBter medicine or Bleep; and the fear rht wore on, and sleep ^e would he utterly without fire or care, of sleigh-hells greeted , ever fell on her ear aa that common-place the frosty air. She ,ha Brand was hefore ,g two hidies through mth of the kitehen fire. ,rge, meanwhile repres- ^ join the new arrivals , getting ihem refresh- occupied hut a short to her, kindly, helpful ympaOiy as they looked ^rl who had stood at her She took them from cot to cot, explaining the requirements of each child, although her eyelids drooped heavily and her limbs almost refused to obey the behests of her resolute will, untU every direction was given, when, with a glad good-night, she went to her room. Such a sleep -sound, dreamless, as she had that night, would surely knit up many a "ravelled edge" of care and wean- aesB. CHAPTER XXXVIII. WBLOOHK SEWS. ARTHA BRAND'S letter reaohed it« dee- UmUon too Ute in the evening for Mr,.. -u- Kent to do «.ything in the matter but Ue a«*e through the .Ueno. of the long night ««d aank .bout her chad, «.d the danger to wWb Ae ™. expo.ed,-her only rehe! a""!*"*^ ImJ^ing 7her care to God. At day^wn -he rTd fof On«.mere. In.tin.Uvely .he turned to Tgl- Bverett, knowing that her trouU^wou^ ^o be hi.. She found the long walk after h« deepl«« night w»»yingi but the «r ™ mvigo. ^^"bile the beauty of a bright morning even rt city, «.»*.. un coming up from hun- ted and caeting hi. roey bean^ on cloud form, o. BOO T [XXVIII. NEWS. S letter reached ita dea- in the evening for Mrs. thing in the matter but ice of the long night and ,d the danger to which ,nly relief the repeated God. At day-dawn she Btinctively she turned to g that her trouble would the long walk aft«r her but the air was invigoi- ,f a bright morning even coming up from his a*ure beams on cloud form, or WELCOMK NEWB. hill and valley, or projecting long shadows of t«es and houses across the path, had more of comfort for her than the faces of average acquaintances. When she reached Grassmere she rang the bell timidly, only just recollecting that probably both Mrs. Everett and Douglass might be still fast asleep. She had only a few seconds to be troubled on the subject, for the door was thrown oi,en and Douglass himself stood before her: ''I aaw you coming. Have you bad news for me?" She gave lum the letter, and then sank mto an easy chair that stood near the door -her heart Bomehow comforted by the look of pain on his face He crushed the letter in his iiand, as he turned to her, saying: ^^ shall start for Dakota immediately. WiU you give me authority to bnng Mildred home with me?" ,.,,..* ». Yes, it is time some one interfered, if she is to be saved from martyrdom," Mr.. Kent said, with a catehing of tiie breath. Tlie fear was growing upon her that they might already be too late. "Will you come to the Ubrary and write her a few lines whUe I am getting ready?" he asked. uMy mother has not yet come down stairs. She arose and followed him silentty. He hastily 502 UILDnED KENT'S BERO. L returned, a taU-ho»r later, the letter * *'"aTttuVu oan^e . early," he »id. "With 1 h^^ I can oateh the t™in, thereby saving R little nasxe i camajre is wait- sevex^l hours on my ^o-^^'.^^;^^,' home ing; if you come with me, it wiU teke y after I get to the station." ^ Th«v entered the carnage, when the noises They enwr« v«.Telv reachmg the zrr ho- - ^'^ -'"""' '""''^ terry Street |^_^^ ^j ^to '"•"rCwLd'ortidinga. AndU^ea . days, whde they w ^^^^ ^_^^ ^^. a» B«« «»» ° 1 W»um raa^ys. What « "*" "'/"^ Ir^^«iI,r»«eriBg «.h eold, aad Mildred «.» *;'«*"* ^,i,^ g„. atooet »»- p.,h.v« >>"'^; ^ryeCeirpeean-ewithit. parable, «.d then the ^_^_^^^ be«. the Woom. «• " -T^, Hon>. by .