CHRISTINE 
 
 YOUfNG HEART 
 
 LOUISE BREITENBACH CLANCY
 
 CHRISTINE 
 OF THE YOUNG HEART
 
 CHRISTINE 
 OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 
 LOUISE BREITENBACH CLANCY 
 
 Author of "Alma of Hadley Hall," "Eleanor of 
 the Houseboat," etc., etc.
 
 Copyright, 1920, 
 
 BY SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
 (INCOEPOEATED)
 
 TO 
 
 THE REAL PAUL DENTON 
 
 MY HUSBAND 
 
 2134712 .
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I INTRODUCING CHRISTINE i 
 
 II A CHANGE OF FORTUNE 10 
 
 III A MARRIAGE POSTPONED 22 
 
 IV LISTENERS NEVER HEAR ANY GOOD OF THEM- 
 
 SELVES 33 
 
 V LAME DOGS AND FREDDY BLUE 45 
 
 VI STOLEN CRUTCHES 60 
 
 VII CALLERS 72 
 
 VIII A SHORT CHAPTER JUST A LETTER FROM CORT 84 
 
 IX RUNAWAY TWINS 85 
 
 X THE ACCIDENT 97 
 
 XI CHRISTINE TURNS A CORNER 108 
 
 XII TANGLED THREADS 120 
 
 XIII WRINKLES 135 
 
 XIV AN EMPTY PURSE 149 
 
 XV JENNIE CHUBB AND AN ENVELOPE .... 165 
 
 XVI CHRISTINE MAKES A DISCOVERY 177 
 
 XVII THE BROOCH WITH THE MEDUSA HEAD . . .191 
 
 XVIII DOUGLAS TALKS 204 
 
 XIX JENNIE CHUBB AGAIN 216 
 
 XX CHRISTINE DRIVES DR. DENTON'S CAR . . 228 
 
 XXI CHRISTINE'S SURPRISE BASKET 249 
 
 XXII A DIARY 265 
 
 XXIII ST. MARK'S FUND 280 
 
 XXIV THE GEORGE POTTSES' GARDEN FETE .... 293 
 XXV FREDDY TAKES THINGS INTO HER OWN HANDS 314 
 
 XXVI A GRATE FIRE AND THE END 331
 
 CHRISTINE 
 OF THE YOUNG HEART
 
 CHRISTINE OF THE 
 YOUNG HEART 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 INTRODUCING CHRISTINE 
 
 The eyes of every man in the white marble lobby 
 of the Tremont Club paid tribute to her youth and 
 beauty. But Christine Trevor flashed by on the arm 
 of Dr. Denton as unconscious of her loveliness as any 
 flower of its fragrance. And, indeed, that blustery 
 gray March afternoon she resembled nothing on earth 
 so much as some rare yellow flower, with her hair of 
 red-gold hooded under a yellow velvet toque, and her 
 slim, lithe body encased in pale yellow broadcloth and 
 brown furs, with the note of yellow artfully repeated 
 in the bouquet of orchids and roses at her belt. 
 
 Her gold-brown eyes, brilliant with excitement, were 
 raised to her companion's face, and she was chattering 
 gaily as he hurried her through the revolving door. 
 
 " It was dear of you, Docky," smilingly she re- 
 verted to the pet name of her childhood for the grave- 
 eyed man who was helping her into his cab " to call 
 for me. I was beginning to feel like one of the babes 
 in the woods, lost or forgotten or something. Father 
 said he'd send James and the limousine. Had a pretty 
 bad smash in my own car yesterday merely tried to 
 push a street car out of my way in my hurry. But
 
 2 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 no James and no 'bus. Something must be the mat- 
 ter with father's 'phone chief operator couldn't get 
 me the line, and I've had the finest case of fidgets 
 for the past half hour wondering how I'd ever make 
 the Payne-Scrantons' dinner-dance they're giving for 
 Cort and me to-night. None of the girls was going 
 my way. Oh, Docky," she said, as if this were a 
 new thought, " how did you happen to drop in for me ? 
 You're always eyes-over in work. Did father finally 
 remember he had a daughter stranded at the club? " 
 
 " I was at your father's office," Dr. Denton returned, 
 evasively. 
 
 " You're a perfect duck," she flashed up at him a 
 warm smile. " Guggles, but I'm a frazzle. This 
 bridge luncheon was a real bang-up affair to-day. 
 Susanne said she knew she'd have to put on some 
 side to make such a feted, blase, first-season-out girl 
 as I bat even an eyelash. But you should have seen 
 that wonderfully good-looking table, with the clever- 
 est centerpiece to represent the ocean of course, Cort 
 and I were aboard the tiny yacht, headed for South 
 America. All the girls told me in at least ten dif- 
 ferent ways how dead lucky I am to be invited on this 
 cruise with Cort and his father and his ducky old Aunt 
 Mary, now when things are beginning to stale here. 
 
 " But somehow, Docky, I never think about my be- 
 ing lucky nice things are bound to happen to me. 
 They always have. But what do you suppose Agnes 
 Archer said to me? " 
 
 Dr. Denton skilfully threaded his way between a 
 heavy automobile truck, a street car, and a street 
 water-wagon, before he ventured a quiet, interrogative, 
 "Yes?"
 
 INTRODUCING CHRISTINE 3 
 
 Christine tucked a rebellious strand of burnished 
 gold hair under her toque as she answered, with her 
 pretty swirl of laughter. " She said I'm the most 
 spoiled of spoiled girls, that I'd always had every- 
 thing for so long nineteen whole years, Docky, 
 that I thought the whole world belonged to me. You 
 know Agnes is well, I'm awfully fond of her but 
 sometimes she does scratch until the blood comes. 
 She went on to say that every one knows I'm the only 
 debutante who didn't wear herself to a cat's shadow 
 to get Cortland Van Ness, but it'd been my fool luck 
 to have him fall for me at first sight, and she knew I 
 didn't love him I couldn't, because I didn't have a 
 soul, or a heart, but some day I'd get one, a sort of 
 Cupid-and-Psyche affair. Oh, I tell you Aggie was 
 some little crabapple today, but I rather guess losing 
 Cort's been rough on her, and she just had to blow off. 
 We kissed goodbye like the best of friends, but," Chris- 
 tine shrugged her fine shoulders expressively, " I don't 
 like unpleasant people or unpleasant things." 
 
 " I fear you'll put me in the same category," Dr. 
 Denton remarked in his quiet way, when the girl 
 stopped for breath. They had left the congested down- 
 town thoroughfares and were humming swiftly out 
 Jefferson Avenue, with its rapidly shifting panorama 
 of magnificent homes set in spacious grounds, now 
 shrouded in the gray of a quick- falling twilight. 
 
 T 
 
 He shot a glance at the radiant young face, drew 
 a deep breath, hesitated, then plunged ahead. 
 " Your father was taken ill in his office this after- 
 noon." 
 
 Christine stared her disbelief. " Father ill ! I
 
 4 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 never knew father'd take time to be ill. He's too 
 busy." 
 
 " It would have been better," her companion began, 
 with a hesitation foreign to his usual simple direct- 
 ness of manner, " if he had taken time. I've warned 
 him " 
 
 " He isn't very ill, though, is he ? " she broke in, 
 panic falling on her suddenly. 
 
 " It's very difficult to tell sometimes," he countered, 
 " in these sudden seizures " He cut himself short, 
 only to draw a quick breath and proceed on another 
 tack. " You've never seemed very attached to your 
 father, Christie. My father was my idol as well as 
 my ideal." 
 
 " Oh, father's all right," conceded the girl. " He's 
 certainly been horribly generous with my allowance 
 this year, and even when I've run up bills besides, he's 
 never said a word, though once or twice I fancied he 
 looked worried. Do you think father's had money 
 troubles, Docky, and that's why he's ill now ? " 
 Through her voice surged a dread. " Have I been 
 bankrupting him ? " 
 
 Dr. Denton's answer came somewhat slowly, guard- 
 edly. " Your father's attack is the result of some 
 tremendous shock. I doubt that your extravagances 
 were a serious contributory cause to his break- 
 down." 
 
 " You never can tell a thing about father," Chris- 
 tine went on, musingly. " He out-sphinxes the 
 Sphinx in being mysterious and unapproachable, but 
 being a debutante's a real noblesse oblige, Docky. 
 You've got to do things and have things or you're in, 
 not out. It's just that I don't know father. Why,
 
 INTRODUCING CHRISTINE 5 
 
 sometimes I don't see him oftener than once a week, 
 and then only for a jiff. I suppose things would have 
 been heaps different," her eyes softened dreamily, " if 
 mother hadn't been taken the day Daffy and Dilly 
 came. I can remember the ripping times we used to 
 have in the nursery. You'd drop in after your visit 
 to Laurie when mother was spinning one of her won- 
 derful yarns before a rousing grate-fire, then we'd 
 wind up by having a Zoo and all being wild animals. 
 You always insisted on being a camel, and oh ! oh ! 
 what thrilling rides you'd give us through the desert! 
 You always seemed like a boy, just one of us, and 
 mother and father were never tired of telling people 
 of all you were doing for Laurie, though you were such 
 a young doctor. I quite adored you in those days, 
 Docky." 
 
 She laid a little flutter of a gloved hand on his arm, 
 but the man said nothing. He kept his eyes fixed, 
 not on the glowing young face at his shoulder, but 
 on the strip of asphalt straight ahead. 
 
 " Then I went off to boarding-school," she took up 
 the thread of reminiscence again, " and when I came 
 home mother was gone and everything seemed dif- 
 ferent, even you." She sought his eyes with hers 
 in the darkness of the cab but he still looked straight 
 ahead. " You seemed so old and wise, and you al- 
 ways made me feel so young and foolish, and we 
 never had any more romps in the nursery or cozy con- 
 fidences on the davenport when I told you all my 
 childish joys and sorrows." 
 
 " When you came back you were no longer my 
 playfellow and little comrade," Dr. Denton spoke at 
 last, " but a dignified young person, with her hair 
 high on her head and her skirts trailing."
 
 6 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 Christine's merry ripple of laughter floated out. 
 " That was the style then to make yourself look like 
 your own grandmother. But now I hardly ever see 
 you. Oh, I don't need to be told I'm a gay butter- 
 fly, always on the wing. Father says I could pass the 
 kiddies on the street and never know them, but the 
 twins are such babies they're never out of the nurs- 
 ery and and Laurie , I've seen it in your eyes 
 ever so many times, Docky, you'despise me for avoid- 
 ing Laurie. But if you only knew how I hate, hate, 
 hate ugly things. I just can't help loving gay, bright, 
 beautiful people." 
 
 " Laurie's the gayest, brightest little soul that's ever 
 strayed from heaven," commented her companion, 
 more to himself than to her, " and he's beautiful, too. 
 'Not his body, but all the beauty that was denied his 
 body went into the making of his soul. It's the 
 beauty of his soul that makes him such a master of 
 his violin. Why, the boy's a genius ! " 
 
 Christine shivered involuntarily, and wrapped her 
 furs more closely about her. " But he's crippled, and 
 I never could forget that. Sometimes I think that 
 Cort wouldn't be my Cort," she admitted, with a 
 sudden delicious shyness, "if he weren't the best- 
 looking man on the globe. Of course," she added, 
 with the honesty that was a part of the charm of 
 Christine Trevor, " I'm glad he and father have slath- 
 ers of money. I wouldn't want to marry Cort for 
 money, but I'd die if I were poor and ugly and dirty 
 and horrid-looking the way poor people always are. 
 But Gug, what's got into me to talk like this ? It isn't 
 a bit like me. You're to blame, Docky, for scaring 
 me into a purple fit, telling me father's ill." 
 
 Neither spoke again until Dr. Denton had swung the
 
 INTRODUCING CHRISTINE 7 
 
 car into the stone gateway surmounted by huge lions 
 couchant. Then, while they were rolling up the drive 
 bordered by naked trees and bushes which were mourn- 
 fully tossing in the wind, he said gently, " Christie, 
 I told you I was the bearer of unpleasant news, but I 
 did not tell you all. Your father was beyond my 
 help when I reached his office." 
 
 There was an endless moment of silence before 
 the girl demanded, in a tone of frozen horror, " D 
 do you mean father's dead? He can't be. Why, I 
 saw him only this morning as he was driving away 
 in the limousine." 
 
 " I know, child, and he probably looked the pic- 
 ture of health, but I've warned him repeatedly that 
 his heart wasn't clicking right, and that he must 
 avoid every form of excitement, but the financial 
 crisis he passed through this afternoon " He 
 stopped short with a murmured exclamation of vexa- 
 tion at his unusual loquacity, but the girl had not 
 heard him. 
 
 " Poor, poor father," she was whispering brokenly, 
 her eyes swimming in tears. " I can't believe it," she 
 sobbed, as he helped her out of the cab and up the 
 stone steps. " It can't be true. Father dead ! Have 
 you is he home ? " 
 
 Dr. Denton nodded. 
 
 Then she asked a question which showed that she, 
 as always, was the center of her universe. " Will 
 he will it all be over by Thursday ? We leave that 
 night, you know." 
 
 " Leave that night ! " he repeated in the tone of a 
 man who does not trust his own ears. " You mean 
 that you are not going to postpone your trip to South 
 America? Christine!" His cry of amazement
 
 8 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 stayed with her to the end of her days. It was a full 
 half minute before he spoke again and in that poignant 
 silence she realized with a sudden rush of perception 
 that she had disappointed him grievously. Even in 
 her tumult of sorrow her heart throbbed with pain 
 at his disapproval. 
 
 " Everything will be over," he was assuring her, 
 as the butler, eyes red-rimmed, opened the lace-frosted 
 front door. " I took the liberty of 'phoning Cort be- 
 fore I left your father's office," he added, as they en- 
 tered the tapestry-hung hall. " He's probably here 
 already." 
 
 " Mr. Van Ness is in the smoking-room ? " she put 
 the question to the butler with a show of carelessness, 
 but her eyes glinted with an eager light. 
 
 " No, Miss Christine," Wilson replied. " No, no 
 word from Mr. Van Ness," in answer to a second 
 inquiry. 
 
 The deadly pallor of her cheeks and the quivering of 
 her lips made Dr. Denton hasten to assert with a con- 
 fident air, " He'll be here any moment now. I finally 
 got in touch with him at the country club, and talked 
 with him myself. You'd better go to your room, 
 Christie, and try to rest. I'll send you word when 
 he comes. But there are some arrangements I shall 
 wish to consult him about first." 
 
 For a breath Christine did not move. Her eyes 
 were fixed with a curious expression on the doctor's 
 face. It was as if she were seeing him for the first 
 time. Slowly she appraised him the fine, luminous 
 gray eyes, gray as the sea, the clear-cut nose, the 
 mouth with the downward swing of humor, the body, 
 tall, straight, of a clean athleticism which ten years 
 of hardworking professional life had not interrupted.
 
 INTRODUCING CHRISTINE 9 
 
 Even the slender suppleness of the surgeonly hands 
 did not escape her. 
 
 " I ought to know better than to expect Cort," she 
 said in a low tone as if to herself. " He isn't you." 
 She suddenly contracted her brows as if from a spasm 
 of pain. "I I never thought of it before but Cort 
 and I are horribly alike in some ways. We both love 
 sunshine and laughter and hate tears. He won't come 
 to-night." Wearily she trailed up the stairs, a lonely, 
 disconsolate little figure.
 
 A CHANGE OF FORTUNE 
 
 In her bedroom, exquisite in its fittings of burnt 
 ivory and yellow hangings, Christine stopped only long 
 enough to let Marie, her maid, divest her of hat, coat, 
 and furs, then moved into her sitting-room beyond. 
 She threw herself into a low chair before the crack- 
 ling grate-fire, and there she huddled the long hours 
 through, dinnerless, waiting, hoping, ears straining 
 for the sound of a step and a voice, sick with a dull 
 conviction that he would not come. 
 
 When the ivory-and-gold clock on the mantel tinkled 
 eleven musical notes, she started up with an agonized 
 little cry, " Cort, Cort, why don't you come ? " 
 
 She dropped back into her chair, and plunged her 
 face into trembling hands. She was undergoing for 
 the first time in her young life the torment of waiting, 
 waiting, counting the hours and the minutes, while 
 she ran the gamut of hope, despair, indignation, sor- 
 row that would not yield to tears. Would the black 
 hours never end? Would the morning and the sun- 
 light never come? 
 
 She sprang up to switch on the lamp on the read- 
 ing-table. With a quick, tremulous breath of relief 
 she lingered in the circle of warm gold light. It was 
 almost as gaily bright as the sunshine. No more 
 gray shadowland of fears! No more gloomy 
 
 10
 
 A CHANGE OF FORTUNE n 
 
 thoughts! If only the wind would stop wailing! 
 How her heart ached and ached! She would never 
 see her father again. He had been a lavishly gener- 
 ous father. Countless acts of his devotion, at the 
 time coolly accepted as her due, came back into her 
 memory to reproach her. If only Cort had come 
 for even a half -second ! 
 
 Determinedly she tried to swing her thoughts on- 
 ward to the happiness in store for her on the cruise 
 to South America with Cort. Her mind would slip 
 from the leash by which she was seeking to hold 
 it. Her father was dead! Perhaps if she had not 
 been so wrapped up in herself and the intoxicating 
 pursuit of pleasure, she would have known he was 
 overworking. If he had not been so busy no, she 
 would be honest with herself, if she had not been so 
 self-absorbed he had always met her slightest ef- 
 fort at friendly interest more than three-quarters of 
 the way they might have been pals like Agnes 
 Archer and her father. A sense of a missed oppor- 
 tunity, a sense of loss and desolation overwhelmed 
 her. Then vague, half-forgotten scenes of her child- 
 hood began to paint themselves on her mind. 
 
 Soon she was living over again those happy, care- 
 free days when life for her had centered in the home. 
 Suddenly memory dragged up a broken promise. She 
 had made it in all good faith the night before she 
 'had left for boarding-school. Even now through the 
 mist of time and forgetfulness she could see the pic- 
 ture. The firelight playing softly on her mother's 
 face which was touched with a strange note of mel- 
 ancholy she had not noticed it then and herself, 
 a girl of twelve, nestling at her mother's feet.
 
 12 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 " It may be that I shall be called away, my darling," 
 her mother had mused, as she sat stroking the young 
 head of gold, " and you'll have some of my respon- 
 sibilities on your shoulders. Promise me, Christie," 
 even yet the girl could see that strangely tense look 
 her mother had bent upon her, " you'll be a comrade 
 to your father and a real big sister to the little ones." 
 
 " Of course, mother," and the promise had been 
 sealed with a hug and a kiss. 
 
 " There's something else, Goldilocks," her mother 
 had gone on in a troubled way after a moment of 
 silence, " that I've been thinking about, ever so hard, 
 these last few days when it came to me perhaps I'd 
 be taken. It may be left for you to right a wrong 
 of mine. But, no, child, you're too young to have 
 your life shadowed with my burdens. Perhaps " 
 
 Her father had appeared just then, and her mother 
 at once had broken out into something bright and 
 merry, as was her way. 
 
 She had not kept that promise. Now it was too late. 
 She would be off before the end of the week for two 
 or three months at least, and then in the early sum- 
 mer would come her marriage to Cort. After that 
 Her thoughts drifted. What wrong had her mother 
 intended her to right ? Would she ever know ? Had 
 her father known? She sat for a long time, her 
 chin in her hands, staring straight at the opposite 
 wall. 
 
 If only she could throw off this strange weight of 
 oppression, these torturing memories! If only she 
 had been more of a daughter to her father Now 
 it was all too late. Too late! The words drummed 
 themselves with maddening repetition into her con-
 
 A CHANGE OF FORTUNE 13 
 
 sciousness. Docky had seemed well, surprised, that 
 she did not intend to postpone her trip. But, merci- 
 ful goodness, that was not to be thought of even for 
 a breath. 
 
 The morning had worn itself almost to a close be- 
 fore a maid brought Christine, still immured in her 
 room, the card of Cortland Van Ness. But the tender- 
 ness with which he welcomed her when she slipped into 
 the library erased some of the aching hurt from her 
 heart. He was so handsome, this black-eyed, black- 
 haired, Italian-looking young man, clothed in the per- 
 fection of the tailor's art, that she fell in love with 
 him all over again. As she nestled close to him, she 
 hardly heard his stream of excuses. He had had 
 every intention of running up last night, had in fact, 
 promised Denton he'd cut his dinner engagement at 
 the club and come on the fly, but Canfield, Clarence 
 Canfield, you know, in town only for the night, on 
 his way to Japan, had caught him as he was headed 
 for his car, and had yes, dragged was the word, 
 dragged him back into the billiard-room, and by the 
 Lord Harry, before he knew it, it was devilish late, and 
 then this morning that fool of a Thompson had done 
 something or other to put his roadster on the blink 
 when he ran it out of the garage, and it had taken 
 longer than he'd expected to get it into shape again. 
 He hoped she wasn't on edge with him because he 
 hadn't come sooner. 
 
 On edge with him! How could she be? She had 
 known by an intuitive flash what kind of excuses he 
 would make. And she had known, too, what the real 
 reason was for his non-appearance. He had put off 
 coming to her as long as he decently could because like.
 
 14 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 herself he dreaded the unpleasant issues of life. Holy 
 Doodles ! illness, sorrow, tears, death, were bound to 
 come to a fellow sooner or later, but why run after 
 them? 
 
 So Christine accepted Cortland Van Ness' excuses at 
 least with outward sweetness and promptly forgave 
 him. As well quarrel with him because his eyes were 
 black, not brown or blue, as row with him for not 
 coming to her in her first moments of stress. She 
 found it comforting in her mental shipwreck to anchor 
 quietly, safely, in the haven of his arms. 
 
 " Poor little Chris ! " He stroked her pale cheek. 
 " It's mighty hard on you, dear, having your father 
 go off so suddenly, and especially at this time, but it 
 mustn't make any difference in our plans." 
 
 She clung to him with a sudden childlike terror. 
 " Are you perfectly sure you would you still 
 want me, Cort, if father didn't leave much money?" 
 
 He kissed her with a fierceness that left her breath- 
 less. " I've always managed to get what I want, 
 Chris, and you're what I'm set on having deuced bad 
 right now. You sure bowled me clean over, little 
 girl, the instant I set eyes on you last winter at the 
 Grayson dinner-dance. Oh, I know, I've the name 
 for being fickle." He threw back his head, and 
 laughed his ringing, boyish laugh. Almost instantly 
 he checked himself and looked at Christine in a shame- 
 faced way as if he expected a reproof for his un- 
 seemly boisterousness. " You've teased me good and 
 plenty," he went on in a hushed manner, " about all 
 the cases I've had on girls, but they were in my 
 green-and-salad days before I knew you. Small chance 
 of your losing me, Chris, if you came to me a beggar
 
 A CHANGE OF FORTUNE 15 
 
 girl. But what put the idea into your head, little one ? " 
 
 She shivered in spite of the warmth of the room. 
 " Oh, I had nothing but ugly thoughts and conscience 
 stabs last night. Ugh, it was a ghastly nightmare 
 of a night." 
 
 " Money'll be the least of our worries." He caught 
 her shoulders and swung her close to him. " Father's 
 got more than enough to satisfy his only offspring, and 
 I rather fancy the old gentleman won't leave it all to 
 charity." He managed to stifle the laugh which rose 
 to his lips at his own wit. " But to tell the truth, 
 the governor's been rather sore lately because I couldn't 
 see myself taking the run of the flour mill. I tell him 
 ' work's for the working class.' I'm not especially 
 clever, Chris " it was difficult for him to keep his 
 loud, young voice properly subdued to the atmosphere 
 of death " but I sure did make some wise choice 
 when I picked out old Cortland Van Ness, the first, 
 for a grandfather. Old Cort was some boy when it 
 came to exchanging a few dollars for what looked like 
 a worthless strip of land and father takes after him, 
 but Cortland third can't get the idea of poking around 
 in overalls in a dusty-musty old mill when there are 
 such things as yachts and tennis courts and brassies 
 in this gay old world." 
 
 " It isn't such a gay old world to-day," mused the 
 girl wistfully. " Everything seems so dismal and 
 horrible I can hardly breathe. I do wish the sun 
 would shine." 
 
 ''' You've been shut up in this gloomy house too 
 long, dear. Whew, I'm beginning to feel blue, my- 
 self! Come on out for a spin, and cut out worrying. 
 Of course, I'd be the last person on earth to hear
 
 16 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 it if your father'd been shaky keeping my coat- 
 tails clean of business and business worries as I do 
 but I don't believe it. All my life I've heard father 
 say John Trevor's safe as the bank of England. 
 Just look at the way he's managed the trust fund of 
 the Widows and Orphans of St. Mark's. Father's on 
 the board with him, you know, has been for years, and 
 he says your father is was, I mean a winner. 
 Why, child, I'd as soon expect the Union Trust to 
 cave in as your father." 
 
 An hour after this she telephoned to Dr. Denton. 
 Her cheeks were glowing from the swift ride in the 
 biting wind, and her eyes glinted with excitement. 
 
 " Congratulate me, Docky," she burst out, when his 
 familiar voice sounded in her ear. " Cort and I are 
 going to be married in New York Saturday morning 
 before we sail. I wanted you to be the first to 
 know." 
 
 There was a second of silence, then, " God bless 
 you, dear child, and make you the happiest of girls." 
 
 In Christine's memory the next two days always 
 stood out as a horrible, confused, crowded dream. 
 The house was deathly quiet. About it hung an air of 
 disuse, despite the throng of persons who came and 
 went on one mission or other. To her tortured fancy 
 it seemed as if the whole town were pouring into 
 the Trevor doors. Night or day, it mattered not, they 
 came, family friends, her father's business associates, 
 the poor and the outcast to whom in his quiet way he 
 had always held out a helping hand. Christine learned 
 to know her father in those two days. Each one who 
 entered that house and they came from all parts of 
 the city helped her to understand the integrity, the
 
 A CHANGE OF FORTUNE 17 
 
 breadth of soul, the unselfishness and the love of his 
 fellow man that had made John Trevor beloved of 
 all. 
 
 And all through those sunless days of sorrow she 
 was tortured with an unceasing ache in her heart, 
 a wild craving to hear her father's voice again, the 
 longing for an opportunity, if only for an hour, to 
 redeem her promise to her mother. Over and over 
 the words beat themselves in desperate iteration into 
 her brain, " too late, too late." 
 
 She awoke on Thursday to sunshine and bright 
 blue skies. Instantly, some of the weight of sadness 
 dropped away. As she dressed she smiled at the girl 
 limned in the mirror, and once whispered, " bride." 
 She whispered it again as the color came running up 
 into her cheeks. 
 
 She had closed the door of her bedroom behind 
 her, and was moving rapidly down the hall, slim and 
 straight and fair as a fresh-cut lily in her morn- 
 ing frock of white, when she heard childish voices and 
 turned to see the twins pelt down the stairs from the 
 nursery. 
 
 Daphne, familiarly known as Daffy, one of the six- 
 year-old twins, with the face of a Raphael angel and 
 the spirit of an imp, led the way as usual. " We are 
 so, Mr. Dilly," she was insisting, in a shrill whisper. 
 " We're poorer'n anything. I heard 'Melia say so to 
 Marie, 'n' 'Melia knows everything." 
 
 Dilly, abbreviated from John Dillingham Trevor, 
 appeared unconvinced. " It'd be bully fun. We'd 
 have to go 'n' live in a bits of a cottage, 'n' eat things 
 in a tin pail like Jim when he helps Tom garden, 'n' 
 bugs, 'tain't true. I just know it 'tain't, so there.
 
 i8 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 You just see, we'll have to stick in that old nursery 
 till we're most dead, 'n' do lessons 'n' lessons 'n' 
 lessons. Hunky, it'd be great to go to school like 
 poor kids 'n' stick things in your pockets to eat at 
 recess 'n' Laurie'll tell us. He knows a lot 'n' 
 he never tries to fool a fellow." 
 
 Christine stared until the hurrying little figures 
 had vanished in a curve in the winding staircase. Her 
 eyes were black with sudden fear. Then she laughed 
 scornfully at herself. " That's nothing but servants' 
 gossip. There isn't a word of truth I'll 'phone 
 Docky." Instantly her mind had turned to the un- 
 failing comforter of her childhood days. 
 
 But she did not have to telephone to him. From 
 the upper hallway she heard his voice, and leaning 
 over the marble balustrade, she saw him deliver hat 
 and coat into' Wilson's keeping. She racketed down 
 the stairs to him. " Docky," she met his smiling eyes 
 squarely, as he took her hands, " tell me the truth." 
 She caught her breath quiveringly, " Are we are 
 we going to be poor?" 
 
 His face changed. For a moment he did not speak. 
 His eyes were upon her. She looked so young, so 
 appealing in her wood-nymph whiteness. 
 
 " There are some things I want to make clear to 
 you." He led her into the library and settled her 
 in the old familiar position among the cushions of 
 the huge davenport. " That's what brought me here 
 so early. Graves and your father's lawyer won't be 
 here with the will for an hour or two." 
 
 For full ten minutes he explained simply a small 
 measure of what her father's private secretary and 
 confidential man, George Graves, had revealed to him.
 
 A CHANGE OF FORTUNE 19 
 
 But though she listened with every nerve taut to un- 
 derstand, it was all a wild jumble of unfortunate in- 
 vestments, an unfore c een and rather inexplicable de- 
 pression in the stock market, an overconfident en- 
 dorsement and loss of an overwhelmingly large 
 amount, and above all, a thunderclap of a bank failure. 
 What she did manage to gather was that it would all 
 have to go, home, servants, automobiles. 
 
 " Thank you, Docky," she said mechanically, and 
 rose to her feet at the impatient honking of an auto- 
 mobile horn outside on the driveway. " There's Cort. 
 We've a thousand things to arrange before we're 
 off." 
 
 From the doorway she slipped back to lay both hands 
 on his arm. " You've been a perfect dear. Some- 
 how I can bear it better, coming from you. But it's 
 so terrible to be poor." She turned away, but the 
 next breath was smiling up at him through tear-wet 
 eyes. " I suppose this is good-bye, Docky. There 
 won't be a smidge of time later. I don't want you 
 to remember me as a fountain of woe that's forever 
 spilling over. Please think of me as a happy bride." 
 
 He was very calm, but somewhat white about the 
 mouth as he caught both her hands in a warm vital 
 clasp. "I shall always remember you as my, merry 
 little comrade, Goldilocks." 
 
 Later in the morning she was flying down the hall 
 on her way to the library where she hoped to find a 
 mislaid book she had promised to bring for Cort's 
 Aunt Mary. A swift impulse halted her at the closed 
 door of her father's study. An overpowering long- 
 ing gripped her to be once more in the room in which 
 she should always image him. For a moment she
 
 v 
 
 20 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 hesitated, then gently, very gently turned the knob. 
 She stepped no farther than the doorway. There 
 in her father's favorite chaise-longue lay Laurie, the 
 boy with the twisted body and the beautiful soul. On 
 a stool at his feet sat his devoted attendant, Amelia. 
 A small frock she had been embroidering had fallen 
 to the floor. Tears were streaming down her with- 
 ered cheeks. 
 
 The music came to a soft close. The girl in the 
 doorway would have crept away, but Amelia's first 
 words stayed her, " Sellin' that violin'll break my 
 heart, Master Laurie. What'd your poor father 
 say?" 
 
 The boy did not speak for an instant, then he said 
 dreamily, " I think it would please him. It's been 
 very beautiful to have three such friends, father, and 
 you, and my violin. But soon there'll only be you, 
 'Melia. Are you real sure you're not going to mind 
 it if we can't pay you much? " 
 
 <<; Never a penny do I want, precious lamb. I've 
 got savin's, thanks to your good father, that'll do me 
 my lifetime. Doin' for you's pay enough. But 
 how'll you make out without your music box, I'd like 
 to know." 
 
 " I'll have more time to do lessons, and play with 
 the twins," he answered cheerily, " and spring's com- 
 ing, 'Melia, and you know, I don't play quite so much 
 then, the birds and flowers are so wonderful. Of 
 course, it's going to be a little lonesome at night with- 
 out Isn't it almost time for Champney to come 
 for my violin? " He laid his cheek caressingly against 
 the satiny wood. " He promised he'd bring the money 
 with him, didn't he? Marie said Christine could
 
 ' V 
 
 A CHANGE OF FORTUNE 21 
 
 buy lots of pretty things with that much when she's 
 in New York." 
 
 " Trust Christine to have pretty things a-plenty," 
 muttered Amelia, with a frankness born of long years 
 of service in the Trevor family, " and everything else 
 she wants." 
 
 " Marie says a debutante never has enough duds," 
 championed the boy warmly. " Besides, things wear 
 out, you know they do, 'Melia. Anyhow, Christine's 
 got to have nice clothes; she's the most beautiful girl 
 in the world, I think. I I just wish I had ten violins 
 to give her." 
 
 Christine caught her breath with a choking little 
 sound. " I didn't mean to listen, but I did ! " She 
 faced the charge of two pairs of astonished eyes. 
 " You mustn't, Laurie, I don't want it. I won't let 
 you," she cried out in hot protest, and closed the door 
 tempestuously behind her.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 A MARRIAGE POSTPONED 
 
 All thought of the book for the South American 
 jaunt forgotten, Christine fled to her bedroom and 
 flung herself, face down, on the satin-and-lace-covered 
 bed. For a few moments she gave way to sharp, hard, 
 body-wrenching sobs. But they were not tears of 
 grief. It was anger that flamed within her, anger and 
 burning resentment. Was she already an object of 
 charity? Did Laurie have to martyrize himself by 
 parting with his dearest possession for her sake? In 
 fancy, she could hear the servants roll this delicious 
 morsel of gossip under their tongues. The boy whom 
 she had frankly shunned, yes, neglected, was sacrificing 
 his heart's blood for the pleasure of his butterfly sister. 
 Oh, she hated him for it, hated him, hated everybody, 
 and everything that stood for sacrifice. 
 
 In a few short hours now she would be out of it 
 all, the gloom, and stress, and unhappiness. Soon she 
 would be her own gay self with a heart light as thistle- 
 down. She would fairly steep herself in sunshine, 
 laughter and love. 
 
 She flashed to her feet ; she had small time for tears 
 or thinking. There were still countless orders for 
 Marie, a hundred uncompleted odds and ends. But 
 her thoughts would not swing forward to the blue 
 waters of the trip that was to be her honeymoon. 
 
 22
 
 A MARRIAGE POSTPONED 23 
 
 They would revolve only about the tiny stream of 
 her home life and the children. Where would they 
 live? Docky had said everything home, servants, 
 automobiles must go. Who would care for the 
 twins? Laurie would be safeguarded in the loving 
 hands of Amelia. But where ? A pang shot through 
 her heart. Where would their home be ? If only they 
 had some wealthy old childless uncle or aunt who 
 would gladly adopt them now in their poverty ! Pov- 
 erty! She ground her teeth at the very word. Pov- 
 erty was not for such as she. She was pretty, young, 
 thrillingly young and thrillingly alive. Wealth and 
 happiness were her inalienable right. 
 
 But they had no fairy godmother, uncle or aunt 
 to befriend them. Her father and her mother had 
 both been only children, orphaned early in their youth. 
 No, there were no relatives to whom they could turn. 
 Friends? She ticked off the long list of family 
 friends, one after the other, as a possible source of 
 aid. The Owen-Hamptons, her father's closest friends, 
 were trailing in their yacht somewhere through Medi- 
 terranean waters. Included in their party were the 
 John Lyles and the Peter Van Horns. A winter in the 
 Orient was the present plan. She couldn't reach out to 
 them for help. Mrs. George Herbert, her mother's 
 intimate friend, and a kindly soul that was always be- 
 friending the friendless! But no, a letter had come 
 from her that very morning she had been ordered to 
 a mountain sanatorium for an indefinite period of rest. 
 The Phil McEwens and the Harry Thompsons had 
 wired they were hers to command, but their return 
 from California was still indefinite and the Gregorys 
 and Gormans and Stanleys were still on their Florida 

 
 24 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 plantations. She might appeal to Mrs. Victor Hobart. 
 Sally and she had danced their way through life to- 
 gether from their first day in kindergarten. But Sally 
 had been thrown from her horse but a fortnight before, 
 and a wheel-chair for life now threatened her. The 
 Payne-Scrantons, and the Ashbys, and the Archers, and 
 many others had been lavish in their manifestations of 
 sympathy, but one couldn't thrust a whole family on 
 any of them. No, there was not a friend to whom she 
 could turn for help in this teasing problem. To be 
 sure, there was Mrs. Austin, the gentlewoman who had 
 chaperoned her during this, her first season, as a bud. 
 But Christine dismissed her mentally with a prompt 
 certainty she was a hireling whose services could not 
 be counted on without a generous compensation. 
 
 As always, her mind pivoted swiftly in her moment 
 of need to Dr. Denton. He would know the an- 
 swer to her problem he always had in her childhood. 
 She snatched a glance at her wrist-watch. There 
 would be time for a fifteen minute visit if she pelted. 
 The thought had hardly formed before, with the im- 
 pulsive haste so natural to her, Christine had flung 
 herself into her moleskin motor coat and hidden her 
 bright hair under a fur toque. 
 
 Less than ten minutes later she was whizzing down 
 Jefferson Avenue in her brown roadster with its per- 
 fection of appointments. In her dexterous flight the 
 thought came to stab her that this was the last time 
 she would thrill with a sense of power as her hands 
 guided the wheel of this beloved car. But there was 
 immediate balm for the wound in the thought that 
 as Cort's wife, she could have its mate. 
 
 The doctor's office hours were over for the after-
 
 A MARRIAGE POSTPONED 25 
 
 noon, the young woman in attendance at the desk as- 
 sured Christine pleasantly, but the doctor was still in 
 his private office, engaged on a matter of business. 
 
 " Dr. Denton will see no more patients this after- 
 noon," remarked the young woman suavely, as Chris- 
 tine huddled herself into a leather chair, and began 
 impatiently to turn the leaves of a magazine which she 
 had caught up from a nearby table. " He's overdue 
 now at the Receiving Hospital." 
 
 " I am not a patient," Christine remarked, in the 
 detached tone she always' reserved for underlings. 
 There was no arrogance in her manner, merely a 
 please-remember-you're-on-earth-to-serve air. " I shall 
 wait till the doctor's at liberty." 
 
 Christine tried to interest herself in the printed 
 page, but her chaotic thoughts refused to be enmeshed. 
 Impatiently she cast the magazine on the floor, and 
 moved restlessly about the waiting-room. She ob- 
 served with indifference the few really fine prints on 
 the wall, crossed to a window, gazed out with un- 
 seeing eyes, then flung herself with a hardly suppressed 
 exclamation of exasperation into a chair near the 
 private-office door. The young office attendant had 
 disappeared some time before into the doctor's labora- 
 tory, and Christine who had been telling herself for 
 the past ten minutes that she would wait no longer, 
 was divided in mind whether she should recall the 
 young person or leave a note on Docky's desk. 
 
 She had already drawn a sheet of the doctor's note- 
 paper out of the desk drawer when the private-office 
 door opened and she heard a voice that she instantly 
 recognized as the monotone of her father's confidential 
 man, though now it was high-keyed with passion. " J
 
 26 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 hope before I die I'll set eyes on that old curmudgeon," 
 George Graves was saying, " whoever he is. I long 
 to assure him with my own tongue he's the murderer 
 of John Trevor, as fine a man as God ever set on 
 this wicked old earth. He's got to stand and listen 
 while I tell him, if it's the last breath I draw, that 
 had he negotiated that loan there'd be dozens, yes, 
 hundreds of widows and orphans of St. Mark's that 
 wouldn't be crying their eyes out this day, and Mr. 
 Trevor'd be here and alive, and that trust fund " 
 
 The girl straightened, every nerve strained, every 
 muscle taut. What of that trust fund, the pride and 
 honor of her father? 
 
 " I swear to you, Dr. Denton," she heard the ex- 
 cited voice rage on, " it was this that did for him. 
 He could 've stood losing ten fortunes of his own, but 
 to stand by and see that fund go when that old skin- 
 flint, God send his soul to hell, needed only to reach 
 out a helping hand. Good Lord, John Trevor gave 
 the best of his brains and thought to that fund for 
 years, and next to that crippled boy of his and you 
 and I know, Doctor, how he worshipped the lad 
 that trust fund was what he lived for." 
 
 " How he worshipped that lad ! " Christine's mind 
 caught up and repeated the words wonderingly. She 
 had not known of this comradeship between father 
 and son. 
 
 " And Laurie's been so interested in that fund," the 
 doctor said, more to himself than to his companion. 
 " It's been the one big, vital interest in his shut-in 
 life. Mr. Trevor realized it more every day, and 
 enjoyed nothing better than to talk over things with
 
 A MARRIAGE POSTPONED 27 
 
 the boy, and tell him of the lads who were to benefit 
 by the fund when " 
 
 " The little lad must be kept from knowing," in- 
 terrupted the other, sorrowfully. " That poor chap's 
 going to have a hard enough struggle without " 
 
 For some reason the girl did not hear the rest of 
 his sentence. Perhaps because her mind completed 
 it mechanically for her, " without losing faith in his 
 father." 
 
 So not only fortune but also her father's honor was 
 lost. For a long, long moment she sat, too dazed to 
 move or even to think. Then her confused brain be- 
 gan to work again. Thoughts began to take shape 
 in her mind. The name of Trevor dishonored! She 
 had always been extravagantly proud of her name. 
 She remembered now with painful distinctness how 
 she had half-pitied, half-scorned, a schoolmate who 
 had been forced to leave school precipitately when her 
 father had absconded with a princely fortune. 
 
 Her father's disgrace would be on every tongue. 
 She would never be able to hold up her head again, 
 or face her friends. Agnes and the other girls had 
 spoken more truly than they knew she was dead- 
 lucky to have this honeymoon trip with Cort at this 
 unpleasant time and when she was back among 
 them again she would bear the magic name of Mrs. 
 Cortland Van Ness. 
 
 With a maddening persistency the words of her 
 father's confidential man repeated themselves in her 
 mind " That poor little chap's going to have a hard 
 enough time without 
 
 A sudden inexplicable choking longing possessed
 
 28 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 her to keep Laurie from ever finding out. If only 
 his father could always remain for him his ideal, his 
 knight. Immediately she began to plan ways and 
 means to keep the truth from him. The servants 
 must never - She sprang to her feet with a little 
 strangled sound. There would be no servants, and 
 in but a few hours now she would be on her way. 
 
 A moment later George Graves had bowed himself 
 out of the private office and closed the outer door 
 behind him. She was dimly grateful that he had been 
 too engrossed to notice her. 
 
 Christine rapped and tore open the door almost 
 simultaneously. Dr. Denton faced about from his 
 desk at the sound of her explosive entrance. 
 
 " You ! " He rose and hurried to her, both hands 
 outstretched. Vaguely she wondered why she had not 
 realized before how Docky's smile warmed one, and 
 how fascinatingly it communicated itself from his 
 lips to his eyes. 
 
 " I mustn't take your time, Docky," she began, but 
 unresistingly let him lead her to a chair, and loosen 
 her motor coat. " Your office girl almost turned me 
 out, she said you were late " She gazed at him 
 questioningly, then at his pleasant assurance that he 
 always had time for her, continued, " And I'm in 
 a dead hurry too." 
 
 But it was all of a minute before she could bring- 
 herself to ask the question which had sent her with 
 impulsive haste to him. Then she blurted it out, 
 " What's going to become of the children? Where'H 
 they live? Who'll look after them?" 
 
 " One at a time, Goldilocks." Smilingly he appro- 
 priated her mother's pet name for her. Goldilocks L
 
 A MARRIAGE POSTPONED 29 
 
 How that childish term of endearment brought it all 
 back, the happy, irresponsible days of her childhood, 
 the close companionship of her mother, her broken 
 promise ! " Mr. Graves just left by the way, didn't 
 you meet him in the elevator?" As from afar off 
 his voice came. 
 
 " He we didn't speak," she brought out, evasively. 
 She couldn't speak as yet even to Docky of the loss 
 of the trust fund and her father's dishonor. When 
 she was well on the ocean she would write and tell 
 him of all she had overheard. But now, the wound 
 was still too new, too pain-filled to uncover even to 
 his kindly gaze. 
 
 Dr. Denton threw himself back in his revolving 
 chair, his hands clasped behind his head. " Mr. 
 Graves and I were just completing some final arrange- 
 ments for the comfort of the children," he hastened 
 to assure her. " Friends of your family have fairly 
 swamped us with their kind offers of assistance, but 
 we've decided for the present to try out a plan of mine. 
 You can go off without the shadow of a worry as a 
 bride should." Again he smiled at her as she sat 
 hunched slimly in her chair, but there came no answer- 
 ing smile into the gold-irised brown eyes. Instead, her 
 straight brows had met frowningly and her face was 
 intensely earnest. 
 
 " Before you've been out three days the little ones 
 will be pleasantly settled in Merrivale " 
 
 " Not in that tumble-down old house where father 
 used to live as a boy," Christine cut in, with open 
 4ismay. 
 
 " It's a bit old-fashioned, I admit," the doctor told 
 ber cheerily, " but it's mighty comfortable with its bi^,
 
 3 o CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 sunny rooms, and fine old garden. I've heard your 
 father and mother say the happiest days of their 
 lives were spent there. They moved into more fash- 
 ionable quarters just before you came to them. And 
 Merrivale's a pleasant, healthy suburb, even if people 
 of fashion turn up their noses at its unpretentious- 
 ness; besides it has the advantage of being close to 
 my home. I want to keep my eyes on the little Trevor 
 flock, while you're gone." 
 
 She was silent. A tiny disk of color flamed bright 
 in either cheek. Her eyes were on the jeweled gold- 
 mesh bag with which her fingers were toying, but 
 she was in reality gazing inwardly at the well-remem- 
 bered but distasteful image of the old-fashioned house 
 in the unfashionable suburb, which her father had 
 once pointed out to her with pride as his boyhood's 
 home, on one of their infrequent motor trips to- 
 gether. 
 
 " Oh, but it's so ugly and squatty," she said un- 
 intentionally aloud, with a little shiver. 
 
 " The house ? Yes, but it'll have to do. Besides, 
 the children won't need much room, with only Amelia 
 to mother them, and an old protegee of mine who's 
 consented to run the house 
 
 "Only two servants?" She lifted her eyes to his 
 in frank distress. 
 
 He scrutinized the willful, charming face of the 
 girl a long moment before he rejoined gravely, 
 " Christine, if you weren't leaving so shortly and if 
 you weren't coming back to a life of fashion, I'd take 
 time to tell you that some people people who are 
 the salt of the earth, too haven't even one servant. 
 I'd even be tempted to carry you off some day for a
 
 IT" 
 
 A MARRIAGE POSTPONED 31 
 
 visit to some of my patients. They're the noblest of 
 the noble, some of them, and they serve your kind. 
 But there, forgive me, child." 
 
 For a moment after he had finished, the silence 
 remained unbroken. Christine sat with her chin 
 cupped in her hands, staring at vacancy. All her 
 usual buoyancy seemed struck out of her. Suddenly 
 she shrugged her shoulders as if to rouse herself 
 to the present reality. 
 
 "I I overheard Laurie planning to sell his violin 
 to give me some spending money." A quiver caught 
 her lip in spite of herself. Her eyes held the torture 
 of a hurt animal, but even while she was speaking, 
 curiously enough, the realization came that her re- 
 sentment towards the boy had cleared away. "Of 
 course I wouldn't dream of letting him ugh," she 
 shuddered, " these last few days have been my idea of 
 a nightmare." 
 
 The room was singularly quiet for a moment, then 
 her words came brokenly, " I'm glad, glad, glad, to 
 get away from it all. Glad," she insisted, in a voice 
 shaking with defiance, then with an uncontrollable lit- 
 tle sob, " I'm the wretchedest thing on earth." 
 
 For pride's sake she fled to the window. Her soft 
 lower lip was caught between her teeth. She would 
 not let the tears that stung her eyes overflow. Pres- 
 ently she turned and met Dr. Denton's grave gaze. 
 What she read there in the fine, luminous eyes made her 
 glance waver and fall. She knew she was not meas- 
 uring up to his standard of womanhood and it hurt 
 her inconceivably. Restlessly she moved away from 
 the window and sat down with her eyes fixed on 
 her hands, which had begun to toy nervously again
 
 32 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 with her purse. Followed a minute of poignant 
 silence. Christine's fingers were still now. Her eyes 
 had grown dark with brooding. Suddenly she flung 
 up her head and the color came sweeping into her 
 cheeks. With the next breath she was on her feet 
 and had snatched up the telephone. Chokily she gave 
 the number, but her head was lifted high and her 
 voice held even and firm as she insisted for the third 
 time, " I mean it, Cort. I'm not going, I can't go. 
 I'll marry you when you get back."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 LISTENERS NEVER HEAR ANY GOOD OF THEMSELVES 
 
 Christine whirled about from hurling her thunder- 
 bolt to face the doctor. She was flushed, exalted, 
 thrilling with excitement, but to her amazement she 
 was not overwhelmed with a storm of applause. In- 
 stead for a long moment he studied her with what 
 she told herself was calm, cool disapproval. 
 
 "Of course you're going," he announced at last, 
 with an air of finality. " There is absolutely no rea- 
 son why you should alter your plans. Laurie and the 
 twins'll be in good hands I've already assured you 
 of that. Besides," he added in a gentler tone, as if to 
 soften the sting of his words, " I'm afraid you won't 
 fit into the household, contracted as it must be." 
 
 She moved uneasily under his steady gaze. " I 
 suppose you're right," she said slowly, as if this were 
 a wholly new thought. " I won't have the lambiest 
 kind of a time but I've got to stick it out." 
 
 " You must go, Christine." Dr. Denton's tone was 
 matter-of-fact but his eyes were alight with a curious 
 fire. " Call up Cort again. Tell him you've thought 
 it over. You've changed your mind. You're going. 
 Think of all it means to you and Cort," he urged. 
 "This trip" 
 
 " Please, please, Docky," she broke in, tensely, " I 
 ache to go but I can't. I've got to stay here. Don't 
 
 33
 
 34 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 say another word about it. It's going to be hard 
 enough when Cort gets here. Talk of something else, 
 please." 
 
 He yielded to the sweet pleading in her voice and 
 for the next ten minutes exerted himself to catch her 
 interest with other threads of life. 
 
 But she did not hear him. She sat hunched in her 
 chair, her face drained of color, her eyes dark with 
 dread, never moving from the rug under her feet, 
 her brain a vortex of conflicting emotions. " Listen," 
 she put up her hand. They both heards steps plung- 
 ing down the corridor. The next instant Cort burst 
 tempestuously into the inner office. 
 
 " Made it in eleven minutes and a half," he panted, 
 dropping his watch back into his pocket. " Could 
 have whizzed through in a clean ten but for a traffic 
 hold-up. Some record, what, Chris? 'Afternoon, 
 Dr. Denton. Now, girl," he possessed himself of 
 both ice-cold, trembling little hands which he held in 
 a tight grip, " what's this all about ? Let's have it in 
 a hurry, dear," he went on, with a careless tenderness. 
 " We haven't a minute to spare. They won't hold 
 the train for us even for father's private car. I sup- 
 pose it's just a case of nerves, what, Doctor? Come, 
 let's have it, Chris, tears and all," he ended, with a 
 big gusty laugh. 
 
 " There isn't anything to tell, Cort." She stood 
 up and eyed him squarely but her lips were white and 
 unsteady, and her bosom heaved over her tumultuous 
 emotions. " It's only that it came over me all at 
 once I can't go." 
 
 "Can't go?" he repeated, with characteristic im- 
 patience. " Funny time to decide that. Why, it's less
 
 LISTENERS NEVER HEAR ANY GOOD 35 
 
 than three hours before train time and I've already 
 made all sorts of arrangements for " 
 
 " Don't, Cort," she caught her breath, quiveringly. 
 " Don't make it any harder than it already is. Can't 
 you see it's taking all the best of me to make me 
 stay?" 
 
 " Hang it, Chris," he growled, when he had at- 
 tacked her vainly from every side with coaxing, 
 threats, pleading, caresses, " you talk like a child. 
 There's nothing to make you stay if you don't want 
 to. Denton's told you that over and over. There's 
 no reason you should stay " he stopped long enough 
 in his restless pacing to kick over a stool " unless 
 you've changed your mind " He broke off, his face 
 ugly with a sudden suspicion. 
 
 She turned on him like a lovely flame. "Of course 
 I haven't changed my mind, foolish boy. It's only 
 that something's keeping me I don't know myself 
 what it is." The last words were spoken too low for 
 Cort or the doctor to catch. 
 
 The bleak March afternoon had drawn to a close 
 and the room was darkly gray when the eyes of 
 the two men met and acknowledged their defeat, but 
 the girl facing them, tall with the slimness of a boy, 
 even in her heavy motor coat, did not glow with the 
 pride of a conqueror. She looked pale, spent. 
 
 " I'm going now," she murmured with twitching 
 lips. " No, please, don't either of you come with me. 
 I've got to be alone. Cort, Cort," she remonstrated 
 a moment later breathlessly, freeing herself from the 
 triumphant fury of his embrace, " please, Cort dear," 
 she whispered, " this must be goodbye here now. 
 No, don't k-kiss me again. I c-can't stand it n-now."
 
 36 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 She held out her hand. He crushed it fiercely against 
 his lips. 
 
 "Good-bye, Docky. No, it's au revoir, isn't it?" 
 Before the doctor, who had considerately turned his 
 back and was gazing contemplatively out of the win- 
 dow at the street below, could reply she had flashed 
 about and was gone. 
 
 Christine's high resolution endured until Marie came 
 for final orders to her sitting-room, where she sat, 
 still in motor coat and hat. The trunks were all 
 locked, and the traveling-bag was ready to close. 
 Madame Clothilde had sent home the traveling out- 
 fit a half -hour ago and she positively had turned out 
 a creation that would make Miss Christine the envy of 
 all South America. Would Miss Christine choose to 
 gaze at that sweet chiffon ? 
 
 " Take everything out of the trunks, Marie," Chris- 
 tine cut short her volubility, in a tone of infinite weari- 
 ness. " I am not going to South America." 
 
 The girl stood like a figure of wax. Her hands 
 extended for her mistress' coat were still outstretched. 
 Her mouth hung open. Curiosity and surprise had 
 widened her eyes. 
 
 " And after to-night I'll not need you, Marie. Of 
 course I shall give you good recommendations." 
 
 Marie gave a shrug that spoke volumes. " I've 
 already as good as got another position," she rejoined, 
 with a saucy toss of the head. " Miss Archer's been 
 after me for months, and they do say as how she's 
 not pernickety, and she hasn't half the hair you've 
 got, and she's awful generous with her tips, and of 
 course now, Miss Christine, you couldn't " 
 
 Christine interrupted with an imperious gesture of
 
 LISTENERS NEVER HEAR ANY GOOD 37 
 
 dismissal, and the girl slipped jauntily from the room. 
 
 So this was what she could expect from now on. 
 Burning with resentment Christine buried her face 
 in her hands. What a goose she had been 10 throw 
 away her shining opportunity, and expose herself to 
 such insults! Docky and Cort had pleaded with her, 
 yes, commanded her to go. Why should she care 
 about a broken promise she had made it when she 
 was a mere babe or a look of disappointment in a 
 pair of gray eyes? 
 
 The room was dark when a lightning-flash of deci- 
 sion brought her to her feet. She snapped on her 
 desk-lamp. The tiny jeweled watch on her wrist told 
 her that Cort and the others of his party were al- 
 ready whirling gaily eastward. She would go after 
 all. She would telegraph. She could catch the mid- 
 night express and reach New York in time to sail. 
 She caught up her desk-telephone. How should she 
 word the message? She had already given the num- 
 ber when George Graves' words came unbidden into 
 her mind, " that poor chap's going to have a hard 
 enough time without " 
 
 Mechanically she hooked up the receiver, and 
 dropped in a disconsolate little heap on the window- 
 seat. For the first time in her life Christine faced 
 herself with a grim honesty. Well she knew that all 
 her young days her feet had danced gaily down the 
 primrose path of pleasure. Now she had chosen to 
 set them in duty's narrow, difficult track, and there 
 they must stay, however halting the progress might 
 be, at least until the South American cruise was over 
 and Cort came to claim her for his own. Her ideas 
 of the meaning of duty were, to say the least, rather
 
 38 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 sketchy, but, of course, it would involve nothing but 
 disagreeable things, of that she was firmly convinced. 
 Well, she would have to untie her tangled knot some- 
 how, but one point was strangely clear in all the men- 
 tal chaos the thing that had been the burden of 
 her answer to Cort's pleading a power stronger 
 than her love of pleasure was anchoring her fast at 
 home. 
 
 But though she had decided that she must sacrifice 
 her happiness for the present to the welfare of the 
 family, she made no effort to interest herself in its 
 problems. During the stressful days of breaking up 
 the home, she secluded herself in her rooms, there 
 to pour out her heart in long letters to Cortland Van 
 Ness. Steadfastly she refused to see any of the 
 Trevor family friends or the girls of her " set." She 
 told herself, with a bitterness strange to her light- 
 hearted, laughter-loving nature, that she would have 
 none of their pity or condescending kindness. She 
 even shrank from exchanging an unnecessary word 
 with a servant. Her greatest fear was that some one 
 would touch, it did not matter how lightly, the ach- 
 ing wound of the failure of the trust fund and her 
 father's shameful disgrace, as she put it mentally. 
 
 Once or twice after midnight she ran her car out 
 to Merrivale, and, unobserved in the darkness, sur- 
 veyed the house that was again to be the Trevor home. 
 It was worse than her imagination had pictured it, she 
 thought with a lump in her throat. Low, rambling, 
 squatty-small, irregular, hardly fit for servants' quar- 
 ters! Why, a tall person like Docky would have to 
 duck his head when he entered, the ceilings must be 
 so low and tumble-down.
 
 LISTENERS NEVER HEAR ANY GOOD 39 
 
 She consoled herself with the thought that she would 
 have to live there only two months Cort had vowed 
 he would cut the trip as short as his father would 
 allow and sixty days couldn't stretch themselves 
 into a lifetime. If only she could keep her motor 
 car! The days wouldn't seem so drearily endless if 
 she could whirl through the country roads. But that 
 was out of the question, she reminded herself with a 
 wry little smile. 
 
 Her heart was heavy and her spirits had dropped to 
 the lowest ebb when she raced through a driving, gusty 
 rain one late-April afternoon to the old house in Merri- 
 vale. It would be the last drive in her favorite car. 
 She had purposely delayed her coming as long as she 
 could, and so, when Amelia threw open the front door 
 to her, she had a glimpse of a living-room beyond 
 the entrance hall, aglow with softly shaded lights, 
 with Laurie and the twins already gathered before a 
 leaping fire in a huge open fireplace. 
 
 " You must be damp-cold, Christine. Do come in 
 and warm up a bit with the children," invited Amelia, 
 with the friendly, privileged air of an old family serv- 
 ing-woman. 
 
 But the girl with a murmur of refusal pushed past 
 her and began to climb the broad, winding stairs. 
 Half way up she turned her head to ask, " Which 
 room's mine, 'Melia?" 
 
 " First room to the right," the woman answered 
 civilly, but under her breath she murmured, " and 
 of course the best in the house." 
 
 " Send a tray to my room, just tea and jam and 
 muffins'll do. I've a headache, and shan't come down 
 to dinner to-night."
 
 40 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 Amelia peered up at the girl on the staircase as if 
 distrustful of her hearing. " You haven't forgot so 
 soon, have you, Christine, you haven't eight servants 
 any more?" she inquired, quietly. "I'll fix you a 
 tray myself to-night, but after this, if you want extra 
 service, I'm fearin' ' with a gentle firmness 
 "you'll have to be waitin' on yourself." 
 
 Christine made no answer. Hard experience had 
 taught her the folly of trying to change a fiat of 
 Amelia's. Disconsolately she mounted the rest of the 
 stairs and hurried to her room. In the doorway she 
 stood still, then rubbed her eyes like a bewildered child. 
 It was a long, low room, of an enchantingly irregular 
 shape, that she surveyed, and so completely fitted out 
 with the more simple furnishings of her bedroom in 
 town that it seemed to offer her a welcome like the 
 vital handclasp of an old friend. A fire burning 
 briskly in the old-fashioned black-and-white marble 
 grate, a soft-shaded lamp on the bedside table which 
 cast a pleasant yellow glow on an inviting array of 
 books and magazines, and a bouquet of her favorite 
 sunset roses on the writing-desk in the bow-windows, 
 all gave the room the touch of home. To her dismay 
 tears sprang into her eyes. Angrily she dashed them 
 away. 
 
 It was enough to have the rivers of heaven pour 
 down outside, she scolded herself furiously, without 
 making things damp inside. Just hear that rain on 
 the roof! It was darling of Cort she snatched up 
 a large, ivory-framed picture of that young man in 
 tennis flannels and pressed it to her lips to send 
 her Lares and Penates to this dismal hole. And the 
 dear flowers, she buried her nose in the fragrant
 
 LISTENERS NEVER HEAR ANY GOOD 41 
 
 mass of yellow bloom. However had he managed it? 
 He had probably telegraphed to the " Rosebud Shop," 
 from New York. 
 
