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OtMpMr 
 XIX. 
 
 CONTENTB. 
 
 A CJOWWOBATIOll, . 
 
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 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^^ 
 
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 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
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 1^ ilM 2.2 
 
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 1.4 
 
 - 6" 
 
 Photographic 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. HS80 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
 m 
 
 
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 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- 
 
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 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 »^» 
 
 
( 
 
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 Collection de 
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 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- 
 
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 IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
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 122 
 
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 Sciences 
 
 Corporation 
 
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 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716)872-4503 
 
 v 
 
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 CIHJVI/ICIVIH 
 Collection de 
 microfiches. 
 
 Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian da microraproductions historiquas 
 
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-, — »^'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 
 
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 ;^Jif^:£Ml-A3«'«'^^'^^'^^>^'S^'«'**^tt^^K^«^MSV. 
 
IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
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 1-25 1.4 1.6 
 
 
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 > 
 
 Photographic 
 
 Sciences 
 
 Corporation 
 
 23 wist MAIK STRUT 
 
 WiBSTiR.N.Y. 14S80 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
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 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. 
 
 \ 
 
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