«.n>orrow ^^y r"M„ Xnt re^l the «rd. over ».d r'llel'o^t^-^-^-^'"^*""''^' 8 BERO. ind ihen left. When ,r, the letter was writ- ,arly," he said. "With ,e train, thereby saving The carriage is wait- it wiU take you home B, when the horses were ,ed, barely reaching the jump on board the mov- was turned, and the ren slowly towards Mul- at the hours crept into for tidings I And then f storm with huge block- stem raUways. What if suffering with cold, and mxiety grew almost un- Llow envelope came with its id,— "Mildred bears the , ^h home by to-morrow ^d the words over and kfulness dropped unheeded; WELCOME NEWB. m and then she arose with a very glad heart, and began the preparations for Mildred's homeKsoming. Paul looked on with a mixture of approval and surprise, but at last he remonstrated over the lavish out- lay. " If Mildred was returning from a starvation trip in search of the North Pole, she could't begin to eat her share of all these good things." "I ean't help doing it, besides, there are plenty to enjoy what she leaves. I want my mission- class to share in our rejoicings." "That will do very well; but as for Mildred, if she has Douglass at her side, she wiU be willing to give her share of the dainties to any one that wants them." His mother smUed a Uttle sadly. "Was Paul's conjecture correct, or was Mildred so unlike woman- kind in general that her heart had only room for duty and God? If so, was there cause for regret? For what is grander for any soul than entire con- secration to the Infinite and Eternal?" Still tiiere was the natural longing to have this strong^ouled giri near, to rest on in hours of weakness, to comfort in tiie pain that soon or late is the inevitable lot of all. 50^ MILDRED KEtiT^8 HKRO. „fme Do«glM» Evewtt th« ««>d<1 »»» do. She U not Uke ft. rest of .», «» a„t but ,«oriy »«ed A. W. ^ „„. „I doubt if there «. . do»n g« * i;ir« h«r It seems a pity sne "»— toent bke hen ^ ___^^ ^^j_^^ ,,^g pened along m the <u>y» . Toung girU to the "»- ^"^„*f „^„ have lenient eon«ienoe, ^^'^ .^l^, ^,e .»...» enjoyed Oei-* --^'^''^^^^ ,,,« her heart her .11 the »K.«r to fl« h«v_ ^^ ^„„ to be n-oet o, u..^™.e^ ^_^ ^^ „, ^...derabl, «««™- H^-^ f , «"^ "» worldUness that by ngn *^^,,,__ged the com- U«, neither o. their "^"^J^^^ life quite enjoyaUc. Hb """■ ^io fwtAUing "*-* ^rio';:"^* ^ -"--^ " enow, and hoprng ^^i^. ^tem road, that Mda«dJ» ^^ '■^ ""t: :°;e t^^* chapter of John', you open It to tne j^ j^^ Gospel, and read the twen^-fifti. vers, been haunting me for days. /^ *8 EEBO. ai be SO insane as to second time?" Paul •ture what Mildred will t of us," was ^^ reply lad. lozen girls on this con- , pity she hadn't hap- len men enjoyed feeding «cauBe they had incon- red would rather have xce it would have token heaven where her heart ^\me." Paul spoke with le had got the share of belonged t« Mildred, so meters possessed the com- Ubrium that makes life ,iher was silent, whUe he y watohing the fast^falling 'it might not llock the ^ was then <^««^"8- B stend heside you. WiU twelfth chapter of Johns ,wenty.fifth verse? It has lays." WELCOME SEWB. W* Paul complied with his mother's request, and read, a little solemnly, the words: " 'He that loveth his life shaU lose it; and he that hateth his life in this world shaU keep it unto life eternal.' It means soul as well as life," he f-aid eagerly. «MUdred comprehends its true meaning, my son. I am not sui« if she is not wiser than any of us." ♦'You won't encourage her in the belief?" Paul asked anxiously. "No; but I shaU ask God to direct her." Paul sighed heavUy. It seemed to him a foolish thing to be living in one world, and yet to such an extreme degree to parteke of the spirit of an- other world diametrically opposed to it. ■'' is CHAPTER XXXIX. «»« Bliininir brillianUy Marto Bnmd look«l m a,^t.tmg ""' f^rt«? .xh.»