 The rain was still descending in torrents over her 
 head when she settled herself at her pretty little writ- 
 ing-desk to describe the events of the unhappy day to 
 Cort. " Rain-on-the-roof Cottage " she headed the 
 letter, and for her always that was the name of her 
 Merrivale home. But the rainstorm had passed when 
 she slipped into bed and it was to a pitter-patter, pit- 
 ter-patter, like the refrain of a lullaby, that she dropped 
 off to sleep. 
 
 She awoke to a beautiful spring morning of fleckless 
 blue skies and sparkling sunshine. Her spirits in- 
 stantly soared like a lark on the wing as she pattered 
 to the window to draw deep breaths of air, gloriously 
 tonic and of a balmy warmth. 
 
 What an ugly dungeon-like old gray building housed 
 their next door neighbor! Involuntarily she shud- 
 dered. It had such a gloomy aspect, even in the sun- 
 light, with its setting of towering black pines the 
 " House of Usher " instantly slipped into her mind. 
 She closed her eyes it was not like Christine to 
 let them dwell on unpleasant sights and when she 
 opened them, she strained them towards the west. 
 Yes, there, off against the sky-line, were the outlines 
 of a patch of woods. She smiled at her image in 
 the mirror as she deftly coiled the rippling masses 
 of red-gold hair low on her shapely young head. 
 After breakfast she would go for a ramble with her 
 sketch-book. This was one thing she could enjoy 
 in this desert of a place sketching and the woods. 
 
 She dressed with unusual dispatch, all eagerness not
 
 42 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 to waste a minute of the brilliant sunshine and the 
 enchanting outdoor world. She was pinning on a 
 floppy-brimmed hat while she raced down the stairs 
 and into the dining-room. If she had not been so 
 bent on not spending a moment longer indoors than 
 was absolutely necessary she would have stopped to 
 admire the quaint mahogany-paneled room, with its 
 priceless mahogany furniture, its Dutch-blue walls and 
 hangings, and, above all, the magnificent view of the 
 surrounding country that each window framed. As 
 it was, she was thankful the room was empty. She 
 had been dreading her first breakfast with Laurie 
 and the twins. She lingered only long enough to swal- 
 low a glass of milk and nibble a cracker, then pelted 
 out of the front door. 
 
 Half way down the walk she stopped to look back. 
 In the broad daylight there was, she admitted grudg- 
 ingly, an air of home, a note of charm and indi- 
 viduality about " Rain-on-the-Roof " with its wide 
 hospitable-looking verandas, its warm red-brown ex- 
 terior, and the sweep of grounds adorned with giant 
 trees. Christine loved trees. So now she let her 
 eyes dwell with appreciation especially on the lovely 
 shaped elm trees, clustered about the east veranda, with 
 their cloudy boughs lifted to an unbroken sky. 
 
 " Spring's surely here," she thrilled with delight, 
 when at the far end of the grounds she came upon 
 a sheet of spring beauties which were dancing in the 
 wind, as if sharing her gladness to be again in the 
 sun and air. "I'm ," she interrupted herself to 
 peep through the hedge which encompassed the Trevor 
 grounds. 
 
 " Sounds like Daffy's voice. If it isn't the twins!
 
 LISTENERS NEVER HEAR ANY GOOD 43 
 
 Annie shouldn't let them She broke off with an 
 impatient shrug of her shoulders. When would she 
 remember there were no more Annies nor Maries nor 
 Wilsons in the Trevor household? Before starting on 
 her ramble she must scold the twins roundly for leav- 
 ing the grounds those babes must remember, if they 
 did live in Dumpville, that they were still Trevors and 
 must uphold the dignity of their name. 
 
 " You just give me all my vi'lets, Dilly Trevor." 
 Daffy's voice was raised in hot dispute. " Christine 
 shan't have one of 'em. I shan't 'vide with you," 
 with an angry stamp of her tiny foot. " I don't like 
 her one wittle bit, 'n' she shan't have any of my 
 flowers." 
 
 " All right for you, Daffy, you can't never borry 
 my knife any more, 'n' when Laurie and I have our 
 show in the barn you can't come, 'n' 'sides you know 
 what you promised brother." 
 
 There was a moment of telling silence, then the 
 weaker vessel yielded sweetly. " You can have 'em, 
 Dilly, on'y let's take 'em to Laurie, he makes such 
 bee-you-ti-ful bunches. You must let me put 'em in 
 her room." 
 
 " I wish she'd hurry up 'n' be our big sister like 
 Laurie says," said Dilly in a discouraged tone, but 
 the next minute he brightened. " P'raps she'll be lots 
 nicer 'cause Laurie had all her things put in her bed- 
 room 'n' those bully flowers too." 
 
 " Huh," grunted the small maiden scornfully, 
 " 'Melia doesn't b'lieve she'll ever be a real big sister, 
 'n' Marie said she never saw in all her borned days 
 a selfisher pig 'n' Christine Trevor." 
 
 Even in her anger a faint smile touched the listen-
 
 44 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 er's lips at the exact imitation of the French maid' . 
 voice and manner. 
 
 " 'N' Marie said she pities us children," the childish 
 voice went on, plaintively. " We'll always be in her 
 way. Oh, let's hurry, Dilly, and put just lots and 
 lots of flowers in her room every day, so they'll change 
 her into a big sister right away." 
 
 Christine did not stir until the small figures had 
 turned into an opening in the shrubbery that gave 
 upon a path leading to the barn. All the blitheness 
 had been struck from her face. So she was the most 
 selfish pig of a girl that Marie had ever known, and 
 the children were to be commiserated because they 
 had to live under the same roof with her! Selfish 
 indeed! Had she not sacrificed her very honeymoon 
 trip for these ungrateful children? So it was Laurie 
 who had thoughtfully transferred her bedroom furnish- 
 ings, and again it was Laurie, not Cort, who had re- 
 membered to welcome her to the new home with a 
 nosegay of flowers. Slowly she let fall to the ground 
 the last shred of the dainty lace-and-cambric handker- 
 chief which she had been twisting in her fingers. A 
 week before, if anger or emotion had got the better 
 of her, she would have driven her motor car long and 
 hard and fast. Now suddenly she began to run as 
 fast as she could towards the patch of woods.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 LAME DOGS AND FREDDY BLUE 
 
 Head down, Christine had sped around a corner 
 and was pelting diagonally across the street when the 
 warning blast of an automobile horn thrust her back 
 to the curb. She glanced over her shoulder and 
 promptly returned the hand-greeting of the driver. It 
 was Dr. Denton. To her surprise he slackened speed 
 halfway down the block, circled about and slanted 
 to the curb where she was still standing. 
 
 "How's the girl?" His usually grave eyes were 
 smiling boyishly into hers as he leaned out the cab 
 window. Before she could answer, he went on rap- 
 idly, " Curious, I was thinking of you this very mo- 
 ment and had just decided to steal a minute and drop 
 in at your house. I've some work for you. Two 
 blocks down this street " a gloved hand pointed to- 
 ward her left " and then around the corner is a girl, 
 Fredericks Blue, who needs you." 
 
 "Needs me!" she arched her eyebrows incredu- 
 lously, then shook her head. " It can't be done, Docky, 
 I'm in bad all around this morning. I need myself. 
 I'm on my way to the woods." Significantly she 
 tapped her sketch-book. 
 
 " I counted on you," he said very quietly, and his 
 car slipped off down the street. 
 
 Her eyes followed until he had swerved around 
 
 45
 
 46 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 the corner and was lost to her view. With a toss 
 of her head she swung off towards the woods. Docky 
 had been abrupt in his departure, to say the least. But 
 then, undoubtedly he was on his way to a hurry-up 
 call from one of his beloved poor. Involuntarily she 
 wrinkled her pretty nose in disdain. Why would he 
 persist in wasting his wonderful talents among the 
 poor? Her family had been the only one of impor- 
 tance, that is to say of wealth, that had managed to 
 obtain the professional attention of this young physi- 
 cian, who had already gained distinction by his skil- 
 ful corrective surgery among the poor, but that had 
 been due merely to his interest in the crippled boy. 
 Yet everybody knew he could be a great bang-up doc- 
 tor with a raft of money if he'd only let himself be 
 taken up by the fashionable set. But Docky was so 
 provokingly strange, he actually seemed to prefer to 
 work among the dirty, uninteresting, diseased poor, 
 when a world-wide reputation and riches were within 
 his grasp. 
 
 Who was this girl, anyhow, this Fredericka Blue, 
 who needed her? Of course, some poor cripple 
 Docky wouldn't be interested in anyone else. A shud- 
 der ran through her at the very thought. She wouldn't 
 go. She was glad she had made that clear to Docky. 
 He knew perfectly we'll the very sight of deformity 
 made her ill. 
 
 When she gained the sunshine-warmed patch of 
 woods, all about her was a tracery of delicate, misty 
 spring colors. The soft maples along the edge of 
 the little stream that meandered through the heart of 
 the woods were aglow in a red mist, the willows were 
 of an immaterial greenness, and here and there the
 
 LAME DOGS AND FREDDY BLUE 47 
 
 ground was beginnng to show the blue of violets. 
 
 But Christine was too busy with unpleasant thoughts 
 to enjoy the ever-new miracle of returning spring. 
 She was in a fine predicament, imprisoned for two 
 months with a family not only incapable of appre- 
 ciating her high sacrifice, but even pitying themselves 
 for having to live under the same roof. Well, if 
 they thought her an ogress, a selfish pig, she'd live 
 up to her reputation. She drew up her shoulders ex- 
 pressively. Give a dog a bad name, you know. 
 
 A little winding path had been luring her onward, 
 and before she realized it the silence and beauty of 
 the woods had quickened her blood and made her heart 
 leap up. The heavy weight of torturing thoughts fell 
 from her, and she exhaled in a sudden abandon of re- 
 lief. Now and then she stopped to gaze up into a tree 
 which was a delicate green cloud of budding leaves or 
 to fill her young lungs exultantly with the sun-warmed 
 air. It was all so exquisitely still, so ineffably lovely 
 and mysterious, that she wanted to dance, not walk, 
 from sheer delight, and for a moment or two she did 
 fall into a little rhythmic step as light and lovely and 
 young as the spring day itself. 
 
 Of a sudden she decided to sit on a fallen tree- 
 trunk and sketch the alluring vista of a tree-encircled 
 pool opening up before her. She would enclose it 
 in her today's letter to Cort. 
 
 Tossing aside her hat, she bent her head with its 
 sweep of smooth, gleaming gold hair to the task. 
 
 For all of ten minutes her pencil moved across the 
 paper with quick, deft strokes, then stopped abruptly. 
 Discontentedly she studied her effort, erased a line 
 here, there, fell to work again, again halted, and
 
 48 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 tore the sheet into tiny bits which she gave to the 
 wind to scatter. 
 
 Again her pencil touched the paper. This time it 
 was no woodland scene that grew magically under 
 her fingers but two figures, one, that of a man bend- 
 ing over an open case of instruments on a table, the 
 other, of a girl in a wheelchair watching, waiting, 
 bravely trying to hide in her twisted smile, suffering 
 and loneliness. 
 
 The sketch wanted but the finishing strokes when 
 Christine's pencil paused. A breath later she leaped 
 impulsively to her feet, thrust sketch and drawing 
 paraphernalia into the leather case, and pinning on 
 her hat began hurriedly to retrace her steps through 
 the woods. She didn't want to think of cripples, 
 much less draw them. 
 
 She would find something of interest on the street 
 to draw for Cort. She would begin her letter the 
 instant she was in her room. Why would the thought 
 of that bothersome girl who needed her, oppress her? 
 
 It was a morning of sunlight and pulsating life 
 with acres of shining blue overhead, a morning for joy 
 and light-hearted, irresponsible happiness. She didn't 
 know or want to know Fredericka Blue. What right 
 had she to obsess her? When she came to the corner 
 of her street she wouldn't even move her head a frac- 
 tion of an inch towards the left where Docky had mo- 
 tioned two blocks down and just around the corner. 
 
 But she did. For as she sped on, her feet hardly 
 touching the ground Christine always moved with 
 light, swift grace it was as if some impulse stronger 
 than herself made her slacken her pace at the street 
 corner. One moment, two moments, she hesitated,
 
 LAME DOGS AND FREDDY BLUE 49 
 
 then with a whimsical little smile swung deliberately 
 past her corner, down the street, and two squares to 
 the left. 
 
 Even before she rounded the corner, she spied it, 
 the little white cottage with green blinds and red roof 
 set far back among murmuring pine trees and com- 
 pletely separated from either neighbor by an old-fash- 
 ioned, green picket-fence. Christine drew a quick 
 breath of delight. It was like an illustration in a 
 story book. She had no intention of entering. She 
 would merely stroll leisurely by, or better still, she 
 would sketch it for Cort. She would flop down un- 
 der a nearby tree and 
 
 " I'm catched," observed a little girl, who was 
 vainly struggling to free her short skirt from the rapa- 
 cious grasp of the picturesque green gate. 
 
 Involuntarily Christine stopped to stare. A pair of 
 solemn black eyes set in a tiny elfin face stared back 
 unsmilingly. 
 
 " Freddy says you're bound to be catched when you 
 don't do what's right," continued the small person 
 calmly, not ceasing her efforts to set herself free. 
 
 " That's been my experience, too," laughed Chris- 
 tine., as with an unusual friendly impulse she moved 
 closer to the young prisoner. " There you are." She 
 raised the hasp of the lock and swung open the gate. 
 " Fate's bound to punish you if you don't behave." 
 
 " 'Tain't fate it's Freddy that punisnes us Blue 
 kiddies," confided the child, skipping a step or two in 
 the joy of freedom. Then she craned her neck to 
 look over her shoulder. " Skirt's tored. Um, well, 
 I s'pose I'd better take it now, waiting don't help a 
 mite." This last remark she made as if to herself with
 
 50 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 a philosophical air, and marched back to the gate. 
 
 Christine chuckled at the tone of resignation. 
 " What have you been up to ? " she demanded, curi- 
 ously. 
 
 " Put on my best Sunday-school dress to play in," 
 was the prompt response, but the gravity of her man- 
 ner showed she was impressed by the enormity and 
 unusualness of the offense. 
 
 " And just what'll Freddy do to you ? " queried 
 Christine, surprised at herself for lingering to chat 
 with a strange child, and yet, somehow, drawn un- 
 deniably to the quaint little creature. 
 
 " Freddy always lets us say what our punishment's 
 going to be, and sometimes thinking about it is lots 
 harder than taking it. Freddy says the punishment's 
 got to fit the crime, and I thought and thought what 
 it'd be all the time I was shut up by the gate, and now 
 I know," with a triumphant shake of her small 
 head. 
 
 "Yes?" Christine smiled. The engagingness of 
 that smile encouraged the small person to slip her 
 hand into her companion's with a perfect trust that 
 would have won a stonier heart than Christine's. 
 
 " Please come along in while I tell Freddy. 'T ain't 
 going to be so bad on me it's only I'll have to stay 
 in bed all day long in my ugliest ugly flannel nightie, 
 when I did want to play with Kitty Brown and p'etend 
 this beautiful dress was my worst, everyday, play- 
 dress, but you see, it'll be pretty hard on Freddy. 
 She'll have to bring me my meals and everything when 
 she's been up all night. P'raps," with an air of 
 doubt, " I could stay in bed all day without but,
 
 LAME DOGS AND FREDDY BLUE 51 
 
 no, Freddy wouldn't let me. She'll sure bring me 
 bread and sugar and tuck me in. You come along in 
 while I s'plain to Freddy, and I just know, if you'll 
 smile like you just did, she can't feel so awful bad." 
 
 Christine tried to extricate her hand, but no burr 
 ever clung more tightly than those small fingers. 
 Somehow, the older girl had the feeling that if she ever 
 let her gaze meet those passionately pleading black 
 eyes she would be lost. For a moment resolutely she 
 kept her glance fixed on the picturesque green gate, 
 then it wavered, and was drawn magnetically to the 
 black eyes. Not a word was spoken. Christine let 
 herself be led up the red-brick walk. 
 
 Before they were half way up the front steps, the 
 door was flung open and a very tall, athletic-looking 
 girl, with a shawl thrown carelessly over her head 
 and shoulders, plunged out. For the moment it was 
 clear she had eyes only for the small person. " Tommy 
 Blue," she demanded in a deep, throaty voice, which 
 Christine instantly pronounced charming, " I've been 
 searching everywhere for you for the last ten min- 
 utes. Where have you been ? Oh, I beg your pardon. 
 Coming on Tommy so unexpectedly made me forget 
 my manners. I'm so grateful to you for bringing 
 back this small truant. Wherever did you find her? " 
 
 There followed a moment of silence. The two girls 
 were regarding each other critically, eyes of velvety 
 brown measuring odd, honest gray-green eyes. What 
 they read there must have been satisfactory, for al- 
 most simultaneously their lips broke into easy smiles 
 and a friendship was born. 
 
 " I really don't deserve your thanks," Christine
 
 52 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 smiled her magic smile, which always found its way 
 to the heart of the recipient. " I merely opened the 
 gate for Miss Tommy, didn't I ? " 
 
 But Miss Tommy had slipped from the detaining 
 hand and bolted into the house. 
 
 The tall girl gazed after the vanished figure with 
 a look in which amusement struggled with perplexity. 
 " I must see she doesn't wake poor little Teddy, 
 she's just fallen asleep. Come in, won't you, please? " 
 Then as Christine hesitated, she urged in her warm con- 
 tralto, "If you only would, Miss Trevor, it would be 
 more of a help than you can imagine." 
 
 Christine stared her astonishment. 
 
 " I've seen your picture in the society papers too 
 often not to recognize you," laughed the girl with 
 the strong young face and wide brows of a Luini por- 
 trait. " Besides, once you were shopping right close 
 to me in a glove-shop, and a saleslady told me your 
 name after you left. Do you know," she added after 
 a moment, a wistful smile touching the corners of her 
 lips, " I've thought and thought and thought about 
 you ever since then, and wished I could meet you. I 
 wondered," she ended, naively, " if some of your hap- 
 piness would rub off on me." 
 
 " My happiness! " Christine ejaculated in a vibrating 
 voice; then as she moved forward to the open door, 
 she laughed, a laugh edged with hard notes. 
 
 She did not speak again until her companion had 
 ushered her into a large, sun-flooded, shabby old room 
 and settled her in a threadbare armchair that seemed 
 to embrace her with a hospitable welcome. 
 
 "I really can't ' began Christine, as her hostess
 
 53 
 
 gently unpinned the hat from the smooth, gold hair, 
 but the other interrupted with a pleading cry that 
 seemed wrung from her heart, " Do stay. If you only 
 knew how I need a tiny thread of your happiness 
 this morning," then, with a quick return of the buoy- 
 ancy that seemed to be so much a part of her, she said, 
 " Excuse me for a minute. I must see that Teddy's 
 sound asleep and Tommy's safe in bed, and Willy's in 
 the back yard, and mother has her luncheon and fath- 
 er's music is packed, and then I'll be ready for that 
 delicious chat I've been hoping for ever since I knew 
 your family were coming to Merrivale." She laughed 
 as she closed the door softly behind her. It was like 
 a jolly boy's laugh, Christine decided, with such an 
 infectious, mischievous chuckle in it that she smiled 
 even at its remembered sound. 
 
 It was a full ten minutes before she came back, but 
 for Christine the time moved with surprising swift- 
 ness. The hominess and inviting air of the shabby old 
 room held her interest. The few well-chosen pictures, 
 the grandmotherly chairs that fairly lured one to their 
 depths, the worn old mahogany davenport, the rose- 
 wood center-table piled high with books and magazines, 
 the reading lamp, the open piano with its disarray 
 of music, the canary that swung in his cage at the 
 window, and the gray kitten purring in a pool of 
 sunshine on a threadbare rug near the fireplace, all 
 contributed unmistakable proof that this was a room 
 that was lived in, this was the center of the Blue fam- 
 ily heart and life. 
 
 " It's about the shabbiest room I ever was in in 
 all my lifej but there is something about it that makes
 
 54 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 a perfectly at-home feeling," Christine was telling her- 
 self, when the tall girl plunged back into the room and 
 flung herself into a corner of the davenport. 
 
 " Now, let's talk, and talk, and talk," she began, in 
 her deep rich contralto, " and don't let's waste a sec- 
 ond. I've fifteen whole minutes all my own before 
 Teddy'll need her medicine. Tell me all about how 
 happy you are. It'll be the best kind of a tonic for 
 me this morning." 
 
 " If I ever was happy," Christine said with a reck- 
 less little catch of laughter, " it must have been cen- 
 turies ago when I was young. Why, not a half hour 
 ago up in the woods I was pitying myself for being 
 the most abused creature on earth. But now, some- 
 how, I don't know why, I rather fancy things won't 
 be so bad. Perhaps," she added after a moment, in 
 a sudden burst of candor, " I'm beginning to real- 
 ize the truth about myself." She laughed again and 
 this time in her laugh rang youth's lightheartedness. 
 " I thought I was making a martyr of myself, and all 
 the time it was downright selfishness." 
 
 " You selfish ! " Her companion thrust her fingers 
 through her sweep of ash-blond hair, an odd trick of 
 hers when interested or excited. " Don't say that. I 
 read all about how you gave up your gorgeous trip 
 to stay home and mother your kiddie brothers and 
 sister. You don't know how ashamed you've made 
 me feel. I'm purple with envy of you-r beautiful 
 disposition. The newspapers said your self-sacrifice 
 was heroic." 
 
 "My beautiful disposition! My self-sacrifice he- 
 roic ! " Christine repeated scornfully under her breath, 
 then aloud: "I I don't usually talk about myself
 
 55 
 
 to people I know, much less to strangers, but I can't 
 have you believe all that newspaper nonsense. Why, 
 I'm the selfishest girl on earth everybody says so. 
 Do you want to know the real reason I didn't go on 
 that cruise ? " She sat up very straight in her excite- 
 ment, " I was afraid to. I knew I shouldn't be happy 
 a minute, so don't you see? it was all pure self- 
 ishness. I was only thinking about myself. Besides, 
 the two months'll soon be over. Yes, and then my 
 postponed honeymoon " she translated the other's 
 questioning expression " but what's worrying me is 
 how'll I live two whole months in this mess of a 
 place." 
 
 " Merrivale's a slow, sleepy little place," said the 
 tall girl, curled up comfortably on her feet at one 
 end of the davenport, " but when you're busy, so busy 
 you have to tear through one thing to get time for 
 the next, it doesn't much matter. Anyhow," she went 
 on, musingly, " you can have your dreams, no matter 
 where you are." A half minute later she spoke again 
 and mischief lurked in the corners of her mouth. 
 " Perhaps you don't know, though, Merrivale's famous 
 for its interesting people." 
 
 "Interesting!" sniffed Christine. "I can easily 
 imagine they're so exciting they make you jump 
 around in circles." 
 
 " Not quite so thrilling as all that, but it isn't every 
 little burg that can boast of a full-fledged woman- 
 hater, and where do you suppose he lives? In that 
 great big old dungeon next door to you. The chil- 
 dren'd rather take a beating than go by that house 
 after nightfall, they're so afraid of Joshua Barton. 
 Of course, he really isn't at all fierce just a bad-
 
 56 
 
 tempered old cripple but I certainly don't envy Doug 
 that's his nephew who lives with him. Doug and 
 I were at college together classmates, you know, 
 real pals, and friends from the start." She stopped 
 short with a sudden contraction of her brows, then 
 went babblingly on, " I had to give up college, you 
 know, when Teddy was born, and now Mr. Barton's 
 made Doug stop, and go to work." 
 
 " I don't fancy Mr. Joshua Barton's going to dis- 
 turb my dreams, but the nephew sounds more promis- 
 ing. What's his line ?" 
 
 " He's a a dreamer. I believe he could write if 
 his uncle would let him, but Mr. Barton's all for busi- 
 ness," the girl answered rather curtly, then went on, 
 with a sigh, " It's a pity Mr. Barton's so well, 
 peculiar ; with all his money he could do so much good 
 here. If only Dr. Denton could interest him in some 
 of the poor people around here. You know Dr. Den- 
 ton, don't you? Isn't he a perfect wonder?" En- 
 thusiasm kindled her face. 
 
 For some reason wholly inexplicable to herself, 
 Christine could not meet the other's eyes. A bolt of 
 fire seemed to have entered her heart, and a curious 
 feeling of dislike for this girl swept over her. The 
 next moment it had passed, and she was able to an- 
 swer pleasantly, " Dr. Denton's cured my sore ringers 
 and mended my broken heart ever since I was a wee 
 girl." 
 
 " He hasn't needed to mend my broken heart yet, but 
 he has " with a suddenly sober expression " helped 
 me over the stile." 
 
 Christine looked at her in puzzlement.
 
 LAME DOGS AND FREDDY BLUE 57 
 
 " Gaze," laughed the other, and pointed to a framed 
 sampler on the wall which bore the verse, 
 
 " Do the work that's nearest, 
 Though it irks the while, 
 Helping when you meet them 
 Lame dogs o'er the stile." 
 
 Christine shook her head with a whimsical little 
 smile. " Lame dogs aren't much in my line. I al- 
 ways run when I see one." 
 
 " No, not really ! I always thought women adored 
 cuddling lame things." 
 
 " I'd go miles out of my way not to see a cripple 
 or or a blind person," Christine flashed out with 
 such flaming intensity that her companion stared at 
 her in open astonishment. " I can't bear to have my 
 feelings all worked up for nothing, and besides, what's 
 the use? There are enough people who do like to 
 fuss over the lame and the halt and the blind. That's 
 the real reason " her words came in a rush " that 
 I didn't want to come in here. I met Docky, Dr. 
 Denton and he wanted me to see a cripple, I suppose 
 she's your sister, Fredericka Blue." 
 
 The other girl sat up suddenly and stared, then 
 rippled out into a wave of gay laughter. "I I beg 
 your pardon," she gurgled, " but that's funny. Great, 
 big, strong, healthy me, big enough for two men, a 
 cripple! I'm Fredericka Blue, you know, but every- 
 body calls me Freddy." 
 
 " You Fredericka Blue. " stammered Christine, for 
 once startled out of her composure. " Dr. Denton said 
 you needed me, and of course I supposed "
 
 58 CHRISTINE OE THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 " That I must be a cripple or he wouldn't be in- 
 terested in me," Freddy promptly filled in the gap. 
 " It's my littlest sister, Teddy, who's a she has a 
 hip trouble, and I was up with her most of the night, 
 and when Dr. Denton came and wanted me to get 
 out into the sunshine, I told him I couldn't be spared, 
 and then it suddenly popped into my mind that you 
 could bring the sunshine to me, and so I told him 
 just as a joke if he ran into you he told me about 
 your brother Laurie the other day he should send 
 you to me." 
 
 The silence was unbroken for a full moment, then 
 Freddy smiled companionably. " I always tell Dr. 
 Denton his favorite pastime's helping lame dogs over 
 the stile, and you should hear him laugh when I say 
 I'm the lamest dog of all, but, honestly, I don't know 
 how I could have lived through that dreadful time 
 without him, when Teddy was born with that hip 
 trouble and mother's health gave out, and that meant 
 I had to leave college. You see there are six of us 
 girls we all have boys' names, though ; mother and 
 father were always so disappointed we didn't turn 
 out to be boys and father's a dear darling, but he 
 isn't much use where the children are concerned, he's 
 so wrapped up in his music. Dr. Denton was the only 
 one I could rave to when sometimes it seemed as if 
 I just couldn't give up my dream of doing settlement 
 work to stay home and look after father and mother 
 and the kiddies. But my word," she interrupted her- 
 self with a spontaneous laugh, " I didn't intend to 
 tell you the sa-a-ad story of me life. Your know- 
 ing my doctor must have loosened my tongue." 
 
 Again that bolt of fire sped through Christine and
 
 LAME DOGS AND FREDDY BLUE 59 
 
 again that dislike for her companion surged through 
 her only to vanish at her next words. 
 
 " I often wonder how many people call him that 
 
 my doctor for that's just the way he makes you 
 feel, all yours, his sympathy and understanding and 
 
 oh, everything." 
 
 " He's " began Christine thoughtfully, when a 
 loud noise behind her made her turn sharply toward 
 the window. Two children with ear-piercing shrieks 
 were tearing down the road. Each trailed a crutch in 
 the dust. At their heels, shouting and screaming with 
 laughter, raced a motley crew of boys and girls. 
 Without a word, Christine bounded out of the open 
 window in pursuit. The boy and the girl with the 
 crutches were the Trevor twins.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 STOLEN CRUTCHES 
 
 One resolve gripped Christine. At the risk of life 
 and limb, she would catch the twins before they reached 
 Currer Road Agnes Archer and Bess Compton 
 often spun of a morning through this picturesque old 
 highway, though it lured them some five miles out 
 of their course, on their way to the Country Club. 
 She would die of sheer mortification if 
 
 Exactly what happened was never clear in her mind. 
 But the next instant she had executed the running 
 broad-jump that had won her undying fame at Warren 
 Hall, grazed the front wheel of a curveting automobile 
 and landed in a heap in a ditch on the opposite side of 
 the road. 
 
 She was on her feet brushing off mud from her white 
 sport skirt almost before the driver of the car could 
 throw open the door to leap to the rescue. 
 
 " I do h-hope you're not hurt," he said, with a pro- 
 nounced stammer that excitement made more notice- 
 able. His voice trembled in spite of his evident strug- 
 gle for self-control, and the big dark bespectacled eyes 
 held a boy's terror. 
 
 " Not a bit," Christine promptly reassured him. 
 She straightened up from the operation of flicking 
 mud from her skirt-hem to find to her surprise that 
 her eyes were almost on a level with his. " It's just 
 
 <5o
 
 STOLEN CRUTCHES 61 
 
 that my pride tumbled into the ditch with me," with 
 the flicker of a smile. " To think I couldn't jump 
 that!" 
 
 He breathed a sigh of relief that was almost an ex- 
 plosion. " I'm m-mighty g-glad." After a mo- 
 ment's silence in which he stood gazing at the ground 
 with the expression of one who longed for it to open 
 and swallow him up, he burst out shyly, "I where 
 were you g-going when ? I say, you must 1-let me 
 t-take you home, that is, if you'll t-trust my b-bad 
 chauffing." 
 
 His humility and distress were so genuine that a 
 warm smile puckered the corners of Christine's mouth. 
 It really hadn't been wholly his fault. She hadn't 
 been looking where she was going, and besides, if she 
 hadn't been out of practice she should have cleared 
 that ditch with ease. Of course, a more experienced 
 driver There was something so appealing about 
 this slim, shy boy, probably not more than two years 
 her senior, who stood there, a figure of despair, that 
 she longed to comfort him. 
 
 " No damage done that can't be easily repaired," 
 she said lightly, then an irrepressible laugh escaped. 
 " You surely did about the best serpentine I've ever 
 seen." Instantly her dimple disappeared at a sud- 
 den thought. " I'm forgetting I was chasing a pair 
 of runaway twins when we er met," she turned 
 her troubled gaze down the deserted street, " but they 
 seem to have vanished completely. Perhaps you 
 would be willing " 
 
 But with an emphatic shake of the head he slipped 
 his arm in hers and drew her toward the roadster. 
 " No sir-eee. I'll t-take you home, if you p-please,
 
 62 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 but no more d-driving for me to-day. My nerves are 
 all s-shot up. The truth is," he said, in the burst 
 of confidence which is so often a safety-valve for a 
 painfully shy soul, " I'm not long on machines. I 
 g-get to thinking " there was a prolonged pause in 
 which he devoted his entire attention to starting the 
 engine " and er-dreaming, and I go moseying along, 
 not p-paying much attention except to what's g-going 
 on in my head, and, first thing, something breaks loose 
 the way it did just now. Are we h-headed in the 
 right direction for you ? " 
 
 Demurely Christine named her destination. Almost 
 at sight she had divined who her companion was. So 
 she was not unprepared for his outburst of surprise. 
 
 " Our next-door neighbor. Whizz, what luck ! " 
 The pale, sensitive face lighted with boyish enthusiasm, 
 but a breath later his tone had lost its joyous edge. 
 " I'm Douglas Barton, but I don't suppose we'll get 
 to know each other very well, though. Uncle Joshua 
 isn't er fond of next-door neighbors. But I've 
 always w-wished there was some one y-young, you 
 know, that I could have for a friend. Of course, 
 there's Freddy Blue " he paused thoughtfully, "but 
 she's so busy, these days, somehow things don't seem 
 the same. We used to be g-great p-pals " He broke 
 off to concentrate on the task of avoiding a heavy 
 auto-truck which was coming top-speed down the 
 road. He did not speak again until he had swerved 
 jerkily round the corner on one wheel. Then the ap- 
 pearance of the grim old gray pile which had reminded 
 Christine of the " Fall of the House of Usher " seemed 
 to electrify him with a painful thought.
 
 STOLEN CRUTCHES 63 
 
 "I I say," he threw out his hands, in a sudden 
 helpless gesture, " I c-clean forgot." 
 
 Christine had a lurid vision of a car turned turtle 
 over her mangled body, yet managed a calming, " It'll 
 be worse than a case of forgetting if you don't keep 
 your hands on the wheel. There's where I live, and, 
 somehow, this morning I'm peculiarly anxious to get 
 there whole." 
 
 " Yes, I know," he half groaned, " and this is 
 w-where I 1-live, and that's just it. I won't be alive 
 when Uncle Joshua g-gets through with me. I was 
 g-going for his crutches when we er " 
 
 " His crutches ! " gasped the girl, with a sudden 
 startled understanding in her eyes. 
 
 Douglas gazed at her in alarm. " You are hurt. 
 You didn't know it. It's all my f -fault " 
 
 " I'm all right," Christine hastened to assure him, 
 with a touch of impatience. " Go on, tell me about 
 your Uncle Joshua's crutches. He wanted you to buy 
 him some new crutches and you forgot." 
 
 He swung the car in at the driveway of Christine's 
 home before he explained, " I wasn't to b-buy them. 
 It was this way. M-Mark, Uncle Joshua's m-man, 
 'phoned me down at Uncle's bank I work there 
 now " with a smothered sigh. " I was to b-bring 
 the c-car and chase up his crutches. Uncle Joshua 
 was having a s-sun-bath in the garden, and when he 
 woke up, his crutches were gone, and his favorite pair, 
 too. I can't imagine who'd steal crutches " 
 
 " I've a better imagination than you," Christine ob- 
 served in a smothered voice, as she bounded out of the 
 car before it had come to a full stop. " I don't fancy
 
 64 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 myself as a detective, but ' muchas gracias ' for taxi- 
 ing me home, and who knows, perhaps I can reward 
 you," she went on, with her most engaging smile, 
 " by helping you find Uncle Joshua's crutches." 
 
 But she knew she would first have to trap Daffy and 
 Dilly before she could locate the missing crutches. 
 Perhaps they had already come home. She would ask 
 Laurie. He was undoubtedly in his room. 
 
 Hauntingly sweet strains of melody drew her to 
 the living-room door. The boy was playing " Oh ! 
 That We Two were Maying." Christine well remem- 
 bered that it had been a favorite with her mother. 
 Even yet over the span of years she could hear that 
 voice with the thrilling purity of the notes of a bird, 
 vibrate to the dreamy pathos of 
 
 " Oh ! that we two were Maying 
 Down the stream of the soft spring breeze; 
 Like children with violets playing 
 In the shade of the whisp'ring trees. 
 
 " Oh ! that we two sat dreaming 
 On the sward of some sheep-trimm'd down 
 Watching the white mist streaming 
 O'er river and meadow and town. 
 
 " Oh ! that we two lay sleeping 
 In our nest in the churchyard sod 
 With our limbs at rest on the quiet earth's breast, 
 And our souls at home with God." 
 
 She stood till the last note was gone, stirred to the 
 depths of her being, then, with a newborn gentle- 
 ness of manner, slipped into the room. Steadfastly 
 she kept her eyes fixed on the boy's face, and for 
 the first time she saw in that young face a fragile,
 
 STOLEN CRUTCHES 65 
 
 delicate quality, so spiritudle as to grip the heart, but 
 over and beyond that, the glow of a steady fire as of 
 a soul triumphing over weakness of body. 
 
 " Laurie." The sound of her voice seemed to startle 
 him from a dear dream. He turned his head slowly, a 
 rapt expression in his great dark eyes, but his face 
 broke delightfully into a smile at sight of her. 
 
 " Laurie," she began again. She would not let her 
 eyes stray from his face. His body was distorted, but 
 Docky had spoken of his beautiful soul. It was there. 
 She could fairly see it in his face. " I want to find 
 Daffy and Dilly. They've been getting themselves 
 into mischief. I thought " 
 
 Childish voices raised high in dispute made her 
 pause on her unfinished sentence. As usual, Daffy 
 was in the lead, when the twins, like diminutive tor- 
 nadoes, tore into the living-room, and her treble was 
 uppermost as they rushed upon Laurie. 
 
 " I saw 'em first 'n' said you was to get 'em, 'n' 
 you just got to let me tell. Laurie, Laurie, look here." 
 Triumphantly each twin displayed a crutch, but it 
 was Daffy's quick tongue that tripped on, " We was 
 playing by the barn, 'n' we saw an old ogre, over in 
 the next yard, and what do you think, he was sleep- 
 ing in the sun " 
 
 " Just like the story you read us yesterday," Dilly 
 cut in, but was checked by the thrust of a small el- 
 bow. 
 
 " You hush up, Dilly you've got to let me tell 
 'n' I saw his crutches on a bench ; you know those 
 awful crutches in the story, Laurie, Black Temper 'n' 
 Meanness. I spied 'em right away 'n' we went up tip- 
 toe, tip-toe, 'n' got 'em 'n' he never woke up 'n' some
 
 66 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 bad boys 'n' girls chased us down the street 'n' we 
 runned 'n' runned fast " 
 
 " Down two alleys, 'n' three lots," shouted Dilly, in 
 great excitement. 
 
 " But they never catched us," said Daffy, as she 
 proudly waggled her blond head, disheveled and guilt- 
 less of a hat, " 'n' we're glad we got the crutches, 
 'cause the ogre can't hurt the princess without 'em, 
 now can he, Laurie ? I " 
 
 " O oh," the twins shrieked in sudden dismay, 
 and stood for the merest fraction of a second, eyes 
 fright-rounded. At one and the same moment they 
 had made the paralyzing discovery Laurie was not 
 alone. Christine was in the room. She had heard. 
 She knew all. She would not understand. She never 
 did. With one accord they seized each other's hands 
 and fled, leaving their loot behind. 
 
 Laurie broke the silence that followed the banging 
 of the door. 
 
 " They didn't mean to do wrong," he lifted eyes 
 eloquent with entreaty. " They're the best kiddies in 
 seven states." 
 
 It was a full half -moment before she spoke. Her 
 mind was picturing vividly the confident clinging of 
 Tommy Blue to her motherly sister. How differently 
 the twins ! Impatiently she shrugged away the un- 
 pleasant thought. Crisply she flung out, " H'm, actions 
 speak louder than words. Those twins have got to be 
 disciplined. They've run wild- so long they think 
 their will's law. Amelia's too easy. I'm going to 
 take them in hand, myself." 
 
 Laurie's thin hands clasped with unconscious eager-
 
 STOLEN CRUTCHES 67 
 
 ness. " If you'd only try to be interested in them just 
 a little bit, you could do wonders. But you can't get 
 them to do things if you're cross. I know. They'll 
 trot their legs off for you, though, if they like you. 
 I guess most people are like that," he wound up, with 
 a wisdom beyond his years. 
 
 " Well, believe me, they're going to catch it for 
 this scrape. Let me see, I'll make them " Tommy 
 Blue's dictum rose up suddenly in her mind ; the pun- 
 ishment must fit the crime. " I'll make them carry 
 those crutches back to Mr. Barton and apologize this 
 very instant," announced the girl, her head flung high 
 in decision. "Where's Amelia?" she turned in the 
 doorway. " They'll have to be made presentable 
 first." 
 
 " Amelia had to go to town early this morning. 
 Her brother's sick. She won't be back till night." 
 After a moment in which his fingers picked nervously 
 at the strings of the violin, he went on, " Please, Chris- 
 tine, don't row with the twins. Let me go myself 
 next-door and take back those crutches. I'd really 
 like to. I haven't been out to-day." He gave her a 
 sudden smile which lit up his rather sad young face. 
 
 " That's just how those twins get spoiled. No, they 
 must suffer the consequences of their own naughti- 
 ness." A youthful severity hardened her face. " I'll 
 hunt them up myself." 
 
 She had already taken a half-dozen steps down the 
 hall when suddenly she stopped, frowned, took an- 
 other step or two towards the stairs, halted again, 
 wheeled sharply about, and ran back to thrust her 
 bright head in the living-room door and say, a bit
 
 breathlessly, " It was nice of you, Laurie, to have 
 my fixings and those dear flowers put in my room. 
 Thanks, awfully." 
 
 Before the startled boy could find his voice, she 
 was pelting up the front stairs. 
 
 At the end of a long half-hour Christine had to 
 acknowledge her defeat. She had scrupulously 
 searched every inch of the Trevor house and grounds, 
 but the twins had vanished completely. Her lips set- 
 tled into firm lines. " Those crutches must go back 
 now. I'll have to send our maid-of-all-work." 
 
 Involuntarily she made a little grimace as she 
 slipped down the back stairs to the kitchen. She was 
 treading on unfamiliar and unpleasant ground. She 
 had small acquaintance with the kitchen, the workshop 
 of the home. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. It 
 would be a smelly, messy, cluttery place, but she sup- 
 posed she could endure it for a moment. She was 
 determined to send back those crutches at once. 
 
 On the threshold she paused and stared. It was 
 like a setting for a stage-kitchen a bright, large, 
 cheerful room, in which every copper and tin utensil 
 acted as a mirror for the sun. At first sight she 
 thought that the room was deserted, but a moment later 
 she heard some one speak from the recesses of a 
 pantry. She took a step or two into the room, but 
 the sounds that issued from the pantry transfixed 
 her. 
 
 " Yes, Misery, it's your sad day, but you ain't goin' 
 to salt the soup with tears. You promised the good 
 doctor that, so just start to singin' again, and chase 
 them blue devils away." Whereupon the owner of 
 the voice began to crot>n a weird but not unpleasant
 
 STOLEN CRUTCHES 69 
 
 little strain to the accompaniment of a scrubbing- 
 brush, vigorously applied. Suddenly the singing 
 stopped. There was silence, then the voice began 
 again, " Now, Snubby, you get to work and dig out 
 the dirt in that corner, yes, harder, harder than that. 
 There, that's done. Now we'll put Sunny Face over 
 to boil, and begin to get lunch." 
 
 The next instant a tall, lanky but still young figure, 
 with skirts tucked up about her, and armed with pail 
 and scrubbing brush, emerged from the pantry. As 
 she saw Christine she dropped back a step in fright, 
 and emitted the squawk of a frightened hen. " Gor, 
 you gave me a turn. I didn't know anyone was 
 here." 
 
 Her eyes were a-stream with tears but she smiled 
 gallantly through them. " Beggin' your pardon, Miss, 
 for them tears, but it's all on account of my babe 
 gone a year to-day and my husband two months be- 
 fore that. I was havin' it out in there with Snubby " 
 she held out the scrubbing brush " and maybe you 
 heard me speakin' queerlike to it, but when you're 
 alone so much and got nothing but thoughts for 
 friends you like to talk to anything, so I just give 
 everything a name and make out as they're alive. 
 Sunny Face is one of the best friends I got," she lifted 
 a shining copper teakettle from the stove as she spoke 
 and proceeded to fill it with water. " You see, Miss, 
 I gave my promise to Dr. Denton when I came to 
 work for you," she went on, eagerly communicative, 
 " not to let the blues get me like they used to till I 
 most went out of my head, and I'm try in' hard to 
 keep my word." 
 
 " Another of Docky's lame dogs," Christine found
 
 70 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 herself mumbling; then she said aloud, "You haven't 
 seen anything of the twins ? " She asked the ques- 
 tion with a quick realization that this young woman 
 would be no fit messenger. "I you I don't be- 
 lieve I know your name." 
 
 " Misery," was the prompt reply, at least that 
 was what the girl gathered. Later she learned it was 
 Mrs. Ray, who was the genius of the Trevor kitchen, 
 but, to the end of the chapter, for Christine and the 
 young Trevors, she was always " Misery." 
 
 When Christine closed the kitchen door behind her, 
 she stopped to shake an angry fist at fate. It was 
 perfectly clear that if the crutches were to be carried 
 back at once, as had been her imperious dictum, she 
 would have to take them herself. There was nothing 
 on earth she should hate more. But for the sake of 
 the Trevor family honor 
 
 With one of her characteristically hasty decisions, 
 she flew to her room to smooth her gleaming-gold 
 hair, then properly coated and hatted, crutches un- 
 der her arm, marched down the front walk to the 
 gate and fleet-footed it into the grounds of her next- 
 door neighbor. 
 
 The color in her cheeks was burning high, but her 
 head was held proudly erect. She would deliver the 
 crutches into the hands of Mr. Barton's man he 
 would undoubtedly answer the door. Then she would 
 offer a cold but handsome apology for the twins' mis- 
 behavior and so the unpleasant incident would end. 
 
 She was racing along, wrapped in thought, when a 
 harsh voice behind her suddenly challenged her. 
 Startled, she twisted her head to glance back over 
 her shoulder. There in the sunshine under a huge
 
 STOLEN CRUTCHES 71 
 
 oak lay the form of a man extended in a steamer- 
 chair. A dozen shawls and steamer-rugs bound him 
 into the likeness of a mummy-figure. 
 
 Involuntarily Christine shuddered. It was like 
 looking into a face carved of granite. The deep- 
 sunken eyes were cold and hard as gray stones, the 
 mouth was thin-lipped, sternly set; the aquiline nose 
 was refined to sharpness, and on every feature, in 
 every line, was stamped a deadly grimness. 
 
 " What are you doing here ? " the harsh voice de- 
 manded for a second time. 
 
 The girl drew a step nearer before she answered 
 in her sweet young voice, " I've come to return your 
 crutches, sir. My small brother and sister made off 
 with them. They thought it was all part of a story." 
 
 To her surprise no answer came. Then she real- 
 ized that the man was staring wildly at her, his face 
 the gray of ashes, his lips parted as if in terror. One 
 hand crept up flutteringly. So for a full moment he 
 stared, stared. 
 
 Suddenly he raised himself up on his elbow, and, ex- 
 tricating his hand with difficulty, shook a trembling 
 fist at her. " Go, go, this instant, Christine." His 
 voice was hoarse with passion. " Never dare to come 
 here again."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 CALLERS 
 
 Her head proudly erect, Christine made her way 
 down the Barton garden path. Once beyond the 
 range of those stony eyes, however, she threw all dig- 
 nity to the winds and ran at top speed. Her mind 
 was a torrent of angry thoughts. Horrid old man! 
 How dared he treat her, Christine Trevor, as if she 
 were a beggar or a pedlar and order her out of his 
 grounds ! Mentally she stamped her foot. Did he 
 for one moment suppose she had wanted to come? 
 She wished he might have known what a terrific tussle 
 she had had with herself before she could bring her- 
 self to deliver those wretched crutches in person. 
 
 It was not until she was racing up her own front 
 steps that his passionate words, unbidden, repeated 
 themselves in her mind. " Go, go, this instant, Chris- 
 tine. Never dare come here again." Christine in- 
 deed! Rather familiar, to put it mildly. And pray, 
 just how had he learned her name? Her lips curved 
 suddenly in a warm, reminiscent smile. His nephew 
 had undoubtedly mentioned their chance meeting and 
 had spoken her name. 
 
 She gave an expressive shrug of her shoulders as 
 she flung into her bedroom. Joshua Barton might 
 calm his fears. Nothing in the heavens or the earth 
 for that matter would induce her ever to set foot 
 again in that old ogre's grounds. 
 
 72
 
 CALLERS 73 
 
 On a sudden whimsy she resolved to register her 
 oath. Armed with sketch book and pencil, she 
 dropped down on the window-seat, and in less than 
 a quarter of an hour had drawn a fairly recognizable 
 picture of the mummified figure in the steamer-chair 
 which she had encountered on the Barton lawn. 
 
 Underneath the drawing she promptly affixed these 
 words, " I, Christine Trevor, spinster, being of sound 
 mind and body, do hereby solemnly swear never to 
 speak to, look at, or have anything to do with the 
 above monster." 
 
 She slipped the drawing into her sketch-book, and 
 thrust it into her desk-drawer. Then, for the first 
 time, she was attracted to the huge nosegay of wild 
 flowers that graced her dressing-table, and the snatches 
 of conversation of the twins which she had chanced 
 to overhear earlier in the morning came crowding 
 into her memory. So they were trying their honest- 
 best to gain her love and make her a really truly sister. 
 Her cheeks burned high with color. She would tell 
 them and Laurie but where were the twins ? 
 
 In her anger at Joshua Barton's unceremonious dis- 
 missal she had completely forgotten those young run- 
 aways. She must hunt them up at once. But where ? 
 Perhaps they were down in the village bent on some 
 fresh mischief which would bring new disgrace to 
 the already tarnished name of Trevor. 
 
 Christine pulled on her hat with an impatient sigh. 
 She was bone-tired. She wanted nothing so much 
 as a nap and a bath before lunch. But the something 
 which she was beginning to recognize as a force 
 stronger than her own personal desires sent her out 
 in pursuit of the missing twins.
 
 74 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 Warm, weary, dishevelled, chagrined, she came back 
 at the end of a dragging hour. Her search had been 
 unavailing. There was nothing to do, she told her- 
 self grimly, when she found there was still no trace 
 of them at home, but to scour the village again. She 
 made quick work of luncheon, which she ate in soli- 
 tary state. 
 
 Her cheeks flamed and her lips set, when " Misery " 
 on her own initiative informed her that Master Laurie 
 had eaten a bite in the kitchen a quarter of an hour 
 before, and was again hard at work at lessons in his 
 bedroom. 
 
 Another evidence of Laurie's thought f ulness ! He 
 had lunched in the kitchen to spare her feelings. It 
 had been easy enough in the other elaborate menage 
 of the Trevors to avoid meeting the boy at meal-times. 
 She had been always on the wing, and on those very 
 infrequent occasions when she had lunched or dined 
 at home, she had been served in her sitting- 
 room! It would be far more difficult now. With 
 only one servant-of -all-work to assist Amelia, it was 
 hardly to be expected that she could dine when she 
 willed, neither would Amelia allow her beloved Laurie 
 to frequent the kitchen. The family would have to 
 foregather at regular hours. Again Christine gave 
 a sigh. It would be bitter-hard, but then From 
 her face a sudden radiance flamed. In just fifty-nine 
 days now she would be liberated. Cort would be back 
 the first week in June. Her eyes grew pensive with 
 sudden longing. It was a glorious day for a spin 
 through the country roads. If only she had her car, 
 or if Cort had but thought to give her the use of one 
 of his half-dozen! Well, she would drive away her
 
 CALLERS 75 
 
 gloomy thoughts by writing Cort a long account of 
 her eventful morning, and then she would continue 
 her pursuit of those young will-o'-the-wisps. 
 
 Suddenly she sprang to the window. Her quick 
 eyes had sighted a small, dark object creeping along 
 the outer side of the hedge which separated Barton 
 and Trevor lawns. Intently she watched a moment 
 to make assurance doubly sure. Now she could see 
 not only one object stealing along close to the ground, 
 but two. 
 
 A moment afterward she had thrown open the 
 French window and cleared the veranda in a bound 
 that would have done credit to a boy athlete. But 
 the two small objects must have been on the look- 
 out for precisely such a raid, for, before Christine 
 was half way down the lawn, they were running, fleet 
 as two young deer, across the forbidden territory of 
 their neighbor's lawn. 
 
 Anger burned high in Christine. This chase had 
 gone on long enough. And when once she did catch 
 them ! Her lips settled into hard lines and her 
 eyes gleamed black. She would punish them as they 
 had never been punished before in their lives. 
 She had just gathered herself together to vault the 
 corner of the hedge when the honking of a familiar 
 horn and the shouted greetings of even more familiar 
 voices arrested her. She wheeled sharply about. 
 But, even before she looked, she knew. The formless 
 dread that had been lurking in the back of her mind 
 had taken shape. 
 
 Agnes Archer and Bess Compton on their home- 
 ward way from the Country Club had swung into the 
 Trevor drive. In a glance she saw it all, Agnes' new
 
 76 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 roadster, the apotheosis of luxurious up-to-dateness, 
 the smart new golf costumes of the two girls, and 
 their finely groomed appearance. In the mental mir- 
 ror of her dismay she saw herself, flushed, disheveled, 
 in a white skirt and blouse of a past year's fashion. 
 
 But what she did not see in her mental mirror was 
 the high lights that the sun drew from her red-gold 
 hair, nor the flower-like beauty of her face nor the 
 charming brightness of the smile with which she ran 
 to welcome them, hands out-held. 
 
 " Hello, Agnes, hello, Bess. It's ripping good to 
 see you again." 
 
 " I've just been up to the Club, getting in trim for 
 the tournament," drawled Agnes Archer, in her fash- 
 ionably high-keyed voice. She was a sallow, black- 
 haired, black-eyed girl, still in her teens. Her lips 
 habitually held a curve of discontent and she affected 
 such exaggeratedly thin, silhouette lines of dress that 
 one of her set had likened her to a hairpin slimly 
 covered. " I say, Chris, I can't see why you cut out 
 golf, just because you lost your father. It's not 
 gaiety. It's exercise and all that, you know." 
 
 A spot of red burned under her eyes, but Christine 
 managed to answer composedly. " We're not mem- 
 bers now. Besides, I I haven't the heart for it." 
 
 Bess Compton, a sunny-haired bundle of good-na- 
 ture and giggles, threw herself promptly into the 
 breach. " Come as my guest, Chris, as often as you 
 like. Just ring me up, and I'll trundle you out when- 
 ever you say the word. Ag's right. You mustn't 
 shut yourself up like a nun, just because your father's 
 gone. We all know how horribly sad things 've 
 been for you, but, old dear, the bottom's just dropped
 
 CALLERS 77 
 
 out of things without you. Let'<s make it Friday 
 at " 
 
 " But I expect to be very busy Friday, and, in fact, 
 every day. There are so many things I have to put 
 through before Cort gets back. It's less than two 
 months now." 
 
 The significant glance that Bess and Agnes ex- 
 changed was not lost on the girl who was standing 
 on the running-board of the roadster, but before she 
 could challenge its meaning, Agnes had drawled out, 
 " I say, Chris, do be a good fellow, and give us a cup 
 of tea. There wasn't a thing fit to eat at the Club 
 to-day, so Bess and I cut lunch, and now I'm starved." 
 
 " Me, too," Bess's tone made up in fervor for lack 
 of grammar. " I'm hungry as a rabbit. Oh, Chris " 
 she gave a sudden squeal of joy "do have Ka- 
 tinka make us some of those delicious scones. My 
 mouth fairly waters for a dozen or more of those 
 beauties." 
 
 " Katinka's also numbered among the missing," 
 Christine announced from her perch on the running- 
 board, as Agnes sent her car spinning up the gravel- 
 path, " but we'll manage to scare up something for 
 you," she declared, with more confidence than she felt. 
 Inwardly she was filled with dismay. What could 
 she serve her fastidious guests, especially in the ab- 
 sence of Amelia? Misery was willing but not effi- 
 cient as a waitress, as Christine had reason to remem- 
 ber from her noon luncheon. As for herself, she had 
 never prepared a dish of anything in all her life, much 
 less served it. Wilson and Annie had always done 
 that. She hated domestic duties. Besides, why should 
 she, Christine Trevor, perform the work of menials?
 
 78 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 If Amelia's brother had only chosen some other day 
 for his illness! But she would die before she would 
 betray by the slightest sign her mental distress. 
 
 She was chattering gaily as she led the way into 
 the living-room. It was a large room running the 
 entire depth of the house, and the effect of apparent 
 irregularity in the arrangement of its fittings gave 
 it a sense of charm. The warm afternoon sunshine 
 streamed brightly in through the long windows and 
 fell full upon great, cozy lounging chairs, a huge 
 davenport, and in the center of the room upon a 
 large, magnificently carved, old mahogany table. The 
 appointments were practically the same as when her 
 parents had left it years before. The sunshine rested, 
 too, with kindly effect on the great bunches of wild 
 flowers on mantel, table and in floor-jars and struck 
 a note which for the first time arrested Christine's at- 
 tention. There was a homelike, living quality to this 
 old room which had been lacking in the great elaborate 
 Trevor town-house, with its hangings of cobwebby 
 lace and silk, its period-style furniture and priceless 
 marbles. Christine stood a moment, staring. She 
 wondered what it meant. But Agnes' high-pitched 
 voice recalled her wandering thoughts. 
 
 "If you don't hurry, Chris, you'll have a couple of 
 deaders on your hands." 
 
 " Dead ones aren't in style this year," retorted Chris- 
 tine, with a flashing smile that covered a quaking heart. 
 She found the kitchen in perfect array, but deserted. 
 There was a waste of five minutes in which she vainly 
 searched for Misery. Her room, too, was orderly 
 but empty. " What shall I do ? " wailed the girl to her-
 
 CALLERS 79 
 
 sdf, as she flew down the back stairs to the kitchen. 
 " Oh ! " she cried in fright, as she pulled open the 
 kitchen-door. " Oh, it's you, Laurie. What are you 
 doing, " she demanded, advancing a step or two into 
 the room. 
 
 " It's almost time for 'Melia to be back, and she's 
 sure to have a headache trolley-riding always makes 
 her head hurt so I'm getting a little lunch ready," 
 he answered, without glancing ifp from his task of slic- 
 ing bread. 
 
 " You, fixing a lunch ! " Christine's tone was a 
 nice blending of emotion. 
 
 The boy flushed, but he replied in his quiet way, 
 " Most boys couldn't or wouldn't, I know, but being 
 lame's made me different. I suppose you think I'm 
 a sissy," he flung out, with a rare show of feeling, " but 
 I'd be a sissy ten times over if I could do one tiny 
 little thing for 'Melia." 
 
 " A sissy, no, rather an angel in disguise. I 
 you " she stammered in unusual embarrassment, " I 
 say, Laurie, Agnes Archer and Bess Compton are 
 here, and they want a lunch, and I don't know a 
 blessed thing about cooking, and could you oh, will 
 you help me out of my mess ? " 
 
 Laurie's face was shining as he returned in an ex- 
 cellent imitation of Wilson's stilted manner, " What 
 h'are your h'orders, ma'am? And w'ich service shall 
 I use, ma'am? I do be h'arskin' your pardon, ma'am, 
 for bein' late, ma'am, but tea'll be ready in fifteen min- 
 utes, ma'am." 
 
 Laurie was as good as his word. For a quarter of 
 an hour, under his able direction, Christine flew about
 
 8o CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 the kitchen, assembling dishes and silver on the serv- 
 ing-tray while the boy himself prepared the toast and 
 brewed the tea. 
 
 " You're a perfect dear," Christine burst out, as 
 she tossed back a tendril of golden hair from her 
 hot cheeks; "it all looks perfectly delicious." She 
 shouldered the tray which, in its delicate arrangement 
 of nicely browned thin slices of bread, golden marma- 
 lade, red jelly and flashing old tea-service of silver, 
 would not have disgraced a Wilson. " And it's 
 every bit your work. You're not tired, I hope." 
 A sudden pang smote her as she noted the pallor of 
 the boy's face and the heavily shadowed eyes. " I'm 
 a beast to let you do all this for me." 
 
 " I'm not tired," protested Laurie, stoutly. " I'm 
 going to fix 'Melia's lunch this minute, and and 
 you don't know how jolly it's been working like this 
 with you. Oh, I say, though, you'd better hurry, or 
 that tea'll be stone cold. 'Melia always says I make 
 the best cup of tea ever," he added, with quaint pride. 
 
 Agnes Archer paid an unconscious tribute to the 
 boy's skill in tea-brewing when some minutes later 
 she passed her cup to Christine with the question, " Are 
 you sporting a Jap chef now? That's the best cup of 
 tea I've had since I was in Yokohama last spring, and, 
 believe me, I know a cup of tea when it's tea. Speak- 
 ing of servants, how do you like my new coiff ? Mar- 
 ie's some jewel, Chris. You must miss her outrage- 
 ously." For an instant the cold black eyes caught 
 and held the brown eyes with the golden flecks. But 
 Trevor pride came to Christine's support. Not by a 
 flicker of the eyelids would she betray that the barb 
 had pierced her to the quick.
 
 CALLERS 8 1 
 
 " Oh, Marie was all right in her way," she retorted 
 with a light laugh, " but I can't say that her absence 
 has left me inconsolable. After all, you know, there's 
 some fun in giving your hair the do-up you like, and 
 not always kow-towing to Marie's taste." 
 
 " She is rather a boss," admitted Agnes, with evi- 
 dent reluctance, " but then she's clever and awfully 
 useful. Oh, I say, Chris, wasn't that your twins we 
 saw up on Carter Road? Bess and I weren't dead 
 sure, they were so they didn't look exactly like that 
 good-looking painting Huntington exhibited in the 
 gallery last year, and yet, somehow, I got the idea it 
 was Daffy and Dilly that were making mud-pies in 
 the road." 
 
 " I don't wonder you didn't recognize them ; they 
 must be messy as beggars by this time," Christine suc- 
 ceeded in keeping her tone level. " I'm taking- them 
 in tow, you see, and I'm rather green at the job." 
 
 " You," chorused her guests in shrill surprise, and 
 burst into shriller laughter. 
 
 " Oh, I say, Chris, old dear," hooted Agnes mock- 
 ingly, " is this a joke ? You take care of the twins ! 
 That's the funniest ever. You could about as well 
 teach a pair of jack-rabbits to jump through a hoop 
 as manage a couple of kids." 
 
 An answering little gleam of humor shot into Chris- 
 tine's eyes. " I haven't had a whole world of ex- 
 perience, I admit," she replied, and to herself she con- 
 fessed honestly, " nor much liking for the job either, 
 but," she added aloud, " they've been running wild 
 for so long now somebody's got to take them in hand, 
 and I seem to be elected to straighten them out for 
 Amelia, before Cort gets back."
 
 82 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 Agnes and Bess both laughed again in good-natured 
 derision. " You're a queer card, Chris. I'd be willing 
 to wager," Agnes declared, with her cock-sureness of 
 manner, " you'll be putting them in an orphan asylum 
 before many months. Oh, there they are now," she 
 pointed to two little figures stealing up the carriage 
 drive. 
 
 " An orphan asylum ! Never ! " Christine's tone 
 suggested that the tension of her nerves had tightened 
 almost to the breaking-point. She threw open the 
 French window and stepped out on the veranda, her 
 heart heavy with misgivings. Defeat now would 
 make her the laughing-stock of her guests, and yet 
 how could she expect anything but defeat? 
 
 Suddenly guests, defeat, conquest, slipped completely 
 from her thoughts. She saw only a pair of very tired, 
 very dirty, undoubtedly very hungry, children. Her 
 heart went out to them in a most unexpected fashion. 
 
 " Daffy, Dilly," she cried and there was something 
 in her voice that halted their steps and made them 
 turn their faces trustingly to hers, " come in and get 
 cleaned up, and I'll make you " a memory of child- 
 hood's delight gave her sudden inspiration " the 
 nicest tea-party you ever had. Bread and jam and 
 sugar so high." Her fingers and thumb measured at 
 least two inches. 
 
 " Goody, goody," shouted the young irrepressibles, 
 as they loped like rabbits over the lawn kitchen-ward. 
 
 There was a full moment of silence when Christine 
 stepped back into the room. Her two guests stared 
 at her in amazement. Her face had taken on a new 
 quality which somehow transfigured her. A peculiar 
 light of thought was wavering in her eyes. Her shoul-
 
 CALLERS 83 
 
 ders were well up and she held her gold-crowned head 
 high-poised. It was as if she had sighted a goal and 
 was making straight for it. 
 
 Agnes broke the silence. With a slight lift of her 
 eyebrows she observed, " We must be trailing along, 
 Bess; I've oodles of things to do. Did you know, 
 Chris, father and I are sailing for South America 
 Saturday? I suppose, though, Cort's told you all 
 about our plans ? " Without pausing for an answer, 
 she babbled on, " Cort that is, old Mr. Van Ness 
 wanted us to go from the start, but father couldn't 
 get things in shape, you know, until now. So the 
 Van Ness party have promised to postpone their trip 
 back a month or six weeks now that we're to join 
 them." 
 
 A month or six weeks. The middle of July or the 
 first of August. How could she bear the strain of 
 waiting, waiting ! The minutes and hours would drag 
 by, each more interminable than the one that had gone 
 before. Why had Cort kept all this from her? 
 
 The world in that instant reeled about her. She 
 felt dazed, and for the moment, robbed of the power 
 of coherent thought. Then again Trevor pride stif- 
 fened her. She lifted her head, and her lips slowly 
 parted in a whimsical smile. " That'll give me more 
 time, and Heavens to Betsy, I need it. I've some 
 hard job on my hands here, but, believe me, before I'm 
 Mrs. Cort Van Ness, I'm going to put it through."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 A SHORT CHAPTER JUST A LETTER FROM CORT 
 
 Rain drumming determinedly on her windows 
 greeted Christine the next morning. The sense of 
 depression that her guests of the previous afternoon 
 had left in their wake deepened at the melancholy of 
 the day. But the handwriting on the letter that lay 
 at her plate at the breakfast-table brought a smile into 
 her eyes. It was from Cort. Eagerly she tore the 
 envelope. The smile faded as she read the brief 
 scrawl. 
 
 " Dear Girl, 
 
 " Rio Janeiro is one great place. The eats and the 
 women are some peaches. Wish you were here. 
 Have you heard the news? Aggie Archer and her 
 dad are going to join us. Some business arrange- 
 ments of my dad's silver-mine or something. That 
 means we'll not start back until some time in July, but 
 don't you worry, honey, there's a good time coming 
 when you're Mrs. Cort. 
 
 " Dad's shouting at me for a game of billiards 
 So long, my dear girl. Perhaps I'll drop you a line 
 to-night before the ball. Big affair on here at the 
 hotel. 
 
 " Yours for keeps, 
 
 " CORT."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 RUNAWAY TWINS 
 
 Rain was still blurring the windows and hissing 
 sullenly on the soaked garden when Christine re- 
 sponded to the luncheon bell. The morning had been 
 trying. The task she had taken upon herself already 
 had begun to assume overwhelming proportions. The 
 steady downpour had forced the twins to resort to 
 the living-room as their playground, and all too soon 
 Christine found that the streaming rain had not damp- 
 ened their spirits as it had hers. On the contrary, they 
 seemed to be keyed to the highest pitch of mischief, 
 and now and then their shrieks of laughter would draw 
 her irresistibly to the living-room door. Several 
 times in her capacity as really-truly sister, she had 
 been called in to arbitrate, and once she had rudely 
 broken up the game when she discovered Daffy mas- 
 querading as a captive princess in a rose-colored chif- 
 fon party-gown which she had surreptitiously snatched 
 from her sister's wardrobe. 
 
 Then Dilly had fallen from a pyramid of chairs, 
 designed to act as an aeroplane, and in the absence 
 of Amelia who was in the village bent upon market- 
 ing, the extremely distasteful task of binding up his 
 wounds and assisting him into fresh garments had 
 devolved upon Christine. 
 
 So it was with a weary sigh that the girl sank into 
 her seat at the luncheon-table. Laurie was already 
 
 85
 
 86 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 in his place. His face was pale, his fingers tensely 
 clasped in his lap. He and Christine had met for 
 the first time at the table. The girl was too wrapped 
 in her own melancholy thoughts to notice the boy's 
 silent misery. Not so the twins. 
 
 " Oh oh Laurie, you aren't eating a speck of 
 your salad, 'n' you always love it," presently observed 
 sharp-eyed Daffy. " Can I ? " 
 
 " I bar half," interrupted Dilly greedily. " You - 
 
 " I asked first. You shan't have any. It's all 
 mine." The childish voices rose high in dispute. 
 
 " Daffy, Dilly, if you don't stop that noise this in- 
 stant, I'll send you from the table," Christine repri- 
 manded sharply. " I'm quite ashamed of you. You 
 act like two little pigs." 
 
 There was quiet all of a moment, then tears streamed 
 from Daffy's blue eyes with their pellucid gaze. 
 " You're not a really-truly sister at all. You're noth- 
 ing but a old cross-patch," she sobbed. 
 
 " Leave the table, Daffy," exploded Christine. All 
 the strain and tension of the unending morning cul- 
 minated in this disagreeable scene. " And stay in your 
 room until I come." 
 
 Dilly gazed in paralyzed silence after the weeping 
 form of his twin for one brief second, then shouting, 
 " Laurie can't eat, 'cause you scare him into fits," he, 
 too, fled like some wild thing from the room. 
 
 The flash of anger in Christine's eyes was replaced 
 by a softer glow when she and Laurie were left alone. 
 " Is that true? " she asked after a painful silence. 
 
 The boy answered without raising his eyes from his 
 plate. " I'm not afraid of you, but I know you 
 you don't like to be where I am."
 
 RUNAWAY TWINS 87 
 
 The tightly closed little petals of Christine's heart 
 quivered at the poignant grief in the boy's voice. 
 
 " Great Peter," she burst out, " I'm such a selfish 
 thing I I never for a moment thought how it might 
 hurt you. I was just thinking of myself. I'm begin- 
 ning to realize I'm always thinking only about my- 
 self." To her intense annoyance she could not keep 
 her voice quite steady. " It's high time I was learning 
 that Christine Trevor isn't the whole thing," she con- 
 fided suddenly, with one of her engaging impulses, as 
 her thoughts reverted to the letter that she had read 
 earlier in the morning. 
 
 Laurie's face brightened and took on a smile of 
 great charm. " You're pretty nearly the whole thing 
 around here, and and " he hesitated, then ended 
 in a rush of shyness, " it's going to be mighty jolly 
 having you with us till Cort gets back. I suppose it's 
 selfish of me, but I've been wishing he'd let us have 
 you a little while longer than just a few weeks." His 
 glance was an unconscious caress. 
 
 She rose and pushed back her chair with a short 
 laugh, " You have your wish. Now I must settle ac- 
 counts with the twins. I can see I let them off too 
 easily yesterday." 
 
 Slowly she mounted the steps that led to the nursery. 
 " It's beastly, everything's beastly," she declared to 
 herself, in fierce self-pity, " just one miserable day 
 after the other. I'll be a gibbering idiot by the time 
 Cort gets back. Now for Miss Daffy," she braced 
 back her shoulders as if to prove to herself her own 
 grim determination. " She's going to stay in bed 
 this whole afternoon, and so is Mr. Dilly." With a 
 firm hand she turned the door-knob. An empty room
 
 88 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 confronted her. " Daffy," she called imperiously. 
 
 No childish treble answered. She banged open 
 Dilly's door. There was no sign of its small occu- 
 pant. 
 
 " Daffy, Dilly," she raised her voice in the white 
 heat of anger, as she raced through the hall. 
 " Daffy," she shouted again, putting her bright head 
 in the open doorway of the nursery. 
 
 Amelia's calm voice responded, " Isn't Daffy in 
 her bedroom, Christine ?" 
 
 " No, she isn't," snapped the girl. " But, believe 
 me, it's going hard with Miss Daffy when I find her. 
 I told her to stay in her room till I came. She dis- 
 obeyed. I intended to keep her in bed just this after- 
 noon. Now she'll stay there a whole wee'k with noth- 
 ing but bread and water, and " 
 
 " Tut, tut," the old woman interrupted the angry 
 tirade. " You can't handle children rough-like that 
 way. They're like flowers. They've got to have 
 lovin' up. Pettin' and pretty words 're the same to 
 them as God's sunshine is to flowers." 
 
 But Christine was not to be softened by Amelia's 
 gentle philosophy. 
 
 " What those youngsters need most right now is 
 to be made to mind. You're too easy with them. 
 They're going to learn that when I tell them to do 
 a thing, they've got to do it, or I'll know the reason 
 why. It's perfectly clear you've brought them up on 
 the theory of ' spare the rod and spoil the child.' 
 They're spoiled all right." 
 
 Amelia answered quietly, without lifting her eyes 
 from the small sock she was darning. " They're 
 nothing but babes, seven year old come next January,
 
 RUNAWAY TWINS 89 
 
 and they've been motherless from the start and now 
 no father, neither." A tear fell unheeded on her 
 handiwork. " Between you and I, Christine, I think 
 they're blessed lambs." 
 
 An uncomfortable silence fell which Christine broke 
 with her question, " Where do you think they are, 
 'Melia? You don't for a minute suppose they're out 
 in this drenching rain." 
 
 Amelia's needle plied briskly back and forth in the 
 rent in the heel a moment before she returned, " I 
 shouldn't be a mite surprised. You see, I came up 
 here to get these socks mended for Dilly to put on this 
 afternoon " 
 
 Christine gave a cry of surprise. " You don't mean 
 you haven't had your lunch yet ? " 
 
 Amelia answered with a shake of her gray head. 
 " I'm pretty busy these days gettin' things done. 
 'T ain't like it was in the old times with three maids 
 and a laundress and what-not in the house, not to 
 speak of Wilson. But that's nothing. I'd go with- 
 out every meal if I could serve a Trevor." 
 
 Christine drew a full breath. " You're great, 
 'Melia. I never realized " 
 
 " It just comes to me now," interrupted the serving- 
 woman, " that Dilly flew in here a few minutes ago, 
 a-lookin' for his umbrella. Like as not he and Daffy 
 are slippin' about in puddles and Daffy not over her 
 cold yet. If that child gets her feet wet, it'll be the 
 death of her and her not so very strong since she came 
 down with the whoopin' cough. I must go fetch them 
 in this minute." She was thinking now and thinking 
 aloud. 
 
 " You shan't stir a step till you've had your lunch,"
 
 90 
 
 declared Christine, with the insistence characteristic 
 of her. " I'll have Misery bring you a tray here, and 
 I I'll go on a still hunt for those imps myself." 
 
 " You you, Christine ! " Amelia's tone of in- 
 credulous astonishment brought a quick red into the 
 young cheeks. " You that don't like rain no more 
 than a kitty-cat. That's unexpected good of you. 
 It'd save me no end of time with all that mendin' not 
 yet done if you would, though. But don't have me 
 no tray brought up. Mrs. Ray's up to her ears now 
 in kitchen-work. I'll slip down for a bite as soon as 
 I hear Laurie say his history-lesson." 
 
 Christine shivered involuntarily as she stepped out 
 into a world prisoned in rain. It was a whirling 
 storm, driven now and then into sheets of rain by 
 gusts of wind which held all the fury of a winter 
 gale. And how she abhorred darkness and rain! 
 
 A perfect wild-goose chase she told herself grum- 
 blingly, when she had raced through the grounds and 
 barn without success. Now where? For the per- 
 ceptible space of a moment she stood and surveyed the 
 wet, deserted reaches of pavement. Then clutching 
 her dripping umbrella with both hands to defy the 
 assault of the wind, she marched determinedly down 
 the street. 
 
 At the corner a furious slash of wind caught and 
 spun her half-way about. An umbrella held shield- 
 wise bunted her umbrella with vicious force. 
 
 " Oh," she gasped, trying to extricate her head from 
 the ruins. 
 
 " N-now s-see what I've d-done, awkward b-brute," 
 stammered a voice in panicky fright. "I h-hope
 
 RUNAWAY TWINS 91 
 
 I haven't h-hurt you." The troubled eyes of Douglas 
 Barton were gazing into hers. " Oh, it's you," his face 
 broke into a delighted smile of recognition. " Y-you'll 
 begin to t-think I've designs on your life. This is the 
 s-second t-time I've b-been on the r-reception c-com- 
 mittee to meet you." 
 
 "I'm all here," Christine laughed with a note of 
 gaiety, " but it's a watery grave for my poor um- 
 brella." With the straight, sure aim of a boy she 
 tossed the broken frame into a streaming gutter. She 
 struck the moisture from the curly tendrils of hair 
 which strayed like wet gold from her close-fitting rain- 
 proof hat. 
 
 " That's an o-outrage," stuttered the young man, 
 scarlet to the eyebrows. " Y-you must t-take 
 m-rnine." 
 
 " Nothing of the kind," Christine protested vigor- 
 ously. " I'm water-proof from head to foot, besides, 
 I've no very important business, just the official tracer 
 of runaway twins." 
 
 He gave her a rather startled look. " Do you know 
 I had a h-hunch those kids were c-cutting. I saw them 
 on the dead run about a half -hour ago. The little 
 g-girl had an umbrella and the boy was d-dragging a 
 satchel almost as big as himself. It made me think 
 of a wretched black day centuries ago when I beat 
 it from Uncle Joshua " a shade of melancholy 
 clouded his boyish face for an instant " and the 
 torture he put me through when I was found and 
 brought b-back," he added, barely above his breath; 
 then he said aloud, " That r-reminds me, I'm headed 
 for the d-drug-store s-some medicine for Uncle
 
 92 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 Joshua, one of his b-bad days, you know. So, if 
 you'll please t-take my umbrella, I'll d-duck for the 
 street-car and " 
 
 " Most certainly not. This rain means business. 
 It's not going to stop. You'll be soaked to the skin " 
 
 her eyes were warm with friendliness " and I'll 
 not be responsible for your sudden death." 
 
 " Not much 1-loss to anyone," he mumbled, with a 
 bitterness that startled her. " Well, then, if you'll let 
 me escort you to the d-drug-store, I can s-step into the 
 c-car from there and land at the d-door of the bank 
 dry as a nail, and you take the umbrella for your 
 s-search." 
 
 So it was settled, and side by side they moved 
 companionably under the same rain-shield down the 
 street. 
 
 "Your car laid up?" There was mischief in the 
 brown eyes with the dancing specks of gold. 
 
 He shook his head ruefully. " The hospitals'd be 
 working overtime if I d-drove on a s-skiddy day like 
 this. Some d-day I'll hurt s-somebody, and then 
 good-bye to my ever d-driving again, Miss Trevor." 
 
 " Tommyrot ! You're like all new drivers, nervous 
 as a witch. I felt like that myself at first, but now 
 
 oh, it's easy as breathing, and the sense of power 
 it gives you, the little thrilly feelings that run up and 
 down your spine " she broke off a bit tremulously. 
 She was fairly hungry to have her hands again on 
 the steering-wheel. 
 
 A silence was maintained for a long minute, then 
 she started on a new tack. " I gather you told your 
 uncle all about our little chance meeting?" The 
 animation of curiosity was in her voice.
 
 RUNAWAY TWINS 93 
 
 A slow color mounted to his forehead. " I never 
 tell Uncle Joshua anything personal." 
 
 Came the next.question : " Then please tell me how 
 the lamb happened to call me Christine when he so 
 politely invited me out of his grounds?" 
 
 " No, not that ! " Excitement made the umbrella 
 wobble, and sent a rivulet trickling down the girl's 
 neck. " He c-couldn't have been so r-rude." His 
 voice was vibrant with feeling. "If he were younger 
 and and a man " unconsciously his hand 
 clenched "I'd I'd " 
 
 " But being something of a relative and a cripple, 
 you can't," cut in the girl impatiently, then harked 
 back to her question, " But how did he know my 
 name?" 
 
 He looked at her thoughtfully without seeing her. 
 " That's just p-part of the mystery of Uncle Joshua. 
 He never l-leaves home. He never t-talks with any- 
 one but his man and me, and then only when he has 
 an order to g-give or a b-business matter to arrange, 
 and yet now and then, it c-crops out that he knows 
 everything that's g-going on. I oh, I say," he in- 
 terrupted himself, " if there isn't Freddy Blue." 
 
 Even while she waved a greeting to the tall, athletic- 
 looking young woman in a shabby waterproof and 
 cap who was swinging across the street with a big 
 easy stride, Christine shot a glance at him. There 
 was an indescribable something in his voice that moved 
 her oddly. He was smiling the smile of a happy boy. 
 
 From Freddy's face, too, a sudden brightness flamed, 
 but it had completely vanished when she halted be- 
 fore them. 
 
 " My usual rendezvous, the drug-store," she re-
 
 94 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 sponded soberly to the young man's question, flourish- 
 ing a bottle of medicine. " Teddy had a terror of 
 a night." She drew a prodigiously deep breath. 
 
 Douglas made a helpless gesture. " You're w-wear- 
 ing yourself to a f-frazzle. If only you'd let me " 
 
 There was a rise of color in Freddy's cheeks as she 
 put out her hand to silence him. There followed a 
 moment's pause in which she looked down at him 
 with a troubled gaze. " I must be on my way," she 
 said, in her deep, throaty voice, and turned abruptly 
 away. 
 
 " Want a caller ? " laughed Christine, catching the 
 other girl's hand. She had been silent since the first 
 interchange of greetings. 
 
 Fredericka halted her steps. Her odd, honest, gray- 
 green eyes wandered over Christine's face with a curi- 
 ous expression. It was as if she were trying to ap- 
 praise the striking beauty which the girl carried with 
 such perfect unconsciousness. " Yes, if you're the 
 caller. I've still a few errands to do, but I'll be back 
 in a half-hour. I must; I've a week's mending to do 
 this afternoon," she ended, more to herself than the 
 others. 
 
 "Isn't she a peach?" Christine demanded of her 
 companion. " She's " Something in the intentness 
 of the gaze with which he was following that straight, 
 hurrying figure checked her. 
 
 " Y-yes," he acquiesced, but without any fervor. 
 " She's so c-changed though these d-days, I hardly 
 know her. W-why, my fur and whiskers, Freddy 
 Blue's been my stand-by ever since I was a wee t-tad. 
 She found me at the s-station, that first day, crying 
 like a lost soul, because Uncle Joshua'd forgotten to
 
 RUNAWAY TWINS 95 
 
 send for me, and, believe me, I'll never forget how 
 that little s-strip of a g-girl mothered me, and she's 
 been mothering ever since That is, till a few 
 weeks ago and I can't t-think what under the 
 c-canopy's got into her. Oh, I say, though, forgive 
 me for this s-sob-story, only I just had to get it off 
 my chest or explode." 
 
 " This is the parting of our ways." Christine eyed 
 him thoughtfully as he prepared to leave her at the 
 drug-store. " Perhaps some day I can solve the mys- 
 tery of the change in Freddy Blue. It takes a woman 
 to understand a woman, you know," she flung laugh- 
 ingly over her shoulder. 
 
 He shook his head dubiously. " They surely are 
 b-beyond the k-ken of mere man. Sometimes I'm 
 of the opinion that a woman doesn't understand even 
 herself." 
 
 With this Parthian shot, and a friendly smile and 
 lift of the hat, he left her to pursue her way. 
 
 For a half-hour or more Christine plodded up and 
 down the streets, eyes alert for a sign of the twins. 
 With the pertinacity that was a strong part of her 
 nature she searched every possible and impossible ave- 
 nue of escape. Then the comforting thought came 
 that by this time they had probably sought shelter 
 from the driving rain under Amelia's friendly wing. 
 
 As for herself, she was tired, bedraggled. She 
 would drift into Freddy Blue's for a short gossip, then 
 she would pull herself together for the unpleasant 
 duty of disciplining those young offenders. 
 
 Tommy Blue answered her knock at the cottage 
 door and in response to a polite inquiry for the old- 
 est sister, promptly informed her with eager-eyed
 
 96 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 importance, " Freddy's gone. She won't be back for 
 ever and ever so long." 
 
 Christine turned on her a wide-eyed stare. " Gone ? 
 Why, she said she'd be home " 
 
 " Uh huh, she got home and was mending away 
 when he came and she went off in his automobile," she 
 concluded triumphantly. It evidently was a rare event 
 for a member of the Blue family to ride in an auto- 
 mobile, and Tommy appeared to bask in reflected 
 glory. 
 
 On the sidewalk again, Christine considered the 
 situation. What did it mean? Freddy Blue had ap- 
 peared to welcome the prospect of her visit indeed 
 had declared that she had an entire afternoon's mend- 
 ing before her and now she had slipped away on 
 a jaunt that would last, at the least, for several 
 hours. 
 
 Christine's mind groped for a moment, then she 
 had it. Freddy was in love with the owner of the 
 automobile. That would tally perfectly with her 
 changed attitude towards her old playfellow, Douglas 
 Barton. Poor Douglas ! 
 
 Suddenly she made a sharp exclamation, and her 
 heart beat painfully. A car was moving slowly 
 around the corner not a dozen feet away. The man 
 at the wheel was lowering a misty window. She 
 caught a glimpse of the occupants of the cab. 
 
 Freddy Blue was talking with a pretty animation. 
 Her companion's laugh rang out. Christine knew that 
 laugh. It could always send answering bubbles of 
 merriment along her veins. It was Dr. Denton's 
 laugh.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE ACCIDENT 
 
 When strongly stirred by emotion, it was Chris- 
 tine's first impulse to run, to run anywhere, as if to 
 get away from herself; so now she fell into a run- 
 ning pace, and ran fast, but without conscious effort. 
 Her thoughts, too, were racing riotously as she sped 
 along through the rain. Of course, Freddy loved 
 Docky. How could she help it? With a sudden 
 flash of realization that it was an image of frequent 
 recurrence, she visualized the tall figure with its fine 
 athleticism, the deep-set gray eyes so remarkable for 
 clarity and steadiness of gaze, the square jaw, the mo- 
 bile mouth with its hint of humor. 
 
 And what a nobly proportioned woman Freddy was ! 
 Somehow, she was indissolubly associated in Chris- 
 tine's mind with children. There was that in the 
 wide, candid gaze, the purity of forehead, the brood- 
 ing sweetness of the face tfiat suddenly brought to 
 her mind the maternal tenderness of a Raphael Ma- 
 donna. 
 
 But the question that teased her, the question that 
 would not answer itself to her satisfaction was, did 
 Dr. Denton reciprocate Freddy's love? Suppose he 
 did? Indeed, what concern was it of hers? In a 
 few weeks now she would be Mrs. Cortland Van Ness, 
 the leader of the younger social set, and consequently 
 in a wholly different sphere. She should probably 
 
 97
 
 98 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 never see Freddy Blue again, even if she were Dr. 
 Denton's wife. Dr. Denton's wife! Dr. Denton's 
 wife! Her mind caught and repeated the phrase. 
 What a wife she would make him, what a help- 
 mate of his joys and sorrows! What an aid in his 
 noble work! 
 
 The thought came that her life as Cort's wife would 
 lack the richness of experience, the rapturous heights 
 and depths, the service of love, the inexplicable joy 
 of giving and receiving, that would be the lot of Dr. 
 Denton's life-partner, and she felt a thrill of pain. 
 
 She pulled herself together. Was she being dis- 
 loyal even in thought to Cort? She set her teeth and 
 with an effort banished the teasing picture of those 
 two in the cab. Forcibly she tried to fill her mind with 
 memories of Cort, his handsome, gypsy face, topped 
 by an abundance of curly black hair which she de- 
 lighted to pull, the boyish roughness of his devotion, 
 the thrilling delight of being dancing-mate to him who 
 rivaled a professional in eccentricity and original 
 grace. Speed the time when she should be Mrs. Cort ! 
 She would write him that very afternoon to cut his 
 trip short why need he wait to return by way of 
 the yacht? she would hold him to his promise of 
 a middle-of-June wedding. There was nothing to 
 keep her here. Her spirits began to soar again. 
 
 She experienced an abrupt change of mood, how- 
 ever, when Amelia's terror-wrung face confronted 
 her at the entrance to the Trevor grounds. " Hain't 
 you found them yet, neither, Christine?" she wrung 
 her hands in distress, " Look how dark it's gettin', 
 and those babies out in this drench. God, it'll be the 
 death of them, and what'll I say to your mother when
 
 THE ACCIDENT 99 
 
 I face her in heaven? I promised I'd tend up her 
 little ones to my last breath." 
 
 Christine glanced about. She had not noticed be- 
 fore how swiftly the night was coming on. Already 
 it was beginning to show black under the huge oak 
 which afforded them a temporary shelter from the 
 unceasing storm. 
 
 " There, there, 'Melia. You mustn't worry like 
 that. You'll make yourself ill. I'll start out now, 
 and hunt them up in good earnest, and I'll have them 
 back before dinner-time." Under the stimulus of 
 Amelia's unusual excitement, Christine took charge 
 of the affair in a cool matter-of-fact manner which 
 hid her growing uneasiness. 
 
 At the street-corner she stood for a moment ir- 
 resolutely. Should she climb into the street-car and 
 search for the twins in the neighborhood of the old 
 home? While she hesitated, fate seemed to decide 
 for her. 
 
 A street-car was bounding over the rails less than a 
 dozen yards away. She stepped into the road. The 
 purr of a powerful motor sounded on the rain-muffled 
 air, and the next instant brilliant headlights blinded 
 her and sent her scudding back on the curb. She 
 uttered a sudden explosive " wop " as the street-car 
 janglingly rounded the corner and sped down the 
 track. 
 
 The motor-car suddenly slanted to the curb. " That 
 you, Christine ? " cried a voice which even in the 
 dark instantly suffused her face with color. 
 
 "You, Docky! Oh, what luck! Could you?" 
 
 " Hop in," he interrupted, throwing open the cab- 
 door. " I've just come from your house. Amelia
 
 ioo CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 told me of the disappearance of the twins. Now, 
 don't worry, Goldilocks; we'll have them back in 
 no time." 
 
 She sprang into the seat beside him with a little 
 shiver that was plainly a mixture of rapture and fear. 
 
 "If anything's happened to them, it's all my fault." 
 She spoke with an odd, choked utterance. 
 
 " Nonsense. Children always have to have one or 
 two experiences of running away. It's only that they 
 chose a beastly day, and Daffy's still troubled with that 
 cough, but we'll put her to bed and cozen her up and 
 to-morrow morning she'll be fine as silk." He could 
 tell from her outline as she sat with her head dropped 
 back against the leather cushion that every faculty 
 was strained with fright. 
 
 "You're such a comfort. I feel better al- 
 ready," she murmured, in vague response. She was 
 wondering why she had never before noticed there 
 was more music in his voice than in any other voice 
 she had ever heard. " I'm calling myself all kinds 
 of names for driving those babies out into the rain," 
 she went on, speaking as if it were a relief to give 
 expression to her wretched thoughts, " and just day 
 before yesterday I was pluming myself before Agnes 
 Archer and Bess Compton about what a success I 
 was going to make running things here. Ag was 
 right. The twins would be a heap better off in an 
 orphan asylum." 
 
 From the moment he had started the motor he had 
 been heading northward for the city. Now he was 
 flashing his lights off and on to steer safely through 
 a narrow way where a steep road opened up. A mo-
 
 THE ACCIDENT 101 
 
 ment came and went before he spoke, and then it was 
 in a tone that was tinged with whimsicality. 
 
 " An orphan asylum for the twins ! You'd have to 
 bury Amelia first, and after that you'd have me to 
 reckon with. You know you Trevor young folks are 
 something more to me than mere wards." He rested 
 his ungloved hand for an instant on her fingers which 
 lay interlaced in her lap. A curious breathlessness 
 came over her at his touch. 
 
 " I wish," she said, a brightness leaping into her 
 eyes at the very thought, " you were a real relative. 
 We haven't any, you know, and sometimes I think it 
 would be right pleasant to have some boy-cousins or a 
 half-dozen uncles:" 
 
 He switched on the dimmers as a roadster came 
 skimming up the hill. 
 
 " I'm afraid I'm too old to be a boy-cousin, but I 
 flatter myself I could do the role of the half-dozen 
 elderly uncles." 
 
 "I didn't say elderly," she pouted. "Oh!" 
 There was a sudden little catching in her breath, as he 
 steered his machine through a huge stone gateway sur- 
 mounted by lions couchant. " You're going here? " 
 
 " Here " was the brilliantly lighted replica of a 
 Tudor castle that but a few weeks before had been 
 her home. 
 
 He touched her hand again with a little wordless 
 sound of sympathy, and again that curious thrill ran 
 through her. 
 
 " The little beggars have probably strayed back 
 like a couple of lost puppies to their old friend Tom." 
 He brought the car to a standstill before the massive
 
 102 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 fagade. " You know, the Wintons kept on your 
 gardener and Wilson, in fact, pretty nearly your whole 
 outfit." 
 
 A spasm of pain caught her heart as from her 
 shadowy cab-corner she watched him leap up the steps. 
 What an alluring vision of home! What memories 
 tugged at her heart-strings ! She had a deepening be- 
 lief that it was all an unpleasant dream from which 
 she should presently awake and find herself back in her 
 exquisitely appointed room and her father would soon 
 be stepping from his limousine and 
 
 Her eyes held a glint of tears when Dr. Denton made 
 his way back into the motor-car. " They're not here," 
 he said, with his foot on the starter ; " Wilson's posi- 
 tive they've not been anywhere around or he'd surely 
 have heard. He was always a prime favorite with 
 Daffy" 
 
 A little inarticulate sound of misery escaped Chris- 
 tine. 
 
 " But," he went on reassuringly, " I've the best 
 kind of a hunch they're having a high old time this 
 very minute in Tom's cottage." 
 
 Not another word was spoken as he shot through 
 the gate. Once on the road where Tom's cottage 
 stood he speeded up, and on and on they went. The 
 rain had stopped now, and the wind whistled in the 
 gap in the wind-shield, and now and then sent a spray- 
 like shower of muddy water into their faces. 
 
 "If only they're here," Christine prayed aloud, 
 when the headlights flashed in a quick circle on the 
 clumps of bushes behind which nestled the gardener's 
 cottage. 
 
 Dr. Denton was whistling cheerfully when he came
 
 THE ACCIDENT 103 
 
 back to her. " We'll find them yet," was his an- 
 swer to the questioning misery in her eyes. She shook 
 her head with a gesture of despair, but in spite of her- 
 self, his calm certainty made a feeling of comfort 
 pour into her heart. 
 
 " Do you know," he paused thoughtfully, one foot 
 on the running-board, " I've a notion to run you out 
 home, and continue the chase alone. There are er 
 
 several places I can think of where I might find 
 them, and " 
 
 " The hospital " she interrupted, divining his 
 meaning with her quick intuition. Her lips trembled 
 and her heart stumbled in her breast. " Not that, not 
 that," she breathed. 
 
 " We won't even consider the possibility of the 
 hospital right now," he spoke with an air of finality, 
 " but they may have been picked up by a policeman 
 and turned in to one of the station houses. I say, 
 Christine, would you be willing to drive back?" this 
 in an indifferent tone which something in his eyes 
 denied. " I've had a rather full day, and I may have 
 to operate again before midnight a bad street-car 
 accident out on the Morton Road." 
 
 Her face was illumined quite as though an inner 
 flame were kindling the scarlet in her cheeks and the 
 brightness in her eyes. "Will I? I'd just love 
 
 it." The words were broken by a sob of rapture. 
 " Fire away, then," he commanded in a matter-of- 
 fact tone, but he, too, was shining-eyed when he slipped 
 into the seat which she promptly vacated. 
 
 Her foot touched the starter, and away they flashed. 
 On and on they spun through streets with sharp 
 shadows lying across the gleaming wet stretches of
 
 io 4 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 asphalt, until they swerved into the Antler Road with 
 its windings and turns that showed water and woods 
 and hill. When she spoke it was to whisper with a 
 little tremble in her voice, " It's perfectly thrilly. I'd 
 forgotten it was such paradise. Oh, if I only knew 
 the twins were safe I'd be in the seventh or eighth 
 heaven now." 
 
 " Easy there," he said to her once when a great 
 touring car flew past them, sheering so close that it 
 seemed as if they must collide. 
 
 Obediently she slowed down, but soon her spirits 
 soared dizzily again and she was racing madly ahead. 
 She had the curious consciousness of being two dis- 
 tinct selves, one whose every fibre responded to the 
 sharp sense of freedom that came in guiding the 
 wheel in the rush through the night air, the other 
 with every nerve tense, alert, on edge with fear of 
 some mishap to the twins. 
 
 Overhead the wrack of clouds shifted at a sudden 
 sweep of the winds, and a silvery moon-plaque swam 
 into view. The road ahead turned into a solid sheet 
 of light. To Christine the whole world seemed bathed 
 in magic and for the moment her heart flowed quite 
 out of her as she reveled in the feeling of swift-flying 
 through a path of silvery silence. Then her fears 
 fell upon her again. 
 
 " The twins were up the Carter Road yesterday. 
 Ag Archer and Bess Compton happened on them," she 
 ventured in a queer, tense voice, as the car slid along 
 towards a fork in the road. 
 
 " Second turn to your left. Go easy, though ; Car- 
 ter Road's narrow and rutty." 
 
 Slowly the car moved forward. Both pairs of
 
 THE ACCIDENT 105 
 
 eyes were straining into the woods that lined their 
 path on either side. Once Christine stopped the en- 
 gine, and called eagerly. It was only a bush on the 
 road's edge that had misled her. There was no an- 
 swering voice, only a strange music that welled out of 
 the night's darkness. On all sides sounded the boom- 
 ing of frogs from a near-by pond or marsh, and 
 piercingly sweet the singing of the little creatures of 
 the woods assailed their ears. 
 
 "That's Red Mill Pond," he nodded toward a 
 small sheet of water on which the moon glancing 
 through the pine trees cast a pale shimmer. " The 
 next bend in the road will bring you to Overton Lane. 
 Please turn up there. I must see Freddy Blue before 
 I drop you off at your house." 
 
 Even while she marveled at the sweetness in his 
 voice as he pronounced the girl's name, she was sur- 
 prised at the pain in her heart. For all of a minute 
 her vision blurred, but she managed to keep a firm 
 hand on the wheel, and under her steady wrist the 
 car went hurtling onward. 
 
 The little night-creatures were still piping their 
 lays, but no longer would it have been music in her 
 ears, had she heard them. She heard only the plaint 
 in her own heart, " Docky lovest Freddy. Docky 
 loves Freddy." 
 
 A minute, two, three went by, then, " I do hope 
 you're going to be very happy," she stammered with 
 real emotion, and to her surprise her lashes grew 
 misty with tears. 
 
 " Happy," he repeated, his lips slowly parting in an 
 odd, whimsical smile. " Life's too full, too com- 
 plex for me ever to take time to find out whether
 
 io6 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 I'm happy. But thank you, child, all the same for 
 your wish. Yes," he mused, as though a new thought 
 had presented itself, " a dream that's filled my waking 
 and sleeping hours for the past year has been real- 
 ized, and it's going to be a great, glorious thing," he 
 exulted, throwing back his head, and drawing a deep 
 breath of content, " I ought to be, I am, the happiest 
 man in this little old world to-night." 
 
 The memory of Freddy's face as she had glimpsed 
 it that afternoon in Dr. Denton's cab, that vivid, eager- 
 eyed face, presented itself unbidden to Christine. 
 
 " Freddy seemed happy, too, when I saw her driving 
 with you this afternoon," she murmured, following 
 her own thoughts. " She has a perfectly adorable 
 smile," she added, with apparent irrelevance. 
 
 " Freddy Blue always brings to my mind a saying 
 of old Gautama Buddha, ' Sweeter than the scent of 
 sandalwood is the perfume of noble acts.' ' 
 
 Dimly Christine was conscious that he was saying 
 more words in praise of his companion of the after- 
 noon, but for a moment or two, the world grew so far 
 away that she could neither see nor hear. She could 
 only feel. Again came the shock of surprise at the 
 queer pain around her own heart. 
 
 A sudden recklessness seized her. She threw the 
 car into top speed, and in a mad haste slashed around 
 a precipitate curve. Unexpectedly she struck a bad 
 stretch of road which sent her skidding into deep mud. 
 The machine slewed around. The next instant a 
 piercing scream shattered the night-silence, and a 
 broken body had been flung across the road. 
 
 Christine never was able to reconstruct in memory 
 what immediately followed. All she vaguely remem-
 
 THE ACCIDENT 107 
 
 bered was that for a moment everything seemed to go 
 black before her eyes, and all action of mind and body 
 was as if paralyzed, that she sat there in frozen horror 
 for what seemed to be the stretch of a century until 
 Dr. Denton hurried back. 
 
 " You must help," his quiet voice seemed to come 
 from afar off. A minute passed, another, and still 
 she stared at him, her body stretched taut, her eyes 
 torn open wide. 
 
 " You must help," he said again, with the same 
 quiet voice. " It's Daffy that's hurt, and Dilly's 
 lying on the roadside in a faint."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 CHRISTINE TURNS A CORNER 
 
 At midnight Christine was still sitting bolt upright 
 in bed, staring with wide-eyes into the memory-haunted 
 darkness. For the hundredth time, now, she was liv- 
 ing over every detail of the accident which persistently 
 filled her mind. She could hear the whispering of a 
 voice, a strained, hoarse voice, not in the least like 
 her own, " Have I k-killed her? " She could hear 
 the quick response gentle as a breath, " No, child, and 
 no bones broken either." With eyes that did not see, 
 she had watched Dr. Denton switch on the cab-light 
 and bring out his bag, with the reiteration, " You 
 must help." She could visualize the figure of a girl 
 could it have been herself? crouching back in the 
 cab-corner and whimpering, " No, no, Docky. I can't. 
 I'm afraid." 
 
 Whether he had answered, she did not know, but 
 the next instant she had felt herself half -carried from 
 the automobile. She could see herself moving for- 
 ward on his arm like a dream-figure and then oh, 
 merciful Heaven two tiny forms lay stretched out 
 at her feet. She had a vision of herself obeying his 
 low words of command, and presently she had found 
 herself sitting on the muddy roadside, with Billy's 
 head in her lap. 
 
 Fingers they must have been hers were bath- 
 
 108
 
 CHRISTINE TURNS A CORNER 109 
 
 ing the small cold forehead with water which her com- 
 panion had snatched up in his hat from a tiny stream 
 that came trickling out from below a huge boulder. 
 Not a sound had broken the hush except now and then 
 the silky wet rustle of the trees, the far-away rumble of 
 a train, the slightly quickened breathing of the doctor 
 who was working with cool professionalism over the 
 prostrate little figure at the foot of a tree. 
 
 Then had come the glad moment when Billy's eye- 
 lids had fluttered, and the golden-brown eyes, the image 
 of her own, were wandering, wandering up into her 
 face. "Where's Daffy?" had been his instant de- 
 mand, as he struggled into a sitting position. 
 
 " Daffy's over there with Doc'ky. She's going to 
 be all well " 
 
 A torrent of sobs had interrupted her. " Go away ; 
 I don't like you. You were bad to Daffy. We runned 
 away from you. We was going to live in a cave and 
 be robbers only Daffy wanted to say good-bye to 
 Laurie and " 
 
 " Please don't, Dilly," she had broken in, on the 
 point of tears. " No, you must stay here with me," 
 she had tried to hold the wriggling little body. " Daf- 
 fy's sick, poor little girl, you mustn't disturb her." 
 
 " I want Daffy," he had wailed, throwing all manly 
 restraint to the wind. " I hate you. You're a bad 
 sister. You were nasty to Daffy. She isn't dead, is 
 she? " He sat up suddenly, stark with terror. 
 
 Christine remembered she had shivered from head 
 to foot. " No, no, but if she's lame or something, 
 for life, I'll never forgive myself. Oh, why, why, did 
 I lose my head and drive like a fiend ? " 
 
 Dilly's accusing finger had been pointed in her face.
 
 " Was it you runned over Daffy ? You're bad like a 
 killer. Let me go. You're a girl what kills." 
 
 He had shaken himself free from her restraining 
 hands, and run over to the tree beneath which lay 
 his twin, bandaged from head to foot, but smiling 
 weakly up into Dr. Denton's face. 
 
 " All comfortable now, kiddie? " she had heard him 
 asjc, as with infinite tenderness he stooped to lift the 
 racked little frame in his arms. 
 
 " Goody, she isn't dead. She isn't dead," the little 
 boy had shouted, throwing himself against the doctor 
 in an ecstasy of tearful joy. 
 
 " Easy there, easy, Dilly," the doctor had cautioned, 
 bearing his burden carefully in the direction of the cab. 
 " Little sister's pretty well used up. Take big sister's 
 hand," he had advised over his shoulder as the little 
 boy still pressed close to his side. 
 
 " I won't, I won't." The tempestuous outburst still 
 rang in her ears. " Daffy 'n' I hate her. We won't 
 never speak to her again. She runned over Daffy. 
 She's bad like a killer." 
 
 And in spite of all Dr. Denton's remonstrance and 
 cajoling he had persisted in this attitude. Back again 
 in the cab the doctor had been forced to guide the 
 wheel with his right hand while Daffy lay in the hollow 
 of his left arm. For the little girl, too, had tearfully 
 refused to let Christine bear her weight. So they 
 had made the strange journey slowly homeward. 
 
 Then came the memory that would burn in her 
 brain to the end of her life. When Amelia's loving 
 care had settled Daffy in her tiny white bed, and she 
 had crept humbly in to make her peace, the child had 
 screamed with terror and driven her from the room.
 
 CHRISTINE TURNS A CORNER in 
 
 And every attempt she made that night to win the 
 favor of either twin had met with the same heart- 
 breaking rebuff. 
 
 She was slipping disconsolately down the stairs 
 after her last vain effort when Dr. Denton stepped out 
 of the living-room, and waited for her, one arm on 
 the newel-post. His eyes met her mournful gaze 
 with a deep understanding. 
 
 " Scurry off to bed, child, and get plenty of sleep. 
 You looked fagged out." 
 
 She stood for a moment on the lowest step, then 
 moved imperceptibly closer. " Docky, will you tell me 
 the truth, the whole truth ? " she rasped out an uncon- 
 trollable little sob, then fiercely caught control of her- 
 self. " Why doesn't anybody like me? Why haven't 
 I any real friends ? I I never thought much about 
 it before, and and of course, it isn't going to spoil 
 my young life" with a defiant lift of the chin 
 which her eyes instantly gainsaid " only I've a curi- 
 osity to know." 
 
 He let his eyes wander appraisingly over her face. 
 Her humility was genuine. The cry of anguish came 
 from her heart. 
 
 " Goldilocks," he said as he caught her hand sud- 
 denly in a clasp of vitality and warm life, " you're on 
 the right track. You're finding yourself, and some 
 day " He checked himself abruptly, only to add 
 the next moment, " You're in no condition for a heart- 
 to-heart talk to-night, but perhaps my old friend Emer- 
 son can answer your question more satisfactorily than 
 I, ' To have a friend, be one.' ' 
 
 She mused a moment, then drew a full breath. " Do 
 you think that's it? You're always such an old com-
 
 fort, Docky. I'm going to remember that." Over 
 the traces of her tears her face was so irradiated 
 with a passion of hope that it startled him. " And, 
 as Cort says, to-morrow's always another day." 
 
 Before he could reply, she had turned and fled. 
 
 She had done her best to obey his injunction, but 
 sleep would not come. When the small clock on her 
 bedside table had ticked away the second hour of the 
 morning with rhythmic precision, she was still clutch- 
 ing her pillow. Suddenly she sat erect again and 
 flung back the two long golden braids that hung child- 
 fashion over her shoulders. 
 
 She must steal to Daffy's door to make sure that 
 Amelia had not fallen asleep. She squared her 'shoul- 
 ders she would not try to deceive herself. She 
 knew perfectly, that Amelia, that most faithful watch- 
 dog, would not close an eye the night through. She 
 wanted to convince herself that the little girl still 
 lived, still breathed, that she was not, in short, what 
 Dilly had taunted her with, " a killer." 
 
 Daffy's bedroom door was closed, but a small white 
 figure in white pyjamas lay curled up on the rug just 
 outside the door. By the dimmed hall-light she could 
 see that he was sleeping the sleep of exhausted child- 
 hood. Tears undried lay along his cheeks and now and 
 then a sob escaped his parted lips. Christine stood, 
 looking down at the sleeping boy. For some reason, 
 inexplicable to herself, she was strangely moved. The 
 utter childish abandon of the body, the golden hair 
 lying in damp ringlets on his forehead like a luminous 
 mist, the small mouth that quivered as though from a 
 well-remembered sorrow, all seemed to draw her ir- 
 resistibly. The next instant, with a sudden quicken-
 
 CHRISTINE TURNS A CORNER 113 
 
 ing of her heart-beats, she stooped and with a little 
 effort gathered the sturdy young form into her 
 arms. 
 
 Dilly stirred. His eyes fluttered open, closed again 
 on the instant, and, with a distinctly audible " bad 
 girl," he nestled against her shoulder, and was fast 
 asleep. For an imperceptible fraction of a second her 
 lips, light as a breath, touched his flushed cheek. 
 Then she tucked him away in his bed, and with an 
 odd lightheartedness, crept back to Daffy's room. 
 
 Amelia raised heavy eyes to the slim figure in yel- 
 low silk kimono and mules in the doorway. " She's 
 asleep now." She got stiffly to her feet to draw a 
 coverlet over the tiny form. " Poor babe, she's made 
 out a poor night." 
 
 " So have you, 'Melia." Then with one of her 
 quick decisions, " Do you know, I believe a cup of 
 piping hot coffee'd do you good. It always made a 
 man of me when I'd been sitting up half the night 
 boning for a history exam. 'Melia," she went on, 
 stamping her soft-slippered foot, " don't look at me 
 as though I'd lost my senses. O-o-oh, I didn't wake 
 her up, did I ? " she asked, in a whisper of deepest 
 contrition. "I I know," she had to swallow a 
 whole mouthful of pride, before she could bring her- 
 self to add, " I know I haven't always been as thought- 
 ful as I should, but you just wait and see." 
 
 With this mysterious threat she was off. A long 
 half-hour later, she reappeared. Her cheeks were 
 scarlet, her eyes drooping with weariness, but triumph- 
 antly she bore a steaming pot of coffee, a Sevres cup 
 and saucer, and a plate of buttered toast on a tray. 
 
 Now Amelia had a matchless skill in the art of
 
 ii4 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 coffee-making. She was a connoisseur, too, of coffee- 
 drinking. But that night she must have been bitten 
 by a strange desire for coffee that was anything but 
 amber-clear, for she will tell you herself that the cup 
 of coffee which Christine insisted on pouring with her 
 own pretty hands was a draught fit for the gods, and 
 that nectar Amelia had a wide acquaintance with 
 nectar and the gods from the myths on which Laurie 
 fed his hungry mind could not have brought such 
 warmth to her heart and such strength to her tired 
 limbs. 
 
 In the freshness of waking Christine sprang up with 
 a song on her lips. Then she remembered. But a 
 morning of cloudless, April-blue skies, with every 
 bird on the wing, and the garden sweet with its prom- 
 ise of flowers and fruit, was not made for sadness 
 or the gloom of repentance. So her tubbing and 
 dressing went on with a merry whistling which now 
 and then burst into a loud carol. 
 
 To her surprise she found the dining-room deserted, 
 with every trace of breakfast cleared away. With 
 the new thoughtfulness still upon her, she made her 
 way into the kitchen. Misery was humming a quaint 
 little cradle-song, though deep in the intricacies of 
 bread-making. She glanced up at the girl's entrance. 
 A smile lighted her over-thin face. 
 
 " Morning, Misery, I must have overslept. My 
 fool-watch stopped, you see." 
 
 " Sure, you must've been dog-tired with all last 
 night, Miss Christine," she was vigorously kneading 
 the snowy mass of dough as she spoke, " and I says 
 to myself, just let her sleep long as she likes and she 
 can have her breakfast "
 
 CHRISTINE TURNS A CORNER 115 
 
 " Don't bother. I'll wait on myself," interrupted 
 Christine, with a magnanimous air. 
 
 " Of course you'll do that, Miss Christine. I was 
 expectin' nothing else. I'm that busy with my work, 
 and no Amelia to help, I'll be lucky to be out of the 
 kitchen by midnight. But glad I am to do some- 
 thing for that blessed Amelia. She's sure been more 
 than a sister to me since I come here, and what was 
 we put into this world of trouble for, but to work 
 and help others along." Under her light, deft touch 
 there were beginning to appear from the snowy mass 
 the outlines of a shapely loaf. " Now, ain't that the 
 truth, Miss Christine?" 
 
 Christine made no answer. The wind had been 
 taken out of her sails. She had expected that Misery 
 would be overwhelmed by her generous offer to get 
 her -own breakfast. Her cool way of taking that for 
 granted had been disconcerting, to say the least. 
 Rather noisily she began to arrange her tray. 
 
 " I'm thinkin' now," the woman went on, skilfully 
 transferring loaves from board to tin, " you'll be 
 likin' to help Amelia some yourself this mornin'. Poor 
 soul's humped up worse 'n a cripple with her rheu- 
 matiz. Small wonder, say I, routin' round yesterday 
 in the rain after those young ones. I'm thinkin' you 
 can make the beds." 
 
 Christine let the toast slip, butter-side down, to the 
 floor. " Make beds ! I never made a bed in all my 
 life. Why I I don't know how," something in 
 Misery's eyes made her wind up a bit shamefacedly. 
 
 " Nothing easier," was the imperturbable answer. 
 " Besides, you've slept in a bed," this last without 
 a hint of impertinence. 

 
 n6 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 " Ye-es, but I never noticed how they're put to- 
 gether. At school I always paid my chum to make 
 mine." 
 
 All unconsciously Christine was beginning to ex- 
 perience a changing- sense of values. In the old days 
 among her set any acquaintance with the domestic art 
 was not only a negligible quantity but a matter of 
 airiest contempt. Since Freddy Blue had come into 
 her life, she was beginning to rate skill in the home 
 a bit more highly. And here was Misery expecting 
 her to put her shoulder to the wheel of housework 
 when she was as colossally ignorant and inexperienced 
 as a child. " I really couldn't make a bed to save 
 my skin," she said, after a moment's pause. 
 
 " Well, by the time you've swallowed your break- 
 fast, I'll have my hands clear of this, then I'll show 
 you." 
 
 So it was Christine took her first lesson in bed- 
 making, and that night she learned to the full the truth 
 of the old adage, " As you make your bed, so you 
 lie in it." 
 
 She was midway down the hall bound for Laurie's 
 room when she heard his voice in the nursery. Her 
 own name caught her ear. 
 
 " It wasn't Christine's fault at all. Doctor Den- 
 ton told me so last night. She wasn't a bit like the 
 bad man in the story who murdered his own little 
 brothers and sisters, and you mustn't say it again, or 
 think it. Besides, Daffy is going to get better. Now 
 come, old fellow, drink this cup of milk." 
 
 There was a moment of silence, then a choking 
 sound and an outburst of sobs. " I c-c-can't. It 
 w-won't go down."
 
 CHRISTINE TURNS A CORNER 117 
 
 Again Laurie's gently pleading voice. " Try again, 
 old man. It'll be easier next time. You mustn't get 
 sick, you know. Poor 'Melia's pretty nearly down 
 and out now, and who'll look after Daffy if she's 
 knocked out? See, I'll hold the cup for you." 
 
 Christine realized that the little boy must have 
 made an heroic effort to obey, for a minute after came 
 his triumphant cry, still half a sob, " Look, look, 
 Laurie, I'm most half done." Then with an unmis- 
 takable swagger, " Say, I'll drink ten hundred glasses 
 of milk to help Daffy 'n' 'Melia." 
 
 That little conversation to which she had deliber- 
 ately played eavesdropper gave the girl material for 
 deep thought while she was painstakingly carrying 
 out Misery's instructions in making Laurie's bed. 
 How skilfully he had won over high-spirited, rebellious 
 little Dilly! How thoughtful, how unselfish he was! 
 It glinted through her memory now that every one 
 who knew Laurie never failed to remark his happy 
 spirit despite his handicap. She had never given 
 thought to it before, but what had he to make him 
 happy, while she who was so intensely alive, with 
 such capacity for gladness, she who had so much, was 
 far from happy? What was the meaning of it any- 
 how? Had he in his sweet unconsciousness already 
 mastered the truth that Docky had shared with her 
 the night before, " to have a friend, be one " ? Had 
 Laurie made his way into the hearts of all who crossed 
 his path just by being helpful, just by being kind? 
 
 Though she did not know it then, Christine was 
 gaining a dim vision of the great truth, that when 
 ease and health are swept away and we are stripped 
 to the very soul, the soul arises in triumph. She
 
 n8 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 had yet to learn with her great unfed appetite for 
 life that she would never find what she sought in a 
 mad pursuit of happiness. It would come only in 
 love, that magnificent and profligate outpouring of 
 self for some one or something other than herself. 
 
 She was roused from her absorption by the sound 
 of heavy footsteps dragging down the hall. 
 
 " Laurie," Amelia's haggard face appeared in the 
 open doorway. " Will you ? " 
 
 " Laurie's in the nursery with Dilly. Won't I 
 do?" 
 
 Amelia stared. " You here ! What a turn you 
 gave me! No, I want Laurie to sit with Daffy while 
 I fix up a dose of my medicine. She's awake now 
 and I " 
 
 She swayed and would have fallen, but for the 
 strong young arm that came instantly to her sup- 
 port. 
 
 " Who screamed? " Misery came to the rescue as if 
 by magic. " Don't be so frightened, Miss Christine. 
 She ain't dead. She's just keeled over from rheuma- 
 tiz. Here, you help me get her to her room. I'll 
 have her fixed up in no time. My poor husband had 
 them spells, too." 
 
 Some fifteen minutes later Christine closed Amelia's 
 door behind her with an explosive sigh of relief. 
 Amelia was resting comfortably now. Misery had 
 ably assumed command of the situation, hers had 
 been but the part to obey. But, somehow, she felt 
 strangely tired. She would put on her hat, and run 
 into the sun-steeped garden. She was slipping down 
 the hall to her room when Amelia's words, " I want
 
 CHRISTINE TURNS A CORNER 119 
 
 Laurie to sit with Daffy," sprang back into her mem- 
 ory. 
 
 On noiseless feet she crept to the sick child's door 
 and peered in. The little girl lay with eyes closed, 
 her cheeks whiter than the bandages which bound 
 her head. A great bruise marred one cheek, and 
 her arms which lay on the coverlets were bandaged 
 too, almost to the shoulders. Involuntarily Christine 
 shuddered, and a strangling little sob escaped. 
 
 " 'Melia," murmured Daffy sleepily, then opened 
 wide eyes blue as the morning sky. She shrieked 
 with sudden terror, " It's you ; go away. I'm afraid, 
 I'm afraid." 
 
 Laurie came hobbling to the door as fast as his 
 crutches would bring him. His fine senses gauged 
 the situation. " I'll stay with Daffy. Misery thinks 
 'Melia'll be all right in an hour or so." 
 
 " I was going to stay, but " Christine shrugged 
 her shoulders with the old air of indifference. The 
 morning sunshine was infinitely more to her taste 
 than sitting in a stuffy sick-room. She moved away 
 with a springy step. Of a sudden she stopped,, and 
 bracing her shoulders with the air of one who has 
 reached an unalterable decision, marched back. She 
 beckoned the boy outside the door. 
 
 " Laurie," she said, with an unexpected pleading 
 note in her voice, " tell me how to make friends with 
 the twins."
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 TANGLED THREADS 
 
 Laurie studied her a moment in silence. He smiled 
 suddenly and with an unlooked-for brightness. " Oh, 
 Christine, how nice! " 
 
 A swift wonder filled her that never before had 
 she noticed his resemblance to their father. He had 
 the same kind eyes and mouth, the same loving qual- 
 ity and geniality. A wild longing for her father 
 fell upon her. She was beginning to realize what 
 a tremendous power for good he had exerted over 
 her in his quiet way as well as over all the others who 
 had crossed his path. It came over her with one 
 of her flashes of perception that he had passed on 
 this rare gift to his crippled son. 
 
 She had to crowd her heart out of her mouth and 
 blink a mist from her eyes before she could bring 
 herself to speak, " It's all bunk, to give it even a 
 thought " her indifference was well assumed " but 
 it rather nettles me to have those kiddies downright 
 hate me. Debutantes are such petted, spoiled crea- 
 tures, you know. Besides," she went on, her lips 
 tightening, " some one's got to look after Daffy now 
 that Amelia's caved in, and the moon would be as 
 easy to get as a nurse unless we stumble suddenly into 
 a fortune," she added, with a glint of humor. " So, I 
 fancy it's up to me." 
 
 1 20
 
 TANGLED THREADS 121 
 
 " Don't forget me. I can do heaps of things. I've 
 had time to learn them, not being a regular boy. It'll 
 be jolly fun playing around with Daffy and Dilly." 
 
 His gallant gaiety made her throat tight again. 
 " Yes, but there'll be other things to do, besides amus- 
 ing those imps. You " 
 
 Daffy's voice raised tearfully in protest at Laurie's 
 prolonged absence made her swallow the rest of her 
 sentence. 
 
 " Tell me," she caught his hand desperately, " I 
 shan't let you go till you tell me what to do." 
 
 Laurie laughed, a jolly boy's laugh with a mis- 
 chievous chuckle in it. " What did you like best in 
 the world the winter you fell on the ice and broke 
 your leg ? " 
 
 Her face broke delightfully into a reminiscent smile. 
 " When mother'd come in at twilight and tell me 
 stories. But how could you know? You were too 
 young to remember." 
 
 He flushed very red, but answered quietly, " I do 
 remember. That was the happiest time of my life. 
 You used to be glad when mother'd bring me and 
 my fiddle, and we'd pretend to be some wonderful 
 orchestra and yes, Daffy, I'm coming this min- 
 ute." 
 
 Christine stood outside Daffy's room for a long 
 moment, her eyes staring queerly at the closed door. 
 Her mind shuttled back and forth from that happy 
 convalescence, well remembered now that Laurie's 
 words had magically unlocked it from her memory, 
 to the distress of the present situation. On a sudden 
 impulse she crossed to a window, and stood, gazing 
 down. The very trees seemed to be waving kindly
 
 122 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 beckoning arms. How she longed to be in their 
 friendly companionship! How she wanted to dance 
 to the music of their tender young leaves! She had 
 a sudden desire to run and run and run, to go off 
 somewhere far away into the sunlight, away from all 
 these troubling thoughts and duties. 
 
 Instead she moved quietly to the nursery where 
 she found Dilly plumped down on a bearskin rug, 
 laboriously mending a broken gun for his twin. 
 
 " Go 'way, bad girl," he stormed, when he found 
 Christine smiling down at him. 
 
 " Laurie wants you to come right away to Daffy's 
 room. She's awake, and there's going to be some 
 story-telling." 
 
 " O-o-oh," the word spilled over into a laugh. In 
 a flash he was gone from the nursery and had burst 
 like a young cyclone into his little sister's room. 
 Christine followed with a light step, but a heart that 
 seemed to skip beats. What if her ruse failed? 
 Doctor Denton had urged them to use the utmost 
 % caution in keeping Daffy from undue excitement. 
 