«ted deeper ^ »^»- i-E. ''O— •" ""/^^^^^l white hrow, U,e heavy »«»» of h^ ^^ , ^^^y. .poke ».ve»l timee beto« *» ^^^ The blue eyes opened ai lot " BO* f^ txxix. ^as shining briUiantly ^aste, althougli the cold m was so intense that curtained by frost nearly , cautiously, and with a £ the plague devastating Msumed visible form and The regular breathing of bed sleeper ^ w««^ ped boldly in and tting X from the white brow, re she received a reply. , laat in a mystified way; TBE END. 607 but the look of recognition quickly came into ihem, followed as suddenly by one of anxiety. " Do the children need me?" she asked, with alarm. .. Oh no, but there's a young man down stairs as impatient to see you as I've seen any one this many a day." "Who is it?" "Well, he's kind of stem like, and I didn't ask him his name; but he's going to take you right away as soon as we can get his breakfast. He saj's your mother has sent for you." "It must be my brotiier Paul," Mildred said, as she proceeded hurridly with her toUet, while she shivered with the cold. "Brothers as a rule don't seem so impatient to see their sisters, and so masterful about them; but I guess you are a queer famUy anyway," Martha Brand said dryly, while she rendered what assist- ance was in her power. "I'd have made a fire before I called you; but that young man was m such a hurry to see for himself that you were aUve and well, I hadn't the heart to keep him waiting. He's very good-looking, but I'm not surprised at that, for good looks run in some families the same as consumption." 608 MILDRED KEST'8 HERO. lp.u, m».t have changed very much ™» h-t .ummer. « he i. very good-lookmg no., Mddred remarked, irith some surpnee. „M.yh. it. the contrast, for *•■»»'»"";; ^ he.; are meetly an ordimuy-lootang «.t. No« see nere «« „™„or« It's cold enough aon-t Wt to eay yonr P™^- » „„ ^ here to give you your daa* and^ of making a martyr of yourself. Ihe Mra Mildred smiled at her companrons odd .^ ^peaking ahout the Lord, «hile a -^ — ^^^ fLug crept into her heart, m sp..« of at finding herself once more --*'"'. „I.U go right down and see »'>"»'*"'"**?"' ; «ith vour brother that drove him There's a man with jour o i,_Jda8t fronr the station. We must get some hre.M«t 1 « » tVifire'a not ft decent trung f„r.hem;bnt,dearme. the^sn ^__^^ ^ i„ the house for them to eat If y ^^ the ki.hen after you've^ et h.m J^e ^^^ ^^^ you, and give me a band. i with light^biscuitB and beef-steak. ^^ .1 will be there in a few minutes. Max.ha B W left the room lookmg much r. V A and MUdied went down stairs. Opening ttJ l^she saw standing by the farthest /■ THE END. m HERO. rery much since last 3king now," Mildred ar the men folks we ny-looking set. Now rs. It's cold enough , and there's no need I. The Lord wouldn't i room, Yva. certain." mpanion's odd way of die a very comfortable in spite of the cold, cared for. see about the breakfast, brother that di-ove him ist get some breakfast .ere's not a decent thing eat. If you'd come to let him take a look at I. You've such luck E^teak." 5W minutes.' room looking much re- t down st^rs. Opening standing by the fai-thest window, with his back to her, a stalwart figure in no-wise answering to the boyish proportions of her brother Paul. The creaking of the door, as she closed it behind her, caused him to turn suddenly. The face that had been clouded and anxious swiftiy brightened as he saw her standing there, chilled with the cold, weary, and pale, but nevertheless looking much moi-e Uke living than he had dared to hope for. "Thank God you are still aUve! " he said, with an embrace that brought the blood coursing to heart and face. "You are to come home with me,— he\-e is your mother's written order." He gave her the letter, which she held unopened in her hand. «I have thought it all out the last few months," she repUed. "I can fulfil the troth I pUghted to God in my chUdhood in othe- ways than by utr ter self-sacrifice." Her voice faltered, while her eyes drooped before the eager, searehing gaze bent upon her; but there was a resolute look on her face, as if she was determined at any cost to make her confession, no matter how it might be re- ceived. -■1 HO „Do» U«t m»u U^t you «. r-iy «» *« -y 'tr.ou .ta. «i.h .or »." .•.« -* «;^; ™« of duty had b«„ _^^^ ^^ W hor h«>rt, or ^'^^J ^^ „^ U-t U,6 work for her to do wou ^^ *e would only ^ ^^^T^ ^ hlv.u with „pw»d road that lead. « Ood an ^ lUe-long hunger for hua«m ><"«••»*; t of hon.! and It. dear ^.