 Dilly had left the door open. She could hear his 
 voice blending with Daffy's weaker voice in happy 
 chatter. Just outside the door Christine dropped to 
 the floor on a rug and sat, hugging her knees. Then 
 in a voice that trembled slightly in spite of her effort 
 at self-control she began her story. Instantly the 
 chatter ceased. 
 
 " Once upon a time," the invisible story-teller an- 
 nounced, " a good fairy brought twin children to 
 earth. She gave them to kind parents who called 
 them Daffy and Dilly." 
 
 A little cry of terror had escaped Daffy's lips at
 
 TANGLED THREADS 123 
 
 the sound of Christine's voice, but Laurie's gentle 
 touch quieted her. Then before she realized it, she 
 was lost in the interest of the story which Christine 
 wove of truth and fiction with a skill that surprised her- 
 self. When the tale had come to an end with the un- 
 fortunate automobile accident of the night before and 
 the older sister's sorrow, there was a tense moment of 
 silence, then an eager little voice called out," That 
 was a lovely story. Tell 'nother." 
 
 And Christine did. This time it was a marvellous 
 tale of two moon babies, her favorite in the long days 
 of that convalescence which Laurie had brought to 
 mind. That won her a-reward. 
 
 " Tell 'nother," demanded Dilly, and Daffy added 
 the invitation, issued with all the imperiousness of a 
 royal mandate, " Sit here by me, Christie. I want to 
 see you tell it." 
 
 So Christine was allowed to make her peace. 
 
 Late that afternoon when Doctor Denton visited 
 his small patient, he stood for a moment unobserved 
 in the doorway. He carried with him for many a day 
 the picture that met his eyes. Daffy lay propped up 
 among the pillows, shining-eyed, with lips parted in 
 breathless rapture. Her twin was perched on the 
 arm of Laurie's chair, which had been drawn close to 
 the bedside. One arm tightly encircled his brother's 
 neck. At the foot of the bed, Buddha-fashion, sat 
 Christine, weaving magic spells with her newly dis- 
 covered gift of story-telling. 
 
 For the perceptible space of a moment he stood and 
 with his trained eyes surveyed the central figure. He 
 noted the slimness of her body with its youthful, elu- 
 sive charm. Somehow, the rippling masses of hair
 
 124 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 like a coil of gold at the nape of her neck, the brown 
 eyes with the dancing specks of gold in their depths, 
 the delicately tinted face, the simple white slip con- 
 fined about the waisjt with a yellow ribbon, all reminded 
 him of a rare yellow orchid. 
 
 The story came to an end with bursts of laughter 
 from the twins and a low chuckle of delight from 
 quiet Laurie. 
 
 " That was the nicest one yet," Dilly was still chok- 
 ing with laughter; "I just love to hear about those 
 funnies." 
 
 " Tell it all over again," Daffy issued the command 
 from her throne of pillows with something of Chris- 
 tine's old-time imperiousness. " Shouldn't she, 
 Laurie." 
 
 Laurie smiled radiantly at his older sister out of 
 the fullness of the moment. " It was a corker. But 
 you must be too tired to tell it again. That makes five 
 this afternoon. We mustn't be piggy-wiggies." 
 
 " I'm just a mite tired, but Docky mightn't oh ! " 
 she was the first to notice the tall figure standing 
 quietly in the doorway. She tumbled off the bed 
 lightly, her eyes round with glad surprise. " What 
 cloud did you drop from? How long have you been 
 here? How much did you hear ?" 
 
 For some reason wholly inexplicable to herself, all 
 sense of fatigue was gone. She felt curiously light- 
 hearted of a sudden. It seemed absurdly enough to 
 have to do with the way his thick brown hair waved 
 at his temples. She loved his hair. 
 
 " Just enough to know that you've a gift of the 
 gods, a sense of humor," he answered her last ques-
 
 TANGLED THREADS 125 
 
 tion first, when he could make himself heard above 
 the shrieks of welcome that emanated from the twins. 
 " But I've no fancy for another patient on my hands, 
 Miss Goldilocks." His professional eye had been 
 quick to notice her unusual pallor and dark-circled 
 eyes. " Take a brisk walk for a half -hour at least, 
 while" 
 
 " But Amelia's " she began to protest. 
 
 " Laid up with rheumatism," he finished the sen- 
 tence for her. " I was afraid of that, after her ad- 
 venturing in the rain yesterday. I ran up to her 
 room first. She's resting comfortably now, and we'll 
 have her up good as new in a few days." He had 
 already seated himself beside the small patient in 
 the chair which Laurie had promptly vacated, and was 
 skilfully manipulating the bandages on one bruised 
 arm. 
 
 " So run along, Christine ; I don't need any help, and 
 you do need the air." 
 
 She shook her head, contradicting him with a lit- 
 tle lift of her eyelashes, " I'm feeling fit as a fiddle, 
 and I know I can help. Honest, Docky, I love to stay 
 here and oh, well, I suppose you can't help being 
 an old bear," she submitted laughingly, to his sud- 
 den assumption of sternness. " I'll be back, though, in 
 fifteen minutes by the clock." 
 
 With that he had to be content. 
 
 When she reached the garden, twilight was falling 
 quickly, enfolding the earth as if with a mantle of 
 velvet. She began to run like some wild thing up and 
 down the paths, sniffing the fresh, sweet April air 
 with its smell of blossoming things. Exultantly she
 
 126 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 filled her young lungs. A thrill ran through her; 
 it was sheer joy to be alive at this " still time of the 
 world." 
 
 A feeling swept over her that life was beginning to 
 widen out before her and display unsuspected vistas 
 of pleasure and pain. Her heart of a sudden grew 
 big with wild longings for things impossible, for the 
 edge of the skyline, for love and life and action. At 
 the end of the grounds she caught a first glimpse of 
 the moon, a new-born thin disk hung like some fairy- 
 bow in the deep-blue of the heavens, and she stopped 
 to wonder and admire. 
 
 A short, sharp bark broke the stillness. The next 
 instant a dog wriggled his way through a gap in the 
 hedge, and caught an edge of her gown in his mouth. 
 
 " Wrinkles, Wrinkles, s-stop that," shouted a voice 
 which rang familiarly in her ear, and Douglas Barton 
 cleared the hedge in a neat bound. 
 
 " Three times we've met," Christine choked on a 
 giggle, as the young man forcibly freed her from 
 the dog's playful grip. " Perhaps, now, the fates'll 
 be satisfied to let the rest of our acquaintance pro- 
 ceed peaceably," she interrupted his stream of stam- 
 mered apologies. " Do you know, I've been think- 
 ing about you, and wondering how I could return your 
 umbrella. You remember I was not urged to repeat 
 my call of the other day." The thought of Joshua 
 Barton's stern dismissal suddenly crinkled the corners 
 of her mouth and brought out a dimple. The humor 
 of the situation had begun to appeal to her. 
 
 "I I was w-wishing I h-had an excuse to 
 come over, to-night," he blurted out with native hon- 
 esty, " and here's one all ready made. I'd clean for-
 
 TANGLED THREADS 127 
 
 gotten about the umbrella. I I heard about your 
 the accident. I met Freddy Blue," he answered 
 the question in her eye, " just outside her g-gate. She 
 was coming over to see you, but T-Tommy fell down 
 the front steps and she had to g-go back and f-fix her 
 up." 
 
 " I suppose Docky Dr. Denton told her," she 
 said, more to herself than to her companion. " Things 
 looked pretty bad last night," she went on, her voice 
 a bit tremulous, " but everything's lovely again," she 
 ended with a glad laugh. 
 
 " Were you having a race with yourself a few 
 minutes ago? " he demanded, as he fell into step with 
 her, Wrinkles meekly following at his heel. 
 
 " No, I was just pretending that the world was a 
 great big balloon and I had it tied to a string and 
 was running away with it." Her face sparkled with 
 joyous mischief. 
 
 He laughed at her odd conceit. There was a defi- 
 nite pause before he spoke again, and then it was with 
 a wistfulness that touched her to quick sympathy. 
 
 " I cried myself to sleep once because I couldn't 
 have a balloon. Do you know, I've never had one. 
 There was nobody to give me a balloon, and it's not 
 a thing to buy for yourself." 
 
 " It's never too late. You shall have one the first 
 time I go to town. But why were you denied just 
 a balloon? Didn't you ever go to a circus and have 
 your father buy you one for each hand ? " 
 
 He shook his head. " Uncle Joshua doesn't believe 
 in balloons or circuses or anything else," he stam- 
 mered, with sudden bitterness. " I'm beginning to 
 realize I never was a 1-little b-boy."
 
 128 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 " Ha^ve you always lived with your Uncle Joshua ? " 
 Her soft voice wooed to confidence. 
 
 " Mother d-clied when I came, and and f-father 
 went away when I was only s-seven. He he 
 d-died a few m-months after that." 
 
 She made a little wordless sound of sympathy. 
 When she spoke it was to ask, " And are you all 
 your family? " 
 
 He roused himself with an effort. " Uncle Joshua 
 and I are the only ones l-left. But forgive me for 
 t-troubling you with my t-troubles. Only to-night 
 things somehow s-seemed to mount up. You see, 
 Wrinkles is a persona non grata with Uncle Joshua," 
 he admitted, with a wry smile, " and we left some- 
 what h-hurriedly after a pretty b-bad scene. Scenes 
 rather destroy one's appetite for d-dinner, I find. I 
 was f-feeling plagued lonesome when Wrinkles 
 t-tackled you, Miss Trevor." 
 
 Christine came to one of her quick decisions. 
 
 " You're not going to feel lonesome while I'm your 
 next-door neighbor." A sense of adventure and of 
 responsibility too, came over her at her own words. 
 " We're badly in need of an older brother. I was 
 just thinking of advertising for one. Why don't 
 you apply for the job? " 
 
 He stood for a moment, eyeing her thoughtfully. 
 She, watching him, divined with her fine intuition 
 the trend of his thought. " Your uncle has forbidden 
 you to have anything to do with us ? " 
 
 His face was rueful. " Yes," he admitted, simply. 
 
 " Must you obey?" 
 
 There was a moment of hesitation, then, with shoul- 
 ders squared and head upflung, he gave her a sudden
 
 TANGLED THREADS 129 
 
 brilliant smile that lit up his sombre eyes and mourn- 
 ful young face. "If you really n-need me, I'll take the 
 b-bit in my teeth, and r-run. I know it's time I did. 
 I've known it for a while b-back b-but b but " 
 he paused, and emotion augmented the stammer in 
 his speech, " Uncle Joshua has it over me s-seven ways, 
 and sometime will you let me t-tell you about it? " 
 he demanded, with a boyish impulsiveness. 
 
 " Looky here, man " she gave him a roguish side- 
 glance " are you going to answer that ad in person ? 
 Well, then, one of your duties'll be to share your 
 troubles, and, worse than that, you'll have to listen 
 and be all sweet sympathy when I pour into your ears 
 the sad tale of my young life. Is that a compact?" 
 
 He gripped her hand so hard that she almost cried 
 out. " Yes, Miss Trevor." 
 
 " Miss Trevor, indeed, and that to a new-found 
 sister! You must call me by my little name. I'm 
 Christine." 
 
 " Well, then," he replied, with a conscious flush, 
 " yes, Christine." 
 
 Their eyes met and they laughed together as only 
 the young can laugh. 
 
 " I'll just dash up to the house for your umbrella, 
 Douglas," she moved lightly away, " then I must fly 
 back to Daffy." 
 
 " That's more like it," approved Dr. Denton, when 
 she slipped into the sick-room with cheeks softly 
 aglow, and eyes ashimmer. " This is going to be 
 rather a hard pull for you, child, and you must take 
 care of yourself." 
 
 " I'm strong as a horse. Never been sick a day in 
 my life." She looked at him, head flung back, eyes
 
 130 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 sparkling with mischief. " I'm getting to be such a 
 saint these days, Docky, it's positively dangerous. 
 My wings have already begun to bud, and wings 
 aren't in style this summer, you know." 
 
 Dr. Denton threw himself back in his chair, and 
 let his laugh ring out unchecked. " Wings wouldn't 
 be becoming to your style of beauty," he chuckled. 
 " You're more girl than angel." 
 
 " Would you like me better if I were an angel- 
 girl ? " she asked teasingly, coming a step closer. He 
 was deftly arranging Daffy's pillows. 
 
 " M-m. That's too weighty a problem for me to 
 decide off-hand." His answer came in a bantering 
 tone. 
 
 A sudden thought made her stare at him search- 
 ingly, then she gave a queer little laugh. "I I al- 
 most wish I was an angel-girl like " she bit off the 
 rest of her sentence, and walked over to the window 
 where she stood gazing out into the darkness, her 
 teeth denting her lower lip. 
 
 There was perfect silence for a moment ; then she 
 wheeled sharply about. He was absorbed in making 
 Daffy comfortable for the night. Somehow his ab- 
 sorption irritated her. Would he ever consider her 
 anything but a child, to be teased and ordered about? 
 She was certainly not more than a year younger than 
 Freddy Blue. His voice roused her abruptly. 
 
 " Daffy's likely to have a quiet night. You can 
 lie on the couch to be within earshot when she needs 
 you. There's no necessity for your staying up as 
 Amelia had to last night. To-morrow I'll make ar- 
 rangements to relieve you if only for a couple of 
 hours." With a few specific directions as to medi-
 
 TANGLED THREADS 131 
 
 cine and care of the small patient, he hastened away. 
 
 The room seemed curiously empty at his departure. 
 With a shrug of the shoulders Christine tried to ban- 
 ish the unpleasant feeling. She would get her writ- 
 ing materials, and answer Cort's last scrawl which she 
 had failed to do in the crowded events of the day. 
 But hardly had she settled herself in the bedside chair 
 when Daffy's faint demand for a drink of water 
 brought her to her feet. And so it was through the 
 long hours of the night. Restless with fever and 
 pain the little patient developed countless needs and 
 desires, and morning found her and her self-consti- 
 tuted nurse pallid even to the lips. 
 
 The morning sun was high in the heavens when at 
 last the child fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep. 
 Gently disengaging her hand from Daffy's, Christine 
 crept to her room to freshen a bit before she went 
 down to breakfast. A knock at the door startled 
 her. Misery entered, and deposited a temptingly ar- 
 ranged tray on the bedside table. With a smile on her 
 thin, homely features she proceeded to serve her young 
 mistress. 
 
 " This is mighty good of you," Christine threw 
 herself wearily into a chair, " with all that extra 
 work" 
 
 Tears sprang into the woman's eyes. " Sure, Miss 
 Christine, it's that as makes me happy, doin' for other 
 people, now I ain't got any of my own. But here 
 I mustn't be talkin' about my own troubles. Dr. 
 Denton, God bless him, 'phoned a few minutes ago 
 as to how you was to be ready for an hour's walk 
 soon as you had breakfast. By the time you was 
 ready, she I just couldn't get the name, Miss Chris-
 
 132 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 tine she'd be here, and when you come back, you 
 was to nap after your bad night " 
 
 "How did he know?" Christine demanded, with 
 eyes bright with surprise. " He expected Daffy to 
 have a good night and " 
 
 The woman flushed violently. " Sure, I'm askin' 
 your pardon, Miss Christine, but I was up and about. 
 Amelia didn't sleep much, and I could hear you stirrin' 
 and talkin' and try in' to make the little one comfort- 
 able, and so I just talked to the doctor myself and " 
 
 She scuttled away, glad of the excuse the ringing 
 of the door-bell afforded her. 
 
 A moment later Freddy Blue hurried into the room 
 with outstretched hands. She brought with her an 
 atmosphere of freshness and vigor that infused new 
 life into Christine's tired young frame. 
 
 "Through breakfast?" her rich contralto voice 
 sang out. " Well, then, Dr. Denton's prescription 
 for you is an hour in the sunshine, and it's some sun- 
 shine this morning." With friendly violence she pro- 
 ceeded to array her companion in her outer garments. 
 " There, now, off with you." 
 
 " Everybody's so kind, but really I shouldn't 
 began Christine, in weary protest. 
 
 Freddy broke in with a gusty laugh. " Oh, but 
 you must. The doctor says so, and his word is 
 law." 
 
 For the first time Christine lifted her eyes and 
 looked squarely at the other. She was gloriously 
 flushed and glad-eyed. " You you look very 
 happy," she brought out, with unconscious wistfulness. 
 She shot a second glance at her, quick but apprais- 
 ing, taking in this time not only the shining, odd
 
 TANGLED THREADS 133 
 
 gray-green eyes, and the radiant face, but the swing 
 of the strong shoulders, the fine length of limb, and 
 the grace of her carriage. " Do you know, Freddy 
 Blue, you're a perfect peach of a woman," came 
 slowly, as if in unwilling tribute. 
 
 Freddy laughed, a big hearty laugh, and laughed 
 again in spontaneous merriment. " Your bad night's 
 gone to your head, childie. With me, it's always been 
 handsome is as handsome does, and my beauty's never 
 been one of my worries. But you're right. I'm 
 happy, so happy I'd like to go skipping down the 
 street like a perfectly foolish, exuberant young lamb. 
 Just fancy me, great big me, gamboling through the 
 village on a lamb trot." Again her laugh rang out and 
 an answering spark awoke in the velvety brown eyes, 
 which, however, died out at the girl's next words. 
 
 " Something so nice, so wonderful's come about I'm 
 so stewed up inside, I'd like to shout it from the house- 
 tops, only I can't just yet," she added, with a sud- 
 den delicious shyness. " When the time comes, tho' 
 I want to be the one to tell you our my secret, for 
 you've always been my happy princess, you know." 
 
 The thought careered wildly through Christine's 
 mind that she had already divined her secret, and there 
 flashed back into her memory Dr. Denton's significant 
 words of his newly gained happiness on that never-to- 
 be-forgotten automobile ride of a few nights before. 
 
 " But I mustn't deprive you of a minute of sun- 
 shine." With smiling lips and happy, mysterious 
 eyes, Freddy propelled her gently toward the door. 
 " I can only be spared for a couple of hours this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 " I'm a selfish beast." Christine faced about from
 
 134 
 
 the doorway. "I quite forgot. How's Tommy?" 
 
 " Bright as a new penny this morning. But how 
 in the name of Betsy did you know? I didn't peep 
 about her to Dr. Denton. He's up to his eyes now 
 in work, so I thought I could doctor her myself. He 
 couldn't possibly have known." 
 
 Christine shook her bright head. " Douglas told 
 me." 
 
 "Douglas? Oh!" 
 
 There was an endless moment of silence, then, in 
 a scrupulously even tone, she went on, " Oh, yes, he 
 was at the gate when it happened. I had forgotten 
 you knew Mr. Barton."
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 WRINKLES 
 
 May was already ten days old, and beautiful with 
 color and odor and bird-life, before Daffy was Tier- 
 self again and Amelia could hobble about. But 
 though the days had been crowded with things that 
 had to be done, Christine's acquaintance with her 
 young next-door neighbor had grown apace. He had 
 taken to vaulting the hedge at the twilight hour. And 
 Wrinkles always accompanied him. 
 
 " I have to bring him," he had explained apolo- 
 getically, on his second visit. " This is Uncle Josh- 
 ua's b-bad time. I mean, his pain s-seems to attack 
 him worst when evening's coming on, and then he 
 always f -flies in a pretty rage if Wrinkles is any- 
 where about. You see," he went on, eagerly com- 
 municative, " Uncle Joshua hasn't any special f-fond- 
 ness for the m-meek and m-mild, and that's where 
 Wrinkles and I c-come in." 
 
 " Bullies never do like the people they can kick. 
 Your Uncle Joshua's a bully." Before the other's 
 horrified astonishment she broke into a laugh. " I'm 
 sorry if I've hurt your feelings. I'm always saying 
 things before I think." 
 
 A shade of boyish melancholy clouded his face for 
 an instant. " You haven't h-hurt my feelings. I was 
 just thinking I y-you know, I never thought 
 about it before, b-but, by Pete, I b-believe you're right. 
 
 i35
 
 136 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 He does fancy k-kicking anybody who comes in his 
 way, and most of all, Wrinkles and me. We're both 
 just strays, you know. I fished Wrinkles out of an 
 alley one night. He was s-starved and b-bruised and 
 almost on the last gasp, and I was in pretty much the 
 s-same healthy state when Uncle Joshua g-gathered 
 me in after three years in an orphan asylum." 
 
 " Poor boy ! " She put out her hand impulsively. 
 Then with a sudden and alluring audacity she smiled 
 at him. " Why don't you kick back? " 
 
 He stopped short, and looked at her in a puzzled 
 sort of way. " Kick back ! That's just it. I d-don't 
 know how." 
 
 Her shoulders spoke volumes. " Don't be a jelly- 
 fish, Doug. You've got to learn how." 
 
 She slipped into silence. The silence was main- 
 tained for several long endless minutes. Then he 
 spoke in a humble tone, " I knew you'd d-despise me. 
 I d-despise myself, but I just c-can't put up a f-fight. 
 It isn't in me somehow. Perhaps, it's b-because I 
 was never allowed to p-play with other youngsters, and 
 Uncle Joshua had the spirit all b-beaten out of me 
 when I was a little 1-lad. But perhaps you're right. 
 I've no more s-spirit than a jelly-fish." 
 
 She had been busily thinking, but his last words 
 roused her abruptly. 
 
 " You've spoiled Uncle Joshua," she said, as she 
 broke into sudden mirth. " You've let him have his 
 way in everything. Now you must begin to unspoil 
 him. You mustn't say you can't." She divined 
 what his excuse would be. " The very next time he 
 commands you to do or not to do something that goes 
 against the grain, just quietly rebel."
 
 WRINKLES 137 
 
 " He'd r- raise the r-roof," the young man jolted 
 out. His mouth was set and his eyes were frowning. 
 
 "Pouf! Suppose he did. It'd be up to him to 
 build a new roof. And the very best thing that could 
 happen to you, Douglas Barton, would be to bolt and 
 let him do his building all by his lone." She went on, 
 goaded into utter frankness. " You'.ve never stood 
 on your own feet. It's about time you did. Of 
 course, being such a paragon myself " with a little 
 gurgle of laughter " it's dead easy for me to preach. 
 But," she clasped his arm with both her hands and 
 her face shone with a sudden earnestness, " it's high 
 time you began to live your own life and it's high 
 time, too, I was getting back to Daffy." 
 
 With a light " hasta la vista " she turned and sped 
 up the path. 
 
 A minute came and passed, and he still stood, star- 
 ing after her with unseeing eyes. He was on fire 
 with a new thought. 
 
 The story-telling hour, which now had become a 
 firmly established institution in the Trevor household 
 after Daffy's afternoon nap, prolonged itself the next 
 afternoon, so that when Christine slipped down into 
 the garden, darkness was coming on rapidly. She was 
 almost thrown off her feet by Wrinkle's enthusiastic 
 reception, and his master's welcome was as warmly 
 eager, if a bit more restrained. 
 
 " We were beginning to d-despair." He thrust his 
 hand forth in quick greeting and falling into step, 
 they sauntered down the garden path. " Do you 
 know, you've grown to be the s-stuff of which my 
 d-dreams are made." 
 
 "Oh, you poet! What news?"
 
 138 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 " Same old g-grind at the b-bank, same old world, 
 same old everything." He dissembled badly. 
 
 " Out with it, man. I can see it in your eyes." 
 
 " You're right. I'm b-beginning to b-believe you're 
 always right. Well, I f-fired the first g-guns. Uncle 
 Joshua heard me whistling for Wrinkles and r-roared 
 out I was not to leave the house. I informed him 
 p-politely I had a tryst with you, and he p-pawed the 
 air and ordered me to my room. I c-consigned him 
 quite audibly to the warm place, and put on my c-cap 
 and went to meet you." 
 
 " Goody-good ! " Christine clapped her hands in 
 glee. " You've 'made. your first attack on the fortress, 
 and, take it from me, you'll win with colors flying." 
 
 He frowned gloomily. " But I've g-got to g-go 
 b-back and take what's c-coming." 
 
 " Stand up and take it like a man, and above all, 
 kick back." 
 
 A spark of admiration leaped into his eyes. 
 " You're a w-wonder. If I had you to spur me on, I 
 might amount to s-something some day. Do you 
 know," he asked, pausing a moment as if almost over- 
 come by the daring of his thought, " if you'll b-back 
 me up, some day I'll defy the old b-boy on his own 
 ground. I'll throw up my j-job at the b-bank, and go 
 to work at my d-dreams in dead earnest." 
 
 Her face lighted with sudden mischief. " You're 
 coming, Doug. Uncle Joshua'll be eating out of your 
 hand before you know it." 
 
 " If I ever amount to anything, I'll owe it all to 
 you. You're the n-nearest approach to a " 
 
 " Flesh and blood girl," she finished for him with a 
 wicked little grin. " Talk of something more inter-
 
 WRINKLES 139 
 
 esting. How's the health of your motor-car? " 
 
 "Will you go for a r-ride some evening? Of 
 course I know about Mr. Van Ness. But he wouldn't 
 mind me." His eyes held the unconscious wistfulness 
 of a child. 
 
 "Oh, Cort hasn't gooseberry eyes. Besides, we 
 agreed to give each other a long rope." An involun- 
 tary sigh rose to her lips, as with the eyes of her 
 memory she read again the short scrawl that had come 
 to her that morning, the first in several days. He was 
 making full use of his long rope. " It's mighty de- 
 cent of you to ask me, when you detest driving so 
 heartily. But er, well, yes, I'll go," she conceded 
 handsomely. 
 
 " When ? " came his instant demand. 
 
 "As soon as Daffy's all mended again. The little 
 imp'd howl the roof down if I wasn't there for a bed- 
 time story, but it'll be different when Amelia's on the 
 job again. I'm getting positively round-shouldered 
 from all my responsibilities," she declared, with a spon- 
 taneous laugh. " I'm going to roll them all in a ball, 
 and fire it at Amelia the minute she's well." 
 
 But the very next day Christine's slender shoulders 
 were weighted with another new duty. Intent on 
 finding some misplaced drawing materials, she danced 
 into the living-room after breakfast. She was half 
 way across the floor before she noticed Laurie and 
 Amelia in the east bow-window. There was perfect 
 stillness for a full moment, then suddenly Laurie closed 
 the book in his hands with a bang. 
 
 " No more history to-day, 'Melia. I just know it 
 cramps your leg sitting so long." 
 
 " It ain't so bad as it might be," Amelia replied,
 
 140 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 gripping her hands together in spite of herself, " and 
 it's been so long now since you did your lesson. You 
 know you want to learn history, so you can be a big 
 man like your fathe/," she went on artfully, " and 
 time's goin', sure." 
 
 " I'll never be the wonderful man father was. 
 Why, 'Melia, he knew just everything. History's 
 mighty interesting, though, and it'd be nice if I could 
 learn a lot, but I won't let you help me till you're real 
 well again." 
 
 " I used to like history. Won't I do for a tutor? " 
 
 Laurie threw a startled look over his shoulder at 
 Christine. " I didn't hear you come in." Then, with 
 a deep-drawn breath, he said, " I wouldn't be selfish as 
 that," but his eyes were shining. 
 
 " Selfish ! You selfish ! Your name isn't Christine, 
 is it?" she asked, with irresistible jollity. "Do you 
 know, I'd rather fancy myself in the role of a tutor. 
 Honest Injun, it'd be great sport to do my old history- 
 teacher to the life. Miss Ogg was a real fish. Oh, 
 I'll have to get a pair of goggles, and draw my hair 
 down into a tight egg, and practice before the mirror 
 saying prunes for a few hours a day. Then I'll be 
 ready. You will take your history-lesson this after- 
 noon, Master Laurence." She issued the command in 
 a nasal monotone which brought a smile to her hear- 
 ers' lips. " Come to my office at three." 
 
 " Really? Do you mean it? " 
 
 " Never was more in earnest in my young life." 
 
 The boy caught his breath quiveringly. His hands 
 came together in a close clasp. " I never thought 
 things could be so jolly," he brought out wonderingly. 
 " With all this outdoors to look at and you."
 
 WRINKLES 141 
 
 Christine followed his gaze. His eyes were fixed 
 on a tree close to the bow-window. It was a delicate 
 rain of young leaves. 
 
 " I have it ! " The ring of her tones was unmis- 
 takably triumphant. " We'll do our lessons out-of- 
 doors." 
 
 And so it happened that afternoon that Joshua Bar- 
 ton, making his painful way down the steep flight of 
 stone steps that led to his Japanese garden, paused on 
 the arm of his man Mark. The scene that was being 
 enacted in the neighboring garden arrested his eye. A 
 pale-faced, eager-eyed boy was sitting on a rustic bench 
 under the canopy of a huge elm. Books and papers 
 were scattered about him. His lips were moving. 
 His eyes were riveted on the face of a girl who was 
 sitting crosslegged on the turf at his feet. Joshua 
 Barton's eyes lingered for a moment on her hair. It 
 was wonderful hair, with the gleaming smoothness of 
 gold. 
 
 " How dare those young beggars make all that 
 row ? " he exploded, shaking a cane in the direction 
 of the young Trevors in his passion. " Don't they 
 know this is the hour for my nap? I'll have them " 
 Anger choked him, and during the rest of his progress 
 down the steps he swore in loud impotence. 
 
 " I might move your chair to the other end of the 
 garden," suggested Mark. " You won't be disturbed 
 there, sir." 
 
 " Nonsense. It disturbs me even to know they're 
 there," snorted the old man. " I know I shan't sleep 
 a wink curse them ! " 
 
 And this ill-tempered old gentleman prophesied cor- 
 rectly. For though he was beyond ear-shot of the
 
 142 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 young voices, to his own angry disgust, he found his 
 eyes wandering again and again to the boy and girl so 
 earnestly at work. With an oath he would close his 
 lids. Irresistibly they would fly open again, and his 
 flaming gaze would be drawn as if by magic to those 
 youthful figures. 
 
 Soon childish shouts broke the deep afternoon quiet. 
 Though he willed not to look, yet he saw two small 
 forms tear across the lawn and fairly hurtle themselves 
 on the brother and sister. In a breath they had thrown 
 themselves down on the ground beside the older girl, 
 and presently quiet again descended on both gardens. 
 
 " A precious family-group," he muttered to himself. 
 " The beggars ! I'll have them strangled if they don't 
 keep still. I'll be a complete wreck without my sleep. 
 How can I be expected to lie here and suffer ? I'll 
 turn them out if they make another sound." 
 
 But this threat was not fulfilled. For when the 
 shadows were growing longer and he was at last drift- 
 ing off to sleep, there came a sound which made him 
 struggle painfully to a sitting position and brought a 
 torrent of curses and oaths to his lips. He glared at 
 the young Trevors. But they had no eyes, no 
 thoughts for him. They were listening to the exquis- 
 ite barcarolle which Laurie was playing for them. 
 When it came to an end, there was a moment of per- 
 fect stillness, then again the boy drew the bow over the 
 strings and beautiful aching chords filled the air. 
 There was passionate grief in the music, and into 
 Christine's mind, as she intently studied the young 
 face, so shy and earnest, with downcast eyes shadowed 
 by long lashes, flashed the image of a lonely soul in 
 pain, still bound to earth.
 
 WRINKLES 143 
 
 " That was beautiful, Laurie," came her involun- 
 tary tribute. " Only it was too sad. Play something 
 gay and bright like the sunshine." 
 
 Mischief lurked in his eyes as he tucked the fiddle 
 under his chin. Out rang the notes of a mad dance; 
 fast and faster it went, gathering pace, lawless, free 
 as the air. 
 
 Christine positively gaped at him, " I didn't know 
 you could play like that. Play it again." Impulsively 
 she sprang to her feet, and began to improvise a dance* 
 to his music. Her whole being seemed to thrill and 
 sway and throb to the wild harmony that flooded the 
 air, and she danced with the grace and abandon of a 
 gypsy. When the last faint tremor of sound died 
 away into silence, she threw herself panting on the 
 ground. 
 
 " I haven't had such a happy time in weeks years, 
 it seems," she mused aloud. " It was like being let 
 loose from prison. I love, love, love to dance." 
 
 " You're the most beautiful dancer in the world." 
 So unmistakably genuine was Laurie's cry of admi- 
 ration that a flood of color ran up into the girl's 
 face. 
 
 Again his bow was on the strings, and this time he 
 played a theme delicate as a fairy-dance, and again 
 Christine interpreted the music with eager feet. She 
 seemed the very impersonation of youth, a flaming 
 torch of life and happiness, as with a pent-up rapture 
 she abandoned herself to the joy of the moment. Her 
 dancing-figure held all the poetry, all the spirit of the 
 new-born spring. 
 
 Laurie made a movement to lay aside his fiddle. 
 
 " 'Mother one, 'nother one," chorused the insatiable
 
 144 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 twins, who always sat -wide-eyed, spell-bound, before 
 Laurie's music. 
 
 Again came a moment of utter stillness. Laurie's 
 eyes were shadowed with dreams while he fingered 
 the violin-strings. Of a sudden a smile came and 
 touched the corners of his mouth, and when at last 
 his bow swept across the fiddle, Christine had the curi- 
 ous feeling he was playing, not to them, but to some 
 invisible audience. The opening chords of " Oh, That 
 We Two were Maying," thrilled through her. Then 
 she understood. Their mother had loved that 
 song. 
 
 The girl's heart flowed out to the player on a wave 
 of transcendent love, and then and there was swept 
 away for all time her shrinking horror of the crippled 
 body. She was suddenly snatched into a realization of 
 the rare beauty of the boy's soul in its imperfect hu- 
 man case. A tenderness filled her. He was inexpres- 
 sibly gentle and appealing. She wanted to protect 
 him from every harsh wind. 
 
 As the last note floated away on the still air, a tor- 
 rent of angry oaths came to her ears. The next in- 
 stant the cry of a dog in pain startled her. She leaped 
 to her feet in time to see through a gap in the hedge 
 the crippled figure of Joshua Barton hurl a crutch at 
 the yelping animal, then topple over on the ground. 
 
 Wildly she ran towards the prostrate form. But 
 before she reached the edge of the Trevor grounds 
 Mark and a Japanese house-servant were speeding 
 from different directions over the lawn. Together 
 they bore the silent form of their master into the 
 " Lonely House." 
 
 " Doug won't come to-night," Christine told herself,
 
 WRINKLES 145 
 
 as she strolled into the garden at the close of day. 
 
 But the thought had barely formed when he vaulted 
 the hedge. He was alone. 
 
 "Where's Wrinkles?" 
 
 The dog's name was magic to unlock his brooding 
 silence. 
 
 " Poor little b-beggar, half-dead. One of Uncle's 
 pleasant little t-tantrums," he said, speaking with an 
 odd, choked utterance. " I might as well s-shoot 
 him " 
 
 " Oh, no," she broke in on him, " you mustn't do 
 that. He isn't badly hurt." 
 
 " No, only I've got to g-get rid of him, and that'd 
 be the easiest way. I'd hate to g-give him to s-some- 
 body who'd ill-treat him. He's an affectionate little 
 chap." 
 
 A wish that Laurie had expressed that very after- 
 noon flashed back into her stimulated memory, " Give 
 him to us. Laurie he's the crippled one, you know 
 is simply mad about dogs, and I know he'd love him 
 to death." 
 
 " I'll s-send him over as s-soon as he's in b-better 
 shape." That comprised the sum of their conversa- 
 tion on the subject of Wrinkles' change of masters, 
 but Christine knew that it would go hard with him to 
 miss the companionship of the dog. 
 
 "And how is your Uncle Joshua?" she inquired 
 genially, after a moment's pause. 
 
 " Oh," he said, in the level tone that bespeaks a pre- 
 occupied mind, " he's in a b-beastlier temper to-night 
 than usual." 
 
 " Did he hurt himself when he fell? " 
 
 In answer to his questioning glance she proceeded
 
 146 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 to describe the scene which she had chanced to wit- 
 ness. 
 
 " No harm done, except to his disposition. But 
 Mark says he was unconscious for all of five min- 
 utes, and when he came to he raved like mad about 
 some infernal music " 
 
 " Nice old man," interrupted Christine, wrinkling 
 her nose disdainfully. "Infernal music, indeed! 
 You should just hear Laurie. He plays like a regular 
 angel. I suppose the dear kind thing would turn us 
 out of here if he could." 
 
 Douglas colored violently, but parried the blow with, 
 " Let's not s-spoil our walk to-night with any more of 
 Uncle Joshua. Let's t-talk of s-something pleasant 
 and interesting." 
 
 Uncle Joshua, however, proved an interesting theme 
 of conversation at the Trevor dinner-table less than a 
 week after that. The twins were in the midst of an 
 eager recital of how they had unwittingly disturbed 
 his afternoon nap by falling almost simultaneously 
 out of a gnarled old apple tree which stood on the 
 edge of their garden. 
 
 " And you just ought to have heard what he called 
 us." Dilly's brown eyes were round with horrified 
 astonishment. " He's such a bad man ! You ought 
 to wash his mouth out with soap, Christine." 
 
 Daffy's eager high treble continued the story, " 'N' 
 he threw his crutches at us, 'n' said he'd put us out in 
 the street." 
 
 " Throwing crutches seems to be about the best 
 thing Uncle Joshua does," Christine remarked drily. 
 
 " But he couldn't put us out in the street, could 
 he, sister ? " Tears grew in the heaven-blue eyes.
 
 WRINKLES 147 
 
 " 'Cause this is our house, 'n' we just couldn't live in 
 the street," the little girl half -sobbed in her panicky 
 fright. 
 
 " Don't be a goosie." Christine began to scold, but 
 thought better of it, and went around the table and 
 kissed her small sister. " He " Soft padding steps 
 on the veranda made her break off and wheel quickly 
 about. 
 
 Through a French window which had been opened 
 to the warm May air, a dog came trotting in. With an 
 air of importance he marched up to Christine. 
 
 " Good old Wrinkles ! " She stooped to pat his 
 back. "Is this for me?" she asked, removing an 
 envelope which he carried in his mouth. For answer, 
 Wrinkles licked her hand with an affectionate red 
 tongue. The note ran, " My troubles are all over. I 
 belong to you now." It was signed Wrinkles Trevor. 
 
 Christine bent down and gathered the dog to her. 
 Contentedly he snuggled against her shoulder. Then 
 she deposited him in Laurie's lap. " He's all yours, 
 Laurie. Douglas gave him to you." 
 
 For a long breathless moment the boy's eyes were 
 raised to hers in flaming astonishment, then- he buried 
 his face in the dog's soft black coat. 
 
 To Christine's dismay two tears forced themselves 
 between her lashes at the boy's rare show of emotion, 
 but she managed a tremulous laugh. " It'd serve the 
 old ogre right if we coaxed Doug away, too." 
 
 She moved closer to the window, and gazed out into 
 the moon-silvered garden. 'She was not surprised to 
 see his slim, boyish figure moving stealthily across the 
 lawn in the tree shadows. A moment later he had 
 leaped the hedge.
 
 148 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 "Poor Doug! It's like tearing out a bit of his 
 heart, I know, to give old Wrinkles up," she murmured 
 to herself. 
 
 "If we took Doug too, poor old Mr. Bar- 
 ton wouldn't have anybody," Laurie said, when he 
 could command his voice. " He'd be the lonesomest 
 man on earth." 
 
 "Uncle Joshua lonesome!" Christine flung over 
 her shoulder. "How could he be? You have to 
 have a heart to feel lonesome, and he hasn't a heart, 
 you know." 
 
 " He's a bad, bad man. He wants to throw us in 
 the street," shrilled Daffy. She and Dilly were on 
 their knees, worshipping at Wrinkles' shrine. 
 
 " Perhaps," began Laurie dreamily, musing aloud, 
 " perhaps he has a heart, but it's locked up tight and 
 no one's found the key yet." He was silent a mo- 
 ment, then, with his face against Wrinkles', " I say, 
 Christie, some day let's adopt that lonesome old man."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 AN EMPTY PURSE 
 
 On a May day of serene beauty Christine sprang 
 from bed with soaring spirits. It was a gay, wonder- 
 ful world after all. She set about dressing with a 
 gurgle of song, stopping once to execute a mad jig, 
 with only one slipper on, in a moment of unrestrained 
 joy at being alive and with the sap of youth in her 
 veins. 
 
 Her bright spirits lasted until an hour after break- 
 fast when she came upon Amelia, bathed in tears over 
 a high heaped basket of mending. 
 
 " It's just nothin'," shamefacedly Amelia dried 
 her spectacles on one pink-checked sock. " Only 
 only " tears began to make their uninterrupted way 
 again down the withered cheeks " to think of a 
 Trevor havin' to wear patched and darned things. 
 Why," indignation lent passion to her voice, " here's 
 Daffy, my baby Daffy, with the toes kicked out of her 
 very best pair of shoes, and her others a sight 
 worse." 
 
 " Oh, you ! Is that all ? I thought your whole 
 family had gone to the demnition bow-wows, wher- 
 ever that is. Well, there are plenty of shops in this 
 big world where you can buy socks and shoes and 
 things, you know." 
 
 There was a strange and unpleasant silence that 
 followed this light-hearted retort. 
 
 "It's easy enough to buy things when you have the 
 
 149
 
 150 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 money, but " With nice care Amelia proceeded to 
 select the exact shade of pink cotton from her work- 
 basket and thread her needle. 
 
 "But but what?" Christine demanded impa- 
 tiently, already halfway out of the door. She was 
 eager for a run in the sunshine with Wrinkles before 
 she settled herself to her pleasant task of monogram- 
 ming a bridge luncheon set. 
 
 " We haven't a charge account anywhere now," 
 Amelia reminded her, after another silence. 
 
 " You don't have to charge them. You can buy 
 them pay for them outright with money, I mean." 
 
 " There's bare a few dollars left for household ex- 
 penses. And the next allowance don't come till the 
 middle of the month." 
 
 Amelia's head was bent low again over the pink- 
 checked sock. 
 
 Christine drew in her breath. "I I didn't realize 
 before that we're poor, really poor," she brought out 
 slowly. There was a pause in which her eyes were 
 fastened on a pattern of the wallpaper. " Well, Daffy 
 and Dilly have to have shoes, that's a cinch. Tell me 
 their size and where you buy them. I was thinking 
 of running up to town this morning for some shopping 
 of my own." 
 
 The next breath she indulged in a short laugh at 
 the open surprise in the other's face. " You aren't 
 used to me yet in my role of the older sister, are you, 
 'Melia? It's some change, I 'fess up." 
 
 For answer Amelia caught and held her eyes. " Is 
 it the truth, you was goin' a-shoppin' this mornin' ? " 
 Then, as the girl reddened, but gave no answer, she 
 went on gently, " I know you haven't wanted overmuch
 
 AN EMPTY PURSE 151 
 
 to go to town, things bein' as they are now. Couldn't 
 I do your shoppin' for you, and get those things for 
 the children, and save you the bother, Christine?" 
 
 There was a definite pause before the girl brought 
 herself to speak. Then with her shoulders well 
 squared and her head lifted high as an outward ex- 
 pression of her mood, she observed very steadily, 
 " You're a dear, but I've got to do it, myself. If I 
 hurry," she added, after a moment's thought, " I can 
 catch the next car. Have the sizes and colors and 
 things ready, I'll be on the spot in fifteen minutes." 
 She turned and was out of the room before Amelia 
 could reply. 
 
 When she was again poised in the doorway, the old 
 woman's eyes showed that they found her noticeably 
 lovely in her suit of soft black silk with the close-fitting 
 toque and the smart suede pumps that encased her slim 
 feet. The wonder grew in Amelia's mind that her 
 eyes were so curiously like deep brown velvet and her 
 hair so luminously gold. 
 
 " Fire away, 'Melia." She drew ivory tablets from 
 her gold mesh purse, and held a gold pencil poised 
 with a business-like directness which, however, did not 
 hide from the shrewd old soul the restless flicker of her 
 eyes and the unusual ivory tint of her cheeks. 
 
 " And you'll be careful gettin' off and on the street- 
 cars, Christine," the old woman wound up her list of 
 directions with ill-concealed anxiety, " and most of 
 all, look out for those awful automobiles. Sometimes 
 I think it's better to make straight for 'em than to try 
 and dodge 'em," she declared, in an unusual bu-rst of 
 communicativeness. " You honest stand a better 
 chance of not findin' yourself mashed to death."
 
 152 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 " I've not the slightest intention of finding myself 
 mashed to death under an automobile. I don't fancy 
 being killed that way. In fact, I'm rather planning to 
 elope with some brand-new shiny machine that hap- 
 pens to wink its eye at me somewhere in the great 
 wicked city." Christine broke into a laugh at the 
 other's horrified astonishment. " But there," she gave 
 her a reassuring pat, " don't worry your nice old head 
 about me. I'm bound to turn up all to the good, 
 though I warn you I'm feeling frisky this morning, and 
 there's no telling what adventure'll swoop down on 
 me around a corner." 
 
 Amelia looked at her queerly. " Sometimes 
 lately I just don't know what to make of you. You 
 put me so in mind of your mother with one of your 
 pretty ways and smiles, and then " 
 
 " And then, there's a reversion to type, and I'm the 
 same old Christine Trevor who thinks she's the pivot 
 of the universe," the girl came quickly to the rescue. 
 " I'll tell you a deep-dyed, dark-purple secret, 'Melia." 
 Her eyes flashed with roguish mischief as she lowered 
 her voice to a stage whisper. " Sometimes I don't 
 know myself. I've about decided I'm suffering with 
 growing pains. But there, if you will keep chattering 
 so, you'll make me miss the car. I've only one minute 
 and and twenty-three seconds to make it now." She 
 was fairly out of the room before the last words had 
 left her lips. 
 
 " Oh, wait," cried Amelia, bustling after her. 
 
 Christine turned impatiently. " Honestly, I haven't 
 a second to lose " 
 
 " Yes, yes, I know, but I you oh, Christine, 
 you are goin' to to borrow that money ? "
 
 AN EMPTY PURSE 153 
 
 Christine faced her trembling-voiced interrogator 
 with a queer mixture of resentment and indulgence. 
 " A Trevor doesn't borrow. I'm going to spend my 
 very own money. Now, 'Melia, forget to worry till 
 I come back." 
 
 With that, the anxious old woman had to content 
 herself. 
 
 The street-car was already humming like a huge in- 
 sect around the corner when Christine pelted down 
 the front steps. Gathering up her silk skirts, she 
 fleetfooted it across the lawn and landed victoriously, 
 if a bit breathlessly, on the lower step. 
 
 To her dismay she found but one vacant seat in the 
 car, and that did not look inviting. A fat, rosy- 
 cheeked young woman, and a fat, rosy-cheeked, year- 
 old boy, sprawling in her lap, left but a few inches of 
 the seat unoccupied. 
 
 Christine's experience in street-car riding had been 
 limited, very limited indeed. She probably could have 
 counted the times on her fingers. For a moment she 
 gazed about for some other place of refuge a bit ex- 
 pectantly. Surely some one of the dozen or more men 
 was possessed of a spark of gallantry. But though 
 glances of frank admiration were leveled at her, the 
 dozen or more men remained stolidly fixed. 
 
 So after a moment in which she despairingly con- 
 templated the swaying car-straps, she slid into the de- 
 spised unoccupied few inches of space. Whereupon 
 her young neighbor promptly welcomed her by trans- 
 ferring moist, pudgy fingers from his mouth to her 
 sleeve. 
 
 "Ain't he cute?" cooed his mother, as Christine 
 vainly tried to edge away from his damp clasp. " And
 
 154 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 that friendly, too ! I declare, he'll be abdoocted away 
 one of these fine days and me and Jim'll be held up 
 for some big ransom like I see once a millionaire's kid 
 in a movie." 
 
 For a full moment she was silent, while her baby-blue 
 eyes fairly devoured every detail of her seat-mate's 
 garb. Christine began to stir uneasily under the avid 
 gaze. 
 
 " Say," said her neighbor, enthusiasm kindling her 
 pudgy features, " I say, maybe you're one of them 
 movie queens yourself. Now I come to think of it, 
 you're the dead spit of a picture I seen some weeks 
 back of a princess being dragged off by a rough-neck 
 and the hero jumpin' out at him with two guns from 
 back of a big mountain or such like. Now, I come to 
 think of it, they call her the ' Blood-red Lily.' Ever 
 seen it? No, you just had ought to. It's some beaut! 
 They're showin' it this week at the Empire, right next 
 door to my brother-in-law's pawnshop. I wouldn't 
 miss seein' it again for worlds. That's why I got a 
 early start this mornin', so I could do a lot of bargains 
 and then that movie." 
 
 With convulsive gesture Christine clutched at 
 her gold-meshed purse. It was as if she wanted to 
 reassure herself that its contents were still there. Her 
 eyes were gazing out of the car-window, following a 
 road which dipped down through a fresh, green valley. 
 But she was not seeing the road. She was seeing a 
 tiny pair of patent-leather boots with toes kicked out. 
 
 "Where is the the Empire?" she inquired, in a 
 level tone designed to express preoccupation. But un- 
 consciously she sat taut, her mind ready to register
 
 AN EMPTY PURSE 155 
 
 with crystal clearness every detail of her companion's 
 answer. 
 
 " Over in the west end, in kind of a out-of-the-way 
 place, but it's swell-lookin' when you set foot inside. 
 You know where Thompson Street is? Well, you 
 walk east on Thompson about six blocks, then turn to 
 your left when you come to Blair, and go up Blair 
 three more blocks, and there you are, on the corner of 
 Squire. You can't miss it. It's sure some show- 
 house and business ! why, Ben that's my brother-in- 
 law he says " 
 
 What Ben, the brother-in-law, said was lost on 
 Christine. For the next moment or two she was con- 
 scious only of the drone of the woman's voice. Her 
 own thoughts engaged her. But presently the other's 
 words began to hum themselves again into her inner 
 consciousness, " And you'd find him mighty square 
 and white if you ever come to deal with him. He 
 ain't like most pawnbrokers, take it from me, but sho', 
 I don't suppose a fine lady like you'd ever have to 
 darken a pawnshop's door. Though you never can 
 tell, so I says to Jim, and I'd do Ben a good turn any 
 time, and if I can help drum up business " 
 
 A sudden hysterical desire to scream, to drown out 
 her companion's stream of words, possessed the girl. 
 Instead, she leaned forward and pushed the button, 
 and the next moment found herself clambering out of 
 the car. 
 
 For a moment she stood in the road, staring bewil- 
 deredly about her. Then the warning shriek of a huge 
 automobile truck sent her flying to the curb. From 
 the haven of the sidewalk she tried to orient herself.
 
 156 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 She was in the midst of a small business-section in an 
 outlying district of the city, she promptly decided, 
 from the curiously unfamiliar, foreign-looking names 
 that met her eye on shop-windows and signs. But 
 what was the name of the street? A blue and white 
 sign posted high on a telegraph-pole on an opposite 
 corner informed her " Thompson Street." She caught 
 her breath in a quick little gasp. Fate had certainly 
 jogged her elbow. For a full moment she stood 
 irresolute, fingering her gold-woven bag. A frown 
 came and settled itself between her brows. " I can't," 
 she said half aloud, and wheeled sharply about. She 
 had already taken a few steps up the first cross-street 
 when again she stopped short. She had the look of 
 one who was seeing with the eyes of memory. And 
 of a truth she was. A tired old head bent low over 
 a tiny pink-checked sock of a sudden filmed itself in 
 her mind. 
 
 Quietly she turned back to Thompson Street, and 
 with her shoulders and chin well up, walked rapidly 
 down the street. With her easy, pliant gait she 
 reached the corner of Squire and Blair in less than a 
 quarter of an hour. Before the Empire Theatre, with 
 its gaudy fagade and still gaudier posters, she paused, 
 and to all appearances was soon lost in admiration of 
 the thrilling scenes from the " Blood-red Lily " so al- 
 luringly displayed on the signboards before the theatre 
 and in the framed photographs that flanked the narrow 
 lobby. But her mind was fretting in circles. She 
 couldn't, she simply couldn't make her feet carry her, 
 Christine Trevor, into a pawnshop. But Daffy and 
 Dilly needed shoes and socks and things. A Trevor
 
 AN EMPTY PURSE 157 
 
 couldn't go barefoot. They were not beggars yet. 
 She would fit them out this once, and when she was 
 Mrs. Cortland Van Ness Cort would never for- 
 give her if he knew she had ever entered a pawnshop. 
 He wouldn't understand. He was proud of her be- 
 cause she was well, not unpleasant to look at and 
 always carefully groomed and gowned, but it would 
 detract from her worth in his eyes if she had to humble 
 herself in this horrible fashion. He would consider 
 that she had lost some of her attractiveness. Oh, it 
 was out of the question. She would have to tell him, 
 for some day he would miss her jewels. She couldn't 
 bear the look of surprised contempt that would flash 
 from his snapping black eyes. With Docky, now, it 
 would be different. He would be all kind sympathy. 
 But then, he was older. He knew people of all sorts, 
 mostly poor ones, while Cort had never mingled except 
 with the very rich. To him wealth with all its appur- 
 tenances was as the breath of his nostrils, his without 
 question. She couldn't. She would tell Amelia 
 but the twins were in real need. She had given Amelia 
 her promise. She could not go home empty-handed. 
 
 Her cheeks were a crimson flame and her eyes 
 gleamed black with excitement and nervous apprehen- 
 sion as with a swift backward glance to assure herself 
 that she was unobserved, she darted into Ben Arndt's 
 pawnshop. Dimly she was conscious that a half 
 dozen customers were already crowding the dingy, 
 musty shop. But she was too wrapped in her own 
 wretchedness to notice them, though one, a slatternly 
 creature barely covered by a ragged kimono which 
 vainly she tried to hold together, a huge black welt
 
 158 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 across her forehead, almost lurched against her in her 
 stumbling haste to spend the coins which she held 
 clutched in one trembling hand. 
 
 " What can I do for you, Miss ? " came from some- 
 where out of the mental fog which enveloped her, in a 
 metallic voice which, curiously enough, made her 
 think of clinking coins. She found herself gazing up 
 at a dark-faced, dark-browed man with eyes that 
 seemed to dart everywhere. There was that in his 
 manner which made her grasp that this was the pro- 
 prietor, the mighty white, square brother-in-law, Ben 
 Arndt. 
 
 For answer she thrust a hand into her bag, and drew 
 out for his inspection a dinner-ring of sapphires and 
 diamonds in the shape of a scarab, and a string of ex- 
 quisitely selected pearls which matched the color of 
 her throat. 
 
 A wild thrill of pain ran through her when her pre- 
 cious possessions lay in the huge, hairy hand. It was 
 not yet too late. She could snatch them back the 
 ring that had been her father's last birthday gift, and 
 the pearls that he had clasped with quiet pride around 
 her throat the night of her debutante ball. How far 
 away it all seemed now, the beautiful old replica of a 
 Tudor castle dressed in its best and decked as if for a 
 bride in rarest hot-house flowers and gay with butter- 
 flies and birds, and her own radiant self in a shimmer- 
 ing mass of crystal-beaded tulle over lustrous white 
 satin! She could see herself as she had danced away 
 from her father to a mirror. Shining-bright eyes had 
 smiled back at her from her reflected self, as with 
 laughing lips she had leaned forward, the better to 
 take stock of the slim young figure with the crisp,
 
 AN EMPTY PURSE 159 
 
 round bare shoulders rising like a calyx from the 
 sheath of the silver bodice, the finely molded arms in 
 their cloud of mist, the full, delicate throat with its 
 circlet of pearls. She could hear her own voice ex- 
 claim with rapture, " Why, father, I don't look half 
 bad to-night," and his broken rejoinder, " You were 
 never more like your beautiful mother." 
 
 Suddenly the picture blurred. The metallic voice 
 of the pawnbroker was suavely demanding, " What do 
 you want on 'em, lady? " 
 
 Christine stared for a breath with puzzled, unseeing 
 eyes, then with a rush came back to herself, " Oh, yes, 
 money, you mean. Please give me just the very most 
 you can." 
 
 Out in the street again she filled her lungs exultantly 
 with a deep breath of the sun-warmed air, as she 
 crammed a white ticket and a roll of bills, smaller by 
 a third for her inexperience, into her purse. She had 
 " put over " the horrid business, and now she could 
 lose herself in the delights of shopping. And lose her- 
 self she did for the next two hours. 
 Christine always had a fondness for " purple and 
 fine linen," so with her old-time superb disregard for 
 such mundane trifles as the cost of things, she plunged 
 into one of the most exclusive of the city stores. For 
 a time she bought lavishly, recklessly, to the silent 
 admiration of the young saleswomen who had served 
 her so often in the. golden past. When the hour of 
 reckoning came, however, she found to her dismay 
 that only one limp two-dollar bill was tucked away in 
 the recesses of her purse, and there were several items 
 still to be checked off her list, and as yet she had not 
 lunched. For a moment, but only for a moment, she
 
 160 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 hesitated, then with smiling lips asked for a volume of 
 historical tales that she knew Laurie had been secretly 
 craving. She would " do up brown " the role of elder 
 sister. When the book had been added to her pur- 
 chases, the tiny, diamond monogrammed coin-purse 
 which nestled in the shimmering bag boasted of but 
 one coin a fifty-cent piece. 
 
 As she emerged from the revolving doors she paused 
 for the fraction of a breath. Her perfectly healthy 
 young appetite was asserting itself determinedly. 
 Should she stay herself somewhere on a sandwich and 
 a cup of tea, or make at once for home? Then what 
 she had been dreading in the hinterland of her mind 
 all during this glorious frenzy of shopping came to 
 pass. 
 
 A head of over-yellow hair draped beneath a hat 
 brimming with violets was leaning from a window of 
 an opulent limousine drawn up at the curb, and over- 
 carmined lips were speaking her name. 
 
 " Christine Trevor, oh, Christine ! " With a hand 
 delicately gloved in lavender Mrs. Potts was beckon- 
 ing her effusively. 
 
 Reluctantly Christine advanced. Mrs. Potts had 
 never been a favorite with her, though once or twice 
 she had perforce accepted that matron's lavish hospi- 
 tality with which she had sought to court the favor of 
 the season's debutantes. 
 
 In a city where of late millionaires sprang up over- 
 night like some mushroom growth, the George Pottses 
 were the newest of the newly rich. Their wealth had 
 come like a fabulous golden shower from the inven- 
 tion of an automobile engine, and in their dazed won- 
 der at their Midas touch, they had transformed only
 
 AN EMPTY PURSE 161 
 
 the outer shell. To her still clung the aroma of the 
 waitress she had been less than a decade before and he 
 had not changed a whit from loud-mouthed, coarse- 
 spoken, good-natured George Potts, the machinist. 
 
 " Awf'ly glad to see you again. Naughty girl not 
 to let your friends get even a peek at you. You 
 weren't home when Harriet Randall and I drove out 
 all that way just a purpose to call on you. But there, 
 I don't know as I much blame you for not wantin' to 
 gallivant for ,a while, seein' what a stroke of bad luck 
 you had. Doin' up the town for the day? Can't I 
 give you a lift?" Mrs. Potts concluded shrilly, one 
 hand toying ostentatiously with a lorgnette chain of 
 massive amethysts and pearls which accentuated the 
 striking violet note of her costume. 
 
 " No, thank you just the same." Christine managed 
 to smile pleasantly. " I'm on my way home. I've 
 been playing Santa Claus " 
 
 " We'll miss you at the Ashbys' dinner-dance to- 
 night. Things don't seem to move like they did when 
 you were our queen bee. But it won't be long now 
 before you'll be comin' back to us again. Thank glory, 
 people in mournin' don't stay out of things long 
 like they used. 
 
 " Well, but I am all agog over that shindig to-night, 
 and, believe me, I'll be in the bald-headed row to get a 
 good squint at that wonderful Carlina. Of course, you 
 know they hooked her and her chorus to open up their 
 Roman or is it Greek ? theatre. Too bad you can't 
 see her. You're such a crack dancer yourself. We're 
 goin' to set up some such joint ourselves in that new 
 piece of land we've bought next to our grounds. 
 Dearie me, I must be off," with a glance at her tiny
 
 162 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 diamond-encrusted wrist watch, " I promised to pick 
 up Georgia Crane and Harriet Randall on my way to 
 the Club. Hope you'll be home next time when I 
 rumble out to see you." With another wave of the 
 hand Mrs. Potts dismissed Christine. 
 
 The girl followed the departing limousine with 
 amused eyes. What an impossible woman she was! 
 How she had beamed when she mentioned her newly 
 won acquaintance with the Ashbys whose aristocratic 
 citadel everyone knew George Potts had strategically 
 assailed by a brilliant business maneuver. 
 
 Of course she, Christine, had known the Ashbys were 
 giving one of their famous dinner-dances that night, 
 for Mrs. Ashby had written her the friendliest note in 
 the world but a fortnight before to tell her what a 
 break in their inner circle she was making by her ab- 
 sence from the opening of the Greek theatre, the plans 
 for which they had so often discussed. 
 
 The note had told her, too, that Carlina, that bright, 
 particular star who had danced her way into the hearts 
 of two continents, had condescended to appear. 
 
 For months now it had been Christine's dearest de- 
 sire to see her. Cort had offered that as one of the 
 delights of their New York flitting. 
 
 How often she herself had been the pivot of the 
 Ashby gaieties, and to-night she could not be there, 
 could not, for even were she back once more in the 
 round of social life, there was the all-important item 
 of gowns and jewels and motor-cars which now her 
 lips settled into a straight line; once let her be Mrs. 
 Cortland Van Ness and there would be no such prob- 
 lems. 
 
 She shrugged her way back to realities. She had
 
 AN EMPTY PURSE 163 
 
 more important matters to put through for the present. 
 In the first instance she was hungry. For a moment 
 she dallied with the temptation of fancying herself in 
 the peacock room of the club. Rudolph would smile 
 his brightest as he adjusted her chair, and served her 
 with his best. He had always been her ready slave. 
 He would whisper deferentially, " Some exqueesite 
 truffles to-day, Mees Trevor, and " 
 
 There would be no truffles for her that day, nor for 
 many days to come. The most her one small 'coin 
 could command with car-fare to consider was a sand- 
 wich and a cup of tea, and that in some cheap, out- 
 of-the-way corner. 
 
 At the end of the second block she found her cheap, 
 out-of-the-way corner. It was a snowy-tiled serve- 
 self. For a moment she hesitated. It looked clean, 
 but of course the food would be execrable and the 
 place would overflow with sweaty-browed working- 
 men and women. She would climb into the car 
 Her wrist-watch warned her that the next suburban 
 car was not due for a full half -hour, and she was 
 fairly famished. But she could never eat among the 
 hoi-polloi in a serve-self. She must 
 
 A girl in a cheap but smart black silk suit and tailor 
 hat pressed past, and, her hand on the restaurant door, 
 flashed a quick but unmistakable glance of recognition 
 at Christine. The prick of curiosity proved stronger 
 than the stab of hunger. Christine came to one of 
 her quick decisions. She would follow the girl. 
 Perhaps that way adventure lay. 
 
 The girl had already possessed herself of a tray with 
 a paper napkin encasing knife, fork and spoon. 
 Christine snatched up one. At the counter the girl
 
 164 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 let her eye wander deliberately down the printed list 
 on the back-wall, then ordered a cup of tea and a choc- 
 olate eclair. When the white-aproned maid set the 
 desired articles on her tray, the girl with another quick 
 stare at Christine who stood close beside her, passed 
 to the desk where she nonchalantly flipped down a 
 coin 
 
 Christine duplicated the order, and balancing the 
 tray a bit awkwardly, stepped up behind her to the 
 desk. Fifteen cents her check read. She thrust one 
 hand in her bag, confidently at first, then frantically. 
 Her tiny coin-purse was gone.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 JENNIE CHUBB AND AN ENVELOPE 
 
 Red burned high in Christine's cheeks, and a look 
 
 of mortification showed in the gold-irised brown eyes. 
 
 "I why I " she stammered to the young 
 
 person with bronze-smooth hair at the cashier's desk, 
 j " 
 
 A coin was pressed into her hand. Startled, she 
 glanced about. Which of the many tray-bearers good- 
 naturedly jostling her and one another was the donor? 
 There was nothing to help her decide. With an ex- 
 plosive sigh of relief she thrust coin and check under 
 the grating, and snatching up the ten-cent piece which 
 appeared with lightning-quick rapidity, fled to the 
 nearest table where she proceeded to remove the con- 
 tents of her tray. 
 
 "I beg your pardon. I didn't notice this was 
 your " hastily she began to replace the paper-napkin 
 enfolded knife, fork and spoon on the battered server, 
 but a hand was put out to restrain her, and the black- 
 silk garbed girl with the unmistakable glint of recog- 
 nition in her glance, invited breezily, " Don't mind me. 
 No reserved seats here, you know. Anyhow, one 
 place's bad's 'nother right now. This little old joint's 
 always packed like a box of socks at feedin' time. 
 Besides," she went on, with a short, unsteady laugh, 
 " I've been try in' to make you come here with my 
 lamps, I mean. You see," her voice was perfectly cool 
 
 165
 
 1 66 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 and level now, but the eyes that she lifted to Christine's 
 were a blue flame, " I've been layin' for you for a while 
 back and now at last I've got you." 
 
 Before Christine in her astonishment could speak, 
 her companion had helped herself to an overlarge bite 
 of chocolate eclair, and was observing a bit indistinctly 
 therefrom, " A course you don't know me any more 
 than a gray squirrel, now do you? No, 'tain't likely 
 you would. But I got you the sec' I lamped you, and 
 now that you're here," she burst out, with a sudden 
 note of passion, " I'm goin' to get my money's worth." 
 
 " Your money's worth," Christine repeated, in an 
 accent of profound surprise. Bewilderedly she turned 
 this over and over in her mind, then she reached one 
 of her quick decisions. She leaned forward with her 
 most engaging smile. "Of course, it was you who 
 put that blessed quarter in my hand. I was wondering 
 and wondering who saved my life. I was all ready 
 to sink through the floor when " 
 
 " Cut it," commanded the girl shortly. " They ain't 
 time for that now I've got to get back on the jump 
 this noon, and I wanna get this off my chest. I I'd 
 'a' done that for any sister," she added, a whit more 
 gently, " so don't you get het up about nothin'." 
 
 For the moment she seemed all absorbed in scraping 
 every trace of the chocolate eclair from the plate. 
 Halfway on its journey to her lips she flung down the 
 spoon. " Look at me," she commanded, with a fierce- 
 ness that made Christine set down her cup untasted. 
 " Don't you remember me, honest to God ? Look." 
 
 Christine looked, searching her memory. It was a 
 pretty face, with a small straight nose, a saucy chin
 
 i6 7 
 
 and dimples in the corners of the coralled lips, though 
 the rouge-dashed cheeks were appallingly sunken and 
 the eyes darkly shadowed. 
 
 " I'm sorry," Christine shook her head. 
 
 " I see where I have to introduce myself. Miss 
 Christine Trevor, meet Miss Jennie Chubb," she said, 
 with ironic politeness. "You don't know me yet? 
 Well, I'm the girl what sold you a filet lace blouse at 
 Madame Roselle's a year ago this May, and you lost 
 your pearl pin, and said I hooked it." 
 
 Christine made a slight exclamation, and color 
 scorched her cheeks. 
 
 " You got me now, huh ? " 
 
 " Y-yes, I remember now, but you gave it back 
 and" 
 
 ' You mean you got it back and for you that was 
 about all there was to the mess." 
 
 Christine positively gaped at her. " Whatever do 
 you mean? " 
 
 The other girl gripped the edge of the table as if to 
 catch control of herself, then she brought out with 
 fire, " The only thing you had in your head was your 
 precious pearl pin. It never even came into your 
 noodle I was a human bein', a girl with a heart and a 
 body, and, yes, a soul, just like you. Say, honest 
 now," she fixed Christine with burning eyes, " did you 
 ever give me a thought? Did it ever once come to 
 you to wonder what I got after you had your pin? " 
 
 Christine's lips moved mechanically, but no words 
 came. 
 
 " I'll let you in on my dark past, then. You was 
 dead sure, you remember, ready to swear to the Ma-
 
 1 68 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 dame that I was the only person who'd been in the 
 room while you was havin' that fittin', now wasn't 
 you?" 
 
 The memory of the hateful scene in the rose-hung 
 fitting-room with its disarray of gossamery lace 
 blouses, and herself the central figure with the girl, 
 who was now her vis-a-vis, hovering over her to as- 
 sist, advise, direct, flashed into Christine's stimulated 
 memory. She nodded. 
 
 " And then you jumped in with both feet and 
 squealed to Madame that when I went back into the 
 shop for another load of blouses to suit your fancy, 
 I was gone a beast of a time." Without waiting for 
 confirmation, she hurried on, as if urged by a memory 
 still red-hot and excoriating, " After that, the Ma- 
 dame had me searched didn't she? and she didn't 
 find it on me, but the store detective wasn't slow in 
 lightin' on it in my locker. It's a cinch you haven't 
 forgotten that, but that's as far as it went for 
 you." 
 
 Christine made no sound. All her distress was in 
 her eyes. 
 
 " I'm goin' to tell you the rest, now, for two rea- 
 sons Katie died over a month ago from the con, 
 and I " under the edge of the glass-covered table 
 her fingers clutched at a small black-silk bag swung on 
 her left arm. " Well, I shan't tell you the other rea- 
 son just now. It's good enough to keep," her voice 
 shook with defiance. 
 
 "I I don't just understand " began Christine, 
 with unusual humility. The hot, crowded surround- 
 ings, the clatter of dishes, the babel of shouted orders 
 and snatches of loud conversation, her companion's
 
 JENNIE CHUBB AND AN ENVELOPE 169 
 
 passionate anger and unconcealed desire for revenge 
 were thoroughly upsetting. " Katie " she broke off 
 and looked questioningly at the other girl. 
 
 " She was that tall, swell-lookin' blonde that worked 
 in the blue room. Remember her? She used to kid 
 herself she looked like you. You didn't see her come 
 in you were all for choosin' between two stunnin' 
 blouses I was showin' you but I did, and I saw her 
 cop your pin. Oh, she didn't come in for that she 
 wanted to see your hair do-up. She was sort of scared 
 when you knocked your gown off the hook, and when 
 she almost stepped on your pin she was in a purple fit. 
 I saw it all in the mirror. You was talkin' and talkin' 
 about the difference in the thread of the lace and I 
 answered you, but I had my eye -peeled for her. She 
 looked round, careless-like. We both looked busy. 
 Then I saw her drop her handkerchief and pick it up. 
 She hung around a minute and then slipped out. It 
 was dead easy, now wasn't it?" 
 
 " But I don't understand. It was in your locker." 
 
 " Oh, yes, that was dead easy, too. 
 
 " When I trotted back into the shop for some more 
 blouses to show you, I went plump to Katie and told 
 her what I seen. She didn't even try to deny it. She 
 said she hooked it and then got scared and flung it 
 into my coat-pocket. She said she must have went 
 crazy to touch it, and then she started in to cry and 
 tell me the doctor 'd told her the night before she had 
 the con and must get out into the country and she hadn't 
 a cent saved up, and she saw your pin and she thought 
 oh, you know, it's the same old bunk. You had 
 everythin' and she didn't have but one shirt to her 
 back, and all that."
 
 170 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 " But why didn't you tell Madame that when the pin 
 was found in your coat? " 
 
 To the end of her life Christine never forgot the 
 look that those blue eyes flashed. It set her face 
 aflame. 
 
 "The girl was dyin', didn't you hear?" was the 
 only answer she made. A minute came and went in 
 which she leisurely opened her bag and before its mi- 
 nute mirror powdered her nose and adjusted her hat 
 to a more coquettish angle. " Well, now that you've 
 heard my sob-story, I'd better be movin', or I'll lose 
 my job in the kennel. Not that I'd much mind that 
 now." Again her fingers sought the little black 
 silk wrist-bag. 
 
 " Why didn't you come and tell me the whole 
 story? " Christine demanded, putting out her hand im- 
 pulsively. The other girl shrugged her shoulders with 
 a gesture of utter hopelessness that hurt Christine. 
 
 " The crazy thought did come into my head once 
 when I was down and out, I mean when it seemed as 
 if I just never could get a job again, but then what'd 
 'a' been the use? You wouldn't 'a' believed me I 
 couldn't 've told you about Katie then it's on the 
 level, now she's gone and you wouldn't 've under- 
 stood. How could you? I'm a workin' girl and 
 you're a a rich female loafer." 
 
 For a long moment the last words hummed them- 
 selves over and over in Christine's mind. A rich fe- 
 male loafer! So that was this girl's estimate of her, 
 vulgarly put as it was. And though she was rich no 
 longer, she was still merely that an idler, a trifler, 
 a female loafer in the busy world of workers in whose 
 vortex she was for the moment caught up.
 
 JENNIE CHUBB AND AN ENVELOPE 171 
 
 " Where are you now? You spoke of losing your 
 job if you're late. You did find something to do? " 
 
 The girl's lips parted in a bitter little smile. "If 
 you call it a job. I sell socks in Kennedy's basement. 
 Ever been there? But a'course not. And I didn't 
 light on that neither till I'd tramped my shoes into rags. 
 Queer, wasn't it, how that pearl-pin yarn dogged me 
 about? Gee, but it looked like heaven to me, though, 
 when Mr. Murphy said he'd take me on. Now, I I 
 know different. It's worse than a kennel. A dog 
 gets light and air, but that's more than " 
 
 " You shan't stay there another hour ! " In her 
 glowing hot indignation Christine half -rose to her feet. 
 "I'll Oh!" With a smothered little cry she 
 dropped back in her seat. " I keep forgetting things 
 are different, and my word wouldn't have any 
 influence now. But I am sorry," she ended, with a 
 note so genuine that a look of pleased surprise swept 
 into Jennie's face. 
 
 But the next instant her face settled into its hard 
 lines again, and she broke into a mirthless little laugh. 
 " Say, it'd 'a' done me good even to hear you say that 
 a while back, let alone you're tryin' to help me, but it 
 don't much matter now." 
 
 A minute ticked itself away before she spoke again, 
 and then it was with a burning resentment that made 
 Christine unable to raise her eyes from her plate. 
 " Lordy, but didn't I get pretty nearly on speakin' 
 terms with the devil those weeks and weeks and weeks ! 
 There ain't much use talkin' about that now, though, 
 and every second I stay here spielin' away helps my 
 chance to get bounced. But I don't care " openly 
 now she fingered her wrist-bag. " Say, but I got to
 
 172 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 hatin' and hatin' and hatin' you till it seemed like the 
 whole world was one big mess of hate " 
 
 " But I didn't understand," came Christine's faint 
 protest. 
 
 "Of course you didn't. You rich ones never do. 
 How should you? But I'm goin' to be one of you 
 now," she flung up her pretty head in defiance. 
 "Haven't I the right to live same as you? Ain't I 
 sick enough to die of patchin' and darnin' and never 
 havin' enough to eat? It's just like he wrote, it's a 
 burnin' shame a good-lookin' thing like me should 
 slave her life away in a cellar. I tell you, I'm dog- 
 tired of it all." 
 
 For a moment after she had finished the silence re- 
 mained unbroken. Christine sat, eyes downcast, re- 
 volving in her mind the curious situation in which she 
 found herself, and the even more curious love-prob- 
 lem into which her intensely vital young companion 
 was involving at least her interest and sympathy. The 
 other girl, too, seemed all absorbed in her own 
 thoughts. Suddenly she sprang to her feet. 
 
 " Well, so long." Then with a laugh filled with 
 a reckless gayety she added, " When you see me again, 
 I'll be worth a once-over. I'm goin' to be lit up with 
 oceans of real diamonds and I'll be ridin' in my own 
 bus, and clothes oh " she clasped her hands in 
 ecstasy as one who sees a vision of happiness fulfilled 
 " I'll be wearin' regular clothes." 
 
 Christine came to her feet, too. On a sudden, queer, 
 thoroughly inexplicable impulse she decided she must 
 know more of this girl. Something drew her, im- 
 pelled her to keep close to her. A faint fear even be- 
 gan to possess her that somehow she would lose sight
 
 JENNIE CHUBB AND AN ENVELOPE 173 
 
 of her. It was as if a sixth sense was prompting her 
 when she essayed, " Let me walk with you? I've noth- 
 ing better to do for a short time," and she flashed the 
 other girl the smile that always warmed the heart of 
 the recipient. 
 
 " You walk with me ! " Jennie stammered in in- 
 credulity. " You wouldn't if you knew. You 
 wouldn't " 
 
 For answer Christine slipped her arm through Jen- 
 nie's, and so they made their way side by side through 
 the pressing crowd of workers hurrying back to their 
 posts. 
 
 "When do you leave Kennedy's?" Christine broke 
 an awkward little silence. 
 
 " Any old time." Jennie's tone was nonchalant, 
 but she held her face averted. "I I got a letter 
 from him this mornin'. He's your kind," she flung 
 up her head with a quick, defiant pride. " He's " 
 She broke off, and seemed to be struggling to contain 
 herself, then went on somewhat irrelevantly, " I met 
 him some time back at our Salesgirls' Charity Ball, 
 and he fell for me right on the spot. But then I 
 wasn't feelin' like I do now. Some days I've a hunch 
 I'll be a down-and-out one like Katie, and I can't sleep 
 a-nights, thinkin' and thinkin'. Last night I dropped 
 in to see a doctor I've been havin' a pain in my 
 chest just like it started with her and he sure scared 
 me into purple fits tellin' me things to eat and do and 
 live easy and out-of-doors. Lots he knows," with a 
 sniff of scorn, " about Kennedy's basement, and then 
 this here letter comes to-day, and I'm goin' to do it. 
 Well, here we are, and good-bye." 
 
 Jennie had already set her foot in the vault-like en-
 
 174 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 trance of Kennedy's Emporium when she suddenly 
 darted back to Christine who was standing uncertainly 
 on the edge of the sidewalk, a bit bewildered by the 
 abruptness of her companion's departure. Jennie's 
 face showed a curious blending of emotion, pride, de- 
 spair, defiance as she caught at Christine's hand. " I 
 s'pose you'll think I'm fresh, but, but," her words came 
 in breathless haste, " it's been just like a little bit of 
 sunshine and the country to have you walk along like 
 that with me, like we was friends, you know, and after 
 what say, I don't s'pose you'll ever speak to me 
 again." Her blue eyes were lifted in a child's wist- 
 fulness. 
 
 "Why not? Perhaps we won't ever meet after 
 you're married, but if we do " 
 
 "Married?" Jennie's tone echoed in Christine's 
 ear for many a day. " Oh, not that." 
 
 Christine simply stared. 
 
 " I thought you understood. It's the other," 
 Jennie half whispered. " He ain't goin' to marry me, 
 but he's rich, and'll give me everything and I'm down- 
 and-out, I tell you, and a sick un, too," she whimpered. 
 
 In Christine's youthful judgment black was black, 
 and white was white. There was no gray. But sud- 
 denly something stronger than the moral principles 
 which had been the gift of generations of pure-minded 
 women, with all their inhibitions, and upright, clean- 
 handed men possessed her. She experienced no mental 
 shrinking from Jennie Chubb. Her only thought was 
 that here was a young girl like herself, dancing on 
 the edge of a precipice, and she must stretch out a 
 hand to draw her 'back. Perhaps the mantle of her
 
 JENNIE CHUBB AND AN ENVELOPE 175 
 
 gracious mother, who would have known how to meet 
 this difficult problem with a wise and far-seeing spirit 
 of fellowship, descended for this brief second of time 
 on the inexperienced young shoulders of her daughter. 
 At any rate, her response to the moment's need was 
 instant. 
 
 With a gentleness that told that the petals of her 
 heart, once so tightly closed, were slowly, slowly open- 
 ing to the sunlight of human needs and human claims, 
 she put her hand on Jennie's thin little arm, and drew 
 her apart from the curiously staring gaze of the young 
 salesgirls who were trooping through the door. 
 
 " I'm only a girl like yourself, Jennie," she said, in 
 a voice so low that the other had to draw nearer to 
 catch the words, " and I don't know how to talk about 
 things like that. But if you do it that 
 what you said, you'll be a lame dog all your days. I 
 can't explain oh," her face lighted with a sudden 
 inspiration, " let me come to see you. I want to give 
 you back your money, anyhow, and " 
 
 " I couldn't see you here no ways," began Jennie 
 doubtfully. 
 
 " Not here. At your room." With her fine intu- 
 ition she was quick to divine the trend of the other's 
 thought. " You needn't care about that. It's you I 
 want to see." 
 
 There was a tense moment in which Jennie battled 
 with herself, and the battle was imaged in the blue 
 eyes. Then she gave her companion a long, intense, 
 searching look which made Christine's blood quicken 
 and her breath come uncontrollably fast. Inexplicable 
 as it was, she felt she was being weighed in the bal-
 
 1 76 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 ance. A wordless prayer formed that she would not 
 be found wanting. As she met the other's gaze 
 squarely, an aching emotion rilled her. 
 
 " A lame dog," Jennie's lips formed the words. " I 
 I see what you mean. I'm no better now than a 
 dog in a kennel," she said, lifting her chin with the 
 air of defiance that seemed so much a part of her, " but 
 I've never been a lame dog yet." 
 
 With ringers that trembled she spread open her black 
 silk bag and brought forth an envelope. For a breath 
 she regarded it. Christine saw her face turn sickly 
 pale under its layer of powder and rouge, and her 
 eyes suddenly overflow. " It's it's goin' to be 
 darned hard," she half sobbed. Then with a quick 
 bracing of her shoulders she drew from the envelope 
 several thin sheets of paper covered with a huge sprawl- 
 ing handwriting, and tore them into bits, which she 
 scattered in the gutter. 
 
 " Here's my address," she handed the envelope to 
 Christine. " You you can see for yourself the 
 other reason I told you about your pearl pin." 
 
 Christine folded the envelope into a small square, 
 and tucked it into her gold-meshed bag. " I must run 
 now," she said, with a hasty movement of the wrist 
 that held her watch. " Good-bye, Jennie, and don't 
 forget I'm your debtor for life."
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 CHRISTINE MAKES A DISCOVERY 
 
 The day held one more chance encounter for Chris- 
 tine. She was working her way determinedly through 
 the odd medley of travelers always to be found in a 
 suburban-car waiting-room when a hand was laid on 
 her shoulder and she felt herself pivoted about. 
 
 Her frown and half-uttered exclamation of impa- 
 tience changed into a warm smile of recognition and an 
 outburst of surprised jubilation when she found her- 
 self in the grasp of a more than middle-aged man with 
 a shock of hair still black and black eyes in which the 
 fires of youth were yet burning. 
 
 " You, Monsieur Armande ! Why, I haven't seen 
 you in a hundred thousand years. Where did you 
 come from ? Did you dance down some sunbeam ? 
 How long will you be here, and where have you put 
 up? Can't I" 
 
 " Softly, softly, Mees Chreestine." Still possessed 
 of her hand, he began to draw her out of earshot of 
 some bystanders who were manifesting a quickening 
 interest in the unusually pretty girl who was so evi- 
 dently thrilled with an exulting excitement. " Now, 
 we will sit here, so." He escorted her gallantly to a 
 seat well in the rear of the waiting-room, then sat down 
 beside her. " I will answer your questions, as you 
 say, in good order,- hein, Mees Chreestine ? " 
 
 177
 
 178 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 "But why aren't you at school?" Christine de- 
 manded, impatient of her companion's grave delibera- 
 tion. " Surely you haven't given up the dancing-les- 
 sons. Oh, that would almost finish Miss Evans ! You 
 know you're the drawing card of her whole school." 
 
 " No, no, not that, Mees Chreestine; I'm here, you 
 say, to a visit. My daughter, Carlina, comes to-night 
 for a dance, and she wills that I see her and also at 
 the same time, rest for a short time. I have a sort of 
 cousin here, and my doctor says a little rest is for me 
 good." 
 
 "Carlina, that wonderful dancer, your daughter? 
 Oh, Monsieur Armande, how perfectly splendid ! You 
 always said you were her teacher, but I never dreamed 
 she was your daughter." 
 
 The man raised his head with a curiously foreign 
 expression of pride. " You speak right. She is won- 
 derful, and, most wonderful, she is mine and I made 
 her what she is! Ah! What triumphs she has had, 
 and what triumphs she will yet have ! " He clasped 
 his hands with an almost feminine outburst of rap- 
 ture, then added meditatively, " You are the only 
 Americaine I ever saw, Mees Chreestine, that I wished 
 to do for. You had a a chance, you say, to be al- 
 most, not quite, a second Carlina. But you are rich, 
 you have no need, no ambition. I could have made 
 you " he paused on the unfinished sentence with a 
 little gesture of despair. 
 
 " We're not rich any more, Monsieur Armande," 
 Christine informed him, with her native honesty. 
 " Father died very suddenly, and everything was in 
 a horrible mix-up." Her straight brows twitched into 
 a frown, and a scarcely audible sigh escaped her ; then
 
 CHRISTINE MAKES A DISCOVERY 179 
 
 she added, with an odd, careless laugh, " But didn't 
 the girls tell you I wrote to Grace Austin and Mar- 
 garet Cameron and Eva Roberts I'm to be married 
 soon." 
 
 He nodded, studying her face with grave intentness, 
 " To that young Van Ness. He's what you say 
 a money-bags, hein, Mees Chreestine ? And the world 
 has lost an artiste." 
 
 " And I my street-car," thought Christine ruefully, 
 with a glance out of the tail of her eye at her wrist- 
 watch. Aloud she said with a pretty deference, " You 
 surely did make me work in those good old days, Pro- 
 fessor, but I never in all my life was so happy. I wish 
 sometimes, I wish " Her mobile face was trans- 
 figured for an instant by some inner light, then it was 
 gone. She frowned, twisting her handkerchief into 
 a grotesque shape, and lapsed into silence. 
 
 Her companion, too, was silent. A melancholy 
 smile played about his lips, and in his eyes was the 
 sadness of one who sees visions of beauty that are to 
 remain forever unrealized. " Too bad, too bad," he 
 brought out abruptly, then with a sudden return to 
 himself and his surroundings, " But I must not keep 
 you, I must not keep myself. I wish to catch the next 
 car to Hilton my cousin lives there. You will come 
 to see me, Mees Chreestine? I will give you my ad- 
 dress." 
 
 " Of course, I'll come, Professor," the girl declared 
 with the impetuosity of her temperament, as she drew 
 out her ivory tablets and pencil. " I'll come if I have 
 to move all the stars around in the sky and push the 
 sun and the moon out of the way too." 
 
 The other laughed at her fervor. " So like my Car-
 
 i8o CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 lina ! You will come to the dance to-night, hein ? She 
 will be ramssante. No, all, I see," he said with a quick 
 glance at her mourning garb. " Poor Mees Chree- 
 stine ! " 
 
 "You will not forget me?" he called out from 
 the back platform of the moving car into which she 
 had assisted him. She had barely time to give a reas- 
 suring " No, indeed, Professor," when her own car 
 started forward and she had to swing herself up the 
 high step. 
 
 That was a superlatively short trolley ride for Chris- 
 tine. She had so much to live over the delightful 
 shopping expedition, the encounter with Mrs. Potts, 
 the curious experience in the serve-self, the pleasant 
 meeting with Professor Armande at the suburban sta- 
 tion. 
 
 When she stepped off the car it was into the embrace 
 of the twins who had been waiting radiant-eyed on the 
 edge of the Trevor grounds. 
 
 " You're the bestest sister," Daffy fairly shrieked, 
 hurtling herself against Christine almost before she 
 had set foot on the pavement. " Our new shoeses 
 corned, 'n' 'Melia tried 'em on " 
 
 " 'N' our socks, too," piped out Dilly, as usual the 
 shrill supplement of his twin, " 'n' Laurie's got a new 
 book, 'n' he can't hear a word you say. He's reading 
 so hard 'n' " 
 
 " You're just n'orful late for the story," cut in 
 Daffy reproachfully, " 'n' we waited 'n' waited till we 
 was 'most dead " 
 
 " 'N' now you're here," Dilly said, as he clung like 
 a stick-fast to Christine's hand, " 'n' we're glad 'n'
 
 CHRISTINE MAKES A DISCOVERY 181 
 
 you'll tell us all about that Moon-baby all over again, 
 won't you, Christine?" 
 
 " I really ought I've been gone since early morn- 
 ing," the girl began uncertainly, but the pleading little 
 voices, and the eager clinging hands outweighed her 
 desire for rest, a bath, and a change of clothes. " I'll 
 tell you just one story this afternoon, then I must pos- 
 itively attend to some other things." 
 
 With a twin on either hand, to the accompaniment 
 of squeals of delight she hippety-hopped across the 
 sunny stretch of lawn to their favorite rendezvous for 
 the afternoon. 
 
 Laurie was already settled in a comfortable chair, 
 with Christine's gift spread open in his lap. He 
 greeted her with shining eyes, and " You're just bully, 
 Christie. It came about an hour ago. and I'm half 
 through already. I I don't know just how to thank 
 you." 
 
 "Pouf-pouf! Thank me for what?" Christine 
 camped on the edge of a rug spread over his feet. 
 " You must have been eating it up to be that far 
 already." 
 
 " I read pretty fast. I'd have been farther along, 
 but I've " He broke off with a sudden shamefaced- 
 ness. 
 
 Christine followed his glance. His eyes were drawn 
 as if irresistibly to their neighbor's garden. There in 
 a chaise-longue lay Joshua Barton, encased as usual in 
 a mummy-like wrapping of rugs and shawls despite 
 the pleasant warmth of the May sun. By his side 
 stood his crutches, insignia of his helpless misery. His 
 eyes were closed as in sleep, but on his ashen face was
 
 182 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 stamped a look of poignant misery and suffering that 
 for the first time touched the girl. 
 
 " He looks mighty sick," Laurie half-whispered, as 
 if afraid to rouse the sleeper, " and just awfully sad." 
 
 Christine's mood of sympathy for Joshua Barton 
 was fleeting. " Sad ! Not he," she tossed the word 
 to scorn. " Plain hateful. Why, he has just every- 
 thing the way he wants heaps of money and every- 
 body to dance as he whistles. Of course, he's lame 
 and all that, but he's an out-and-out grump. He prob- 
 ably was born a grump ; anyhow, it's a safe bet, he'll die 
 a grump. You've been letting your sympathy run 
 away with you, old dear." 
 
 Laurie shook his head, unconvinced. " I know," 
 he said in a quiet voice. " He's lonely, and that's 
 why he's a grump. I know," he repeated, with a 
 quickly withdrawn glance at the crutches beside his 
 chair. 
 
 " You're Daffy, Dilly, whatever are you two 
 squabbling about? Come here, twinnies, and kiss and 
 make up. I thought you wanted to hear all about the 
 Moon-baby who wouldn't " 
 
 " But but," began Dilly boldly, then his courage 
 appeared to ooze out at a stern glance from his mate, 
 and an even more peremptory kick in the shins. 
 
 " Daffy Trevor, that isn't nice and polite," Chris- 
 tine remonstrated. " Ladies don't kick like mules. 
 What is the matter, Chickie? " At the sweetly plead- 
 ing tone and the arm flung caressingly about her shoul- 
 der, the small mutinous face showed signs of yielding. 
 
 " I did it, 'n' I ought to tell, oughtn't I, sister? I'll 
 - I'll tell you every bit, honest, cross my heart 'n' spit, 
 only you tell us the story first."
 
 CHRISTINE MAKES A DISCOVERY 183 
 
 But past experience with this angelic-appearing imp 
 of mischief made Christine quick to sense some danger. 
 
 " Not a word of that lovely story about the Moon- 
 baby who wouldn't until you 'fess up, and this min- 
 ute, too." 
 
 Daffy appeared to hesitate, then the firm look in 
 Christine's eyes which she had come to know and re- 
 spect, brought her to the point of confession. " Mis- 
 ery wasn't nowhere 'n' 'Melia was asleep," she began, 
 with tantalizing slowness, then eagerly interrupted 
 herself to ask, " Can I tell what I've got to do, like 
 going to bed or not having any supper, you know, like 
 the Blueies?" 
 
 " Name your own punishment? Yes, yes, go on, 
 Daffy." 
 
 " 'N' the doorbell ranged, 'n' he wanted you, 'n' he 
 said he was in a hurry, 'n' he corned right in 'n' he sat 
 down, 'n' I asked him perlitely like you said for 
 his coat 'n' hat 'n' " 
 
 " I tooked 'em in the hall," broke in Dilly, who had 
 been quivering with impatience to share in his twin's 
 recital, " 'n' then Daffy said we should play grown-ups 
 with his coat 'n' hat 'n' cane, 'n' we tooked 'em out 
 behind the barn 'n' " 
 
 ' 'N' we found lots 'n' lots of papers in the pockets, 
 not a teeny-weeny bit in order," Daffy airily resumed 
 the narrative, " 'n' we fixed 'em all in nice piles 'n' 
 then the wind came 'n' blowed some of 'em away, 'n' 
 we got most of 'em, honest, we did, Christine, 'n' 
 say, you aren't awful mad " 
 
 But Christine had thrust aside the small penitent and 
 was running toward the house, her feet scarcely touch- 
 ing ground. She continued with unabated speed up
 
 1 84 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 the front steps and into the living-room and almost 
 into the arms of a thin, bespectacled little man with 
 twitching eyebrows and hands that were always rub- 
 bing each other, who had come forward to meet her. 
 
 " I thought it was you, Mr. Graves," she panted. 
 " I just this moment found out you were here. Those 
 wretched little imps of twins never told me till now " 
 she had to pause for breath. 
 
 " I was in a bit of a hurry, Miss Christine, but I've 
 had time to cool my heels. The next car doesn't leave 
 for a half-hour yet," he consulted his watch with his 
 usual deliberation. " That'll give me ample leisure to 
 go over all the details of the business matter that 
 brought me here. I " 
 
 " Please let me tell you first of the prank the twins 
 have been up to," she interrupted, as he made a move- 
 ment toward the hall. " They played with your over- 
 coat and hat, and lost some of your papers. Oh, 
 Mr. Graves, I can only hope they weren't of any great, 
 great value, but I'm so afraid they were. Whatever 
 shall we do ? " 
 
 Mr. Graves looked worried and the look of worry 
 had deepened when, a minute or two later, he re-entered 
 the room, with several bundles of papers in his hands. 
 " I've gone over things very hurriedly, and so far miss 
 only two. One a blank that can be easily feplaced, but 
 the other . I'm afraid unless it's returned it 
 might " He compressed his thin lips, then appar- 
 ently banishing whatever misgivings assailed him, 
 managed to smile into the girl's troubled eyes. 
 
 " There, there, Miss Christine, it's not so important 
 as all that, and an advertisement in the papers with a 
 little reward'll do wonders."
 
 CHRISTINE MAKES A DISCOVERY 185 
 
 " Is it is it, a paper that belonged to you? " 
 
 " To be quite frank with you," he answered, in his 
 slow monotone, after a moment of hesitation, " it was 
 a statement of some of your affairs that I should pre- 
 fer not to have fall in the hands of anybody other 
 than Dr. Denton just at present, and it was at his re- 
 quest that I had made it out." 
 
 Color began to flow back into Christine's cheeks. 
 " I'm glad no one else'll have to suffer for those twin- 
 nies' mischief. I'll scour every inch of the neighbor- 
 hood for those papers myself." 
 
 " I trust you'll find at least the one. It'll be a relief 
 to me to have it safe in my possession again. And 
 now, Miss Christine, if you'll sit beside me at this 
 table, I'll go over some figures with you as best I can 
 from memory." 
 
 With characteristic deliberation and love of detail 
 he entered into a long explanation of various compli- 
 cated business transactions that the final winding-up 
 of her father's estate had entailed, then as gently as 
 he could, acquainted her with two disquieting facts. 
 The stock that had been yielding them nearly half 
 their income since her father's death had failed to 
 pay its usual quarterly dividend, and experts were of 
 the opinion that the corporation never again would re- 
 gain itself. Further, the past night, shortly before 
 midnight, the Trevor warehouse on the river's edge 
 had burned to the ground. 
 
 " That means there'll be no rent until we rebuild," 
 he said, studying her through narrowed lids to see if 
 she gathered the full import of his statement. " You 
 understand? " 
 
 Christine reflected a moment. " Yes," with a cer-
 
 1 86 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 tain grave simplicity. " You mean we'll have no money 
 at all to depend on until the warehouse is rebuilt. How 
 soon'll that be?" 
 
 " Some months," he answered evasively, and began 
 to fumble with the papers spread out before him. He 
 cleared his throat. " You see, Miss Christine, we'll 
 need money to rebuild. I'm sorry to trouble you with 
 these unpleasant matters I know how careful your 
 father was to keep his women-folk free of such wor- 
 ries but what's to be done now ? You have to un- 
 derstand." He cleared his throat again. " As I was 
 saying, we need money to rebuild. There'll be some 
 insurance almost a negligible matter, though the 
 building was hardly half covered with insurance. 
 Your father planned to tear the warehouse down this 
 fall and put up an immense structure, so, though he 
 considered increasing the policy once or twice, he let 
 the matter rest." 
 
 He tapped his pencil nervously on the table, then 
 blurted out, " The only way out I can see at the present 
 is to raise money on this house, though I know it'd be 
 the last thing your father would ever do." He heaved 
 the sigh of relief of a man who has performed a 
 dreaded task. 
 
 " What does Docky think? " 
 
 " That's just where the shoe pinches. He went east 
 last night for no one knows how long. Didn't give 
 me a hint he was going must have been something 
 important that came up all of a sudden, and the devil 
 of it all I'm sorry, Miss Christine, but this is such 
 a er unfortunate stroke of ill luck, I'm hardly 
 responsible for what I say he didn't leave an ad- 
 dress. Said he'd wire in a couple of days, and this is
 
 CHRISTINE MAKES A DISCOVERY 187 
 
 a matter that requires immediate action. I've got to 
 get things under way at once or 
 
 Christine regarded him with sweet seriousness. 
 " Father always trusted you, I know, and we children 
 surely do." 
 
 A sudden mist clouded the bespectacled eyes. 
 " Thanks, Miss Christine, you can count on me to do 
 for you as for my own." 
 
 She laid her hand on his impulsively. " It's fine to 
 have friends like you and Docky to look after us. I 
 hate to see you look so worried, though, but anyhow, 
 it won't be long now before I'll take care of Laurie and 
 the twins as the family of Mrs. Cort Van Ness," her 
 head went high in unconscious pride, " ought to be 
 cared for." 
 
 "Of course I shall undoubtedly not take any decided 
 measures until I get in touch with Dr. Denton, though 
 he usually leaves all matters of a business nature in 
 my hands, but I must get the wheels in motion." He 
 began to gather the scattered papers. " And, Miss 
 Christine," he went on, rubbing his hands together 
 with a dry, crackling sound, a little mannerism that 
 always bespoke interest or excitement, " I think it best 
 for several reasons to keep it quiet that we're going to 
 throw this place on the market. You see, it'd look like 
 a case of dire necessity," he explained as if on second 
 thought, " and that might cut down its value, at least, 
 to some extent." 
 
 In the doorway he turned. " If you should obtain 
 any information as to the whereabouts of those papers, 
 you would notify me at once. Thanks, I wouldn't 
 have had it happen but, of course, Miss Christine, 
 it's absolutely of no consequence."
 
 1 88 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 In the late afternoon Christine abandoned her sec- 
 ond unavailing search. The twins were her indefat- 
 igable aides Daffy had chosen that as part of their 
 self-inflicted punishment, the remainder to consist of 
 going to bed an hour earlier than usual for a whole 
 week. Together the three had scanned every inch of 
 the Trevor grounds for the missing papers. 
 
 " Could they have blown over the hedge," Chris- 
 tine had anxiously asked. Somehow, the knowledge 
 was borne in upon her that Joshua Barton would 
 be the last person to whom the Trevor family secrets 
 could safely be entrusted. 
 
 A feeling of relief swept over her at their unani- 
 mous statement that they had chased them a short dis- 
 tance in the opposite direction. 
 
 Yet she had scoured under the hedge and on either 
 side and had even bounded once or twice across the 
 hedge into the now empty Barton grounds to clear 
 away her doubts. Not a scrap of paper marred the 
 Barton close-shaven green stretches. 
 
 " I'll make Doug help me look," she promised her- 
 self, wearily trailing into the living-room. With a 
 little cry of delight she swooped down on the pile of 
 mail on the table. " Letters one from Cort 
 thanks be." A smile touched her lips, and winged 
 with the exuberance of youth, she flew up the stairs 
 and into her bedroom as if there was no such word as 
 weariness in her vocabulary. The next instant in the 
 depths of her favorite easy-chair she was tearing 
 through the badly spelled, badly written letter. 
 
 The smile had been erased from her lips, and her 
 eyes held a new gravity as she read the sheets slowly 
 for the second time. Then with a curiously disdain-
 
 CHRISTINE MAKES A DISCOVERY 189 
 
 ful gesture she tossed them on the floor. For a time 
 she sat motionless, her hands clenched as if she were 
 fighting herself, her thoughts. Then she rose, and 
 walked to the open window. In a tree-top close by a 
 bird was pouring out his heart in a burst of rapture to 
 the setting sun. That was all that broke the late 
 afternoon stillness. 
 
 Christine moved away from the window, back to her 
 easy-chair. She was trying to collect her thoughts. 
 What was she to do ? Cort had written that his father 
 had decided to postpone their return until early fall. 
 Of course, that would be deuced hard on her, and he 
 didn't like it any too well himself, but then his job 
 for the present was to stick to the governor, who wasn't 
 feeling any too fit. There was great business ahead, 
 for the governor and Mr. Archer were considering 
 buying some old silver mines and other junk. He and 
 Ag weren't interested except that they'd probably take 
 a run up the mountains with their governors and that 
 promised some sport in riding up the trails. They'd 
 been to a dance last night. Ag had promised to write 
 her a full account of the fun. Ag was a great old girl 
 but not to be named in the same day with his own 
 Chris. They'd have some wonderful wedding in the 
 early fall, and he had a hunch the governor was plan- 
 ning to give them a silver mine or some such trifle for 
 a wedding present. 
 
 At this point in her thoughts Christine's lips twisted 
 into a wry little smile. A silver mine or some such 
 trifle for a wedding present, and the Trevor family 
 was facing absolute want! Oh, she had clearly un- 
 derstood what Mr. Graves was trying in all delicacy 
 to express. Except for this roof that covered them,
 
 190 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 they stood empty-handed. Something had to be done, 
 and to be done quickly, and who was there but she to 
 do it? 
 
 What could she do? 
 
 A sudden doubt filled her, and terror, stark terror, 
 clutched at her heart. Then a quick courage followed 
 on the doubt and terror. Her body braced itself and 
 with the swiftness and poignancy of an inspiration she 
 knew what she could do. The idea quickened action. 
 She darted to the dressing-table where she had thrown 
 her gold-meshed purse. In it were her tablets. She 
 would find Prof. Armande's address, and The 
 purse slipped from her fingers and emptied itself on 
 the rug. With an exclamation of impatience she flung 
 herself on her knees to collect its scattered contents. 
 Pencil, coin-purse, powder-case, visiting cards what 
 folded paper was this? An envelope, the address of 
 the girl she had met in the restaurant. In the waning 
 light she gave the envelope a hurried glance Miss 
 Jennie Chubb. How curiously familiar it looked! 
 She glanced at it again, then with quivering speed 
 scrambled to her feet and the window. She stared at 
 the envelope incredulously. Another very careful, 
 very deliberate inspection, then, though she knew the 
 truth, she snapped on the lights, gathered the scattered 
 sheets of her letter from the floor, and sat down at 
 her desk. The envelope was postmarked Rio Janeiro ; 
 the handwriting was the same almost undecipherable 
 scrawl of her letter.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE BROOCH WITH THE MEDUSA HEAD 
 
 For those who have not wayfared far along the 
 path of life, there is no sharper sting than disillusion. 
 And Christine suffered with all the intensity of a high- 
 strung, sensitive nature. A woman of more years, 
 with a wider range of experience, might have palli- 
 ated the offense. Cort had never known a mother. 
 The idol of a fabulously wealthy father, he had been 
 spoiled from the very cradle. His whole life had 
 been regulated by his desires and with him every im- 
 pulse for enjoyment was as quickly executed as con- 
 ceived. His keenest sport was to gratify an appar- 
 ently ungratifiable whimsy. It was as if an obstacle 
 only whetted his appetite. Ambition, purpose, ideal, 
 Cort had none. His only aim was pleasure, immedi- 
 ate and unlimited. Though it never entered her pretty 
 hea<l, Christine had been the object of his keen, hot 
 pursuit chiefly because there were so many rivals to 
 outdistance. 
 
 Jennie Chubb! Christine tossed the very name in 
 her thoughts to scorn. Then some of the girl's words 
 flashed back , into her memory, and cut her with a 
 bitter sharpness. " He's your kind." " He fell for 
 me the first instant he lamped me." Now she under- 
 stood the malice that had glinted in Jennie's eyes and 
 shot from her nimble tongue. The hatred that had 
 
 191
 
 192 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 burned within her for upwards of a year had culmi- 
 nated in this opportunity for revenge. She did not 
 blame Jennie, poor, pretty Jennie, with her sharp ter- 
 ror of following Katie's suddenly ended career. Her 
 anger and grief and disillusionment were all for Cort. 
 
 For a space of time she sat with her head bowed 
 and her fingernails dug into the palms of her hands. 
 It was as if for the first time she were facing life with 
 set purpose, and she was finding that life was no glad 
 enterprise. Then she lifted her head, and her eyes 
 with their flecks of gold, revealed a high steady light. 
 Slowly, solemnly, as if conscious of all its hidden and 
 future significance, she drew the great blazing jewel 
 from her left hand, and placed it in a mother-of-pearl 
 jewel-case on her dressing-table. With steady steps 
 she crossed to the window, and settled herself among 
 the cushions piled invitingly on the window-seat. For 
 a time she stayed there motionless, her face lifted to 
 the quiet night sky that was already beginning to glearn. 
 like new silver with stars. She was striving to quiet 
 the stir of her tumultuous feelings, to cool her hot 
 cheeks in the wash of soft air. 
 
 From her retreat she saw Doug's boyish form 
 leap the hedge, and look uncertainly about for herself. 
 To-night she would fail him in their twilight walk. 
 She must have this time for herself. She had knotted 
 threads to disentangle. She caught Wrinkle's eager 
 bark of welcome followed close by his familiar little 
 whimper of distress, his lament that she neglected to 
 keep her tryst. 
 
 Only Amelia's peremptory tap at the door and her 
 " We're waitin' dinner on you, this minute ; didn't you 
 hear the bell?" roused Christine from her absorption.
 
 THE BROOCH 193 
 
 " I've no appetite to-night, 'Melia," she answered 
 listlessly from the window-seat, and fell a prey again 
 to her warring thoughts before the old woman's steps 
 had died away in the hall. 
 
 All color had faded from the evening sky, and still 
 she sat, wrapped in the sorrow of disillusion. Recol- 
 lections were crowding in upon her, sharp as a knife, 
 and she stood face to face with all that she had put 
 from her, all that she could dimly sense the future 
 held for her gossip, misunderstanding, the triumph 
 of Agnes Archer. 
 
 She would stand utterly alone in this voluntary ship- 
 wreck of her life. There would be no friend to un- 
 derstand the clarity of her motive. Suddenly, clear 
 as a cut crystal, she conjured up a face out of the 
 darkness, and the smile that shone in the depths of the 
 fine gray eyes made her pulse quicken and lifted up 
 her being into high courage. Docky would under- 
 stand. He always understood. 
 
 A prey to quick impulse, she ran to her desk. 
 
 " Cort," her hands were steady now, and a curious 
 illumination was apparent in her face. It was as if 
 she suddenly saw the path lying straight and clear 
 ahead. " Yesterday quite by accident I happened on 
 Jennie Chubb, and quite by accident, too, I learned 
 things. You will see that after that things are not 
 possible between us. I shall give you back your ring 
 when you come home, or send it as you prefer. Please 
 don't write or try to explain. It's all over. 
 
 "CHRISTINE." 
 
 She stood up. Her heart was strangely full, her
 
 194 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 eyes dangerously close to tears, but curiously enough 
 they were not tears of sorrow. A strange sense of 
 freedom was flooding her being, and a new radiance of 
 vitality thrilling through every fibre. It was as though 
 the fingers of the future were beckoning her, and she 
 knew with all the joy of the fearless adventurer she 
 was free to follow. 
 
 She slept that night the deep, dreamless, unthinking 
 sleep of a child. But even before her eyelids lifted 
 the next morning, a sense of profound sadness filled 
 her, and her wretchedness of the night before became a 
 tangible thing. Resolutely she put it from her and 
 wrapped herself in her garment of pride. For her, 
 love had come and gone forever. Life only re- 
 mained. All the gladness, all the savor was gone, to 
 be sure, but there were still the golden heights of fame 
 to be climbed. A sudden enthusiasm filled her, and 
 the sense of freedom that had raised her to enthusiasm 
 the night before again shot through her, and lifted her 
 soul. 
 
 The fire of her new enthusiasm was still on her face 
 and in her eyes when she flitted into the living-room. 
 She was tailored in gray, the gray of the winter-sky 
 and her hat of gray had a touch of violet under its 
 wide drooping brim. 
 
 " Laurie," lightly she placed a hand on the boy's 
 shoulder. Startled, he glanced up. He had been too 
 absorbed in his task of writing a letter for him al- 
 ways a real task to hear her light foot- fall. " I'll 
 be late again for our lesson. I'm sorry, but it's im- 
 portant business." 
 
 A fleeting shadow of disappointment was discern- 
 ible in his voice. " It's a corker of an interesting
 
 THE BROOCH 195 
 
 lesson, and I've worked at it like a good fellow. Why, 
 how how different you look ! " 
 
 Color flamed in Christine's cheeks, but she laughed 
 in quick amusement at the boy's wondering tone. 
 " Something wrong with my outfit ? I rather fancied 
 it myself." 
 
 Laurie's thoughtfulness deepened, and he studied her 
 with puzzled eyes. " It isn't that. You always make 
 a fellow forget what you have on. He only thinks of 
 you. It's it's your eyes and your whele face that 
 look changed. It's," with the swiftness and sureness 
 of an inspiration, " it's something to do with your 
 soul. That's changed, and it shows." 
 
 " You're a wizard, Laurie," Christine tried to hide 
 the stir of her emotions under her full-throated laugh, 
 and again with a happy consciousness of their good 
 fellowship, patted her brother's shoulder. His voice 
 arrested her in the doorway. " How do you spell iso- 
 lation, Chris? Two ll's?" 
 
 " One'll be enough. What are you doing with that 
 big word?" Curiosity edged her tone, and grew as 
 Laurie, with face reddening, attempted to conceal the 
 sheet of paper he had been poring over at her en- 
 trance. " A secret ? Oh, well, I won't pry. We all 
 have our secrets." And with another light laugh she 
 was gone. 
 
 Her hand was on the front-door knob when the un- 
 mistakable sound of a sob halted her. Again it came, 
 suppressed, but heart-rending. She looked up the 
 well of the stairs. Misery was busily wiping the white 
 enamel frame of the upper landing, and punctuating 
 each thrust of her arm with a little hushed wail. 
 
 "Whatever is the matter, Misery?" Christine's
 
 196 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 voice was tense with anxiety. Amelia was far from 
 well these days, and Misery was their only real staff 
 in the care of the house. If she should break 
 down ! 
 
 " I didn't know any one was here. Please forgive 
 me, Miss Christine, but it makes things easier some- 
 times to cry 'em out, and I it's one of my bad days, 
 when I can't get my man and babe what's gone out of 
 my head. And then, this mornin' early, when I was 
 cleanin' my room, I knocked it down and it broke in 
 pieces, and he gave it to me on my last birthday, and 
 I'll never get over it, no, never, never. It tain't like 
 it was an ordinary box, Miss; it's a real jewelry box, 
 and it's filled with good luck. My man told me so, and 
 as long as I'd keep it, I'd have good luck, though 
 Heaven knows it wasn't no good luck to lose him, but 
 I was holdin' it tight in my hands the day Dr. Denton 
 come, and got me for to come here, and that was sure 
 good luck and " 
 
 Christine waited with all the patience she could com- 
 mand for the nimble tongue to stop. " Suppose you 
 get the pieces. There's a French curio shop on Lom- 
 bard Street and the little old shopkeeper's a perfect 
 wonder. He once mended a mosaic picture frame for 
 me." 
 
 Misery clasped her hands with an ecstatic gesture. 
 " If it wouldn't be askin' too much. I'd just die for 
 you, Miss Christine," she assured her, with eyes that 
 still streamed as she gave over into her keeping the 
 neat package containing the precious fragments. 
 
 " Better live for me, Misery. You're worth heaps 
 more to me alive than dead. Perhaps your box'll scat- 
 ter some of its good luck on me."
 
 THE BROOCH 197 
 
 Christine stood for a moment after she had caught 
 the suburban car, trying to steady herself to the mo- 
 tion, then moved forward to an empty seat well toward 
 the front. Above the babble of sound she heard a fa- 
 miliar voice speak her name and she saw Freddy Blue 
 two seats ahead, smiling and waving at her. 
 
 At the next station her seatmate departed and Freddy 
 Blue, fresh as the May morning in a well-worn blue 
 serge suit and nondescript black hat, stowed her tall 
 self in the seat beside her. 
 
 " A pleasure all the sweeter for being unex- 
 pected," Freddy smiled companionably down at her. 
 "Whither awa', fair lady?" But without waiting 
 for an answer, she proceeded in a rush of words, " I'm 
 going to get out at Thorne Road, so we'll have to talk 
 fast. Poor little Mrs. Lee has twins, and no more idea 
 of caring for them than a a butterfly. I promised 
 Dr. Denton " 
 
 An inexplicable impulse prompted Christine to 
 interrupt a bit importantly, " Docky isn't in town. 
 He's gone east for two or three weeks." 
 
 A little gleam of humor shot into the gray- 
 green eyes, but she answered gravely enough, " I'm 
 wondering how I'll live through that century. We'll 
 know for a certainty then " She checked herself 
 abruptly with a little gesture of impatience as if at 
 the looseness of her tongue. " I promised Doctor 
 Denton I'd come out here every day," she said irrel- 
 evantly the next moment, " but I just couldn't manage 
 yesterday, and, as it is, I'm up to my forehead in 
 things." 
 
 Of course, Freddy knew Docky had gone. Chris- 
 tine suddenly became cognizant that a demon of jeal-
 
 198 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 ousy was stirring in her. She felt it burning in her 
 heart, she felt it clutching at her throat. Freddy had 
 Docky's perfect love. Love for her was done. The 
 blood surged to her face and receded, leaving her 
 shaking from the depth of her feelings. 
 
 But she managed to say with a pretty show of friend- 
 liness, " Bring your thousand-and-one things over to 
 a cup of tea this afternoon." 
 
 Freddy shook her head regretfully. " I've got to 
 scour the attic for something for Tommy to wear at 
 Jennie Eaton's birthday party. Tommy's always gone 
 since she's been out of the shell, and go she shall this 
 year if I have to cut up the lace curtains." Her voice 
 shook with unusual fierce determination. 
 
 A swift desire pulsed in Christine in some way to 
 serve Docky. " Things equal to the same thing," she 
 reasoned whimsically with a sudden recollection of a 
 familiar geometrical axiom. It would make him happy 
 if Freddy were happy. 
 
 " I'm coming over this afternoon to your house, 
 Freddy Blue," Christine announced with a touch of 
 her old imperiousness, " and we're going to make Miss 
 Tommy a most recherche gown from a white net frock 
 of mine. Now, don't argue, because it won't help you 
 a mite. I'm coming and I shall camp on your step till 
 you open the door for me and my thimble and the 
 frock." 
 
 She was quick to take advantage of Freddy's evident 
 swaying between two moods. " It won't be more than 
 a couple of hours' work at the most. The sash is all 
 there, and I've ribbons for her hair. What time shall 
 we make it? Three? Speed or you'll be carried to 
 the next road."
 
 THE BROOCH 199 
 
 It was midway between nine and ten when Christine 
 stepped out of the dimness of the small French curio 
 shop into the brilliant sunshine. Contentment filled 
 her. Misery's good luck box would be so cunningly 
 restored, the little old genius of the workroom had 
 assured her, that no one could detect the juncture of 
 the broken parts. 
 
 For a breath she stood irresolute. She really should 
 ride. It would be all of a twenty minutes' walk and 
 she ought to arrive fresh for the lesson. But the sun- 
 light was so enchanting and she would love a brisk 
 walk along the city streets now that she was a country 
 mouse or to speak more truthfully, a suburban mouse. 
 Then, too, she ought to economize her time for 
 Laurie's sake. He was so keen for that history les- 
 son. 
 
 A car was rumbling down the street. With a little 
 sigh she yielded up her desire and at that Fate, or per- 
 haps it was the genius of good luck that Misery was 
 confident dwelt in her treasure box, jogged her elbow. 
 Be that as it may, she had one foot off the curb when 
 a tricksy breeze stirred the fragment of a newspaper 
 in the gutter and the sun sought out and lingered on a 
 copper-bronze object. Quickly Christine snatched it 
 up and ran for the car. When she was in her seat, she 
 examined her find with languid curiosity. It had been 
 a brooch, but the pin had been wrenched off. The 
 workmanship was curious, evidently foreign, and there 
 was that in the strange twist of the bronze snakes 
 which encircled the Medusa-head of old agate that 
 made Christine decide it was undoubtedly an antique. 
 With a shrug of indifference she let it slip into her 
 purse and from her memory. In roseate day-dreams
 
 200 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 she began to climb the rungs of fame's ladder. 
 
 She lived through an agony of apprehension while 
 she was waiting* for an answer to her touch of the 
 door-bell that marked her journey's end. What if her 
 dreams had been mere dreams? Professor Armande 
 might not be willing to help her climb the golden 
 heights. He But the next instant the door was 
 thrown open by Professor Armande himself, and the 
 impetuosity and warm eagerness with which he drew 
 her with him into the large old-fashioned drawing- 
 room banished all her misgivings. 
 
 With a grave simplicity she told him of her new- 
 found freedom. " But I don't know how I can ever 
 pay you if you do take me under your wing," she 
 wound up with her native candor. 
 
 " Pay, ma cherie! " His hands flew out in an ec- 
 static gesture and his words tumbled forth pell-mell. 
 " We do not talk of pay now. You shall be great. 
 You shall dance and draw the hearts out of men. 
 There will be toil and toil, much toil for you and me. 
 I shall not regret it, you shall not regret it. You 
 have temperament beauty form youth ; ah, 
 ma cherie, you have everything. My Carlina shall " 
 He broke off his cataract of words, and darted toward 
 an inner room, checked himself abruptly, swung about, 
 and seated himself on a sudden impulse at the open 
 grand piano in the far angle of the huge room. Over 
 his shoulder he shouted, even while his hands master- 
 fully struck some chords, " I am sad, Mees Chreestine ; 
 very sad. This will be a sorrowful lesson. My Car- 
 lina did not dance at your Ashby dinner no she 
 has suffered what you say a great loss. She 
 could not dance with a heavy heart. To-day she has
 
 THE BROOCH 201 
 
 still such a sadness we will begin, Mees Chrees- 
 tine." 
 
 The girl's heart leaped tumultuously to the fire of the 
 music, her pulses quickened, and she slid into the 
 rhythm with all the freedom and supple grace of early 
 youth. 
 
 " Good," he murmured once or 1 twice. " I have made 
 no mistake." His words were for himself as he 
 nodded his great thatch of black hair in approval. 
 
 " Now we try something light, like a dream." The 
 music melted into a delicate piece of improvisation, and 
 the girl's feet obeyed the spirit of the harmony that 
 was flowing from his finger-tips. 
 
 " Bravo," a low voice that held in it a silvery thrill 
 applauded even before the music and the twinkling 
 feet were stilled. " It was the gray tissue of dreams, 
 Mademoiselle, soft and fine and and intangible as a 
 cobweb." There was in the voice the same fascinat- 
 ing foreign intonation that clung to Monsieur Ar- 
 mande's speech, and even before Christine whirled 
 about she knew it was the world- famed Carlina who 
 complimented her. The blood rushed singing to 
 Christine's ears, and for a moment the world seemed 
 to reel. Then it steadied itself and she met the re- 
 gard of a woman in the middle twenties, slim as a 
 Dryad. Her face was small, and dead white, with lips 
 that seemed but a scarlet line. Her hair which was 
 heavy and had the lustre of satin, her eyes, her brows, 
 her lashes were of one color, black as a blackbird's 
 breast. For a full moment, rapt in thought, lips apart, 
 the dancer studied the young face with the well-poised 
 head and eager, questioning gaze. Then with one of 
 her fascinating, swaying movements, she caught both
 
 202 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 Christine's hands in hers in a vibrant clasp. " Ma 
 chcrie," her voice shook with an emotion that was not 
 far from tears, " you have the gift, the great gift, but 
 life will wring your heart's blood before it will be the 
 perfect gift." 
 
 With an abruptness that was startling she flung 
 Christine's hand from her, and walked, no, floated, 
 toward her father. "Ah, no, no," she cried, passion- 
 ately in answer to his question which was inaudible to 
 Christine's ear, " I shall never, never dance again. It 
 is impossible. He gave it to me it is his heart. I 
 can not," and she burst into wild weeping. 
 
 " My Carlina," the old man caressed her hair as if 
 she had been the veriest child. " My Carlina, it will 
 come back. It must come back," then he turned in 
 quick explanation to Christine who had withdrawn 
 herself into the recess of the bow-window. " My Car- 
 lina has suffered a great loss she cannot dance till 
 it is recovered yesterday she drove out in the late 
 afternoon for air she stopped at one, two, three 
 shops somewhere, no one can tell where she 
 lost a brooch a gift a talisman a head of 
 snakes " 
 
 Subsequently Christine could recall but little of what 
 immediately followed, but she had a jumbled memory 
 of tearing open her purse and thrusting the object she 
 had caught up from the gutter less than two hours be- 
 fore into Carlina's hand. The room was immediately 
 a babel of glad exclamations and broken sentences. 
 
 " Le bon Dieu! " 
 
 " I had no idea it was valuable." 
 
 " My Carlina. Mees Chreestine, ma cherie." 
 
 " Lc bon Dieu! Le bon Dieu."
 