^^ "^^ heart ""-r. X v: 't r too ute. sh. a^Kbed "-'^^^^ J^;V„ ^ MaHha Brand muat turned ''"y- " ''" 'f ^^ *« med to »rile ^f^ed Ye^aaf^--^ ^^^^ ,tan that ko« "-J™;^. ^H„t nUghth. Buddenly p"»e»»^ ^' l"' " y,, ^t she . «^—«» *^:,t n loved «. -^ wuld ever prepare for the man gorbingly, «. deepaiiinf^y. She had only gone a .t»p « *"» ""^ * .^.e. Shegl^.eed^P.-'^-^Si a Budden hound »i d» «a» "" / . -^^ »„, ^,«.,gWdeeV»«t-;P^^^tMadredr- beheld. -Were you going to leay -t .-< < * TBS giro. 511 u-e ready to be my ;♦ she said timidly. )wing upon her that , she had found her »ken. She had forti- ith the aasurance that lid 8tiU remain, that any passing over that ^od and heaven vrith ,an love, and the shel- lightB withhold, silent Uiat her heart then too Ute? She to Martha Brand must rd, she used to snule red, at the anxiety that the breakfest might be possibly the bst she , man she loved so ab- Bp or two when Doughiss aickly, her heart giving ^ the expression of his riumphant she' had ever g to leave me, MUdred? «I did not know if you cared to have me stoy with you," she spoke hesitatingly. " Besides I have other duties to perform." "Do not let us speak of dnty just now. It has parted us so long. Can't you think it a duty to remain at my side?" *'You will scarcely get a satisfactory breakfast if I do," she said, with a merry gleam such as he had not seen on her face for years. "Never mind the breakfast! In the gladdest hour of my life I can accept any kind of a break- fast" "You will find the kitchen the warmest room in the house. You may come with me and I will show you how biscuits are made and beef-steak broUed." "You remind me now of the MUdred of long ago, only you are sweeter for than in those childish days," he said as they turned to go into the kitchen where Martha Brand was going around very much flurried and altogether consumed with curi- osity. She was beginning to doubt if this unex- pected presence in the house could be Mildred's brother since she had heard her say that she was older by several years than he. M9 [ Thaf. n.v„ your b«,.h»r." .he »id in o«^ « uiHtor like that young man wawnw jr own »«ter UKe j ^^^^.^ ^.^^„ They keep those looks for ^ We'll never see you hack here, . guess. the wedding be?' ^ Mad«d emensed from 4. •^~°" '^''"" . «, . very ama«l look on Doagl— ^• '"^ToIrldh.-anUoip.^daqn.e.ion «n .ery :r.iou. W have .n,..«d. ^ou n™.t^ ;e7o«rw«lding^Ut.kepU0.^n^..w.^ 1 w«.t to take yon .">»•">'"• ^7"- u„ ^- '"^'„"' TBn.^p.'St -Z long picture^Uenes of Europe wm 'r"r:«on.-..-.-tJ pitifully tew, but time ta too ?"«"«>« ''","'^. rC«ityltKu™p.»d.nioy«»he.. anng. the old world ta» to «>«' , ..<<-*- HEBO. " she Bald in one of ood together in the t»eard in the ftdjoining >ther looking «t hiiJ r man watches you. other folk'B BiBtera. Bre,Igue«». When'U , Btore-room in time >n Douglaae's face, ited a question I am ered. You must teU place in a few days, liere to flnd>e roses ear spent among tihe will be none too long. le's years were not so too precious for loiter- ant they may be," Mil- oulded the buscuit that I Martha Brand's spirits. ;he greatest pleasures of Br a moment's reflection, rope and enjoy tiie best \ to give I THK KND. Dougla«« smiled; the look on hiK face was one of perfect content, though he stood in a rathe- cold and most desolate-looking kitehen, waiting for the plainest bmikfast, pi^hably, that he h.«l ever been asked to partake of. The breakfast disposed of, it did not require much time for Mildred to pack her modest ward- robe and prepare for the homeward journey; and it is needless to say that the East-bound tram that day bore a specially happy pair of human beings. It was a joyous greeting that awaited them both at Mulberry Street and at Giassmere ; and all were pervaded by a spirit of true thank- fulness te. God, that MUdred had passed through her terrible ordeal unscathed, save the exhaustion from her untiring devotion to her wards. A few days later there was a quiet weddmg at Grassmere, and the happy pair immediately start- ed on tiieir promised European tiip. THB BND. \ iK^ssE^;g^^rSiJ^3S;ii*i3£t5i53s&;u^i^--. ^ss^ses^sk:^'-^^^^;^^^?^"?^'"'^