 THE BROOCH 203 
 
 But for many a year Christine carried the memory 
 of the perfect moment, when Carlina looked deep into 
 her eyes and said with quiet fervor, " May le bon Dieu 
 reward you. The time will come, Mademoiselle, I 
 feel it in my heart, when I, too, can be of some service 
 to you."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 DOUGLAS TALKS 
 
 Christine's mood was a curious blend of emotions 
 as, suit-case in hand that afternoon, she proceeded up 
 the steps of the Blue cottage in fulfillment of her prom- 
 ise to Freddy. Joy still thrilled her at the memory of 
 Carlina's words of approval, but through the gold 
 meshes of her happiness ran a tarnished thread 
 Cort's faithlessness. And again a feeling which she 
 had but that morning learned to know by its true 
 name, jealousy, shot through her as she conjured up 
 the quiet contentment that shone now in Freddy's eyes. 
 Freddy could well be content. She had given her 
 heart into safekeeping. Docky would be true to the 
 last gasp. He would never 
 
 Her musings were interrupted by the bursting open 
 of the door, and Freddy's cry of jubilation as she flung 
 herself upon Christine with unusual impetuousness. 
 " You dear ! I haven't dared believe you meant it. 
 It seemed too good to believe." She laughed, but in 
 the liquid uncertainty of her deep, melodious voice 
 there lurked the suspicion of tears quivering through 
 her mirth. 
 
 She unpinned her guest's hat, and settled her in 
 the lovely old grandmotherly chair which had wel- 
 comed Christine on her first unwilling visit to the Blue 
 cottage, before she added exultantly but half under 
 her breath, " It won't be long now before I can give 
 
 204
 
 DOUGLAS TALKS 205 
 
 Tommy and Charlie and all of them everything they 
 want" 
 
 " It won't be long now." The words sent a stab of 
 pain into her hearer's heart, and to hide the sudden 
 quivering of her lips Christine fumbled for all of a 
 minute at the lock of her traveling-bag. " Here are 
 two gowns that are positively excess baggage," she 
 said, achieving a matter-of-fact tone. " The white 
 net'll make Tommy a rather decent party frock 
 there's enough ribbon for her baby waist and hair 
 and this blue organdy ought to make her some sort of 
 a Sunday outfit." 
 
 The tall girl looked at her out of wet eyes. " I 
 can't begin to tell you " 
 
 " Don't," interrupted Christine, with a touch of 
 her old imperiousness ; " we haven't time and, besides, 
 the kindness is all on your side. I was casting about 
 for some excuse to throw myself in your way this 
 afternoon when I met you on the car." 
 
 Christine had an almost fairy touch of the fingers. 
 She could work magic with a bit of lace, a flower and 
 a ribbon, so now her deft hands were busily planning 
 a garment for Tommy's slim body out of the snowy 
 heap of lace and net that had once been a favorite 
 dinner gown, before she eased her mind by saying, 
 " I'm going in seriously now for dancing." 
 
 " Seriously ! What do you mean ? " Freddy 
 gazed at her curiously over the billowy mass that lay 
 on the table. She had chosen the tedious task of rip- 
 ping. She was more at home with darning and mend- 
 ing and such Cinderella work, she declared, than the 
 art of creating " dreams of hats and frocks." 
 
 Christine did not meet her gaze. " It'll probably not
 
 206 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 be seriously at first. More of a joke, you know, but 
 it's sort of up to me to earn a living for Laurie and 
 the twins, and all I can do is dance." 
 
 " But what'll Cort say? He won't let you." 
 
 " Cort has nothing to say now." 
 
 Freddy asked no question. It was her eyes that 
 demanded the truth. Christine answered quietly 
 enough, but excitement flamed in her cheeks. " I de- 
 cided last night for good and all. It can't ever 
 be after " She paused on her unfinished sentence. 
 
 The silence that followed vibrated with meaning. 
 Then Freddy did what was a rare thing for her, and 
 Christine, with her quick intuitions, understood. She 
 came to the grandmotherly chair, and gathered its oc- 
 cupant, net, ribbons, lace and all, into her arms and 
 kissed her. Then very quietly she went on ripping. 
 The only reference she made to Christine's confes- 
 sion came abruptly at the close of the afternoon's suc- 
 cessful labor over the cup of tea she had insisted on 
 brewing. " You've told Dr. Denton ? " Freddy spoke 
 slowly and with grave deliberation. 
 
 Christine met the fire of her scrutiny steadily, then 
 shook her head. " I only decided last night. Be- 
 sides, how could I ? He's not in town." 
 
 " He won't let you dance. He doesn't approve of 
 dancers. I remember how he almost quarreled with 
 that little Rose Emmons' father for letting her go to 
 New York to study stage-dancing with Bordoni. He 
 has old-fashioned ideas about the things a woman 
 can do, and you, above any one else " She broke off 
 with the odd, expressive gesture so peculiarly hers. 
 
 Christine's body braced itself as if for an attack.
 
 DOUGLAS TALKS 207 
 
 " I've decided," she said, with a pretty, defiant lift of 
 the head. " By the time Docky gets back, I'm expect- 
 ing to be at least a second Pavlowa." Her mouth 
 twisted into a little smile and then, because they were 
 both so near the beginning of life, they laughed in full, 
 light-hearted merriment 
 
 " Here's to your success, my dear," Freddy rose, 
 her cup of tea held high. Her lips were curved with 
 mockery but a serious light shone in her eyes. "If it's 
 your wish to have your name written in letters of fire 
 on the sky of Broadway, I wish it for you, too." 
 
 " I do wish it." Christine's hands went out in a 
 sudden, hungry gesture. " I want life and big things. 
 I want adventure, and laughter, oh, plenty of laughter, 
 and sorrow, too, I suppose, is bound to come. Oh, I 
 want fame, and wealth and everything, everything life 
 can give." 
 
 " And all I want is a home and little ones." 
 Freddy's arms involuntarily moved as if to encircle a 
 small head. 
 
 It was a pretty setting : the snowy tea-table, fragrant 
 with white lilacs, the open window with its glimpse of 
 an old-fashioned garden drowsing in the late after- 
 noon sun, and the two girls on the edge of life toast- 
 ing each other's success in paths so widely divergent. 
 
 Tommy's head abruptly inserted in the living-room 
 window and her high trebled inquiry, " Is my party- 
 dress all done, Freddy?" broke the spell of gazing 
 into the future. 
 
 A sudden thought came to Christine, quick and 
 sharp, as she pulled on her hat, which goaded her into 
 saying over her shoulder, " Don't say anything to
 
 208 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 Docky about my about me. Promise. Freddy." 
 
 " You shall tell your Docky yourself. We'll have 
 other things to talk about when he's home." 
 
 The rapt expression in the odd, gray-green eyes 
 tormented Christine throughout her homeward walk. 
 
 On some unaccountable impulse she slowed her steps 
 before the Barton grounds with its lavish display of 
 smooth shaven lawn, flowering shrubs and first show 
 of flowers. As always, the mummified figure of 
 Joshua Barton lay in the garden chair in the full glare 
 of the afternoon sun. This time he was not alone. A 
 slim, undersized, boyish figure stood but a few feet 
 away, and even as Christine began to quicken her pace 
 again she heard the familiar stammer, "I I d-don't 
 think I c-can do it, s-sir. w 
 
 The next moment an involuntary little cry broke 
 from her and she ran a step or two toward the boy. 
 Joshua Barton had struck him with his crutch. 
 
 " Will you c-come for a d-drive tonight ? " Douglas 
 asked her without preamble, at their twilight tryst. 
 " I n-need you," he added simply. 
 
 His face looked white and drawn, and his eyes had 
 the hurt look of a child's. 
 
 The girl disregarded the weariness of body and 
 spirit that were weighing her down. " How's eight 
 o'clock? I must tell Daffy and Dilly their bedtime 
 story first." 
 
 " Make it seven-thirty. Heaven knows, it'll be an 
 eternity till then." 
 
 " Seven-thirty it'll be to the second, but I'm at the 
 wheel." A flash of mischief stole through the glance 
 she gave him.
 
 DOUGLAS TALKS 209 
 
 But he was all gravity as he answered, " That g-goes 
 without saying." 
 
 They had sped for several miles along the river's 
 edge under stars that gleamed silver-bright and a moon 
 that was riding small and low in the heavens, before 
 either spoke. Then Christine turned to him, a ques- 
 tion on her lips. " When are you going to tell me, 
 Doug?" 
 
 " You must think me a selfish b-brute to to " 
 
 " Tut five or six times. Out with it, man. And 
 let me warn you, it's not going to be one-sided, either. 
 I may be .induced to tell you the cweet, sad story of 
 my life." 
 
 " You first." 
 
 " Nothing of the kind. This is too heavenly to 
 spoil with my own troubles, besides, at this precise mo- 
 ment, I haven't any. Who could have, with a wheel 
 to guide on a road like this and on a night like this ? " 
 
 " And in such c-company as I'm in, who c-could help 
 being h-happy ? " But the next moment he had 
 heaved a sigh so deep and long that it was almost a 
 sob. 
 
 " I'll drive up just beyond the bridge, Doug. 
 There's a splendid bend in the road where we can park 
 the car, and talk to our hearts' content." 
 
 It was a fair setting for romance, the moon-white 
 night, the river flowing by so darkly mysterious, and 
 bearing impartially on its smooth surface pleasure 
 craft and tall, freighted vessels, the trees in their trap- 
 pings of green which so softly arched over the auto- 
 mobile with its occupants in the early exuberance of 
 youth. But it was no romance that Christine coaxed 
 from her companion's lips. The confession began
 
 2io CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 with a question, " Has a man the right to tell a girl 
 he loves her and wants her for his wife if his father 
 died in prison ? " 
 
 Christine hesitated, and she knew he held his breath 
 for her answer, though swiftly she realized, too, in 
 that consciousness of the fellowship which bound them 
 together, that she was not the object of his devotion. 
 
 " That's a pretty big question for me to riddle out, 
 Doug. It somehow seems all to depend on the girl. 
 I mean how much she loves the man and all that." 
 
 " Supposing it was y-you." A wave of blood 
 rushed to his face, as the full import of his words swept 
 over him. " Oh, C-Chris, f-forgive me, I didn't mean 
 I didn't think I I" He broke off in an 
 agony of embarrassment and pain. 
 
 She leaned a breath closer to him, her eyes full of 
 thought, and met his regard steadily. " I understand, 
 Doug. That's what I'm trying to do, I'm trying to put 
 myself in that girl's place. I believe " She didn't 
 say what she believed. For though she tried and tried 
 hard to put herself in the place of the other girl, she 
 found she was thinking only of herself and Cort and 
 his faithlessness. Her love had not been big enough 
 to withstand that. Then for the first time she faced 
 the question that had been burning in the back of her 
 mind did she, had she, ever truly loved Cort ? And 
 before the answer came or perhaps as answer the face 
 of Dr. Denton, with the grave, deep-set eyes and the 
 steady lips that with their smile could send unexpected 
 pulses of happiness throughout her whole being, 
 painted itself on her memory. In the stillness of the 
 night she learned her own heart's secret. 
 
 For a time so long that Douglas lived through an
 
 DOUGLAS TALKS 211 
 
 agony of doubts she neither moved nor spoke. 
 Then with the sensation of being very small, very in- 
 significant, she said, in a low, unsteady way, " Love 
 makes anything, everything possible." 
 
 And her eyes were wet with the sadness that lurks 
 in loneliness. For she would always be lonely now. 
 
 " Thank God ! " He spoke the words almost in- 
 audibly. " You've given me c-courage," he said, 
 after a moment, " and, Lord knows I need c-courage 
 worst of anything. I really don't k-know where to 
 begin," he went on, helplessly, " I " 
 
 " Begin at the beginning." 
 
 " I think I t-told you before that Uncle Joshua 
 p-picked me up as a stray at an orphan asylum after 
 father died. I don't know much about that b-beastly 
 trouble except that Uncle Joshua always h-hated him, 
 so Mark once t-told me. Oh, Uncle Joshua's a great 
 old hater, and when father g-got into some s-sort of a 
 mess, and forged the old d-duck's name. Uncle Joshua 
 had his own b-brother put over the road. Poor old 
 father couldn't stand the s-shame and all, so he up and 
 d-died. And in all these years Uncle Joshua's never 
 for a minute let me forget I'm the s-son of a prison- 
 bird, and he's in the habit of predicting I'll end up that 
 way, myself." 
 
 The bitterness of his tone brought her out of the 
 tumult of her own emotions. "You poor boy! How 
 have you stood it all these years? " 
 
 " My mother was Irish, and s-something of a p-poet 
 I've been- told. I m-must be a b-bit like her, for 
 I've always d-dreamed and s-scribbled down my 
 d-dreams. They've helped me many and many a time 
 when I had all I c-could do not to throw myself under
 
 212 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 a t-train or drop off the b-bridge. Then love came," 
 he said, simply, " and I had that to 1-live for. And 
 now you. You've been wonderful, Christine, just 
 wonderful." 
 
 " Seven or eight tuts this time. I haven't done a 
 thing so far, but I'd like to see you get even with that 
 old jelly-fish, some time." She spoke impulsively, the 
 memory of that painful scene in the garden still hot 
 in her mind. 
 
 " You can't hurt Uncle Joshua. There's nothing to 
 hurt. He hasn't a heart. Besides, I'm through t-try- 
 ing. I used to 1-lie awake nights when I was a little 
 g-gaffer trying to g-get even, but I've learned that hate 
 is a d-destructive force. It's only love that makes for 
 g-growth toward perfection." 
 
 " It's love that makes for growth toward perfection," 
 softly the girl repeated. " I'm beginning to under- 
 stand." 
 
 " Being in love's great, Christine. It teaches you 
 new beauties in life every day. But listen to me. Of 
 course, you know." 
 
 Douglas did not see the new light that was born in 
 the depths of the gold-brown eyes, but he was struck 
 by the humility of her reply, " No, I didn't know be- 
 fore. I'm just beginning to learn." 
 
 He eyed her incredulously. " You're joking. 
 Cort "' 
 
 " Cort is past history with me, Doug," she put in, 
 with a certain grave simplicity. " Please, please don't 
 let's talk about me. That's all there is to my story. 
 You haven't finished yours." 
 
 A curious illumination was apparent in his face as 
 he leaned toward her eagerly. " My story isn't fin-
 
 DOUGLAS TALKS 213 
 
 ished, thanks to you. I'm g-going to take heart now, 
 and c-carry it through, even though Uncle Joshua " 
 
 He was silent so long that she was fired with impa- 
 tience to ask, " Were you arguing the question po- 
 litely with Uncle Joshua this afternoon when ? " 
 
 It was her turn to break off, and a flush scorched 
 her cheeks at her own tactlessness. 
 
 "You saw?" He hesitated, and for a moment 
 seemed to sway between two impulses, then braced 
 himself as it with new determination, and looked 
 straight at her. " It is best for you to know. There 
 m-must be no m-misunderstandings between us. 
 Uncle Joshua was merely c-continuing a d-discussion 
 or rather a c-command he started at the breakfast 
 table. He told me to choose between him and you." 
 
 "Douglas!" 
 
 He raised a lock of hair. In the moon-blanched 
 night a black mark across his temple was clearly dis- 
 cernible. 
 
 " A slight t-token of his p-pleasure at my choice." 
 
 " Tell me," her eyes were dangerously near to tears. 
 
 " There's not much to tell. I believe I was whistling 
 ' Oh, that we two were Maying,' when I came in to 
 b-breakfast. At least, so Mark told me when I asked 
 him the r-reason of Uncle's little tantrum. It's not 
 1-like me to whistle. Suddenly Uncle informed me in 
 a thundering r-rage I was to c-cut the acquaintance of 
 the Trevors or depart. I argued the matter a bit, then 
 m-managed to escape with my head whole to the of- 
 fice. He started in again on the 1-lawn this afternoon. 
 That's all." 
 
 " Oh, you mustn't break with your uncle on our 
 account. It isn't "
 
 214 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 His voice was tense and eager as he interrupted, 
 " It's b-bound to come sooner or later, so why not 
 sooner? I'm sure s-some day to take the b-bit in my 
 teeth and run." 
 
 " But you mustn't let us be the cause. I can't bear 
 to have you " 
 
 Again he broke in, " I shouldn't have t-told you. I'd 
 made up my mind not to, but if I do b-break and run, 
 it'll be b-because it's either that or be b-broken, and I 
 tell you, I won't let him b-break me as he c-crushed 
 father." 
 
 One glance she permitted herself at his face, pale 
 and. wrenched with pain. Then with the desire strong 
 within her to turn his bitter thoughts into happier chan- 
 nels, she said, with apparent irrelevance, " Life's one 
 grand tangle, isn't it, Doug? I'm wondering if it's 
 because you and I are hitching our wagons to a star ? " 
 Then, after a moment in which the memory of the 
 scene at Freddy's tea-table was full upon her, she 
 added, " Freddy Blue, though, seems to have unwound 
 the snarl. I never saw any one so really happy." 
 
 " Freddy ! " A smile broke forth irresistibly. " I 
 haven't s-seen her for an eternity." 
 
 " It does you good just to look at her. She's bright 
 and happy as the the sun. But it's no wonder." 
 
 He waited for her to explain, and after a moment 
 she said with unconscious sadness, " She has her 
 heart's choice." 
 
 He faced her with a burning question in his eyes. 
 His lips were speechless. She was lost in thought a 
 moment, then went on half to herself, " She hasn't told 
 me yet, but I know it's it's Dr. Denton." 
 
 A minute passed, another, then he laughed, a sudden,
 
 DOUGLAS TALKS 215 
 
 mirthless laugh. " You're j-jolly well right, Chris- 
 tine. Life is one g-grajid old tangle." 
 
 The drive home was swift, silent, but as he handed 
 her out of the roadster, a glint of humor crossed his 
 face. " To-night 1-lies between me and the g-great old 
 world. Good night, dear little s-sister." 
 
 The next morning a note lay beside her breakfast 
 plate. Mark had brought it, Amelia said, almost be- 
 fore she was downstairs. 
 
 " It's the world for me, Christine dear," she read, 
 " and long hours for my dreams and scribbling." 
 
 Her tears blurred the simple signature, " Doug."
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 JENNIE CHUBB AGAIN 
 
 That week slipped by for Christine like a dream. 
 Outwardly she was the same, merry of heart, perform- 
 ing her small, self-imposed tasks with cheerfulness, 
 and now and then even lightening the burdens of 
 Amelia and Misery with a thoughtfulness that was a 
 constant surprise and joy to the old serving-woman, at 
 least. 
 
 But all through the dancing lessons which engaged 
 her morning hours ran a queer, breathless, high ex- 
 citement that was yet a strange calm. Her heart's 
 secret thrilled her with joy and at the same time 
 brought her in a breath to the verge of tears. " You 
 are all snow and fire, Mees Chreestine," the old pro- 
 fessor said, unconsciously taking on an attitude of pas- 
 sionate admiration at the end of a brilliantly impro- 
 vised dance which yet abounded in simplicity and 
 youthful grace. " You are, as you say, very improv- 
 ing, ma cheric." He rubbed his hands in glee. 
 
 And in the late afternoon hours, too, which she spent 
 with the young Trevors, the joy that was " three- 
 quarters pain " overflowed in merry quips, happy chat- 
 ter, laughter that was gay as the song of a bird. Love 
 consumed her; humility filled her. 
 
 She outdid herself in the stories she invented for the 
 entertainment and instruction of the twins. And at 
 
 216
 
 JENNIE CHUBB AGAIN 217 
 
 the close of one afternoon when Laurie as usual 
 brought out his violin and she sang to the little group, 
 the boy with his sensitiveness of perception was struck 
 by the new depth of her voice. She sang as birds 
 sing, lightly, sweetly, but now there was a quality of 
 emotion exquisite to the ear. 
 
 Once in the twilight hour the boy's eyes followed her 
 with a wistful look when she slipped into a stately, 
 measured dance in keeping with the strains he was 
 drawing from his violin. And when she floated into a 
 step, light, gay, irresponsible as a bit of thistle-down, 
 his gaze was still upon her. 
 
 Again the violin trembled under his fingers, vibrant 
 and penetrating, and in the swaying, rhythmic grace of 
 Christine's movements, he suddenly divined that a mys- 
 tery had come about in his sister's heart like the open- 
 ing of a bud into a full-blown flower. 
 
 "What is it?" he asked her, hardly above his 
 breath, when she stood, warmly flushed, her eyes il- 
 lumined and sweet. 
 
 Her gaze never swerved from the loveliness of the 
 garden, from the roses just swelling into being, the 
 clustering mignonette and the brown velvet butterflies 
 sailing by. " It's just life and " She stopped, fall- 
 ing into dream. 
 
 And in a dream she fluttered at twilight up and down 
 the garden paths. She missed Douglas. For a while 
 she let her thoughts wander to the lonely boy, and she 
 wondered where his first adventure into the great world 
 'had carried him. 
 
 But soon her mind swung back again to herself and 
 that miracle of miracles which love will ever be. And 
 she tasted deep of love's bliss the giving of one's
 
 218 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 heart without question, without fear. But she tasted 
 deep, too, of love's sorrow. For her there could be no 
 return of love. He belonged already to another. 
 
 Suddenly she threw* back her shoulders, and her 
 head was high-poised. " I know now," she said half 
 aloud. " Love is giving, giving your very best. And 
 oh, it's all yours, my dear, my dear." 
 
 Then, after a moment, in which her whole being was 
 lifted to the solemnity of the moment, a strange radi- 
 ance shone in her eyes, and with her face to the stars 
 that were beginning to grow silvery in the night sky, 
 like a young priestess before an altar she spoke as if to 
 a living presence, " I'd be willing to die for you, dear, 
 if that would help you. But I'll do what's ten thou- 
 sand times harder. I'll live for you, and for your 
 happiness." 
 
 A step behind her made her wheel about. Hot color 
 scorched her cheeks. Could Docky 
 
 " Amelia told me I should find you here," Mr. 
 Graves' familiar monotone quieted the tumultuous 
 beating of her heart. " A curious thing has happened, 
 more curious, I should say," he went on, rubbing his 
 hands together with that odd crackling sound which 
 with him was always a manifestation of excitement, 
 " than the mysterious manner in which that missing 
 paper was returned to me last Wednesday through the 
 mails you have not forgotten my advising you of 
 that fact. It's almost like a direct answer to prayer, 
 and yet " 
 
 He paused so long on his unfinished sentence that 
 Christine was fired with impatience. She coughed 
 three times without the desired effect, then, 
 
 " Ah, yes, Miss Christine, forgive me. I'm grow-
 
 JENNIE CHUBB AGAIN 219 
 
 .ing more absent-minded every day. As I was saying, 
 I was visited this afternoon by a gentleman from 
 Newton that's some small place up state, I believe 
 
 and upon my word, he wants to buy this place, and 
 at a figure that's not half bad." 
 
 " Buy Rain-on-the-Roof." A strange pain gripped 
 the girl's heart. Her eyes moved swiftly from the 
 low, rambling structure that was her home, with its 
 outlines enchantingly softened and blurred in the early 
 night-light, to the old-fashioned garden and the elm- 
 tree under which she practised her daily dance in thrall 
 to Laurie's music. How dear it all was ! She had 
 not realized before 
 
 The slow monotone roused her from her absorp- 
 tion. " It's a difficult thing for me to do, Miss Chris- 
 tine, for don't I know better than any man alive what 
 this place meant to your father? He never But 
 this is no time for retrospection nor regrets. It's a 
 Godsend, I say, a Godsend, and we must act quickly." 
 
 As always in her moment of stress, Christine's 
 thoughts moved to Dr. Denton. " Will he Docky 
 
 approve ? " 
 
 " There won't be time to consult him, but as I told 
 you at our last interview, he always gives me a free 
 hand in business matters. ' Use your own judgment, 
 Graves,' is what he says. ' John Trevor had full con- 
 fidence in you and so have I.' Besides, you see, Miss 
 Christine, not to bore you with business details, the 
 whole transaction depends upon promptness. Once 
 
 let the real estate men get hold of this Mr. his 
 
 name appears to have escaped me and he never 
 would consider this old place nor this locality. It'll be 
 a weight off my mind to see this deal through. Of
 
 220 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 course, there's the matter of settling you young Tre- 
 vors at once in other quarters, and " 
 
 " At once! " Christine could not keep the note of 
 dismay from her voice. Another uprooting. Another 
 upheaval of the Trevor hearth. 
 
 " That's exactly the point, Miss Christine. He in- 
 sists on immediate possession, and that's why he's will- 
 ing to pay the price." 
 
 When Mr. Graves at last withdrew, he left the girl 
 with but one clear-cut impression the Trevors were 
 without a home. 
 
 The specter of homelessness haunted her in troubled 
 dreams that night. Always she saw herself and the 
 children standing on the roadside, their household pos- 
 sessions cluttered about them, hungry-eyed, gaunt, 
 beseeching passers-by for shelter. 
 
 The specter kept close beside her in the hour of her 
 dancing lesson, and weighted her feet and spirit. 
 
 " No, no, not that way," scolded the professor for 
 the tenth time. " That is worse than nothing. You 
 are not, as you say, in spirits. I, too, am not in spir- 
 its. Hem, it is household troubles that lie here." His 
 hands went to his heart. " You do not know of some 
 young girl, ma cherie, who would take into the country 
 a very ill baby? My niece's baby she herself lies 
 face to face with death. No ? Eh, bicn. I must find 
 some one at once. You shall dance no more to-day." 
 He brought his hands down in crashing discord on the 
 keys, and so he dismissed her. 
 
 For a time she wandered disconsolately about the 
 city streets, and though she stood before a shop win- 
 dow full five minutes at a time, she could not after- 
 wards recall anything that window contained.
 
 JENNIE CHUBB AGAIN 221 
 
 Her aimless steps brought her at the lunch hour to 
 the entrance of the Emporium. Suddenly her prom- 
 ise to Jennie Chubb glinted through her memory. 
 
 With the impulsiveness that was so strong a part 
 of her temperament she plunged down the steps to the 
 electric-lighted, evil-smelling basement. She made her 
 way as rapidly as she, could through the crowds jos- 
 tling one another in the narrow aisles before counters 
 heaped with tawdry ribbons, high-scented soaps, 
 coarsely made but fashionably cut shoes and slippers 
 and the flotsam and jetsam that the basement de- 
 partment stores display to tempt those of the meager 
 purse. 
 
 At the counter where men's hose were arranged in 
 colors brighter than any rainbow human eye has seen, 
 she looked expectantly for Jennie Chubb. Perhaps 
 she had already gone to lunch. 
 
 " Jennie Chubb ? She got canned last week. No, 
 we ain't none of us seen her since." 
 
 Outside in the sunlight Christine stopped to fill her 
 lungs with fresh air. For a moment she hesitated, her 
 brows twitching into a frown. She was tired, dis- 
 pirited, hungry. She would go home. A street car 
 bounding over the rails drew her attention. Atwater 
 Place. Jennie Chubb lived in Atwater Place. She 
 swung herself up the steps of the car. 
 
 Absent-mindedly she looked out at the dusty streets 
 blazing in the noon-day sun, as the car rattled along. 
 Her thoughts were a curious jumble. So much had 
 happened since she had last seen Jennie Chubb. She 
 had given up Cort. She had decided that dancing was 
 to be the golden ladder by which she would climb to 
 fame and wealth. She had learned her heart's se-
 
 222 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 cret. Douglas Barton had made his choice, and the 
 Trevors would soon be without a roof. 
 
 She descended at the end of the car-route, and 
 walked rapidly, with the freedom and suppleness of 
 early youth, through two dingy squares before she 
 arrived at the shabby, three-storied, tipsily slanting 
 wooden building that Jennie Chubb called home. Her 
 repeated ring of the bell brought no answer. She was 
 already half-way down the rickety steps when the door 
 was pulled violently open and she heard her name. 
 
 " I'm here alone to-day," Jennie Chubb spoke breath- 
 lessly. One hand held a faded kimono together. " I 
 I was in bed when you rang, and hurried " she 
 stopped for breath " as fast as I could." 
 
 Several times in her ascent of the long dark flights 
 of stairs which led to her cell-like room on the top 
 story, she had to stop to ease her labored breathing. 
 
 " I'm pretty bad to-day," she said, throwing herself 
 on a cot by the one window the room boasted. " I got 
 more cold yesterday. My limousine was in the shop 
 and I just had to go on foot. You see, my diamond 
 tiara got broke at the ball the night before, and my 
 dressmakers phoned me I mustn't miss another fittin'. 
 So what could I do?" Her laugh trailed off into a 
 hard, racking cough. 
 
 Christine's eyes were dark with pity. 
 
 Almost immediately Jennie rattled on again, " I've 
 lost my job again. Got canned Saturday night, but 
 one thing that cheers the poor workin' girl, she spent 
 her last cent on a doctor yesterday, and he told her 
 she hadn't a trace of the con. ' It's a bad cold,' he 
 says, ' which'll land you into pneumonia if you don't 
 look out, and what you need is milk and plenty of
 
 JENNIE CHUBB AGAIN 223 
 
 fresh eggs and rest and the country.' So it's the coun- 
 try for me, Miss Trevor," she said, with a defiant lift 
 of the chin. 
 
 Still Christine said nothing. Instinctively she knew 
 Jennie's nimble tongue would run on, unaided. 
 
 " After I saw you, I thought hard about what you 
 said, lame dogs and all that, and I made up my mind 
 I'd go straight, and I wrote him that, and I meant it, 
 and then, 'cause I wouldn't stand no freshness from 
 our new boss, he up and canned me, and I've tried, hon- 
 est I have, to find another job, but it just seems like 
 there ain't no job for Jennie Chubb in this great little 
 old town. And then, this mornin' when it looks like 
 I was down and out, three cents to my name and three 
 weeks' rent to the bad, and the landlady anxious-like, 
 I got this." She fumbled for a moment under her 
 pillow, then drew out a letter. " It's from him he 
 hadn't got my other yet, and to cinch me, he he sent 
 me a check. It looks like fate, Miss Trevor, honest 
 to God it does." She moved restlessly on her cot. 
 " I wouldn't hurt you for worlds, Miss Trevor." 
 Quick tears gathered in her eyes. 
 
 " You won't be hurting me, Jennie. It's only your- 
 self you have to think about. And he's less than 
 nothing to me now." 
 
 Jennie stared through her tears. " You didn't 
 throw him over?" 
 
 Christine nodded. 
 
 "Well, I never!" After a short moment of si- 
 lence, Jennie said, in a tone curiously blended of re- 
 gret and triumph, " So I did get even, after all." 
 
 " It wasn't getting even. It was doing me a good 
 turn."
 
 224 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 " Huh ! You wouldn't have him, 'cause he was 
 after the likes of me, I suppose. If I'd 'a' been some 
 dressed-up doll or a swell chorus girl, you'd 'a' for- 
 given him soon enough." Fire snapped in the blue 
 eyes which seemed preposterously large now for the 
 emaciated face. 
 
 " Jennie, you showed me he didn't have my heart." 
 
 Christine's candor was disarming. The thin lips 
 lost their angry curve. " It'll be no job for you to 
 pick up another rich guy, you " She stopped on 
 half a word, and with frank envy absorbed every de- 
 tail of Christine's appearance. She was tailored in 
 white, and correct from her white pumps to her wide 
 white hat. Slowly Jennie's eyes traveled from her 
 visitor's garb to her face with its exquisite skin, deli- 
 cately molded features, eyes of brown with flashing 
 lights of gold and the tendrils of red-gold hair that 
 curled about either ear. " You with your looks," she 
 finished sulkily. 
 
 " No more rich guys for me, Jennie," Christine's 
 laugh rang out. " I'm a real working-woman now, 
 and am going to earn several livings. Don't look so 
 unbelieving. It's the truth. But I didn't come here to 
 talk about myself. It's you and your cold I'm inter- 
 ested in, and " A nearby church-clock drowned out 
 the rest of her words with its resonant peal. 
 
 " Two o'clock ! Mercy me, Jennie, I haven't kept 
 you from your lunch?" 
 
 Jennie laughed a short, unmirthful laugh. " I'm 
 not lunchin' today. I dined last night with the Van- 
 derbilts, you know, and I've a delkate digestion, 
 and" 
 
 Something compelling in Christine's regard brought
 
 JENNIE CHUBB AGAIN 225 
 
 her up short, and tears of weakness filled her eyes. 
 " All I've had since yesterday noon's a glass of milk," 
 she half sobbed. 
 
 Christine was already halfway out of the door when 
 she turned to ask, " How far is the nearest restau- 
 rant?" 
 
 " There ain't no fit eatin' joints round here, but on 
 the corner of Atwater and Bleeker, there's a swell little 
 delicatessen. Oh, Miss Trevor, you're a brown-eyed 
 angel!" 
 
 The brown-eyed angel did some rapid thinking while 
 she was making hurried but lavish purchases, and by 
 the time she had arranged the food as temptingly as 
 she could on Jennie's rickety table, her plan of action 
 was definitely mapped out. She waited, however, un- 
 til both Jennie and she had taken the edge off their 
 young healthy appetites before she began. Then in a 
 matter-of-fact way, as if she were merely reiterating 
 an opinion expressed but a moment before, she re- 
 marked, " Yes, the country's exactly what you need. 
 Plenty of fresh air, and heaps of fresh eggs and milk 
 and chicken." 
 
 Jennie's eyes glistened, and unconsciously her lips 
 parted with eagerness. Then the light died out of her 
 face. " You ain't advisin' me to do it, are you ? " 
 she cried, in passionate disappointment. Another dis- 
 illusion this idol, too, had clay-made feet. 
 
 " I most certainly am advising you to go to the coun- 
 try, and " 
 
 Jennie interrupted rudely, " What's your game ? To 
 get even with him ? " 
 
 Christine apparently did not hear the interruption. 
 " Are you fond of children, Jennie? "
 
 226 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 "I'm the. oldest of seven, three boys and four girls 
 in our family," she said slowly, after a full moment's 
 pause, " and I miss the kiddies so that sometimes it 
 seems as if I'd die if I didn't have just a sight of 
 'em." 
 
 "Why don't you go back home?" Christine filled 
 the other's glass with milk for the third time. 
 
 " Too darn' 'shamed and proud, I s'pose. I ran 
 away from home when I was seventeen with a drum- 
 mer. The old yarn, you know, young and kind of 
 pretty and sick and tired of a little burg. It wasn't my 
 fault I didn't go wrong. He got drunk the minute 
 we struck the city, and I flew the coop." Another 
 long silence, in which Jennie's eyes were at the bottom 
 of the now empty milk-glass. " I learned my lesson 
 that night. I've never gone wrong yet, but," she said, 
 with a bitter sigh, " I'm at the end of my rope now." 
 
 Christine was quick to see and press an advantage. 
 " I know a sick kiddie who ought to go to the country 
 right away, but his mother's too ill to take him, and to 
 find just the right person " Artfully she paused; 
 then she went on, " I suppose that wouldn't appeal to 
 you." 
 
 " A starvin' dog don't throw a bone away 'cause it 
 ain't a T steakbone. Tell me all you know about the 
 sick kid, and its ma." 
 
 Christine told all she knew. At the end of a half 
 hour she was leading the way down the rickety flight 
 of steps. She and Jennie Chubb were bound for the 
 Professor's. 
 
 " Oh, wait a sec'," Jennie cried, at the bottom of the 
 first flight, and began laboriously to ascend again. 
 
 It seemed to Christine's strained nerves all of an
 
 JENNIE CHUBB AGAIN 227 
 
 hour in reality it was no more than ten minutes 
 before Jennie made her way down the stairs again. 
 At the first street corner she stopped and posted a 
 letter. 
 
 " I sent back that check," she said, eyes averted. " I 
 told him I was leavin' for the country, and I'm goin' 
 straight. Here's our car."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 CHRISTINE DRIVES DR. DENTON'S CAR 
 
 A letter from Cort lay on her dressing-table when 
 Christine wearily crept into her room late that after- 
 noon. Without an instant's hesitation she thrust it 
 unopened into her desk-drawer and turned the key. 
 That chapter in her life was closed, she told herself 
 grimly. 
 
 But her thoughts were busy with that closed chapter 
 of her life and the events of the afternoon so curiously 
 interwoven with it, when she wandered into the garden 
 in the cool of the evening. The Professor and Jennie 
 had taken to each other at first sight. Her lips curved 
 into a tenderly mirthful smile at the memory of the 
 Professor's exuberant joy over the quickly-made ar- 
 rangements, and Jennie's parting words, " I'm your 
 slave for life, you brown-eyed angel," kept running 
 through her head like the refrain of a song. 
 
 The night was vivid, starry, lit by a moon which 
 was riding " like a golden galleon in a heavy sea," and 
 the air was still as a held breath. She was suddenly 
 swept into a realization of the ecstasy and beauty of 
 life that was throbbing all about her, and she felt as if 
 the whole world were moving to a rhythm. 
 
 And because it was a night for romance, she fell 
 a-dreaming, and her dreams held her, with shining 
 eyes, and caught breath, and teeth denting her lower 
 
 228
 
 CHRISTINE DRIVES 229 
 
 lip. Then in imagination she grew bolder. Fancy 
 created the loved one's form. They walked close to- 
 gether in the garden paths, gazed deep in each other's 
 eyes and held sweet converse. 
 
 She heard footfalls, and, turning, saw Freddy Blue 
 coming towards her over the moon-silvered grass. 
 
 "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" 
 Christine reproached her. " I'd have gone halfway 
 to meet you." 
 
 " I decided on the spur of the moment." There was 
 a queer tenseness to her voice. After a moment of 
 utter quiet, " I stopped in at the post-office on my way 
 to the drug-store just now." Another silence. 
 " There was a note from Doug I didn't know I 
 haven't seen him for a week for some time. He 
 said you knew." 
 
 This unexpected show of feeling so rare to Freddy's 
 serene nature threw the other into a puzzled surprise. 
 It was all of a minute before she could bring herself to 
 say, " Why, I thought you knew." 
 
 She stole a look at her over-tall friend. Freddy's 
 mouth was set and her eyes were frowning. 
 
 " Tell me everything." Freddy suddenly caught 
 her breath quiveringly and the stern look melted into 
 pleading, " We've been life-long friends, you know." 
 
 " Doug said you had." Then with characteristic 
 vividness Christine described the ugly scene in the 
 Barton garden, of which she had been an inadvertent 
 witness, and the drive along the river's edge, but she 
 withheld any reference to Douglas' confession of love. 
 That was too intimate, too much his secret for her to 
 discuss even with his life-long friend. 
 
 For a time Freddy did not speak. She was letting
 
 230 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 her eyes wander over her companion with the thought 
 that even the starlight was kind to her, making of her 
 hair a mist, and lending a nymph-like whiteness and 
 beauty to her slender form. 
 
 " Everyone loves you," she said in a choked voice. 
 "I don't wonder, you're beautiful," she added, and 
 sped away. 
 
 " How perfectly peculiar ! " Christine stared after 
 the hurrying figure in genuine puzzlement. " She 
 can't think Doug's in love with me." 
 
 A thought came which hurt her inconceivably. 
 " Besides, what possible difference can it make to her ? 
 She has Docky. Well, I'll disabuse her mind of that 
 crazy notion when I see her again." 
 
 But the next meeting with Freddy did not occur 
 until other matters had erased the memory of that 
 conversation in the moonlit garden, at least, from 
 Christine's mind. 
 
 Afterwards, in recalling the events of the next day 
 and Christine took a curious pleasure in a mental 
 rehearsal of certain occurrences of that day she told 
 herself things started in to happen right away. 
 
 From the breakfast-table she was called to the tele- 
 phone. Mr. Graves' monotone greeted her. How 
 was she feeling this fine summer day? And were the 
 young brother and the twins enjoying the best of 
 health? Would it suit her pleasure to have him send 
 his car for her, say about the middle of the after- 
 noon, to look over a couple of new bungalows at the 
 edge of town? Yes, the sale had gone through with- 
 out a hitch, as Dr. Denton had been called back un- 
 expectedly for an important consultation and his sig- 
 nature had been secured for the deed. He, Mr.
 
 CHRISTINE DRIVES 231 
 
 Graves, had promised the newcomer possession within 
 a week's time. 
 
 Christine's ears took in but little after the news of 
 Docky's return. For a breath the whole world rocked 
 dizzily and even when it steadied itself again, the blood 
 was still racing in her veins and her heart seemed to 
 be beating in her throat. 
 
 " At three, yes," she heard herself say in an unfa- 
 miliar voice, and blindly hooking up the receiver, threw 
 herself into the nearest chair, and buried her face in 
 her hands. 
 
 So it happened that she did not see Laurie quietly 
 emerge from the living-room and make what had be- 
 come for him a daily pilgrimage to the letter-box on 
 the corner. The grimly set lips, the cheeks drained 
 of color and the pain-darkened eyes would have told 
 her what that journey cost. 
 
 But Christine was quick to see his unusual pallor 
 when a half -hour later she joined him under the great 
 elm for the morning history lesson. 
 
 " Are things a bit off to-day? " She tried to make 
 her tone unconcerned. Laurie hated any reference to 
 his suffering or infirmity. 
 
 He fanned himself languidly with the cover of his 
 book. " It's a trifle warmish, isn't it ? But isn't it 
 jolly here? And will you look at those blue, blue 
 larkspurs over there? It's nice to be out here among 
 all these blossoming things and the butterflies and 
 birds." 
 
 He drew a deep breath of content. 
 
 " I wish for your sake we could stay," Christine 
 said, unintentionally aloud. How she should break 
 the news of their sudden departure from this quaint
 
 232 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 old home to the lame boy had been the burden of her 
 thoughts since Mr. Graves had broached the subject 
 in the garden a few nights before. 
 
 In countless ways she had come to realize that 
 Laurie had grown passionately fond of his father's 
 boyhood home. The very thought of the sudden up- 
 rooting and the change to the city's heat made her 
 heart sink with foreboding. Her gaze rested search- 
 ingly upon him, and she was filled with new alarm 
 at the strikingly apparent frail hold the boy had on 
 life. 
 
 Laurie laid the book face down on his lap and 
 looked out through the trees with eyes that sought the 
 far-away horizon before he said quietly, " Must we 
 give this up, too? " 
 
 Christine could only trust herself to nod. 
 
 "When?" 
 
 How she admired the gallant courage of his smile! 
 
 " Soon. In a week, Mr. Graves said." 
 
 He caught her hand suddenly. His thoughts were 
 never for himself. " That's going to be rough on you, 
 Christie. You're so busy now with your dancing. 
 But I'll help 'Melia. You'd be surprised to know how 
 many things she found for me to do when we tore up 
 before." 
 
 He meditated a moment, while she tried to wink 
 away the sudden mist that blurred her sight again. 
 
 " It's been nice here." He stopped to listen to the 
 scolding of a bright-eyed squirrel which perched sau- 
 cily on a branch a few feet above the boy's head to pay 
 his usual morning visit, then he went on in a dreamy 
 undertone, " But things may be even nicer where we're 
 going. Who knows ? "
 
 CHRISTINE DRIVES 233 
 
 " Who knows ? " Christine tried for a gay tone, but 
 she failed ignominiously. 
 
 " Anyhow, it doesn't matter where we are or where 
 we live. Father's always with us, and we always have 
 that wonderful St. Mark's fund to think about. I'll 
 never forget how old Graves looked when I told him 
 father didn't need a monument. The fund was his 
 monument. People would always remember him by 
 that." 
 
 It took all Christine's courage to put the question, 
 " What did Mr. Graves say to that? " 
 
 " Not much. He just wiped and wiped and wiped 
 his glasses. I thought he'd never get through, and 
 then he said, * Always hold fast to your faith in your 
 father, boy, no matter what happens.' As if I had 
 to be told that ! " Laurie laughed in airiest scorn. 
 " And I'm never going to let the twins forget him 
 either. But they're so young Oh, you'll be late 
 for your dancing lesson, Christie," he exclaimed, as a 
 neighboring church-clock pealed the hour sonorously; 
 "let's up and at it!" 
 
 Christine found the place in her history notes and 
 the lesson went on briskly, though now and then her 
 eyes rested dreamily on the old-fashioned garden, with 
 its wealth of roses and lupines and heavy-headed peo- 
 nies and bird and butterfly life. She had so much to 
 think about. But in spite of the sadness that lurked 
 in the ever-present thought of their impending depar- 
 ture from all this loveliness, her heart sang. Docky 
 was back. 
 
 Then a thought was born which sent a flaming color 
 into her cheeks and made her heart stumble against her 
 breast. Could she keep her secret from those grave
 
 234 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 gray eyes which always seemed to plumb the depths of 
 her soul? She must. She set her teeth hard against 
 her lower lip. To betray herself even by a word or 
 look would be to earn her undying scorn of herself. 
 The well-poised head was lifted upright with deter- 
 mination even as she gently corrected Laurie on a list 
 of causes of the Wars of the Roses. 
 
 " I'm a dull boy to-day," he said, with a pretense of 
 lightness, after he had stumbled through the next out- 
 line in the lesson, " but my thoughts will go chasing off 
 like those butterflies, and my ears are full of that sweet 
 chick-a-dee-dee-dee. Oh, but wouldn't it be great to 
 be in the woods to-day," he said, his voice vibrating 
 with sudden longing, " and find the thrush that's been 
 singing, singing, and chase the will-o'-the-wisp till you 
 couldn't chase any more, and follow every path you 
 liked?" 
 
 " Perhaps I can get back early enough to " 
 
 But he broke in, " Don't mind me. It's just this 
 peach of a day that's made things stir around inside of 
 me, and set me to wishing. Besides, you haven't time. 
 You'll be late for your dancing-lesson," he reminded 
 her, for a second time. 
 
 " The Professor'll gobble me up, bones, feathers and 
 all if I am." She had already started on a run to- 
 ward the house when a sharp exclamation from Laurie 
 brought her instantly to his side again. 
 
 " Look," he laughed, in sudden amusement. 
 
 She looked. The twins were half carrying, half 
 dragging what appeared to Christine's mystified gaze 
 to be a small tin bathtub. 
 
 " It's a mud-turtle tub," Laurie enlightened her.
 
 CHRISTINE DRIVES 235 
 
 " Oh, that little monkey almost took a header into the 
 tub. Dilly," he raised his voice, "have a care; you're 
 tipping the tub on your side, and the turtles'll all spill 
 out." 
 
 " What' 11 those imps think up next?" Christine 
 groaned, watching the twins make a gallant, if pre- 
 carious, advance. 
 
 " We got twenty new baby turtles 'n' lots of mamas 
 'n' papas from Billy Gray this morning," shouted Dilly, 
 to the accompaniment of slopping water, " 'n' we only 
 gave him our ice skates 'n' our sweaters 'n' " The 
 rest of the bargain was drowned out by a roar from 
 Daffy, who suddenly sat down on the path, panting 
 and exhausted by her labors, but still shrilly protest- 
 ing that her running-mate was not equally sharing 
 the burden. 
 
 Cautiously Christine drew nearer the watery home 
 of the mud-turtles. Truth to tell, she had no fond- 
 ness for what she mentally termed slimy, squirming, 
 all-legs-and-tail-and-precious-little-head creatures. Ex- 
 perience had taught her that the twins had an ever- 
 ready inventive genius for original games, and from 
 experience, too, she had grown used to the fact that 
 they would go to any lengths to make the game a good 
 game. 
 
 " What is it this time ? " Christine stopped at a 
 comparatively safe distance and craned her neck. To 
 her excited fancy hundreds and hundreds of those 
 slimy, squirming, all-legs-and-tail-and-precious-little- 
 head creatures appeared to be wriggling on top of one 
 another in the half-empty tub. Involuntarily she 
 wrinkled her nose in disgust.
 
 236 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 Daffy turned up to her eyes blue as the sky, and big 
 with reproachful surprise. " Don't you like 'em, poor 
 itty-witty sings? " 
 
 " Um I can't say I'm overcome with affection. 
 But whatever are you going to do with the collec- 
 tion?" 
 
 Excitement brought Daffy to her feet. She faced 
 her sister with an important air. " Somebody's got 
 to s'port the Trevor family, 'n' we're going to do it." 
 
 Christine groaned inwardly. She recognized the 
 quotation. The twins must have " little-pitchered " 
 when she was defending her dancing lessons to Amelia. 
 " What's the great idea? " In spite of herself a smile 
 would touch her lips. 
 
 " You feed 'em 'n' feed 'em till they're big 'n' fat" 
 Daffy moved close to her sister, and half whispered the 
 rest of the recipe for growing rich quick, " 'N' then 
 you sell 'em for soup." 
 
 Dilly came promptly to his sister's support with, 
 " 'N' turtle soup's a awful delickacksy Billy Gray 
 says so." 
 
 Christine stared in amazement; then her glad, free 
 laugh rang out. " Well, as long as you don't intend to 
 make that soup delicacy yourselves, I suppose you 
 can't get into any real mischief." A sudden thought 
 made her swing about when she had already gone a 
 dozen paces across the lawn. " But for the love of 
 Betsy, keep a ball and chain on every turtle's foot, so 
 he doesn't escape. I wouldn't fancy meeting one of 
 them in the dead o' night." 
 
 Afterwards the roguish gleam that sparkled in 
 Daffy's wide-eyed innocent stare flitted back into 
 Christine's memory, and she wondered that she had
 
 CHRISTINE DRIVES 237 
 
 not paused for a word of inquiry or warning. But at 
 this precise moment her head was full of nothing but 
 the hailstorm of reproachful words that would rattle 
 about her ears when she presented herself before the 
 Professor half an hour or more after her appointed 
 time. The Professor did not disappoint her. He 
 greeted her with a scolding that did not abate for full 
 ten minutes, then because he was in an unusually ex- 
 acting mood that morning, kept her to her task until 
 an hour after lunch-time. 
 
 Consequently she was late, too, when she slipped into 
 Mr. Graves' cab that afternoon. 
 
 " I'm to drive you to Isabelle Avenue," the chauf- 
 feur told her. " Mr. Graves said he'd be there three 
 sharp, and believe me, it'll be three sharp," he added, 
 more to himself than her. 
 
 " A waste of a good three-quarters of an hour, Miss 
 Christine," was Mr. Graves' greeting as, watch in hand, 
 he assisted her from the cab. " And this is a very 
 busy day for me, but there, there, my dear " his testi- 
 ness melting surprisingly under the warmth of her 
 smile " one must make allowances, I suppose, for a 
 popular young lady with a thousand demands on her 
 time. This is the living-room." He led the way into 
 a tiny box of a room. " Not large, but " 
 
 A feeling of dismay swept over Christine as she 
 followed her guide from one small room into another. 
 " We'd be cooped up here like chickens," she began, 
 but he interrupted with a snappiness quite foreign to 
 his usual paternal tone, " I've run my legs off to find 
 something suitable, and it's not to be had. That other 
 bungalow directly opposite," they were standing now 
 on the diminutive porch, " was rented halt an hour
 
 238 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 ago, the agent told me, while I was er waiting 
 for you. This is the only house anywhere about that's 
 fit to live in." 
 
 " It's just about the size of a doll-house father had 
 made for me when I was a small tad, but it'll have to 
 do, I suppose." 
 
 " We're in luck to get this. There's a pair of lovers 
 that have been haunting the place for weeks I know, 
 for he's a stenographer in our office but the rent's 
 been a trifle high." 
 
 Christine had already settled herself in the cab, the 
 key to the new Trevor home stowed safely away in her 
 hand-bag, when Mr. Graves poked his head in the win- 
 dow, and innocently loosed a thunderbolt. " By the 
 way, it came to my knowledge this morning that it's 
 that queer old curmudgeon who lives next door that's 
 bought your house, and " 
 
 " Joshua Barton," Christine broke in excitedly. 
 " There must be some mistake." 
 
 Mr. Graves shook his head. " It leaked out most 
 unexpectedly. I myself don't understand, but old 
 Barton doubtless does. Perhaps he's afraid some real 
 estate concern'll swoop down on this peaceful back- 
 water, and subdivide into twenty-foot lots and bring 
 out the working-class. Joshua's an exclusive old boy, 
 I'm told," he added, with rare levity, " but his money's 
 as good as another's and he paid a good price." 
 
 " It can't make any possible difference," Christine 
 assured herself when alone, and she tried to plunge 
 mentally into the thousand-and-one details that moving 
 always necessitates. 
 
 But her thoughts reverted again and again to the 
 subject, and the new owner of " Rain-on-the-Roof "
 
 CHRISTINE DRIVES 239 
 
 was uppermost in her mind when she sped up the front 
 steps of her home, and almost into Amelia's arms. 
 
 " It's you," gasped the old woman and fell back 
 against the wall, trembling so that she could barely 
 stand. 
 
 "What is it? What's happened? The twins? 
 Not Laurie ! " The cry was wrenched from Chris- 
 tine's heart. 
 
 Amelia tried to control her quivering lips, but she 
 opened her mouth once or twice before the words 
 would come, " He ain't dead. Not that, but oh, my 
 God, my God! I thought he was when they brought 
 him in." In spite of her determined efforts, great hard 
 sobs racked her. " I've sent for our doctor. I 
 thought you was him. No bones broke, praise be, 
 and he's sleepin' now like a babe," she went on, her 
 words rushing forth now pell-mell, " and he knew me 
 from the start, his poor old 'Melia who'd be glad to 
 die for him. I must get back to him. No, no, me 
 first." 
 
 But Christine had already leaped up the steps, and 
 was kneeling by her brother's side when Amelia tot- 
 tered in. Misery was seated at the bedside, alert for 
 an opportunity to serve the boy. 
 
 " He ain't moved or stirred for the last half hour. 
 He's sleepin' like he was dead tired," she whispered, in 
 answer to Christine's low-voiced inquiry, " except once 
 he opened his eyes and called you. Then 'Melia came 
 and he smiled and was off again like he is now." 
 
 " Laurie, Laurie." Christine pressed her lips to the 
 hand which lay, fine and exquisite as a hand modelled 
 in marble, on the coverlet. 
 
 The dark eyes fluttered, opened, smiled. " Christie,
 
 240 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 I'm glad I haven't lost you, too." She had to put her 
 ear close to his lips to catch the words; then as if a 
 weight lay on his eyelids he closed them and slept 
 again. 
 
 " How soon is Docky coming ? Did his office-girl 
 know?" Christine inquired of Amelia in an unsteady 
 voice. 
 
 " He wasn't in. She thought he'd come soon, but I 
 couldn't make her understand real clear-like what the 
 trouble was, there was such a buzzin' in the phone, and 
 I tried and tried, but she didn't seem to make out, so I 
 told her to say he should come here right away." 
 
 " I'll try." Christine found relief in action, but to 
 her dismay learned that the doctor's line was out of 
 order. Workmen were busy, however, with its re- 
 pair. She should make the call again within a half 
 hour. 
 
 She was moving restlessly about her bedroom, stop- 
 ping now and then to pick up a small object and set 
 it down unseeingly when Amelia knocked at her door 
 and entered simultaneously. She was carrying a small 
 tray with a service of tea. 
 
 " Sit down here, 'Melia." Touched to the quick by 
 the old woman's devotion, Christine drew forward an 
 easy-chair. " It'd choke me. You need it more than 
 I. Let me serve you." 
 
 " Misery's with him. I was goin' to serve you, and 
 then drink myself. We need to keep our strength for 
 what's comin'. If only our doctor'd hurry." She 
 made a movement toward the window, but Christine 
 pressed her back in her chair. 
 
 " I'll phone again in fifteen minutes," she glanced at
 
 CHRISTINE DRIVES 241 
 
 her wrist-watch, " and then, if he's not in, it'll have 
 to be some other doctor." 
 
 The old woman's hands trembled so violently that 
 Christine had to rescue her cup of tea. " Another doc- 
 tor'd kill him sure. No other doctor'd understand. 
 It's got to be our doctor who knows " She broke 
 off with a significant little lift of her eyes. 
 
 "Knows what, 'Melia?" 
 
 " 'Tain't the boy's body this time. It's his heart," 
 she answered irrelevantly between gulps of tea. 
 
 " Tell me what you mean." There was a note of 
 the old imperiousness in the girl's manner, as she fixed 
 the tear-stained eyes with her unwavering glance. 
 
 " Not now. I must get back to my boy ! " 
 
 Christine was not to be denied, though she had to 
 effect a compromise. She set a chair for Amelia out- 
 side Laurie's room where her whispers would not dis- 
 turb him, and where through the partly opened door 
 she could watch his every movement. 
 
 " I was finishin' up my darnin' in the back yard," 
 Amelia began tremulously, " and Laurie was fiddlin' 
 away under the big tree, and the twins were laughin' 
 their heads off over some prank or other with their 
 mud-turtles, and I must have dozed a minute. It was 
 warm, and my rheumatiz kept me awake considerable 
 last night." Her tone was apologetic. " Anyhow, 
 first thing I know I heard Laurie's voice excited-like 
 and half-cryin', and there he was, talkin' away for dear 
 life to another cripple-boy 'bout his own age. I got 
 up to see what the matter was, and I heard him say, 
 4 'Tain't true, Joe. There's a mistake somehow. My 
 father gave his last cent for that fund. You couldn't
 
 242 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 've lost your money,' and then that boy laughed kind of 
 scornful-like, ' Huh, all you know. We did lose our 
 money and your father was nothin' but a darned old 
 thief.' ' 
 
 There was a catch in Christine's voice which was 
 husky and toneless. " I always hoped he'd never 
 know." 
 
 " And then my blessed boy went, with that that 
 Joe boy to the car, and he was helpin' him up the steps 
 when somehow my blessed lamb slipped and fell, I 
 thought clean under the wheels. I screamed and ran 
 and screamed and ran but that man-servant next door 
 got to him first, and carried him in, and helped me put 
 him to bed. My hands shook so. It was that man 
 Mark that said he'd not broken a bone, but just got a 
 bit of a shakin' and " 
 
 " Time's up. I'm going to phone, but remember, 
 'Melia, if Docky's not in, it must be some other. We 
 daren't wait any longer." 
 
 " Please, please, Dr. Denton, not any other doctor," 
 came faintly in Laurie's voice from the darkened room. 
 
 " I didn't realize I was speaking so loud." Chris- 
 tine crept in contritely to the bedside, and dropped to 
 her knees. " It'll be Dr. Denton if I have to bring him 
 myself." 
 
 Christine kept her word. She brought him herself, 
 though it was not until many hours later. The tele- 
 phone was still out of repair, and she found the office 
 closed when she finally gained his office-building after 
 what seemed to her an interminable trolley ride. 
 
 It was growing dark, and a fine mist-like rain had 
 begun to fall when she entered a car bound for his 
 home.
 
 CHRISTINE DRIVES 243 
 
 Dr. Denton had gone out of town to operate late in 
 the afternoon and would not be back until the next 
 morning, Mrs. Anderson, the doctor's housekeeper, 
 volubly informed her. He had phoned her not to pre- 
 pare dinner or breakfast, but wouldn't Miss Christine 
 stop on for a bite? 
 
 Miss Christine wouldn't. Did Mrs. Anderson know 
 where the doctor had gone? 
 
 He had taken the mid-afternoon train for Chester 
 and had promised Mrs. Anderson to deliver a parcel to 
 her daughter-in-law. No, there was no other train 
 for Chester until one-something in the morning. Yes, 
 Chester was that little mill-town some fifty miles up- 
 state on the Dunbar River. 
 
 A sudden determination pulsed in Christine. With 
 the fewest words possible she explained the urgency 
 of her need for Doctor Denton's services. Then she 
 said resolutely, bracing her shoulders with the air of 
 one refusing discussion, " I'm going to take Docky's 
 car and bring him back." 
 
 " But, my dear," Mrs. Anderson began, in bewil- 
 dered protest, "you a young girl at this hour of 
 the night and in such weather " 
 
 The ring of Christine's voice was unmistakable. 
 " Give me the key to the garage please." 
 
 Mrs. Anderson meekly surrendered the key. 
 
 It was not until Christine had plunged northward, 
 and the lights strung along the river were speeding past 
 the rain-fretted wind-shield like pale bubbles, that any 
 doubt assailed her. Suppose she failed to find Docky. 
 Mrs. Anderson had spoken vaguely of a hotel but had 
 fancied that the doctor would put up for the night at 
 the home of one of his confreres. Suppose he had
 
 244 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 gone to Chester for a series of operations, as she knew 
 was frequently the case, and wouldn't be able to re- 
 turn with her. 
 
 Her young body grew taut. She had promised 
 Laurie, and she'd die before she'd break her word. 
 Laurie's life was at stake and only Dr. Denton could 
 save it. Docky should return with her. She'd make 
 him how, she didn't know. 
 
 The purr of the motor deepened; the river sped by 
 like a dark ribbon. Each moment the downpour 
 seemed thicker, quicker. A wind, too, had risen, 
 which began to tear impishly through the open win- 
 dows at her hat. She unpinned her hat and tucked it 
 under her feet, as she drove the car forward at high 
 speed. 
 
 She knew by heart every bend and turn in the road 
 until it deflected from the river. A sudden panic over- 
 whelmed her when she swung into a patch of woods 
 black as the night. Horrid stories of robbers utiliz- 
 ing this strip of woods as a rendezvous flashed into 
 her overstimulated mind and every minute she ex- 
 pected to see masked figures dart out at her from be- 
 hind dripping trees. But she saw only the wavering 
 illumination of her own headlight, and when once she 
 had to bring the car to a full stop to make sure of a 
 sharp turn in the path, she heard nothing but the hoot 
 of an owl and the shrieking of the wind-tossed boughs 
 high above her head. 
 
 Out into the open road again. The rain was com- 
 ing in torrents now and the wind had whipped itself 
 into a gale. Her eyes were growing weary from the 
 strain of peering through the curtain of rain. Her 
 hand and arm were beginning to feel numb. It was no
 
 CHRISTINE DRIVES 245 
 
 easy task now to keep the wheels in the heavy, slippery 
 ruts. Once or twice, on the river road, she had had 
 to turn out for another automobile, but for the most 
 part she had undisputed possession of the road, and 
 for that she was thankful, for now the way had nar- 
 rowed, with sharp declivities on either side. 
 
 Her eyes had closed several times in spite of her- 
 self and her thoughts were becoming a curious jum- 
 ble, when a loud honking and the glare of headlights 
 that seemed close upon her brought her up sharply. 
 Hurriedly she glanced on either side. Was she a 
 skilful enough driver to turn out in safety? She 
 would have to there was nothing else to do. Per- 
 haps she could back her car 
 
 She had already thrown the engine into reverse when 
 she was startled by a second blast of the automobile 
 horn, air-ripping and prolonged. Again it came. She 
 shut down her engine. 
 
 " You can't back up," a voice shouted out of the 
 darkness. " There's a fierce gully on either side." 
 
 " What shall I do? " called Christine, in a voice that 
 shook with fright. 
 
 " A woman, by all that's true." Her ears, pricked 
 for every sound, caught the words, though spoken in 
 a lower tone. Again a shout, this time a command. 
 " Wait, we'll help you turn." 
 
 "If you'll run your car ahead about fifteen paces, 
 madam," came from a dripping figure in motor coat 
 and cap standing beside her car, " you can " 
 
 " Docky ! " the girl at the wheel broke in with a 
 sob. " It's you, really you ! I found you, after all ! " 
 
 Questions and answers were exchanged as rapidly 
 as human tongue could form words.
 
 246 
 
 Fifteen minutes later, with Dr. Denton at the 
 wheel, Christine was being whirled homewards. 
 
 " I'll never cease to be thankful we stopped you 
 when we did," he broke the first little silence that had 
 fallen. " A few feet more and " An irrepressible 
 shudder ran through him. 
 
 She looked up at him with a saucy little tilt of the 
 chin. " You'd have been rid of a bothersome ward 
 forever." Her laugh held a glad thrill. " Well, I'll 
 never cease to be thankful I met you when I did, for 
 you'd have been safely tucked away in bed at Dr. 
 Crampton's by the time I reached Chester and I'd 
 never, never have found you. Poor man, he looked as 
 though he wanted to eat me up for carrying you off 
 like this." 
 
 " He was counting on a good smoke and a jolly old 
 before-bed chat. I'd promised to talk over with him 
 some of the experiences of my New York visit." 
 
 The brown eyes flashed up to his. " I'm sorry, 
 Docky, but Laurie " 
 
 " Sorry, child ; there's nothing for you to be sorry 
 for. I'm sorry you tired yourself out in that wild 
 drive. You certainly are a plucky girl, Goldilocks." 
 
 " Plucky, pouf ! Not a bit of it ! This drive's been 
 the worst nightmare of my whole life." But in the 
 darkness of the cab she smiled happily to herself. 
 
 A weight was beginning to oppress her eyelids, and 
 she was finding it increasingly difficult to hold her head 
 erect. There was something infinitely soothing in the 
 steady motion of the car under the doctor's guidance 
 and the beat of the rain against the wind-shield. Once, 
 when he stopped the car to slip out and test a rear tire, 
 the lashing of the wind-racked branches in the depths
 
 CHRISTINE DRIVES 247 
 
 of the woods which before had stirred her to fear now 
 soothed her as a lullaby. 
 
 " Very tired, little one? " Dr. Denton inquired, after 
 a prolonged silence. 
 
 " No-o-o," she murmured sleepily, " only wonder- 
 ing and hoping and praying that Laurie's " she broke 
 off with a half-sob. 
 
 " From what you've told me, Laurie's suffering from 
 a severe mental shock. We're going to pull him 
 through, never fear." Dr. Denton moved closer, and 
 inserted his arm under her drowsy head. " That's bet- 
 ter, Goldilocks," he said, very quietly. " You can 
 rest more comfortably so. I'll wake you in good 
 time." 
 
 So with her head pillowed on his shoulder, Christine 
 slept like a tired child. Once or twice she shifted her 
 head or stirred a bit uneasily, but the rocking motion 
 of the car and the reassuring support of the arm that 
 encircled her lulled her into sleep again. And the 
 rosy dreams of first love came to her, and thrilled her 
 to ecstasy. Once she opened her eyes, still heavy with 
 slumber. She thought lips had touched hers light as 
 a breath with a whispered, " My little love-girl," and 
 her heart beat stormily. 
 
 " Where am I ? " she murmured dreamily, and for 
 answer Dr. Denton drew her head closer against him 
 in the darkness of the car that was flying forward at 
 unabated speed. " With me, Goldilocks," he said, in 
 his quiet voice, and she was fast asleep again. 
 
 Through the thrall of a dream vibrated a strain of 
 purest music, " I love you, Christine," and with the 
 mist of the dream still in her eyes and the melody of 
 that voice still in her ears, she awoke to the sound of
 
 248 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 her name, " Christine, Christine. Here we are. Goldi- 
 locks, safe at home." The next instant she felt her- 
 self lifted out of the car in strong arms and carried up 
 the steps. 
 
 The rain had ceased, but the wind still beat high. 
 Suddenly from behind the shifting cloud-wrack the 
 moon magically appeared, and sent a flood of radiance 
 over the quiet night-world. 
 
 " How beautiful! " breathed Christine, her face up- 
 turned to the great silver plaque, as the doctor set her 
 on her feet on the veranda. 
 
 "How beautiful!" Dr. Denton repeated, but his 
 eyes were not on the face of the moon. 
 
 It was all of a half-hour before he came to her. She 
 was lying on the living-room davenport where he had 
 insisted on establishing her while she waited for him 
 to make an examination of Laurie's injuries. 
 
 " It's as I thought. He's had a tremendous nervous 
 shock, but we're going to keep him. It'll be all of a 
 month, though, before he'll be up and around again." 
 
 Tears streamed unheeded down her cheeks. 
 
 " We're going to keep him. I was so afraid " 
 
 Her cheek against the pillow and her long yellow 
 braids tossed back of her head, she was drifting off to 
 sleep, when a sudden thought brought her bolt up- 
 right. " Docky said Laurie won't be up for a month, 
 and we've got to give up this house to that old Barton 
 monster within a week."
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 CHRISTINE'S SURPRISE BASKET 
 
 The next morning developed a mystery that Chris- 
 tine was long in puzzling out. She was making a 
 descent of the stairs, her feet hardly touching the steps, 
 and a song on her lips, for Laurie had passed a quiet 
 night, when there was a peremptory ring of the bell. 
 A diminutive messenger-boy with a huge box was fidg- 
 eting before the door. 
 
 " Master Laurie Trevor," he sang out shrilly, and 
 thrusting the package into her hands, ran down the 
 steps, whistling loudly after the fashion of his kind. 
 
 Quickly she threw off the brown paper wrappings. 
 A sheaf of tea roses artistically combined with forget- 
 me-nots shed a fragrance into the room. 
 
 A faint color crept into Laurie's white cheeks as she 
 laid the dewy beauties against his face. 
 
 "Who sent them?" 
 
 The feebleness of his voice cut her with a bitter 
 sharpness, but she answered gaily, " I've hunted and 
 hunted, but there's no sign of a card and no hint, either, 
 of any florist. You sly little mite, 'fess up, who's the 
 fair lady?" 
 
 But Laurie only shook his head with a wan smile, 
 and wondered who the giver could be. He was as 
 genuinely mystified as she. 
 
 The mystery deepened the following day. The self- 
 249
 
 250 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 same scene before the front door reenacted itself. 
 This time the offering was a basket of luscious fruit. 
 And so anonymous gifts of fruit or flowers reached 
 Laurie day by day, and though once Christine suc- 
 ceeded in detaining the elusive messenger-boy, she* was 
 not equally successful in eliciting any information that 
 satisfied. Apparently, all he knew was that a man 
 presented himself in the office early each morning with 
 a package to be delivered to Master Laurie Trevor. 
 No, he didn't know what the man looked like. He 
 hadn't noticed. Yes, he supposed he could notice, but 
 that wasn't what he was hired for. His business was 
 to deliver the goods. And no tips or bribes could 
 tempt that messenger boy of the snub-nose and freckled 
 face. 
 
 So though the unfailing daily arrival of the gifts 
 fired her curiosity, Christine had to admit herself baf- 
 fled, and presently in the stress of other matters, the 
 unsolved problem ceased to tease. 
 
 Nearly the whole day after Laurie's accident 
 slipped by before Christine could bring herself to carry 
 out a plan that had formed itself the night before in 
 her last waking moments. And then it was a dictum 
 of Amelia's that made her take herself in hand and 
 perform the hated task. 
 
 " It fair breaks my heart to see what a set-back my 
 boy's had," mourned the old nurse at the breakfast- 
 table. " What's to be done about our movin' ? " she 
 demanded the next moment, as if struck by a new 
 thought. 
 
 Christine's eyebrows came together in a frown. 
 " That worried me half the night. Docky said it
 
 CHRISTINE'S SURPRISE BASKET 251 
 
 would be a month before he'd be up and around, and 
 to move him " 
 
 " It'd kill him, sure as fate," Amelia cut in with 
 furious intensity. " We can't move." 
 
 " We must. Mr. Graves promised we'd be out by 
 the end of the week. If it were anyone else but Mr. 
 Barton, that old monster " 
 
 Daffy, who had been conducting a heated argument 
 with her twin, and had appeared oblivious to her 
 elders' conversation, broke out in a loud cry, " He 
 said he'd throw us out in the street like beggars, 'n' 
 now 'n' now he's going to do it." 
 
 " No, he isn't, dear," Christine soothed the weeping 
 child. " We're not going to live on the street, but 
 in the tiniest little doll's house you ever saw." 
 
 Through streaming tears Daffy looked up to in- 
 quire, " Where'll our mud-turtles stay?" 
 
 " That's a poser. The whole outfit isn't much big- 
 ger than your mud-turtle tub, but I'm sure you can 
 take some " 
 
 "All the mamas 'n' the papas 'n' lots of babies?" 
 queried Dilly, and Christine's nod sent the twins scam- 
 pering toward the back yard to make a judicious selec- 
 tion of the pet-turtles that were to accompany them. 
 
 From the dining-room window she watched them in- 
 tently a moment, then with a quaint humility she 
 turned to Amelia who was busily piling the breakfast 
 dishes on a tray. " I'm not the same Christine Trevor 
 I used to be, am I, 'Melia?" 
 
 Amelia looked at her steadily for a fraction of a 
 second. There was a new sweetness about the girl, 
 an exhalation of wistfulness. " You're gettin' more
 
 252 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 and more like your mother every day," the old woman 
 mumbled and disappeared into the kitchen with sus- 
 picious haste. 
 
 When she returned several minutes later, Christine 
 still stood at the window, her cheeks beautiful with a 
 suffusion of color. 
 
 " I know now what's made- the difference in me. 
 ' I've learned to love the twins and Laurie and " 
 she broke off. Her eyes had lost their quiet. They 
 showed a glint of tears. 
 
 But Amelia had -not noticed. Her mind held but 
 one subject, her lame boy. " I tell you, Laurie can't 
 be moved," she made the assertion as though follow- 
 ing out an uninterrupted train of thought, " and I'd 
 go down on my knees to a monster ten times hate- 
 fuller than Joshua Barton to save that lamb's life." 
 With that she was gone. 
 
 Amelia's words repeated themselves in her mind 
 when she crept into Laurie's room in the middle of 
 the morning, and found him fast asleep. The deadly 
 pallor of his face brought her ear close to his heart in 
 a sudden agony of apprehension. He was breathing, 
 but, oh, so faintly that again the fear that he would 
 not stay with them assailed her. 
 
 He was sleeping, too, when she stood by his bed- 
 side midway between the hours of three and four, and 
 again Amelia's words rang accusingly in her ear. For 
 a long, long moment she stood there. Laurie's eyes 
 opened, and he smiled, and put out his hand. Having 
 found her fingers, he raised them shyly to his lips, and 
 with a whispered, " It's so nice to wake up and find you 
 here," floated off again on the stream of sleep. 
 
 Thrusting a hat on her head, Christine stole softly
 
 253 
 
 down the stairs, through the dining-room and vaulted 
 the veranda rail. She would keep her errand a se- 
 cret, until she should return, banners flying and 
 proudly proclaim her victory over the monster, Joshua 
 Barton. 
 
 On the lawn she quickened her already hurried pace 
 to a run, but her steps lagged when she reached the 
 clipped archway in the hedge that screened the " Lonely 
 House." The warring of her moods stayed her for 
 a breath. He had forbidden her to enter his grounds, 
 and she had vowed by all that she held sacred never 
 to address him by word or look. She couldn't break 
 faith with herself. But perhaps Laurie's life was at 
 stake. Her pride against his life. 
 
 With her head high poised, shoulders up and her 
 steps firmly crunching the gravel of the path as if she 
 were treading her pride under her heel, she advanced 
 toward the garden-chair where the master of the house 
 spent his afternoons. To her stirprise the chair was 
 unoccupied, but blankets, rugs and cushions were 
 strewn about in great disorder as if the spot had been 
 hastily abandoned. 
 
 Christine's eyes looked forth with a proud direct- 
 ness when Mark opened the door. Unquestionably he 
 gasped when he saw her. "I you " he stam- 
 mered, and stopped, a slow red mounting to the thin 
 fringe of graying hair that lay along his forehead. 
 
 " I want to see Mr. Barton." The girl spoke with 
 a grave deliberation. 
 
 "Mr. Barton!" For all of a minute the man 
 seemed too overcome to speak. He stood, open- 
 mouthed, as if amazed at her daring, and made no 
 move to admit her.
 
 254 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 " Yes ; Mr. Barton," Christine repeated a bit impa- 
 tiently, " But," she added hastily, with the flicker of a 
 smile, " you needn't trouble to announce me." 
 
 The man suddenly seemed to come to a realization 
 of his duties. " Yes, Miss, this way, Miss," he said, 
 and led her into a hall that to her eyes, dazzled with 
 sunlight, seemed dark as a tomb. 
 
 Before a door, closed and heavily curtained in vel- 
 vet, he paused. " Perhaps I'd better warn tell you, 
 Miss, Mr. Barton's not in a very good way to-day. 
 He met with er a slight accident a short time 
 back, and he's not fully recovered himself." 
 
 The animation of curiosity was in Christine's voice. 
 " I thought something must have happened the 
 cushions and things looked so tumbled about. Was 
 he hurt?" 
 
 " Mostly his feelings, Miss." Mark drew his hand 
 across his lips. Christine was certain he wiped away 
 a smile. " He waked from his nap, he tells me, to find 
 himself alive with er mud-turtles, Miss." 
 
 The gold-brown eyes lighted with a growing sur- 
 prise, then, in spite of herself, she broke into a spon- 
 taneous laugh. The next instant she grew sober. 
 " Those naughty twinnies. I'm afraid they haven't 
 helped our cause." 
 
 A smile openly touched the man's lips for the first 
 time. " It was a rare sight, Miss. The turtles were 
 crawling over him thick as flies about a jelly-jar, and 
 it almost cost me my position, but I had to laugh. 
 How those little scamps ever managed it, but trust 'em 
 to plan a bit of mischief! They're real young 'uns." 
 An unmistakable note of admiration rang in his voice. 
 " I took a fancy to 'em at first sight, but they're not
 
 CHRISTINE'S SURPRISE BASKET 255 
 
 like the lame 'un," he added, as if to himself. " Might 
 I make so bold as to inquire of you, Miss, how his 
 health is to-day?" 
 
 " He's a very little better, thank you, Mark. I'm 
 so grateful to you for carrying him in, and " 
 
 " Begging your pardon, Miss, for interrupting, but 
 it was nothing. I wish I could have done a sight 
 more. I've been thinking about him and wondering. 
 You see, Mrs. Amelia promised to signal me every day 
 how he is, but she's been too busy or she forgot, I 
 fancy." 
 
 " Why didn't you telephone or come yourself ? " 
 
 " You don't know Mr. Barton," was the man's sig- 
 nificant reply. " You'd better go in now. He'll soon 
 be working over his accounts, and no one is allowed 
 to see him then. I have it. I'll serve tea while you 
 are with him. Tea always er rather soothes 
 him." With that he parted the curtains and opened 
 the door for her. 
 
 She diffused with her entrance a radiance of youth- 
 ful life into the dim, high-ceiled, old-fashioned room 
 with its furniture of black walnut, massive and price- 
 less. Despite the warmth of the July day, the mas- 
 ter of the house sat muffled in shawls in a huge arm- 
 chair before a grate-fire which was casting fantastic 
 shadows on ceiling and wall. 
 
 " Why the devil don't you bring my tea? " he thun- 
 dered at the sound of footfalls. " You know I'm suf- 
 fering torments, you chucklehead." 
 
 A moment passed a moment or a century. 
 
 " Mark has gone to get it," answered Christine 
 quietly, over the stormy beating of her heart. 
 
 Joshua Barton twisted his head to look over his
 
 256 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 shoulder and stared. To Christine's excited fancy he 
 seemed to be staring not at her, but through her, be- 
 yond her. 
 
 When he spoke, it was as if he were still in the daze 
 of a dream. "Where did you come from?" His 
 voice was choked and husky. " It's been years now, 
 and I've been waiting waiting. I knew you'd 
 come." 
 
 Not a sound broke the stillness in the room for a 
 brief interval of time but the snapping of the logs on 
 the hearth. Suddenly the flames leaped high and il- 
 lumined the face and form of the girl who stood un- 
 certainly well within the room. A wave of blood 
 surged to the old man's face and receded, leaving him 
 pallid and shaking with passion. He struck his hand 
 down on the chair-arm with a thunderous bang. 
 " How dare you come here ? Didn't I tell you I'd 
 throw you out neck and crop if ever you showed your 
 face again on my premises ? " 
 
 " It took some courage to come in face of that 
 threat," Christine had advanced to the arm-chair, and 
 stood within range of his eye. She spoke calmly, 
 though her nerves were tingling, and her heart beat in 
 her throat. Let him carry out his threat. She was 
 not afraid. She was afraid of nothing now. Laurie's 
 life was her stake. " And if my love hadn't been 
 stronger than my pride, I couldn't have made myself 
 come." 
 
 " Love ! " he hooted mockingly, and shot at her a 
 glance of frankest scorn. " Love for me, I suppose. 
 You're probably worried about my soul, and want me 
 to subscribe to some old woman's home or a school 
 for wild girls or some other fool enterprise to ensure
 
 CHRISTINE'S SURPRISE BASKET 257 
 
 me a seat in Paradise. But I tell you I won't give you 
 a cent, not a cent, I say." He emphasized his last 
 words with another smash of his fist against the wood 
 of the chair. 
 
 For several long, endless moments after he finished 
 the silence remained unbroken ; then she said, " I don't 
 want a cent from you. It's a favor that won't cost 
 you" 
 
 " A favor," he sneered. " You, you dare ask me 
 for a favor. You Trevor ! Humph, I'll not go 
 into that. Accounts are almost squared now," his 
 laugh sent a bolt of fire through her. " Ha, ha ! ' The 
 mills of the gods grind slowly.' Your father had to 
 come and beg on bended knees for a favor, oh, not for 
 himself, to be sure," his sarcasm cut the girl like a 
 whip-stroke. " It was for his precious St. Mark's 
 fund. That was to buy him a front seat in heaven, I 
 dare say." 
 
 " So it was you." Christine was hardly conscious 
 that she spoke aloud. A fragment of Mr. Graves' con- 
 fidence to Dr. Denton, overheard in the latter's office, 
 started unbidden from a memory-cell. " I long to 
 assure him with my own tongue he's the murderer of 
 John Trevor, as fine a man as God ever set on this 
 wicked old earth had he negotiated that loan, there'd 
 be dozens, yes, hundreds, of widows and orphans of 
 St. Mark's that wouldn't be crying their eyes out this 
 day " 
 
 The quiet scorn of her tone lashed him into sudden 
 fury. " Yes, it was I, and there are other scores to 
 pay. You, it was you who turned my nephew against 
 me. Oh, I know you and your kind. You coax the 
 heart out of a man's breast with your pretty ways,
 
 258 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 and then toss it aside like a broken toy for another 
 your fancy suggests. And you're not satisfied to turn 
 that boy loose in the world. You must set those little 
 beggars to torturing me." An involuntary shudder 
 racked his emaciated frame. " Ugh, I can feel them 
 yet, crawling, crawling." 
 
 " I suppose it's perfectly useless for me to try to 
 explain. You won't believe me, anyhow; but I'm 
 sorry, ever so sorry, about those mud-turtles. The 
 twins were very naughty they shall be punished, but 
 they didn't realize, they're just kiddies " 
 
 " Huh," he snorted, " it's enough to cost me my life, 
 a man in my state. Fine mother you make," he went 
 off on another tangent of fury. " What do you know 
 about bringing up children? " 
 
 " Nothing," she answered, with unexpected humil- 
 ity, and her words came a bit brokenly. " It's been, 
 oh, so hard. But," she raised her head and looked 
 straight into eyes that were sharp as needle-points, 
 " you're wrong, all wrong, Mr. Barton ; Douglas did 
 not leave you because of me. He wasn't happy " 
 
 " He wasn't happy, and I'd like to know why not," 
 interrupted the other, with fierce intensity. " A boy 
 picked out of the gutter " 
 
 She waited until his rage had expended itself in in- 
 coherent mutterings and threats. There was a brief 
 conflict in Christine's mind; then either because she 
 knew that her cause was already lost or realized with 
 her native quickness of comprehension that here was a 
 rare opportunity to plead for Douglas, she said boldly, 
 " You didn't give Doug a chance. You were trying 
 to make him a second Joshua Barton, and he never
 
 CHRISTINE'S SURPRISE BASKET 259 
 
 could be that. He's a born poet, and you can't make 
 a money-grubber of a poet." 
 
 She waited, expecting a tornado of angry words. 
 Instead there was utter quiet. 
 
 " Did you come to ask a favor for my nephew? " he 
 demanded, after a moment, turning on her the full 
 battery of his cold, hard, deep-sunken eyes. 
 
 She met his regard steadily. Suddenly there came 
 to her a moment of vision. With the eye of sym- 
 pathy she penetrated the layer upon layer of harsh- 
 ness, selfishness, misanthropy, until she reached the 
 lonely, suffering heart of the man. 
 
 " No, Mr. Barton, but Douglas is one of my best 
 friends, and, wherever he is, I wish him God-speed." 
 
 " Wherever he is," she heard, or fancied she heard, 
 him repeat her words. 
 
 It was a full minute before either spoke. The old 
 man sat, head bowed, staring into the copper-colored 
 flames that were dancing on the hearth, and the girl 
 waited she hardly knew for what. 
 
 The quiet entrance of Mark with the tea-tray broke 
 the spell. 
 
 " Get out, you fool," the old man roared, raising a 
 crutch threateningly. " Don't you know better than 
 to disturb me when I'm occupied? " 
 
 Silently man and tray disappeared. 
 
 Mr. Barton's softened mood, if it had been a sof- 
 tened mood, had gone. His fingers were beating an 
 impatient tattoo on the chair-arm as he turned upon 
 his visitor with a harsh, " Well, out with it, young 
 lady. What brought you here? " 
 
 His insolence set her face aflame, but she managed
 
 26o CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 to answer calmly, " I want to rent Rain-on-the-Roof, 
 I mean our house, your house, the house you've just 
 bought, for one month. You see " 
 
 " No," he bellowed, " no, not for one day. I said 
 Saturday, and Saturday it is." 
 
 " My brother Laurie, the lame one," she persisted, 
 as quietly as the fire of her wrath would let her, " was 
 thrown almost under the street-car yesterday, and the 
 doctor said he must not be moved for a month." 
 
 " H'm." He tapped the ends of his fleshless fin- 
 gers together as he appeared to hesitate, then his jaws 
 clamped and his face hardened until it was like stone. 
 " Life's been one round of torture for me since you 
 you Trevors came, that fiddling, those little beggars. 
 No, I said Saturday, and Saturday it is." With a per- 
 emptory wave of the hand he dismissed her. 
 
 The next day was Christine's twentieth birthday. 
 The early morning mail brought her two letters from 
 Cort which she promptly locked away with a growing 
 collection of others in her desk-drawer. He was trav- 
 eling about in the mountains, she knew, and that final 
 letter of hers had not as yet reached him. Later in 
 the morning a great florist's box was delivered to her, 
 and presently twenty splendid yellow orchids were 
 shedding an incense in the room. Cort had remem- 
 bered her fancy for yellow orchids. An hour before 
 noon she was busily packing books in the living-room 
 when Amelia appeared with a small package. 
 
 Christine dropped to the floor with a tired sigh, and 
 unwrapped the paper covering from a green satin box. 
 Releasing the catch, she saw a magnificent large square- 
 cut emerald outlined in diamonds attached to the mer- 
 est thread of a platinum chain. Mechanically she read
 
 CHRISTINE'S SURPRISE BASKET 261 
 
 the enclosed card. " For the wife-to-be of Cortland 
 Van Ness." 
 
 A grim little smile touched her lips as she repeated 
 under her breath, " For the wife-to-be of Cortland 
 Van Ness, yes, but not for Christine Trevor." 
 
 For a moment she gazed contemplatively at the 
 lovely jewel. Once it would have thrilled her with 
 delight. Now she found herself wondering its pre- 
 cise worth several thousand dollars, she presumed. 
 That would mean boots and socks and other things for 
 the twins and a trip to the seashore for Laurie and 
 She brought herself up with a start, and thrusting the 
 necklace into the case, closed it with a vicious snap 
 and slipped the box into an apron pocket. It should 
 presently be added to the desk-drawer collection. 
 
 Other gifts came during the day, a bunch of wild- 
 flowers gathered and presented by two small persons 
 with damp hair and grimy hands, but with eyes and 
 lips brimful of love. A beautifully framed miniature 
 of her father from Laurie brought quick tears to her 
 eyes. Hardly had she wiped them away when again 
 they overflowed at sight of Amelia's gift, a small knit- 
 ted purse of silk, every stitch of which must have 
 pained the old, knotted, rheumatic hands. Misery, 
 too, came presently to lay her offering of a hand-em- 
 broidered towel at the shrine of her adored young 
 mistress, and Freddy Blue had in some mysterious way 
 learned the importance of the day, for Tommy trotted 
 in about mid-afternoon with a loving note and a batch 
 of famous " Blue " cookies. 
 
 But though the hours were crowded with the labor 
 of packing, Christine was waiting with the eager im- 
 patience of her nature for another gift that had never
 
 262 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 yet failed to arrive on her birthday since she had be- 
 gun on her teens. Docky always remembered her 
 with a basket of white roses, and buried somewhere in 
 the basket she was sure to find another smaller token, 
 sometimes a tiny gold thimble, again a jeweled pencil, 
 or a brooch or some one of the hundred trinkets that 
 intrigue a young girl's fancy. She had never out- 
 grown the ever-new enchantment of surprise. As the 
 afternoon wore on, her eyes would wander to the 
 clock on the mantel. It had never come as late as 
 this. Surely he had not forgotten. But when she 
 ran out into the garden to fill her young lungs with a 
 breath of air, and saw that the white stars had al- 
 ready grown visible in the deep-blue night sky, her 
 heart sank. He had forgotten. Well, she supposed 
 she must learn the hard lesson; it was Freddy, not 
 she, who 
 
 A roadster swung up the carriage drive and Dr. 
 Denton sprang out. She felt a wild thrill of joy. 
 Impulsively she began to run toward him, then a shy- 
 ness held her where she was. She would wait until 
 he had passed into the house, then But he spied 
 her, slim and white as a nymph hovering close to a 
 great bush of syringa which was filling the dusk with 
 a heavy, palpitating sweetness. 
 
 She could not lift her eyes when he came toward 
 her, and called her name. She could not lift her eyes 
 when he caught both of her hands in one of his. What 
 .he was saying, she could not for the life of her have 
 told. She only knew that every pulse was throbbing, 
 throbbing, and her heart was singing to the music of 
 his voice. 
 
 His laugh, which always sent thrills of happiness
 
 CHRISTINE'S SURPRISE BASKET 263 
 
 through her, suddenly rang out, and she came out of 
 her daze to hear him say, " You're dreaming, Goldi- 
 locks. I believe I've made all my pretty speeches in 
 vain. Well," he said, with a quick glance at his 
 watch, " I haven't time to repeat them. I'm on my 
 way to the hospital now. This has been a rushed day 
 enough work for two. I've been figuring around 
 the last few hours how I could get out here. I fairly 
 stole the time, as it is. I'll look in on Laurie, and 
 when I come to-morrow, we can talk over the final 
 arrangements to have him brought to my apartments 
 until the fuss of moving is over." 
 
 Together they walked across the moon-white lawn, 
 that is, in all probability, Dr. Denton walked, but 
 Christine floated on threads of moonlight. Not until 
 they were ascending the steps, her feet still light as 
 Mercury's, did she see that he carried a basket of 
 roses. 
 
 " A few posies for you, Princess Goldilocks," he 
 said, when they were well within the living-room. And 
 once more the thought struck him r.s she stood, eyes 
 downcast, the light from the soft-shaded table-lamp 
 striking golden lights from her red-gold hair that she 
 was like a fresh-cut, fragrant flower. 
 
 Silently she held out her hands for the gift, but now 
 she lifted her eyes to him. They were cloudily sweet, 
 and her lips were smiling. " I'm so happy," she said 
 in a breathless whisper, and her smile deepened at his 
 answer, " I wish I were your fairy godmother to keep 
 you always so." 
 
 The room was singularly quiet for a moment, while 
 he looked at her as if he were trying to gauge her. 
 Then, with a quickly suppressed sigh, he gravely im-
 
 264 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 parted, " I thought long and hard, Goldilocks, before 
 I decided on your birthday basket this year. You'll 
 find a package that was entrusted to me long ago, to 
 be given to you when you were a young lady. Unless 
 I'm mistaken, you're grown up now." 
 
 Christine smiled up at him suddenly with an un- 
 looked-for and alluring audacity. " I'm a real grown- 
 up, Docky. I feel it in every bone." Then with one 
 of her quick transitions from gaiety to soberness, she 
 moved imperceptibly closer, and clasping his arm with 
 both hands in a childishly appealing fashion, said, 
 " So much has happened since you came back I haven't 
 had time to tell you, and even now I know every min- 
 ute of your time is precious, but I want you to know 
 I'm going to earn a living for the family by dancing. 
 Professor Armande thinks I can soon accept an en- 
 gagement." 
 
 She waited for a storm of protest. It was not 
 forthcoming, but after a moment, in which he looked 
 down at her in a puzzled sort of way, he rejoined, 
 " Cort'll have something to say on that subject, I fancy. 
 Isn't he homeward bound now? " 
 
 Cort's name was magic to unlock her clasp. "I 
 I don't know," her lips trembled, and for a heart's beat 
 she held out her ringless left hand to him. 
 
 There was in his eyes sympathy, understanding, ten- 
 derness, she hardly knew what. But whatever it was 
 brought a quick blur of tears, and turning, she sped 
 from the room.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 A DIARY 
 
 The bedtime story had to be told to the twins and 
 the last visit of the night paid to Laurie before Chris- 
 tine was free to give herself up to the delights of the 
 " surprise " basket. Even then, she sat for a long 
 time at the window, dreaming out into the midsummer 
 dusk, while the roses offered her their incense un- 
 heeded. 
 
 Presently she roused herself, and snapping on the 
 desk-lamp close beside her, in the rich golden light it 
 shed over her and the surroundings, began to explore. 
 Beneath the roses buried in a bed of moss she found 
 a small, beaten silver jewel-box, with her initials beau- 
 tifully engraved, and inside on its yellow satin bed 
 lay Dr. Denton's card of birthday good wishes. 
 
 A shadow of disappointment passed over her face. 
 Was that all? Why had Docky been so mysterious 
 and what had he meant when he said, " You'll find a 
 package that was entrusted to me long ago? " There 
 must be something else. 
 
 At the very bottom of the basket she found it, a 
 small package carefully wrapped and tied. It was 
 addressed to " my darling daughter, Christine, to be 
 given to her when she is old enough to understand." 
 
 With fingers that trembled, Christine threw off the 
 wrappings. It was a diary written in her mother's 
 hand. For a long, long time, the girl sat, head bowed, 
 
 265
 
 266 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 lost in memories of her beautiful and adored young 
 mother. 
 
 The delicate chimes of a clock on the desk warned of 
 the lateness of the hour. Reverently she touched the 
 book. It fell open at the last entry. It was dated 
 the day before the birth of the twins. She read, 
 
 " The thought has been strong upon me for the past 
 few days that the sands of my life are running, run- 
 ning short. So I am trying to get my house in order. 
 In setting my desk to rights this morning, I came upon 
 my dear little old diary, and it, once the confidante of 
 all my joys and sorrows, vividly has revived the past 
 that I hoped was buried beneath the happiness the 
 years have brought me. 
 
 " But to-night it all comes back, and I can not run 
 away from it as in other times. Perhaps it will ease 
 my heart to write it out. My husband, fond lover 
 that he's been all these years, would never let me 
 speak of it. He's always said we turned the lock on 
 the past, and threw the key away. Perhaps I shall 
 leave this confession for my little Christine. It may 
 help her to know the mother she is soon to lose. The 
 chance may be given to her to right my wrong. Who 
 knows? Inexplicable are the ways of Providence." 
 
 A' rush of tears blurred the letters. On the screen 
 of her memory had flashed a picture. She could see it 
 clearly in all its details, the nursery in the twilight 
 hour with only the wavering flames from the grate- 
 fire for light, and herself at the feet of her golden- 
 haired mother. She could hear her mother in low- 
 voiced musing, " It may be left for you to right a 
 wrong of mine. But, no, child, you're too young to 
 have your life shadowed with my burden. Per-
 
 A DIARY 267 
 
 haps " She had stopped on half a word at the un- 
 expected appearance of the master of the house. 
 
 " It all seems so long ago, I hardly know where to 
 begin," the little diary went on, " but if it is to be 
 made clear to Christine and keep her young soul clean 
 of the taint of selfishness that has always been my 
 sin, I must try to tell everything truthfully. There 
 must be no concealment, hard as it is to tear open 
 one's very own heart. But my husband must never 
 see this. It would wound him deeply, and he might 
 think I had regrets, and regrets I never have had, not 
 for even a second. But he might not understand. So 
 I shall give this into the keeping of our friend and 
 physician, Dr. Denton, as a trust for my little girl. 
 
 " Perhaps it will be easier for me if I tell it to you, 
 darling Christie, and so with your trustful eyes on 
 my face, your hand in my hand, I shall make my con- 
 fession. 
 
 " To-night my guilt weighs as heavily upon me as 
 if I had killed some one, for I have done worse than 
 rob a man of his life. I left him alive but without a 
 heart, and with faith in mankind gone forever. 
 
 " You must know, my little Christie, that when 
 barely a year older than you, I found myself utterly 
 alone in the world, without a blood relative. My 
 father was a mill-owner, and accounted a wealthy 
 man. The last few years of his life he outlived 
 mother less than three years we traveled every- 
 where to rebuild his health. Mother had been a 
 beauty, and he worshipped me because I was her 
 replica, so I grew up, spoiled, selfish, with not a 
 thought for anyone else or anything else but my own 
 immediate pleasure.
 
 268 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 " On father's death, which happened very suddenly 
 in a small Italian lake-town, my guardian came to 
 take me home. I had never seen him before. He 
 was a college friend of father's, a shy, silent, bookish 
 man who led a singularly lonely life in spite of his 
 great inherited wealth because of an accident in his 
 boyhood which set him on crutches for the rest of his 
 life. From the very first he was my abject slave. 
 Father had, as I said before, overindulged me, but to 
 my guardian I was all of life. He was as alone in 
 the world as I. He had a brother, I remember 
 vaguely now he mentioned him once but there 
 had been some quarrel and they never came together 
 again. He seemed to live only to gratify my desires 
 almost before they were conceived. Surely no princess 
 of royal blood had more lavish gifts showered upon 
 her, and he sent far and wide for the best tutors. I 
 had a small, rather sweet voice, and he spent a fortune 
 to cultivate it. He was passionately fond of music, 
 and could play the violin in a masterly fashion. He 
 was always my accompanist and after all these years 
 I can still see the light shining in his sunken eyes 
 when I'd sing his favorite, ' Oh, that we two were 
 Maying.' 
 
 " Money meant nothing to me, I had an unlimited 
 spending account, and spent it like water in peacock- 
 ing myself, and whatever whimsy of fashion I chose 
 to dance after, my guardian admired me as if I had 
 been a reigning beauty. 
 
 " The night of my eighteenth birthday he came out 
 of his shell for my sake, and gave a splendid coming- 
 out ball. I had just slipped away from the hands of 
 my maid who had decked me out in a perfect fairy
 
 A DIARY 269 
 
 confection of lace and tulle for the great event, when 
 he entered my dressing-room. I shall never forget 
 his eyes when he saw me. They seemed fairly ablaze. 
 Somehow I was frightened when he clasped on my 
 throat a string of pink pearls that would have turned 
 the head of even an older and more experienced 
 woman. 
 
 " Suddenly he caught me by the shoulders and drew 
 me close to him, and kissed me, then kissed me again 
 and again, and again until I was limp and breathless. 
 I never could remember afterwards how it came about, 
 but when the guests arrived a great ruby was burning 
 on my engagement finger, and I was presented to the 
 world as my guardian's affianced wife. 
 
 "Of course, he could not dance, but I could feel 
 those eyes of his watching, watching me, whenever a 
 partner came to claim me for a dance, and I could 
 feel them following me wherever I went. 
 
 " I remember as clearly as if it had happened yes- 
 terday that the clock was striking twelve when there 
 was a stir among the guests, and everybody crowded 
 toward the door to welcome a newcomer. I remem- 
 ber, too, I pouted and refused to break off an un- 
 usually pleasant waltz to meet the stranger, and even 
 when my guardian insisted, as usual I had my way. 
 It was not until I was in my proper setting, as I chose 
 to think it, in the rose-bower my guardian had had 
 set up for me at one end of the ballroom, that I 
 deigned to meet him. When I looked into his eyes, I 
 knew only one emotion I was sorry I had delayed 
 meeting him for five whole minutes. He was the 
 young man who owned the house next door, closed 
 since his father's death a year before, while he was
 
 270 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 globe-trotting. He had but just arrived home, he told 
 me, and had hastened to pay his respects, late though 
 they were, to his debutante neighbor." 
 
 " Why, he was father. How perfectly thrilling ! " 
 Christine cried out, in sudden amazement. " I'm be- 
 ginning to understand. A thousand things are clear 
 now. So that's why Joshua Barton " 
 
 She was deep in the diary again. 
 
 " From that time on the rest of the evening slipped 
 by like a dream. I only remember I cut all the dances 
 to sit in the conservatory with him or wander through 
 the gardens on his arm or dance together to the music 
 in our hearts. 
 
 " For the first time I learned the blackness and fury 
 of my guardian's temper. But I did not heed his 
 ravings. I listened and smiled, for my heart was 
 singing. 
 
 " And day by day the song in my heart grew sweeter 
 and more exquisite, as day by day my next-door neigh- 
 bor sought me out. We sang and played together, 
 boated, drove, rode horseback, and danced the hours 
 of night away in each other's arms. 
 
 " Then came the night when we confessed our love 
 for each other, and we said we should die of our di- 
 vine madness if we were kept apart. He wanted me 
 to be married that night we were at a house-party 
 at his aunt's country home, and she openly favored 
 our love. But over ail these years the thought comes 
 to comfort me I first gave back my troth to Joshua 
 Barton before I became your father's wife. 
 
 " It was a bitter time I had with my guardian. 
 Even yet his curses and threats of revenge ring in my 
 ears. I can still see his face distorted with fury as he
 
 A DIARY 271 
 
 screamed, " You've lived on my bounty all these years. 
 Your father died penniless. Sometime I'll get it back, 
 penny upon penny, and interest too, for the heart's 
 blood you've wrung from me." 
 
 " And he's kept his word," Christine caught her 
 breath quiveringly. " But for him father might still 
 be alive and St. Mark's fund Laurie the doll- 
 house of a bungalow." She was too agitated from all 
 she had read to think clearly. Her mind shuttled 
 from one item to another. Another memory glinted 
 in her tired brain, Joshua Barton as she had seen him 
 that afternoon in her one moment of vision. " But, 
 oh, mother, he's a poor lonely old man." 
 
 Her eyes were again on the little diary when the 
 night's stillness was broken by the quick, sharp bark 
 of a dog. Again it came, and again. Wrinkles! 
 Christine sprang to her feet. 
 
 Amelia must have neglected to bed him as usual in 
 the barn. She must get to him before he waked 
 Laurie. 
 
 " Wrinkles," Christine whistled softly as she let 
 herself out by the front door. " Wrinkles, this way, 
 old boy," she called again, and sped over the lawn. 
 He was racing like mad towards the Barton grounds 
 and barking with all his small might. At the sound 
 of her voice he darted back, leaped about her in cir- 
 cles, and still barking madly, ran ahead of her. What 
 possessed the creature to run as if the fiends were 
 after him? Was she dreaming, or was that a plume 
 of smoke rising from the "Lonely House" tower? 
 She stopped for an instant, and stared. It was smoke. 
 Then a tongue of fire lifted itself and was gone. Her 
 weary mind groped for a heart-beat, then she knew.
 
 272 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 That tower was Joshua Barton's bedroom, and it 
 was on fire. 
 
 Christine was always a good runner, but she beat 
 her own record that night in reaching the Barton 
 front-door. She rang three times, before there was 
 any signs of life, then she heard some one stirring, 
 and after a minute to her it seemed an hour 
 Mark in bathrobe and slippers was inquiring sleepily 
 what the disturbance was all about. He still moved 
 mechanically as in the haze of a dream, even after her 
 quick, excited explanation, so it was she who com- 
 manded the situation, and curiously enough, it was 
 she who raced ahead up the stairs to the tower-room. 
 She had no sense of strangeness. Instead she ex- 
 perienced a sudden vivid feeling that she had mounted 
 those steps countless times before. Perhaps the last- 
 ing impression on her mother's brain had somehow 
 descended to her. Perhaps she obeyed some impulse 
 of her subconscious mind. Howbeit, unerringly she 
 made her way to Joshua Barton's room, once her 
 mother's boudoir, through the cloud of smoke that 
 was already pouring out into the upper hallway. The 
 memory of her mother hung so strangely over her 
 that she had the sensation of being perfectly at home. 
 
 It was Christine who flung open the door, and beat 
 her way, choking, strangled, blinded, into the smoke- 
 filled room. It was Christine, too, who helped Mark 
 who was beginning to assemble his scattered senses, 
 half-carry, half-drag his unconscious master down the 
 rear stairs a burst of flames had already cut off the 
 front staircase and into the living-room. 
 
 " We can't stay here," panted Christine, as the 
 crackling of the flames grew louder, and smoke began
 
 A DIARY 273 
 
 to seep in through the closed door. " The whole house 
 is afire. We must get him out." 
 
 "But where?" Mark wrung his hands helplessly. 
 " I'm here alone. Mr. Barton discharged the three 
 Mexican servants to-day, and " 
 
 " You're not alone. I'm here. We'll carry him 
 over to my house, and then you turn in the alarm." 
 
 " Your house, Miss." 
 
 Amazement paralyzed him for a moment, then to- 
 gether they managed to carry the dead weight of 
 Joshua Barton across what seemed, at least to Chris- 
 tine's tight nerves and straining muscles, an unending 
 stretch of lawn, and into what had been John Trevor's 
 boyhood home. On her own bed they laid him, still 
 unmindful of where he was or what was going on. 
 
 " I'll get 'Melia to look after him. You turn in the 
 alarm while I'll hot-foot it for his doctor it's Dr. 
 Marsh, isn't it, that I've seen coming to your house? 
 Our phone's been out of order since yesterday. Now 
 don't waste time arguing. You can do more good 
 here than I. You see, I'll be back before you know 
 I'm gone." 
 
 Christine's tone was as cool and matter-of-fact as 
 if it were a mere commonplace for her to be going for 
 a doctor for Joshua Barton in the dead of night 
 through several deserted streets. 
 
 The hall-clock had pealed three times, when at last 
 she threw her weary self on a bed which Misery had 
 improvised for her in the nursery. 
 
 " I'm afraid you'll have a longer visit from Joshua 
 Barton than you're reckoning on." Dr. Marsh's part- 
 ing words repeated themselves over and over in her 
 tired brain in her last moments of consciousness.
 
 274 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 " Both he and his home are a wreck. You've taken 
 upon yourself a hard task, young lady. I'm sorry for 
 you." 
 
 During the subsequent days Christine found she had 
 undertaken a hard task, one that sometimes strained to 
 the breaking-point nerves, strength, patience, but she 
 never felt sorry for herself. It was a task of love 
 she had undertaken. She was trying to make repara- 
 tion for her mother's old-time broken promise. 
 
 Though only Mark was allowed in the sick-room, 
 Christine devised many unobtrusive ways and means 
 of contributing to the patient's comfort, and in her 
 heart rejoiced at each opportunity to serve him. One 
 morning she was preparing his breakfast tray with 
 their finest egg-shell china and old silver when Mark 
 appeared in the doorway. 
 
 " I'm a bit late this morning," she apologized. " He 
 isn't any worse?" she asked, looking up in sudden 
 alarm at Mark's unusual silence. 
 
 He shook his head. " Better, I should say. First 
 time he's sworn at me. But but something's up. 
 He wants to see you right away. If he gets nasty - 
 
 " Don't look so worried. He isn't going to bite 
 my head off. He probably wants to tell us our room's 
 worth our company. To-morrow's moving day for 
 us, you know. I'll come when he's finished break- 
 fast." 
 
 Joshua Barton had breakfasted, and with appetite, 
 from the appearance of the tray when Christine tapped 
 and slipped into the room. 
 
 Propped high among the pillows, he looked thin- 
 ner, more forbidding than ever. His face, always 
 pale, had a strange clay-like color, and his deep-sunken
 
 A DIARY 275 
 
 eyes were cold and hard like gray stone, but there was 
 that in the trembling lips and chin, in the working of 
 the thin fingers, in the air of helplessness, that tugged 
 appealingly at her heart-strings. 
 
 " Good morning," she said, and on a sudden im- 
 pulse held out both her hands. 
 
 He stared, the picture of amazement, but made no 
 move to take her hands. She felt as if icy water had 
 been dashed into her face. There was a moment of 
 quiet in which a clock on her dressing-table ticked. 
 
 " You sent for me," she said at last. 
 
 Still he studied her face without speaking, then 
 " Why did you do it ? " The words seemed to fall 
 from his lips without his own volition. 
 
 " Do what? " she parried, having arrived at one of 
 her characteristically swift decisions that serenity 
 would be her best card. Regardless of provocation, 
 she would keep unruffled. She would bear in mind 
 that last entry in her mother's diary. 
 
 " Save my life, get the doctor in the middle of the 
 night, turn yourself out of here for me " he set her 
 head spinning with his cyclonic rejoinder. " Now 
 don't say it was nothing," he blazed at her suddenly, 
 as she opened her lips to speak. " No mock-modesty 
 with me. My life may mean nothing to you, but 
 strange to say, it has still some worth to me, and the 
 doctor tells me a quarter of an hour more in that 
 smoke " He finished with an expressive gesture. 
 
 Christine pondered the situation for a moment. 
 With a sudden inrush of perception, she understood 
 that much depended on this interview and she real- 
 ized, too, that her answer to his question was the crux 
 of the whole interview. With nice deliberation she
 
 276 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 told the truth. " I didn't stop to think. I just did 
 what I did. I'd have done it for anyone." 
 
 " Humph," he moved his head uneasily " not es- 
 pecially flattering. You'd have done it for anyone. 
 Well, perhaps that's not the point at issue. Why did 
 you do it? You saved my life, and that after yester- 
 day." 
 
 " Mark would probably have waked up, and " 
 
 " Not he, that blockhead," he interrupted rudely 
 " sleeps like a log at all times, and I've a private be- 
 lief Marsh doesn't hold with me, though that 
 those Mexicans fixed up his coffee so the fire could 
 make headway before he'd come to and realize what 
 was happening. Pretty little scheme of revenge. Al- 
 most cost my life. And now, young lady," he shot 
 his question at her with an insolence that made her 
 flame with quick anger, " what are your terms? " 
 
 "Terms? I haven't any." 
 
 " Terms, reward, whatever you choose to call it," he 
 returned, impatiently. " You saved my life, as I've 
 told you for the third or fourth time, and it isn't like 
 Joshua Barton to owe any human for anything. Name 
 your price." 
 
 Christine remained silent. Her thoughts were all 
 with the enshrined image of her mother. For her 
 dear sake she must contain herself, and control her 
 burning resentment. She continued to regard him 
 through lowered lashes while she fought for self-con- 
 trol. 
 
 Her absorption irritated him. 
 
 " Come, come, don't hesitate. Make your price 
 high as you like."
 
 A DIARY 277 
 
 Hot words rushed to her lips, but with a mighty 
 effort she held them back. 
 
 " I never thought of a reward," she insisted, " I'd 
 have done it for anyone. But, yes, there is something 
 I want in return." 
 
 " Out with it! " He made a gesture of impatience 
 as she paused, her eyes narrowed in thoughtfulness. 
 
 " Your friendship," she said, and there was a queer 
 little break in her voice like laughter and tears 
 blended. 
 
 For once words would riot come to Joshua Barton. 
 He could only stare in dumbfounded silence. 
 
 " This this," she groped an instant, then went on 
 quickly, " this feud has lasted long enough, don't you 
 think ? I do, and I want to do everything that's in my 
 power to make up " 
 
 " What's this ? Some new trick ? " was suddenly 
 snarled at her. Joshua Barton had recovered himself. 
 " My friendship ? I haven't such a thing. There is 
 no such thing as friendship. It's all self, self, self, in 
 this world. Come, what is it you want under the pre- 
 text of friendship ? Another month here ? " 
 
 It was Christine who interrupted this time. 
 
 " We move to-morrow, Mr. Barton." She stopped 
 and her lip quivered. Then she went on quietly, " I 
 never understood until last night why you hated us. 
 I do now. Mother wrote it out for me in her diary, 
 and oh, she was sorry so sorry, for you." 
 
 Her words again seemed to transfix him. He raised 
 bruised, deep-sunken eyes that told so plainly of his 
 suffering, but did not speak. He seemed to be apprais- 
 ing her. Steadily she met his regard. At last he said,
 
 278 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 and there was a subdued passion in his voice, "Will 
 you say that again ? " 
 
 Tremulously Christine repeated, " She was, oh, so 
 sorry for you." After a moment of silence she added, 
 " She hoped I could in some way make it up to you. 
 And, please, won't you let me try ? " 
 
 For another long, endless moment he fastened his 
 burning gaze upon her. It was as if he were trying 
 to plumb her very soul. Quietly she bore the fire of 
 his scrutiny. 
 
 " You mean it. But it's it's incredible." 
 
 Her cheeks were aglow and her eyes shimmered 
 with quick, high excitement. 
 
 " Oh, no, it isn't. Don't you see, mother always 
 felt she had wronged you, because she broke her word 
 to you. Of course, she couldn't help it father was 
 so perfectly wonderful but, anyhow, she passed it 
 on to me to be good to you an.d all that." 
 
 The sadness that is bred in loneliness suddenly came 
 upon him as he said, half aloud, " After all these 
 years." 
 
 Acutely attentive to every tone of his voice, Chris- 
 tine was quick to comprehend the softened mood, and 
 equally quick to press home the advantage. " It's a 
 pretty big debt after all these years, but Laurie and the 
 twins can help, too." 
 
 " Perhaps it would be as well not to include the 
 twins in the bargain," retorted Joshua Barton with 
 grim humor. " I rather fancy I'd not enjoy their 
 efforts." 
 
 . " But it is a bargain," Christine persisted and ex- 
 haled in an abandon of relief, " and you'll let Laurie 
 do his part ? "
 
 A DIARY 279 
 
 " Some people might say he'd already done his 
 part," was the enigmatical reply. 
 
 She looked at him quickly, her eyes widening with 
 surprise. "What " She checked herself sud- 
 denly, then harked back to her topic. " Shall we 
 shake hands on the bargain? " 
 
 " It's time for my nap," he snapped at her, with a 
 quick return of his old impatience. " Send that 
 blockhead Mark in at once." 
 
 She had already closed the door behind her when 
 he called her back. 
 
 " I can't stir for a month, Marsh says. Don't move 
 till I tell you to." 
 
 " But we're all ready " 
 
 "I'm not," he thundered at her; "would you turn 
 me out in the street?" 
 
 "No, but" 
 
 "But what?" 
 
 " You told us to be out of your house by Saturday." 
 
 " Humph ! Well, now I tell you to stay in your 
 house as long as you like."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 ST. MARK'S FUND 
 
 All that day and the next there was a battle royal 
 between Trevor pride and Barton will, and in the end 
 Trevor pride lost, or, at least, was forced to beat a 
 retreat. Everyone in Christine's small world Dr. 
 Denton, Dr. Marsh, Laurie, Amelia was speedily 
 ranged on Joshua Barton's side. To move was out 
 of the question for him in his present state, and for 
 Laurie, too, the upheaval would be anything but bene- 
 ficial. 
 
 " But we're all ready to move ; besides, we've paid 
 a month's rent," Christine advanced as a last argu- 
 ment to Dr. Denton. 
 
 He laughed, a delightful, boyish laugh. " Amelia 
 and Misery'll enjoy nothing so much in the world as 
 to put things in order again. And I rather fancy 
 those lovers Graves was telling me about that office 
 man and his fiancee who were so desperately in love 
 with that bungalow would rather enjoy occupying 
 it until " He paused significantly. 
 
 " Until," repeated Christine, who couldn't resist the 
 last word, " Joshua Barton's better and we can live 
 for ourselves." 
 
 But days and weeks slipped by, and Joshua Barton 
 was no better. At least, he declared he was not. Dr. 
 Marsh did not agree with him, and Mark openly voiced 
 
 280
 
 ST. MARK'S FUND 281 
 
 his opinion on that subject several times to Amelia. 
 
 " Heaven bless you," he burst out, coming into the 
 living-room late one morning, " but he's possessed 
 to-day. Third time I've fixed his lunch-tray, and it 
 don't suit yet. I know what he wants." 
 
 Amelia glanced up from her never-ending task of 
 darning small socks. Her shrewd old eyes were twin- 
 kling behind her spectacles. " So do I. But she isn't 
 here. She's havin' her dancing-lesson this mornin' 
 'stead of this afternoon." 
 
 " Queer thing," mused the man, " how different he 
 is when she comes in the room. He just eats her up 
 with his eyes, and no matter how he roars at her and 
 fights with her, she only laughs. She sure knows how 
 to take him. He's a changed man, I'm telling you, 
 Mrs. Amelia, not but what he's got a long way to go 
 yet before he's made over into pure angel, him with 
 that temper and that tongue." Mark paused. He 
 was not given to long speeches, but this morning he 
 apparently needed to unburden himself. 
 
 After a moment he went on, " And it's my private 
 opinion, Mrs. Amelia " he glanced cautiously about 
 and discreetly lowered^ his voice "it's my private 
 opinion, for your ear alone, Mrs. Amelia, he's never 
 going to get well enough to be moved from here." 
 
 Oddly enough, Amelia did not seem in the least dis- 
 concerted by this piece of news. " He ain't in my 
 way, I'm sure, and his board-money pays the rent 
 Christine was bound we owed him and leaves some- 
 thin' over." The old woman rocked contentedly, as 
 she rolled up the mended socks and stowed the ball 
 away in her basket. 
 
 " Miss Christine's a proud 'un, all right I was in.
 
 282 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 the next room and couldn't help overhearing her say, 
 ' You can't give me this house. We're going to pay 
 you rent as long as we live here,' and the old man 
 chuckled-like think of him chuckling and said, 
 ' Well, Missie, you won't object to my paying my 
 way,' and of course she couldn't object. I tell you, 
 Mrs. Amelia, it beats the Dutch the way that slip of a 
 girl has made friends with him." 
 
 The rocking suddenly stopped. " You appear to 
 think it's Miss Christine who's worked the change. 
 She's done wonders. Give credit, where credit's due, 
 says I, but I'm rather thinkin' my boy's had a hand 
 in it, too. Did you ever see a more contented pair 
 than that old man and my Laurie when they're to- 
 gether?" 
 
 " It's queer, it's more than passing queer," admitted 
 Mark, " how he's taken to that boy when the very 
 sight of him used to send him into a fit of rage, and 
 when he played that fiddle " His hands went out 
 in an expressive gesture. " Anyhow," he wound up 
 with the air of one who has reached an unalterable 
 decision, " Joshua Barton's a different man, and our 
 Miss Christine's had a hand in it. Mr. Douglas 
 wouldn't know him now." 
 
 " Doug wouldn't know him now." A voice in the 
 back of Christine's mind reiterated Mark's words one 
 August afternoon. She was standing in the doorway 
 of what had been her bedroom until the night of the 
 fire. Mr. Barton was in bed, but in a sitting position. 
 His face was still haggard and drawn as from pain, 
 but his eyes held a softer light and his lips were no 
 longer hard and grim. They had begun to learn the 
 trick of smiling. Eyes and lips were dreamily smil-
 
 ST. MARK'S FUND 283 
 
 ing now at the boy who in a chair drawn close to the 
 bedside was placing an exquisite barcarolle. 
 
 The girl in the doorway, unheard, unseen, scarcely 
 breathed lest she should break the spell. She wished 
 she could paint that picture, the old man in the rapt, 
 listening attitude, the boyish player with the illumined 
 face which still showed an undercurrent of melan- 
 choly, the room a pool of sunlight, and filled with the 
 drowsy, sweet scent of late roses a-blow. A sudden 
 pain gripped her and a lump knotted her throat. If 
 only her mother could be with her now to see with her 
 very own eyes 
 
 " That was the barcarolle father always loved," 
 Laurie's voice broke the stillness that followed the last 
 note. " I believe I worked harder on that than on 
 anything else in my life. Don't you remember I was 
 telling you about how discouraged I felt? I guess it 
 was in the very first letter." The boy gave the old 
 man a sudden, brilliant smile that lit up the somber 
 eyes and mournful young face. 
 
 " Remember ! I haven't forgotten a word. It 
 came as rather a surprise, you know, your offer to 
 adopt me because Wrinkles was gone and I must be 
 rather lonely." The harsh voice rumbled on, but 
 Christine heard no more, at least for a few moments. 
 She was busily thinking. The first letter Laurie had 
 written him. Her thoughts raced after this new scent. 
 Suddenly several small incidents spread over the last 
 few weeks linked themselves together and in a flash of 
 comprehension she knew. Laurie had posted a daily 
 letter brimming over with friendly message for his 
 lonely next-door neighbor. 
 
 " This is that Chopin valse I was trying to remem-
 
 284 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 ber yesterday," she heard Laurie say, as again he 
 tucked his bow under his chin, and now a glorious 
 harmony was flooding the air. When the last faint 
 tremor of sound was gone, Mr. Barton suddenly 
 snapped out, " No more to-day. You've tired me all 
 out." 
 
 Laurie smiled. His fine senses had long ago 
 gauged the man, and he knew that a display of tem- 
 per was his safety-valve for emotion. So lovingly he 
 encased his violin, and quietly remarked, " It's time 
 for your nap, Uncle Barty. I'll send Mark to you." 
 
 "Why doesn't he come of himself? He's neglect- 
 ing me shamefully these days. I'll fire him yet, if he 
 isn't mighty careful." 
 
 Again Laurie smiled and the eavesdropper smiled, 
 too. Already this was a familiar threat, and Mark in 
 his many years of service had learned to appreciate it 
 for what it was worth. 
 
 Laurie was reaching for his crutches, and Christine 
 had taken a step or two into the room to come to his 
 assistance when a remark of Mr. Barton's made her 
 withdraw hastily. " Just as well not to let Christine 
 know of those letters, Laurie. It's a secret between 
 us men, you understand. She she might hold it up 
 against me for trying to make you move after you'd 
 gone and adopted me; and I don't know as I'd blame 
 her if she did. It's kind of hard, though, teaching an 
 old dog new tricks." 
 
 " Douglas would have the surprise of his young life 
 if he could hear his uncle now with his very own ears," 
 went through Christine's mind as she slipped into the 
 nursery. " Believe me, if I knew his whereabouts 
 he'd hear from me muy pronto"
 
 ST. MARK'S FUND 285 
 
 A moment later, emerging casually from the nurs- 
 ery, she came upon Laurie just outside Mr. Barton's 
 door, with a well-feigned expression of surprise. 
 
 "You here? Isn't he napping?" she looked ques- 
 tioningly at her brother with a nod in the direction of 
 the closed door. " I thought " 
 
 But what she thought was never expressed in words, 
 for holding himself suspended on his crutches, Laurie 
 had fished a letter out of his pocket. " It's from 
 Doug. He wrote me a bully note, too." Enthusiasm 
 suddenly kindled his sensitive features. " Say, Chris, 
 but he's made a whopper of a mistake about his uncle. 
 He may be sort of prickly and and rough on the 
 outside, but he's a winner on the inside, just the 
 same." 
 
 " Yes," she said, absent-mindedly. She was lean- 
 ing against the wall, her eyes fairly leaping over the 
 closely written pages. 
 
 " We never got so so well acquainted as this 
 morning," the boy went on eagerly, too absorbed in 
 his own story to notice his sister's lack of attention, 
 " and somehow, I honestly don't know how it came 
 about, but there I was telling him all about father and 
 St. Mark's fund and" 
 
 " Eh? What? " demanded Christine suddenly, giv- 
 ing him a startled look. Now she wondered if her 
 policy of reticence had been wise. She had told 
 Laurie very little of their mother's story beyond the 
 fact that Joshua Barton had once been her guardian, 
 and she had seriously displeased him before her mar- 
 riage. " Did he was he what did he say ? " 
 She was rather white about the lips. 
 
 " He didn't say much at first. I thought he hadn't
 
 286 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 been listening. His eyes looked so so sort of far- 
 away. Then he said from all he'd heard it hadn't 
 been father's fault at all just a stroke of bad luck 
 that often happens to the best of men, and that a mis- 
 erly old fellow was to blame. He didn't tell who he 
 was, and of course I didn't ask him but," Laurie's 
 eyes flashed fire and his hands clenched on his crutches, 
 " but I'd beat him up if -I knew." 
 
 " Yes, yes, go on ! " she cried tensely. 
 
 " There isn't anything else to tell except that when 
 father saw the smash was coming, he went to this 
 this old miser, and begged for a loan just a few 
 days would have been enough, but he he wouldn't." 
 Laurie's voice broke in spite of himself, and he made 
 for his own room. 
 
 Christine stared with unseeing eyes at the closed 
 door. Her heart ached for the boy's suffering, while 
 a fierce resentment flamed up again toward the man 
 who had caused him this anguish. Wretched old 
 miser! If she could only hurt him half as hard 
 
 A thought came quick and sharp. Joshua Barton 
 had scourged himself. It must have been torture to 
 his proud spirit to make that confession, covert though 
 it was, to Laurie. It must have gone hard with him, 
 thus to abase himself, even though Laurie didn't un- 
 derstand. The resentment was gone. A quiver 
 caught her lips. He was a lonely, pain-stricken old 
 man and she would tell Douglas Barton so. He was 
 young, with the whole world before him. His imme- 
 diate duty was to look after his uncle, who had only 
 him to depend upon for comfort and cheer. 
 
 And that, with an airy unconcern for any advice to
 
 ST. MARK'S FUND 287 
 
 the contrary that she had given the young man before, 
 was the burden of the letter she wrote that afternoon. 
 
 " It's perfectly fine, Doug," was her concluding par- 
 agraph, " to think you're having such wonderful suc- 
 cess. Be sure to let me see every line of your poems 
 that magazine prints, but as I've said before, you can 
 write just as well here in Merrivale, and, besides, your 
 uncle needs you. We've adopted him as our Uncle 
 Barty, and it would do your heart good to hear him 
 and Laurie quarrel over the way a barcarolle or a 
 minuet is to be played on the violin oh, he's a dif- 
 ferent, different man, Doug, that is, most of the time. 
 He still has tantrums when the twins drop in uninvited 
 for a visit, but most times he's a perfect old dear. 
 Now write or, better yet, telegraph when you'll come, 
 and I'll be down at the depot in my aeroplane to meet 
 you." 
 
 The gold of the afternoon was already fading when 
 Christine went zigzagging across the lawn after post- 
 ing her letter to Douglas. Suddenly the late after- 
 noon stillness was broken by a loud " Hey, there, mis- 
 ter," and the sound of running feet. 
 
 Christine whirled about and saw Mark, his arms 
 filled with parcels which his master had sent him to 
 the city to purchase, halted by a boy in messenger's 
 uniform. Instantly the light of recognition appeared 
 in her eyes. The messenger was he of the snub-nose 
 and freckled face. They stood, man and boy, not ten 
 feet from where she was, and though she made a step 
 or two in the direction of the house, curiosity got the 
 better of her, and for the second time that day she 
 played the part of eavesdropper. The conversation
 
 288 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 was brief, but to Christine, at least, it was eminently 
 illuminating. It gave her a key to the mystery that 
 she had failed to puzzle out. 
 
 " Ain't seen ye lately at the office, mister." 
 
 " No." 
 
 " No more presents for that lame Trevor boy, mis- 
 ter?" 
 
 " No, he's better again. Besides, Mr. Barton's liv- 
 ing here now himself." 
 
 " Sort of miss the fun, mister, and the extra kale. 
 Oh, thanks, mister, that wasn't no hint, but say, it'll 
 come in mighty handy just the same. 'Night, mister." 
 
 Christine stood behind a great tasseled pine until 
 the front door had closed over Mark. Out of the full- 
 ness of the moment she smiled radiantly to herself. 
 
 So it was Joshua Barton who had played the part 
 of fairy godmother to Laurie. Would wonders never 
 cease? Those letters of Laurie's must have started 
 the thawing process. And, now, the warm sunshine 
 of the Trevor friendship was gradually melting all the 
 long accumulated snow and ice. Who knew but some 
 day Joshua Barton would have a real, honest-to-good- 
 ness heart ? 
 
 Then her vivid young fancy painted a pleasant pic- 
 ture of reconciliation between Joshua Barton and his 
 nephew, and she wouldn't have been Christine Trevor 
 if she hadn't sketched herself in as the central figure 
 smiling benignly on both men whose hands she had 
 just brought together in a vital clasp. 
 
 But with one quick stroke her sense of humor 
 erased the pleasant picture, and she laughed aloud. 
 " Same old center of the universe, aren't you? Well, 
 anyhow, it's a pretty fine universe, after all."
 
 ST. MARK'S FUND 289 
 
 A sudden ecstasy thrilled the girl at the quiet beauty 
 of the drowsy old garden in the calm of twilight, 
 and made her heart leap up. The sunset glow was 
 slowly fading and all bird song was hushed. She 
 caught her first glimpse of the moon, newborn and 
 exquisitely curved, poised over the tip of a tall pine. 
 Then her eyes moved to an elrn tree of lovely shape, 
 with its cloudy boughs lifted to the unbroken blue of 
 the sky. Her response to the thrill at her heart was 
 instant and uncontrollable. She went off into a dance 
 of delight, and her feet interpreted the thoughts that 
 rose within her of music and gladness and the intoxi- 
 cating joy of being alive. 
 
 When she stopped, the thrill at her heart had deep- 
 ened, until tears wet her cheeks. It was as if the 
 beauty of the outdoor world had suddenly stabbed 
 her wide awake, and she saw into the still fastness of 
 her spirit. An aching emotion overpowered her. In 
 a clarified moment she knew that she was winning 
 happiness not in self-seeking nor in a mad pursuit of 
 pleasure, but in the full breath of unselfishness, in an 
 outpouring of self for others. 
 
 For the next day or two Christine was unreasonably 
 consumed with impatience. To be sure, Douglas 
 couldn't possibly have reached Merrivale in that brief 
 interval of time, but he could have wired the time of 
 arrival. Every peal of the door-bell sent her heart 
 a-flutter and her feet flying to meet a telegraph messen- 
 ger. Then two or three more days lagged by, and 
 still no word from the absent nephew. Perhaps he 
 was out of town and her letter was still unread. Some 
 editor friend might have invited him for a week-end, 
 you know. A genius like Douglas would surely be
 
 290 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 besieged with invitations from editors anxious to con- 
 tract for his whole output. 
 
 Well, any moment now, she might expect a wire or 
 at least a special letter or, better still, the young man 
 in person. 
 
 Her thoughts had reverted to this eagerly-antici- 
 pated return of the wanderer late one afternoon when 
 she swung herself lithely off the suburban car. Some- 
 how, Douglas had been uppermost in her mind 
 throughout her dancing-lesson, and during the tedious 
 trolley ride she had allowed him so to occupy her 
 thoughts that she was fully convinced his boyish, un- 
 dersized figure would spring out at her from behind 
 some tree or bush on the Trevor grounds, or would be 
 lurking back of a veranda pillar to pounce upon her 
 with an air-ripping shout. 
 
 A small undersized figure did rise from a chair in 
 the far corner of the veranda, and move toward her 
 as she sped up the steps. But the figure advanced, 
 not with boyish energy and elasticity, but with the 
 measured tread of age. 
 
 " I phoned in early this afternoon, Miss Christine," 
 Mr. Graves' slow monotone, not Douglas' eager stam- 
 mer, greeted her, " and Amelia informed me you'd be 
 home for dinner, so I dropped in after office hours. 
 I've a bit of pleasant news for you." He made that 
 familiar dry, crackling sound with his hands. " It's 
 pleasant to be the bearer of good news, Miss Chris- 
 tine," he said, directing towards her his slow smile. 
 
 Though fired with * impatience, she said nothing. 
 She knew Mr. Graves of old. He was slow-moving, 
 deliberate, a detail man. Nothing could hurry him.
 
 ST. MARK'S FUND 291 
 
 - " It all came about in a most mysterious fashion," 
 he said, after an impressive moment of silence, " and 
 I am at liberty to reveal only a part of the facts to 
 you." Again he paused, and this time the silence en- 
 dured so long that Christine longed to shake the little 
 man into speech. At the precise instant that she had 
 reached the decision that she should scream if the si- 
 lence was maintained another heart-beat, he spoke, 
 
 " Arrangements were made this morning for re- 
 establishing St. Mark's fund on a solid financial basis 
 and" 
 
 " How perfectly wonderful ! You old dear ! " Mr. 
 Graves received the shock of his life. Christine threw 
 her arms about him, and kissed him tempestuously. 
 What mattered it that her kiss fell on the end of his 
 nose? Suffice it that Christine had kissed him, and 
 it took several moments for him to recover sufficiently 
 from that breath-taking fact to continue, 
 
 " As I was saying, it is to be known hereafter as the 
 Laurence Trevor fund and to be maintained " 
 
 Here he proceeded to explain minutely various busi- 
 ness details that would ensure the permanence of the 
 fund through succeeding generations, but Christine 
 was not listening, there was so much crowding in on 
 her at once to be thought out. 
 
 When he had at last come to an end, " Yes," she 
 said, in that level tone that denotes a preoccupied mind, 
 and for a full half minute smiled unseeingly at him 
 with her eyes very big and dark and soft just then. 
 
 George Graves went to his last rest with the secret 
 buried in his heart that his beloved Miss Christine's 
 mind had been completely unbalanced, for the mo-
 
 292 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 ment at least, by the good news he bore her that day, 
 for otherwise how could one explain her queer smile 
 and unintelligible words : " The old boy's got a real, 
 honest-to-goodness heart, after all."
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE GEORGE POTTSES* GARDEN FETE 
 
 Early one morning towards the end of August, when 
 already a brooding oppression of heat lay upon the 
 city like a mantle, Christine, cool and sweet in white 
 from her pumps to her wide hat with the floppy brim, 
 was making her way through the blazing, crowded 
 city streets. Despite the heat of the past weeks she 
 had not missed a single dancing-lesson. The Profes- 
 sor had assured her that with early fall there would 
 be an opening for her with an old-time manager-friend 
 of his if she were ready, and Christine had figuratively 
 set her teeth in a grim resolve to be ready. 
 
 On some inexplicable impulse she had gone two 
 squares out of her way this hot morning to pass the 
 Tremont Club, and was now moving slowly past, her 
 eyes on the facade, and her mind busy with recollec- 
 tions of former merry times lived within the exclusive 
 walls. 
 
 An opulent gray limousine swept round the corner, 
 slackened speed, and slanted to the curb. The gray- 
 clad chauffeur cast open the door. There emerged a 
 stoutish, over-elaborately gowned person all in baby- 
 blue. While Christine, a gleam of recognition in her 
 eye, was casting about for some avenue of escape Mrs. 
 George Potts bore down upon her with a fashionable, 
 high-heeled teeter. 
 
 " Oh, it's you, Christine. You keep yourself such 
 293
 
 294 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 a stranger these days I didn't recognize you," 
 She held out her hands effusively, her large face 
 wreathed in dimpling smiles. " Beastly bore, isn't it, 
 havin' that drive blocked up, and makin' us poor 
 women walk all that way up to the club this hot day? 
 ' What's the big idea ? ' I says to George this mornin' 
 over our coffee cups. ' You women 've worn out the 
 asphalt scorchin' so often to the club for your mornin' 
 bridge, and it's got to be done over, that's the big 
 idea.' * Well, then, let 'em choose cooler weather or 
 let 'em do it at night,' says I. Late, aren't we ? " 
 
 " I don't know," Christine's voice was sweet but 
 indescribably remote. " I'm not going to the club." 
 
 "Of course, my dear. I forgot you're still not goin' 
 out, but my head's so full of things these days it's 
 no wonder I forget. You see, we're just finishin' up 
 our Roman, no, Greek, gardens, and we're celebratin' 
 with a perfectly huge garden party, and what do you 
 think?" In her exuberance Mrs. Potts seized Chris- 
 tine by the wrists and held the unwilling captive in a 
 moist grip while she babbled on, " I'm so excited I 
 can't keep from tellin' it to somebody, and of course 
 it's perfectly safe with you." With a glance over her 
 shoulder to make sure she would not be overheard, " I 
 had a note acceptin' this morning. You'll never guess 
 who from ? Carlina, and this time " she gave Chris- 
 tine a playful nudge with her elbow " she isn't goin' 
 to back out. Believe me, I've made it worth her while 
 to show up, but I'm not tellin' anybody yet; I'm kind 
 of superstitious, you see sort of afraid it'll queer 
 the whole thing if I brag, so George says, ' Why not 
 keep the whole shootin' -match a dead secret from the 
 bunch,' and that's what I'm goin' to do. Ta-ta, dear.
 
 THE GARDEN FETE 295 
 
 Oh, I say, I do wish you'd come. It's high time you 
 were goin' out again and the crowd'll all give you the 
 glad hand." 
 
 Christine's hands came together in a pretty eager- 
 ness. " I'd love to see Carlina dance but no, thank 
 you, it isn't possible. I I can't come." 
 
 That was Monday. Saturday morning to Chris- 
 tine's surprise Carlina crept softly in during her danc- 
 ing-lesson, and with an imperious wave of the hand 
 motioned the girl not to break off. Christine could 
 feel she was regarding her intently through her low- 
 ered eyelashes, though she seated herself at once in a 
 far corner of the room and to all appearances was soon 
 lost in a book. 
 
 When the last tremor of sound had died away under 
 the Professor's fingers and Christine's feet were still, 
 Carlina lifted her lithe, long, elusively charming body 
 from the depths of the chair, and came towards the 
 girl. 
 
 " You have learned much, ma cherie," she said, with 
 her pretty foreign intonation, " here." Her hand flut- 
 tered toward her heart. " It has made you dance 
 oh so so not like the last time," she added, with 
 a hint of impatience because the right words would not 
 come. " Then you danced like a young girl, light, 
 gay, but no no feeling. Now you have it, more 
 color, depth the true art." 
 
 She crossed with a graceful step to her father's side, 
 and for a few moments the two engaged in a low- 
 voiced conversation in their native tongue. Then Car- 
 lina moved again to Christine, who was standing at 
 the window, looking out into the dusty street blazing 
 in the morning sun.
 
 296 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 "Ma cherie." Christine turned about. A tender 
 expression had swept into the white mobile face. 
 " You did much for me." Her fingers fluttered in- 
 voluntarily to the brooch at her throat. " I can never 
 thank you, but I can do a little, little something for 
 you. I had it in my mind when I said yes to that 
 Mrs. Potts." Her shoulders shrugged expressively 
 over the name. "She offered me 'pouf, much 
 money, as if I dance for that for her and her kind. 
 But, no, I said to myself, I shall accept, I shall dance 
 once, and the other two times it shall be my little 
 friend, Christine Trevor. This shall be her one big 
 chance, and with me shall come Pavley, that great im- 
 pressario." 
 
 " Madame," Christine's voice was a sob of jubila- 
 tion. " You can't mean it. I I dance with you ! 
 Oh, I can never, never do it." 
 
 " Instead of me," corrected the other sweetly. 
 " And you will dance the hearts out of those people 
 there." 
 
 " But " a sudden thought careered wildly through 
 Christine's mind " Mrs. Potts will never allow 
 me" 
 
 Carlina laughed in airiest scorn. " She shall not 
 know only what I tell her. She will be so de- 
 lighted to have Carlina she will let her come under any 
 conditions, and to-morrow when I'm back again in 
 New York I shall write her my doctor lets me dance 
 but once that night, but I bring with me a young 
 dancer who will one day set the world on fire, who 
 will some day, who knows, take Carlina' s place." 
 
 And while Christine's blood was still racing to this 
 new, bewildering thought, she slipped from the room.
 
 THE GARDEN FETE 297 
 
 During the following days, though the mercury 
 continued to climb, Christine gave every minute of her 
 time and every atom of her strength and enthusiasm 
 that the Professor would permit to the business of pre- 
 paring for her first engagement. She must not disap- 
 point Carlina she must not disappoint herself. 
 
 Naturally enough there were times when bitter 
 doubts assailed her as to her success, but her tempera- 
 ment was far too mercurial to allow her to remain long 
 in the depths. The very thought of her first appear- 
 ance was enough to send the blood singing through 
 her veins and to make her heart leap tumultuously. 
 
 There were times, too, when she felt she should 
 burst if she didn't divulge her secret to some one. 
 But the Professor and Carlina had decided it would 
 enhance the value of her debut tenfold if it were veiled 
 in mystery. Once, however, it happened that she 
 yielded to temptation, and confided in her guardian. 
 He had come upon her unawares practising in the twi- 
 light in the living-room. For a long moment he stood 
 in the doorway. As he followed her light graceful 
 movements he suddenly recalled an exquisite dancing 
 figure on a Tanagra vase on his living-room mantel. 
 Involuntarily he sighed. How young she was ! How 
 like a flaming torch of thrilling life and joy! His ex- 
 perienced eye noted that she was gowned in a diaph- 
 anous confection of silver-green like the leaves of a 
 young poplar in spring, and above the green her cheeks 
 were deeply pink and above the pink were the gold- 
 brown of her eyes and the shimmering gold of her 
 hair. 
 
 Her dance ended before a mirror. " You're per- 
 fectly wooden, to-day," she frowned to her image.
 
 298 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 " You'll oh, Docky, how how you startled me ! 
 I thought I was alone I thought you were miles 
 away," she stammered in panicky astonishment, and 
 blushed like a child caught red-handed in mischief. 
 
 " I was out this way," he took her extended hands 
 with his engaging smile, " and thought I'd pay Laurie 
 a little visit. I found the door open and was bold 
 enough to walk in, and my boldness was rewarded by 
 a glimpse of a dress rehearsal, I surmise." 
 
 Their eyes met and they laughed together. Then 
 the truth came pell-mell from her lips. " It's my first 
 real dress rehearsal, Docky. The gown was deliv- 
 ered ten jiffs ago and I simply couldn't resist oh " 
 she broke off and her color grew high. 
 
 " It's too late to stop now, Goldilocks. Out with 
 the rest of it." 
 
 " I'm not supposed to tell. It's a deep, dar-r-r-k 
 secret. I'm a dancer with a wonderful future ahead 
 of me so far it's 'way, 'way in the dim future 
 that Carlina's bringing for the Pottses' garden fete." 
 She threw back her shoulders, clasping her hands, and 
 unconsciously took on an attitude of defiance. 
 
 A minute came and passed before he spoke, and then 
 it was more to himself than her. " So it's come. I 
 wish I could have prevented it " He crossed the 
 room and stood at the window, gazing out intently at 
 the flower-beds below. Then he strode back to her 
 side again. " When is it to be? " 
 
 " Next Tuesday." 
 
 " And I'm due in New York that night." 
 
 " Oh, Docky, it would keep me from being so pan- 
 icky if I knew you I mean if you and my friends 
 were there. It'll be heaps worse dancing before peo-
 
 THE GARDEN FETE 299 
 
 pie who know you and who'll sit there goggle-eyed 
 to but I'm not going even to think about that. Tell 
 me, don't you like me in my sitty-out skirts ? " 
 
 Slowly, with alluring grace, she pirouetted before 
 him on silver-clad toes. For a moment he regarded 
 her gravely, then he smiled at her unexpectedly, and 
 as always his smile made her quiver with the beating 
 of a hundred unexpected pulses. 
 
 " You're worth coming miles to see, Goldilocks. 
 I'll be there if I have to stay up every night for a week 
 to finish up. But," he said, moving a bit closer, and 
 scrutinizing her with his trained eye, " remember, 
 you're not to tire yourself out rehearsing and " 
 
 " Bunk," she interrupted, inelegantly. " In my 
 bright young lexicon there's no such word as tired." 
 
 But the strain of the last few days before the garden 
 fete was beginning to tell on her and she was looking 
 pale and thin one morning when she dropped into a 
 shoe-shop, intent upon her Sisyphus-like task of keep- 
 ing the Trevor twin toes in shoes, and tilted into Mrs. 
 Potts. 
 
 " You're down on your looks a bit, my dear," com- 
 mented that lady vivaciously. " It's this beastly heat, 
 no doubt. Well, I'm not feeling extra fit myself, and 
 I says to George last night before the Country Club 
 dinner, ' Wild horses couldn't keep me in town an- 
 other minute after that garden fete.' No, pink satin " 
 this to the patient shoe-clerk who was applying his 
 handkerchief to his heated forehead, " about three 
 shades lighter and the heels ought to be several inches 
 higher. A last purchase, my dear, for my niece who's 
 unexpectedly passing through the city and of course 
 she'll stay over for the party. The poor dear's from
 
 300 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 the country tied down to an invalid mother no 
 clothes fit to speak of so I'm getting her all kinds 
 of do-dads. You got your card, of course," beamed 
 Mrs. Potts, in the interval of the clerk's search for a 
 more nearly rose-tinted pair of slippers, " Do come, 
 that's a dear." 
 
 Christine could only trust herself to smile. 
 
 " It's going to be some show, George says, and," 
 Mrs. Potts lowered her voice to a half whisper, " now 
 everything's set I don't mind telling you I always 
 did have a soft spot in my heart for you, Christine 
 there's going to be a sensation that night." 
 
 Christine flashed her a startled glance. 
 
 But Mrs. Potts continued exultantly, " Not one star 
 dancer, but two. A perfectly new wonder first ap- 
 pearance greater than Carlina herself, I'm told. 
 Yes, that pair'll do. Have them sent at once." And 
 while Mrs. Potts was giving her undivided attention 
 to the patient young man, Christine resisting a wild 
 desire to shriek out the truth, fled incontinently with- 
 out making her purchases. 
 
 Afterwards she often wondered how she lived 
 through that last day of the much advertised event. 
 For weeks now the society sheets and newspapers had 
 devoted important space to a full description of every 
 detail of the Potts estate from the " beautiful little 
 Greek theatre set like a gem in its exquisite environs," 
 to the fountain presided over by a bronze Pan. Over 
 the pages of the Sunday supplement had been spread 
 views of the new Potts gardens, formal and sunken, 
 with huge photographs of the master and mistress 
 thereof together with a three-column account of the 
 spectacular garden fete which was to be the theatre's
 
 THE GARDEN FETE 301 
 
 formal opening to the Potts' friends. But Mrs. 
 Potts had been true to her word, at least as far as 
 newspaper reports had gone. There had been only 
 vaguest hints, mysterious suggestions as to the form 
 of the entertainment, and only that very morning the 
 early edition had given another two columns of front- 
 page space to an account of the final preparations for 
 the great event, with the concluding statement that no 
 details of the nature of the entertainment that was in 
 store for the fortunate guests had been presented for 
 publication. It was safe to assume, however, that in 
 a programme composed of only world-famed artists, 
 Carlina, the great danseuse, would top the list. 
 
 What would the reporters say, she wondered, if they 
 knew that she, Christine Trevor, would be one of that 
 number of " world-famed artists" ? She was to dance 
 twice in Carlina's stead. The very thought made her 
 cheeks and lips chalk-pale and set her to moving rest- 
 lessly about the room. 
 
 " You're nervous as a witch this afternoon," com- 
 plained Mr. Barton, when Christine was making one 
 of her restless pilgrimages up and down his room. 
 " You're pale as a ghost, too," he added with concern. 
 " I wish you'd behave yourself, Christine," he snarled 
 at her in quick anger, " and not work yourself to the 
 bone with that ridiculous notion of supporting your 
 family. Why in Sam Hill can't you be sensible and 
 let me ?" 
 
 She stopped her fidgeting about to press gentle fin- 
 gers over his lips. " I've let you already, Uncle Barty. 
 You know perfectly well, you old dear, I never could 
 have bought those dancing frocks for to-night but for 
 that perfectly huge check you insisted on paying me
 
 302 CHRISTINE OF, THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 for that awful caricature I made of you the day you 
 ordered me off your ground. If only Daffy had kept 
 her naughty fingers out of my sketch book." 
 
 "'Daffy was merely trying to entertain me that after- 
 noon. Surely a man has a right to set a price on his 
 own portrait," he blustered. " Now, not another 
 word on the subject. But if you'd only show some 
 sense and let me " 
 
 She knelt beside him and her arms flashed up and 
 around his neck. " You're paying now three times as 
 much as you ought. And it must stop somewhere. 
 I'm sorry if I've got on your nerves. It's the weather, 
 perhaps." She came to her feet, and crossing to the 
 window, drew the shade aside. " I'm all scrooged up 
 inside this afternoon, but I'm going to that wonderful 
 garden fete, and " she faced him with unconscious 
 solemnity " Uncle Barty, it's going to be the most 
 thrillsome thrill of my whole life." 
 
 Already the stars were gleaming silvery white and 
 a great radiant moon was riding in the heavens when 
 the automobile which Carlina had provided for Chris- 
 tine and her father turned in between white gate-posts 
 and rounded the circular drive leading to the white 
 marble palace that George Potts dubbed his shack. 
 Eagerly Christine thrust her head out of the window 
 for her first glimpse of fairyland. And fairyland it 
 was, silvered by the moonlight and illumined by my- 
 riads of soft, shaded lights strung like so many bub- 
 bles everywhere. 
 
 " How wonderful! " Christine's eye was registering 
 the view across the hedge-bordered sunken gardens to 
 the white marble theatre which crowned a cinquefoil
 
 THE GARDEN FETE 303 
 
 pool. Through a driveway bordered with luxuriant 
 beds of larkspur, yellow day lilies with their heavy 
 sweetness, and yellow and purple phlox, robbed now 
 of all color by the moonlight, they approached the 
 formal gardens with flashing marble-rimmed pools 
 and an old-fashioned green-hedged grass walk, fram- 
 ing a regal Ceres silhouetted against the sky and giv- 
 ing dignity to the garden. 
 
 The Pottses' wealth had bought an exquisite Par- 
 rish painting quickened to life. There were walks 
 avenued by plane trees and poplars, rich sweeps of 
 lawn and shrubbery, a fascinating glimpse of a little 
 path leading, here to a pool, and there to the sunken 
 garden, or to a fountain beloved of birds, and encir- 
 cled with shy heliotrope and roses' riotous bloom. 
 
 " Oh, I'm sure the little people of the hills will come 
 here to play their bagpipes at night," Christine half 
 whispered. , 
 
 And the Professor's quick fancy, stirred by her 
 words, prompted him to add, " It's here the lepre- 
 chauns will come to hammer the fairy shoes. They've 
 made a pair for you to-night, ma cherie," he added in 
 her ear, as he helped her out of the car and up the 
 gleaming marble steps of the little theatre. 
 
 The next hour passed like a dream for Christine 
 the donning of the silver-green gown in the dressing- 
 room, aided by the skilful fingers of the maid in at- 
 tendance, and the latter's low-voiced cry of admira- 
 tion, " You look just like spring, miss," the arrival of 
 Carlina when already the guests were clamorous with 
 impatience, and at last the performance of a rarely 
 lovely little masque which Christine watched with a
 
 304 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 blurred vision from a corner of the stage behind a 
 heavy drapery of cerulean blue, at times a part of the 
 backdrop. 
 
 Then came her moment, the moment when Carlina 
 caught her passionately to herself, kissed her on either 
 cheek, and eye to eye, whispered, " Remember, you are 
 dancing in place of Carlina." 
 
 Christine's heart beat violently as the curtains parted 
 for her, and even as her feet twinkled, her eyes swam 
 dizzily at the blur of faces upturned to hers. But the 
 next moment she was blind to the lights, blind to the 
 flowers and faces, deaf to the voices that rose in ex- 
 cited babble at sight of her. She only knew that the 
 air was filled with the swaying sound of stringed in- 
 struments that were playing upon her soul. She only 
 knew that the heavens were star-spangled and moon- 
 vivid, that she was thrilling with youth and life and 
 joy, and she had to express it all. 
 
 And as she danced, they, the hard, world-worn men 
 and women, cynical, with emotions stifled beneath the 
 shroud of conventionality saw it all, felt it all. Their 
 eyes were moist, and tears even lay along some cheeks 
 when the dance was done. 
 
 " Isn't it perfectly absurd," whispered one time- 
 hardened society empress to her husband, " but I was 
 seeing myself all the while she was dancing that 
 May night in the apple-orchard, my hair still hanging 
 in braids, and the moon and you and your first 
 kiss." 
 
 " My prophetic soul," he whose marital transgres- 
 sions had been legion and public property jolted out, 
 " I was thinking of that, too. So, that's really little 
 Christine Trevor that I used to dandle on my knee."
 
 THE GARDEN FETE 305 
 
 He blew his nose sonorously, " I wish old Jack Trevor 
 could see her now. Take it from me, Nell, some day 
 she'll give Carlina a race for her life when " 
 
 " Oh, that's the great Carlina herself," interrupted 
 his wife the next minute, and held her breath as the 
 exquisite creature fluttered like some great tropical 
 butterfly through the parting curtains. 
 
 Christine, too, held her breath as Carlina drifted to 
 the front of the stage, as though wafted by perfume, 
 and like thistle-down blown by a 'soft wind. When 
 she danced, a light came into the girl's eyes and her 
 body relaxed in a sort of ecstasy. At times she fairly 
 forgot to breathe. She had the feeling that she was 
 being stripped bare of artificialities, and that her soul 
 was emerging triumphant before the King of Glory. 
 She was bewildered, overwhelmed with a genuine real- 
 ization of the beauty of life and art. 
 
 Carlina must have been in a rare mood that night, 
 for she broke her ironclad rule. She danced an en- 
 core. At the end Christine found herself with the 
 hundreds of others that were the Pottses' guests on 
 her feet, shouting, applauding, laughing, crying in one 
 breath. 
 
 Christine's face was still illumined as if from some 
 inner source when she danced again. This time she 
 was a fluttering, misty apparition in rosy flames. 
 Every trailing ribbon, every enveloping touch of tulle 
 and shadowy lace was the color of the heart of roses 
 and her cheeks had borrowed the self-same hue. 
 
 Before, she had been exquisite, inexpressibly lovely 
 and appealing. Now it was as if the love of rhythmic 
 motion were thrilling through her very blood, now it 
 was as if she were fired with that great emotional ex-
 
 306 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 perience which lifts up the gates of our blindness and 
 which brings with it a certain wildness and madness 
 of joy. The dance held all the mystery and wonder- 
 ful glowing spirit of young love. It was delicate as 
 the silky threads on a moth's wing, as colorful as the 
 hues of a bubble. 
 
 At the end of the entertainment she had to face the 
 charge of the enthusiastic guests and for the next half- 
 hour Carlina and she received like two princesses royal. 
 Old friends swarmed upon her with words of praise 
 and congratulations, and new ones were made on the 
 instant. 
 
 " Now that we've found this gem belongs to us, 
 we're going to hold fast to her," said old Jonathan 
 Gray, he who held in the hollow of his hand railroads, 
 banks and whole lumbering towns. " My dear, I was 
 always proud of your father's friendship. I'd be hon- 
 ored by yours." 
 
 " Being my father's friend makes you mine on the 
 spot." Christine's face was warmly flushed, and her 
 eyes were welcoming and sweet. 
 
 Her greatest triumph came when Pavley, a giant of 
 a man, black bearded and with shrewd, twinkling eyes 
 who had been lingering carelessly for some time about 
 the edge of the throng, of a sudden, coolly, without 
 any seeming rudeness it was as if it was his privi- 
 lege thrust the others aside and stood directly be- 
 fore her. 
 
 On the instant Carlina broke off her animated con- 
 versation with a young compatriot to give a gracious 
 hand and make the necessary introductions. 
 
 Pavley smiled down from his great height at the
 
 THE GARDEN FETE 307 
 
 young girl, and his friendliness brought an answering 
 smile to her lips. 
 
 " This isn't the place to talk shop, Miss Trevor," 
 boomed his deep voice. " Carlina has been good 
 enough to promise she'd bring you soon to me in New 
 York, but I've run the risk of missing that midnight 
 train to tell you you've broken into the charmed circle 
 and broken in hard. Congratulations, Miss Trevor," 
 and he bowed low. 
 
 The girl laughed, and her laugh held a little silvery 
 trill. " Everyone's been so kind. It's been a per- 
 fectly magical night." 
 
 But even as she spoke she was conscious of a flaw 
 in the magic of the night. Docky was not there. Her 
 eyes had searched everywhere. He had said he'd stay 
 up nights to get through and see her dance. He had 
 not come. This thought stuck like a burr to her con- 
 sciousness. For the first time he had broken faith 
 with her. 
 
 " Well, Chris, aren't you soon coming down to 
 earth?" a familiar voice rose above the babble of 
 sound, and her heart stood still, then gave a queer 
 leap. 
 
 She was looking into the bright black eyes of Cort- 
 land Van Ness. 
 
 " I didn't know you were here." The words came 
 slowly from her lips quite without her own volition. 
 
 He edged closer, then whispered with a half-laugh, 
 " That's not my fault, I'm sure. I told you the glad 
 news in at least a dozen letters, to say nothing of the 
 cable." 
 
 " I didn't read the letters," was her quiet answer.
 
 308 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 " The cable never reached me." She had herself well 
 in hand now. 
 
 " Come." He seized her arm with the old master- 
 fulness, and drew her along. " Let's get out of this 
 bally old crowd. They've had you long enough. It's 
 my innin' now." 
 
 He led her to an Italian marble bench gleaming 
 white in the moonlight, and cunningly set between two 
 dwarf pines near a pool in which a bronze water-god 
 raised his head above lily pads. 
 
 " Everybody's headed for the eats," he said, eyeing 
 her avidly as she slipped from his hands and sat down 
 on the marble bench, " so I suppose I can have you all 
 to myself for at least five minutes. Holy Doodle, but 
 I thought I'd never get you, Chris ! " He dropped 
 down on the bench beside her and crushed her body 
 against him in sudden passion. 
 
 "Cort!" She rose, panting, and faced him, pale, 
 resolute, every feature clearly outlined in the moon- 
 light. " I won't have it. It's all over. You got my 
 letter." 
 
 "Yes, but what of that?" he answered a bit con- 
 temptuously. " That was weeks ago. You've had 
 plenty of time to come to your senses since then." 
 
 " I had already come to my senses when I wrote 
 you." 
 
 He made a move to take her in his arms again, but 
 she fended him off. 
 
 Her shoulders straight, her head high, she gazed at 
 him. " I've nothing more to say. Will you please 
 take me back to the others ? " 
 
 " Well, I've plenty to say," he blazed at her, " and 
 you'll stay here till I'm through."
 
 THE GARDEN FETE 309 
 
 Coolly she seated herself on the bench again. For a 
 moment or two he strode up and down the turf, snap- 
 ping his ringers behind him. Then he stood before 
 her, his handsome, gypsy-like face wearing an unex- 
 pected pleading expression. 
 
 " Don't be hard on a fellow, Chris. It's nothing 
 unusual. They all do it. Why, there isn't a one in 
 our set " 
 
 She cut him off with an imperious gesture. For a 
 moment the silence was unbroken. Her eyes were 
 upon the fan-like spray of the fountain, sparkling like 
 so many jewels in the soft-colored light that cun- 
 ningly hidden bulbs irradiated. But her thoughts 
 were far away. In fancy she was again reading a 
 little misspelled note from Jennie that had gladdened 
 her heart a day or two before. 
 
 " I've gained three pounds already," Jennie had 
 written, " and little Bobby has put on seven ounces, 
 and we're both laughing from morning till night, and 
 it's all because of you, you dear, brown-eyed angel." 
 
 " Well," he broke in upon her musing at last with 
 ill-concealed impatience, " what's all this deep study 
 about?" As she made no answer, he flung himself 
 on the bench beside her, and seized both her hands. 
 " Now see here, Chris," he went on, with a quick re- 
 version to his old masterful manner, " we've had just 
 about enough of this nonsense. I'll give you two or 
 three weeks to get ready not that I'd care if you 
 didn't have a new rag. It's you I want *but you 
 women are different " he smiled into her eyes with 
 the old alluring audacity that before had always bent 
 her will to his " and we'll blow off the great event 
 in the middle of September. What you say, little
 
 3 io CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 one ? " As the silence was maintained, he thought he 
 saw his advantage and seized it. " I've already or- 
 dered the diamonds reset." He encircled her slim 
 waist and drew her head to his shoulder. 
 
 " Cort ! " She freed herself and rose to her feet. 
 
 He rose too. 
 
 " Cort," she began again, then stopped. " Oh, why 
 won't you understand? It just can't be." 
 
 He stared at her fixedly, his eyebrows arched in 
 incredulity. " You're spoofin'. You don't mean it, 
 Chris." 
 
 " I do. I do." 
 
 " You can't mean you're throwin' me aside just 
 because of that pig of a Jennie Chubb. She isn't 
 worth a a hair of your head." 
 
 " She's a girl, the same as I am. She but please 
 don't let's go into that. It's it's so humiliating." 
 
 He tried another tack. " You haven't only your- 
 self to think of in this matter, dear. There's Laurie 
 I'll do the right thing by him. I heard of a peach 
 of a sanatorium " 
 
 "Cort," the quiet scorn of her voice stung him 
 like a whip-lash " have I fallen as low as that in 
 your mind ? Have ? " 
 
 " Low nothing," he jerked out hotly. " What's the 
 use of beatin' about the bush? I can take care of 
 you the way you've been used to, the way Christine 
 Trevor ought to be." 
 
 " I'm going to take care of myself." The memory 
 of Pavley's words brought a quick glint of pride to 
 her eyes. 
 
 " How ? This ? " he asked, with a contemptuous 
 wave of his hand toward the small theatre gleaming
 
 THE GARDEN FETE 311 
 
 cold and white in the moonlight. " That's all right 
 for a fashionable fad, but the chorus-girl business? 
 You'd walk off a bridge some dark night rather 
 Oh, Chris!" He caught up her hands suddenly and 
 held them against his heart. " You don't know 
 what you'd run up against with this crazy dancin' 
 idea. I do. Good Lord! I do. I know it from 
 A to Z, and I tell you it's rotten, rotten 
 
 " Please let me go, Cort My mind's made up. If 
 you won't take me back to the others, I'll have to go 
 alone." Her lips were pale and quivering, and the 
 soft laces on her bosom rose and fell over the tumult 
 beneath. Gathering the foam of her skirts about her, 
 she turned and slipped away. 
 
 In a bound he reached her. His chin was thrust 
 forward, and his black eyes had focused in a cold, 
 level stare as he swung her about. 
 
 "What's his name?" He spoke as if this were a 
 new thought. 
 
 For a moment she positively gaped at him, then as 
 his meaning became clear, color swept into her face, 
 and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. 
 
 "Come, who is he? Do I know him? Who did 
 you jilt me for?" He had given way so completely 
 to a passion of jealousy that he choked and stam- 
 mered and trembled in every limb. His burning eyes 
 fairly devoured her. Never had she seemed so beau- 
 tiful, so desirable. It was as if he were seeing her 
 for the first time or with new eyes. He noted the 
 smooth, gleaming gold of her hair, the delicately lovely 
 features and the eyes that he well knew by daylight 
 were like brown velvet shot with gold now they 
 were wide and dark as the night the delicate de-
 
 3 i2 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 pression below her throat, the finely molded bosom, 
 the crisp round shoulders and the slim body clouded 
 in a rose-mist. 
 
 " Tell me," he demanded, gripping her wrists. 
 
 " You're hurting me," she answered, quietly. 
 " There's nothing to tell. I'm going to dance for my 
 living." 
 
 Suddenly he flung self-restraint to the winds. A 
 wave of fury swept over him, and catching her shoul- 
 ders, he swung her about and crushed her body against 
 him. Then though she beat him off with her fists, he 
 kissed her eyes, hair, lips, throat. His hot kisses 
 rained upon her and scorched her. Suddenly he re- 
 leased her, spent, breathless, too overcome for tears. 
 " Now," he said triumphantly, mistaking her silence 
 for yielding, " now you know you're mine mine. 
 We'll get married to-morrow " 
 
 She took a hurried step away from him, then turned, 
 lightly poised like a winged spirit. " I'll not marry 
 you to-morrow or ever, Cort." 
 
 " You'll marry me to-night," he shouted, in sud- 
 den passion. " We'll drive over the river " 
 
 " No, no. Please let me go. Please, please, Cort." 
 
 " My car's right here in the bend of the road, angel 
 girl, and before you know it " 
 
 " I've come for you, Christine," said a quiet voice 
 behind them. "Are you ready?" And Christine, 
 whirling about, threw herself, sobbing like a child, 
 into Dr. Denton's arms. 
 
 The drive home was swift; for the most part, silent. 
 
 " I was in time for only your last dance," Dr. Den- 
 ton said, as he helped her into the car. " You made 
 me very proud of you, Goldilocks."
 
 THE GARDEN FETE 313 
 
 And when the car swung into the river road Dr. 
 Denton spoke again. "Very tired, little one?" 
 
 " No, Docky," was the girl's whispered answer. 
 
 That comprised the sum of their conversation on 
 the homeward drive, but the flaw had disappeared from 
 Christine's night of nights.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 FREDDY TAKES THINGS INTO HER OWN HANDS 
 
 One late August afternoon, when the sun was 
 streaming into the garden and flowers and ripening 
 fruits were filling the air with warm sweet odors, 
 Christine was sketching under the spreading elm. 
 Suddenly her pencil came to a full stop. Her eyes 
 began to trail a diaphanous cloud that was drifting 
 like a wisp of smoke across the deep-blue sky. On 
 an impulse she threw herself flat on her back in the 
 cool grass and soon her thoughts were drifting as 
 idly as the cloud. It was no time for work. It was 
 an afternoon of sunshine and utter laziness. 
 
 Presently another plume of a cloud floated over her 
 head. Haw softly white and feathery it was! If 
 vshe were only a poet like Douglas ! Douglas ! It was 
 more than two weeks now since she had written, and 
 never a word from that young scamp. She would 
 make one more attempt. Perhaps she'd get up energy 
 to send him a scorcher of a note before bedtime. 
 
 A voice close beside her brought her up on her 
 elbow. 
 
 " I ask your pardon for disturbing you, Miss Chris- 
 tine." Mark was standing over her, the warm smile 
 he always reserved for her lighting his face. " But 
 Mr. Barton's waked from his nap and he's asking for 
 you." 
 
 314
 
 FREDDY 315 
 
 " Bless the old dear's soul ! I've neglected him 
 shamefully this whole day. But the sunshine's too 
 wonderful to waste even a minute indoors." 
 
 The man regarded her fixedly for all of a moment, 
 then with the air of one whose mind has been swaying 
 between two impulses, with the balance not on the side 
 of his better judgment, said as they moved swiftly 
 across the turf, " It'd cost me my head if he knew I 
 was letting my tongue spill over, but you'd better 
 know. He's rather bad to-day. His pain's always 
 worse when he's troubled. You see " with a cau- 
 tious, upturned glance at the windows of his master's 
 room " you see," he said, lowering his voice, " this 
 is the day Master Douglas' mother died some 
 twenty years ago and the lad never failed to go to 
 the grave with flowers. Mr. Barton set rare store by 
 her, and he's remembering things to-day." 
 
 " Uncle Barty," Christine tore open the door, and 
 danced over the floor of the darkened room to the bed- 
 side, " I've come for a dish of tea and a real good 
 gossip." 
 
 " Don't be a pest," he snapped, attempting a look of 
 severity at her cyclonic entrance ; but he took her hand 
 in both of his, and drew her down on the bed at his 
 side. 
 
 " First we're going to have some light on the sub- 
 ject. There, that shade can go up three inches higher 
 without your running the slightest risk of damaging 
 your complexion with a single freckle. Now, if 
 you're a real obedient child, I'll make you a cup of 
 what Misery calls the witch's brew your Indian 
 tea, she means and then we'll finish that article on 
 the fugue that we began last night."
 
 316 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 The sunken old eyes brightened, then dulled again. 
 " I've no interest in fugues to-day." 
 
 " Uncle Barty, how can you go back on fugues ! 
 You know they're the staple of your diet, and you'd 
 starve to death without them." 
 
 But for once her raillery evoked no answering 
 gleam. Instead, he moved his head and fingers rest- 
 lessly. The misery in his face brought her to her 
 knees beside him. 
 
 "What is it, Uncle Barty? Tell me. Perhaps I 
 can help." 
 
 He turned his face to the wall, and lay still so long 
 that she thought he had drifted off to sleep. 
 
 " No one can help," he said at last. " She's been 
 dead twenty-two years to-day, the boy's mother," he 
 added, after another spell of quiet. " My call's coming 
 soon now, and I'll have to answer to her for him. 
 Where is he? I want him." 
 
 For a moment or two after he had spoken, silence 
 was maintained. There was that in his voice and 
 manner that made her realize that in the crucible of 
 separation Joshua Barton's heart had softened and 
 now his enduring need of the boy had wrung that 
 cry from him. A choking longing possessed her to 
 comfort him, but the right words would not come. 
 
 " Uncle Barty," she half whispered, when she could 
 endure the stillness no longer, " I " 
 
 Mark's tap at the door, and his quiet entry made her 
 stop on her unfinished sentence. 
 
 " A letter for you, Mr. Barton." 
 
 " Well, well, who's it from ? Don't stand there like 
 a mummy." 
 
 " I don't seem to know the handwriting, sir, and
 
 FREDDY 317 
 
 the postmark's blurred. Looks like New Am Am- 
 sterdam, it looks like." 
 
 " Why in Sam Hill don't you read it ? Keep me 
 waiting all day. I don't know a soul in New Amster- 
 dam, wherever that is. Some charity or other, most 
 likely." 
 
 " It's hospital stationery, so most likely they want 
 a donation," agreed Christine. " It says, 
 
 " ' MR. JOSHUA BARTON, 
 
 " ' Merrivale, Mich. 
 "'DEAR SIR: 
 
 " * Pardon the liberty I take in writing to you this 
 way, but I thought you ought to know that your 
 nephew was brought here two weeks ago unconscious 
 from an automobile accident. He risked his life for 
 a poor little girl who was playing in the street. The 
 injury was very serious, and the hospital authorities 
 tried to communicate at once with his relatives, but 
 couldn't find any. We did learn where he lived in 
 New York " : 
 
 " Poor Doug," Christine interrupted herself with 
 quivering lips, " that's why he didn't answer " 
 " Go on," came from lips stiff as if from cold. 
 
 " ' But that was a boarding-house and the landlady 
 knew nothing of him. He'd only been there a short 
 time. 
 
 " ' Last night we thought the end was near, so I 
 looked again for some hint, and found what I at first 
 thought was a scrap of his writing-stuff he's a 
 writer,, I'm told but this morning he took a turn 
 for the better and spoke for the first time. 
 
 " 'Does Uncle Joshua know ? ' was what he asked.
 
 3i8 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 " ' Now, Uncle Joshua was the person he was writing 
 to on that piece of paper. 
 
 " ' This morning one of the orderlies came back from 
 his vacation and I was telling him about the new case 
 that had come in while he was away, and when he took 
 a look, he knew him. He'd once worked as garden- 
 er's underhelp for you. So the minute I got your 
 address I sat down and wrote. 
 
 " ' Later in the Day. 
 
 " ' I didn't get a chance to finish until now. Dr. 
 Brown says your nephew's got a good fighting chance 
 now, but he thinks you should know how things are. 
 So I'm enclosing the piece of paper I spoke of, and 
 hoping that you will believe I'll take good care of the 
 poor young man, 
 
 " ' I sign myself, 
 " ' His nurse, 
 
 " ' MARY THOMPSON.' " 
 
 " Read what's enclosed." The words came 
 disjointedly. 
 
 Christine had to blink the mist from her eyes be- 
 fore she could proceed. 
 
 (t c 
 il c 
 
 DEAR UNCLE JOSHUA: 
 
 I ran across a week-old copy of the Merrivale 
 Times to-day, and saw an account of the fire. Too 
 bad the old place was so badly burned, but I'm thank- 
 ful to God you were ' ' 
 
 "Yes, yes?" 
 
 " That's all, Uncle B-Barty. It was n-never f -fin- 
 ished." 
 
 For unreckoned moments the old man lay staring 
 into vacancy.
 
 FREDDY 319 
 
 Then at last he roared out but it was a feeble roar, 
 " Some country doctor that, I suppose. Huh, a fight- 
 ing chance. Well, he's going to win that fight if I 
 have to send every specialist up from New York." 
 The sunken eyes were lighted now with a strange fire. 
 " Get Dr. Marsh on the phone at once, Christine ; at 
 once, do you hear? Don't stand there like a a 
 block of wood. We've a huge task ahead of us, but 
 that boy's life must be saved." The last words were 
 almost inaudible. 
 
 " Dr. Marsh is operating, Uncle Barty," the girl 
 reported, after what seemed to him endless hours of 
 waiting, i " He'll call you the minute he's through." 
 
 " H'mph, that'll be too late for the six-ten. Send 
 Mark to me. We'll have to charter a special train." 
 
 After Mark had been despatched to headquarters to 
 arrange details of this intricate enterprise, Mr. Bar- 
 ton lost himself in thought. 
 
 "Weren't you and the boy pretty good friends?" 
 he roused himself once to ask. 
 
 " Yes, Uncle Barty." 
 
 "I I don't want to pry, but you're pledged, 
 aren't you ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, no indeed. We're just friends " 
 
 " He left home on account of you." 
 
 :< Your forbidding him our house was just the last 
 straw. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, but 
 friendship between us." 
 
 " He was in love with some girl. I found out as 
 much. Do you know who she was?" 
 
 Christine shook her head, choking back a sob. The 
 night drive along the river bank came back to her as 
 a vivid picture, and the halting little confession of
 
 320 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 his life and love insisted on her recollection. Poor 
 Doug, he was so young to be knocking at death's 
 door! But how like his warm, generous, idealistic 
 self to offer up his life for a little street-waif! 
 
 "Did he ever mention anyone?" Mr. Barton de- 
 manded bluntly. His eyes were fixed on her face. ' It 
 was as if he were trying to probe her thoughts. 
 
 " Doug told me he cared for some one, but he 
 didn't say who she was. I've been trying to think. 
 I don't know a girl he knows " Christine's tears 
 were well back now " except Freddy Blue," she 
 added, after a moment's thought. 
 
 Joshua Barton brought his clenched hand down on 
 the bed-clothes. "That's the girl Freddy Blue. 
 Where were my eyes ? I thought a hundred things 
 now " he muttered to himself, incoherently. 
 
 Christine stared in growing wonderment. 
 
 " Freddy Blue," he began to murmur again. 
 " Freddy Blue, of course." 
 
 Christine still stared. Any number of Douglas' 
 quiet remarks, and several small occurrences that 
 hooked themselves together into a perfect chain now 
 rose up in her memory to support the truth of Mr. 
 Barton's words. Of course, it was Freddy Blue. 
 Why, almost at the first moment of their meeting he 
 had told her of his life-long friendship with Freddy 
 Blue. And Freddy Blue herself had sobbed that out 
 that night in the garden. 
 
 But what had caused Freddy's unusual agitation? 
 This question perplexed Christine now as then. Could 
 it be that she had loved Doug and that after a lovers' 
 quarrel she had engaged herself to Dr. Denton? But 
 she knew Doug had never declared himself. He said
 
 FREDDY 321 
 
 as much that memorable night of the drive. Well, 
 then, if Freddy loved Dr. Denton and was soon to be- 
 come his wife, what right had she to be distressed to 
 the point of tears over a farewell note from Douglas 
 Barton? What did it mean? 
 
 Her thoughts were shuttling back and forth about 
 this teasing problem when Mr. Barton's next words 
 transfixed her. 
 
 " Bring Freddy Blue here." 
 
 "Here? Now?" 
 
 " Yes, here, now," he blazed at her ; " when did you 
 think? Next week or next year?" 
 
 " Hadn't I better wait until Mark ? " 
 
 "Am I a puling infant or a doddering old idiot? 
 Can't I be left alone a single minute? There's work 
 to be done, and at once, and I've got to do it. That 
 boy's going to have more than a fighting chance if I 
 I have to spend my last dollar. There, forgive 
 me, Christine, I quite forgot myself." His passion 
 quickly raged itself out, and he lay back with his eyes 
 closed and his mouth working convulsively. " I want 
 to see Douglas before my call comes," he said after a 
 moment's pause, in a tone so feeble that it made her 
 throat tight. " You won't hold it up against me, 
 child?" 
 
 " No, Uncle Barty." She put her fresh young lips 
 to the withered cheek before she left the room. 
 
 Christine's thoughts were busy with the tangle as 
 she walked toward the Blue cottage at a hurried pace 
 in spite of the scorching sun. She realized her mis- 
 sion was delicate. Freddy would demand some ex- 
 planation of this sudden summons. How much 
 should she divulge? She had not reached any satis-
 
 322 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 factory conclusion when she thrust open the small 
 wicket-gate. 
 
 She had gone but a step or two up the flower-bor- 
 dered walk when a piercing shriek rang out from 
 somewhere behind her, and drove all thought of the 
 dreaded task from her mind for the time being. She 
 whirled about, and there in the road lay Tommy Blue, 
 a bicycle fallen upon her, and a broken bottle of milk 
 clutched in her hands. 
 
 To Christine's excited fancy the street was a welter 
 of automobiles and giant trucks bearing madly down 
 on the child. Afterwards she was told there were 
 but two automobiles in the entire block, one of them 
 stationary, the other some dozen or more rods be- 
 yond the point of the accident. Douglas' heroic act 
 was in her mind as she dashed into the road, and 
 dragged Tommy to safety on the curb. 
 
 " I f-fell off F-Freddy's o-old w-wheel," Tommy 
 sobbed, in the shelter of Christine's arms. " S-she 
 t-told me n-not to t-take it, b-but we n-needed m-milk, 
 and now s-see where 't is." 
 
 Christine saw where it was a steady, little white 
 stream running in the gutter, but she also saw another 
 little stream equally steady, but it was bright red and 
 flowing from a small, -much begrimed hand. For a 
 moment everything swam before her eyes, and uncer- 
 tainly her hand fluttered to her forehead. Then she 
 tried to fight off the black wave that was threatening 
 to engulf her. 
 
 " You've cut your hand a bit, Tommy," her voice 
 seemed to come from afar off. " Better let Freddy 
 mend you up." 
 
 " Freddy's got a norful headache," Tommy replied,
 
 FREDDY 323 
 
 her tears flowing afresh at the discovery of her wound, 
 " and mother's down town, and nobody's home. 
 O-o-oh, 'm I going to die? Look at all the blood. 
 I'll just die if you don't fix my hand." 
 
 Christine's eyes widened. Could she have heard 
 aright? She why, the very sight of blood made 
 her positively ill! As for touching that cut hand 
 she couldn't. Surely there was somebody else. 
 
 "Where's your father?" she demanded weakly, 
 half -leading, half -carry ing the little girl up the path. 
 
 " He's d-down at the church, playing organ," 
 sobbed Tommy. " O-o-oh, he'll be s-sorry I'm all 
 dead" 
 
 " You're not going to die on my hands. Show me 
 where we can get hot water and things." Chris- 
 tine's cheeks were chalky-pale, but she spoke through 
 grimly set lips. 
 
 She was still a bit shaky when she crept into the 
 darkened bedroom where, a towel bound about her 
 head, Freddy lay, her regal length extended on a dilap- 
 idated old sofa. Somehow it was borne in upon 
 Christine more forcibly than ever as she drew nearer 
 the recumbent figure that Freddy Blue had heroic pro- 
 portions for a woman. Even in the subdued light 
 Freddy's face looked swollen and marred with tears. 
 
 " You poor dear," murmured Christine. " I didn't 
 know you had such headaches." 
 
 There was a catch in Freddy's voice which sounded 
 husky and toneless. " I don't. Never had a head- 
 ache before in my life. I'm disgustingly healthy. 
 But let's talk of something else. Tell me something 
 funny. I want to 1-laugh. I f-feel as if I hadn't 
 laughed in y-years."
 
 3 2 4 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 But it was Tommy, not Christine, who brought a 
 light laugh to her lips. At that very instant the door 
 was stealthily opened and a small form topped with a 
 curly head appeared in the aperture, stage-whispering, 
 " Freddy, Freddy, are you asleep ? I've been norful 
 bad again. You won't scold, will you, 'cause I 'most 
 died. Look here ! " and triumphantly Tommy waved 
 before her sister's gaze the clumsily bandaged hand. 
 
 " How ever did you do it? " 
 
 " And I've got to crawl around for you on my 
 hands and knees till you say stop, aren't I ? " Tommy 
 demanded, earnest-eyed, when she had done full jus- 
 tice to every detail of the to her, at least hair- 
 raising accident. 
 
 Freddy laughed. " I believe that's the rule, kiddie. 
 You have to serve the aggrieved person till she's sat- 
 isfied." 
 
 " Want a drink er er sumthin' ? " the culprit 
 asked, so ingenuously that Freddy laughed again. 
 
 " Nothing, thanks ! I'm busy now. Suppose you 
 run out into the yard to play, but come the second I 
 call. You're getting off easy this time, Tommy." 
 
 Tommy thought so, too, and her gratitude was 
 partly expressed in the fervent kiss she dropped upon 
 her sister's cheek before she betook herself out into 
 the world of sunshine and play. 
 
 After the door had closed upon Tommy, for a full 
 half-moment neither girl spoke, then Freddy said 
 slowly, turning her gray-green eyes unsmilingly upon 
 her visitor, " You're a duck, Christine. It must've 
 been an awfully messy job and " 
 
 " Nonsense," denied Christine, smiling sidelong at 
 the memory.
 
 FREDDY 325 
 
 Freddy continued quietly, as if there had been no 
 interruption. " And I know just how you hate such 
 things, blood and accidents and cripples. Remember 
 we talked about that the first time we met? " 
 
 Christine nodded soberly. " I'm still fool enough 
 to want to faint or run when somebody's hurt, but 
 I've learned heaps about cripples since that day. 
 I don't want to run now when I see one. I want to 
 to lend a hand that sort of thing, you know," 
 she wound up earnestly, if a bit incoherently. 
 
 " I don't wonder he everybody loves you," 
 Freddy said, in a queer, choked way. 
 
 " But they don't," Christine protested, with unex- 
 pected fervor ; " that's what you said that night in the 
 garden, and it isn't true. I've wanted to tell you ever 
 so many times I you " she floundered help- 
 lessly for a moment, then broke off. There was so 
 much to tell. Where should she begin? 
 
 Unconsciously Freddy helped her by asking, with 
 an elaborate carelessness, " Heard from Doug lately ? " 
 
 " I haven't, but Mr. Barton had a letter this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 Freddy's feigned indifference fell from her. " Mr. 
 Barton ! Doug wrote him not me," and to Chris- 
 tine's horrified surprise she buried her face in the 
 pillows, and her body shook with great sobs. 
 
 Christine was instantly at her side, the memory of 
 that letter to Mr. Barton full upon her. "There, 
 there, dear, don't take it like that. Besides, who 
 knows " 
 
 "Who knows?" Freddy repeated, her eyes swim- 
 ming in tears. " I know. I know every year since 
 Douglas Barton's lived here," she imparted passion-
 
 326 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 ately, " he and I've gone together on this day to his 
 mother's grave. He said it was a sacred act that 
 bound us together for all time, that all our lives, no 
 matter where we were, we'd make this pilgrimage, and 
 now to-day not a word, not a sign from him. 
 I went there a-alone," she gasped in hard, cutting 
 sobs. 
 
 " But, Freddy, I don't understand. Dr. Denton " 
 
 " Dr. Denton ! " Freddy peered up at her through 
 her tears. " I suppose I'm fool enough to make my- 
 self sick by crying, but don't, for pity's sake, send for 
 Dr. Denton." 
 
 " I didn't mean to send for Dr. Denton, but, but, 
 you're engaged to to Dr. Denton, aren't you?" 
 Christine blurted out miserably. 
 
 The other girl sat up abruptly, and stared at her 
 out of heavy, swollen eyes. " Are you out of your 
 senses? I engaged to Dr. Denton? Where in the 
 name of all that's great and good did you get that 
 idea?" 
 
 " Oh, you darling." Christine rasped out a sob as 
 she flung her arms about Freddy, and laughed and 
 cried all in a breath. 
 
 It was Freddy's turn to aver now, " But I don't un- 
 derstand. Whatever made you think that, and where 
 does the darling come in?" 
 
 Christine dropped down on the rug beside the couch. 
 " I " she began, a deep flush staining her cheeks, 
 but again her arms encircled Freddy's neck. 
 
 "Oh, you dear, dear thing!" she babbled. "It's 
 too wonderful is it true?" 
 
 "Of course, but what's all the excitement about?"
 
 FREDDY 327 
 
 Freddy asked, a trifle curtly. " What made you think 
 that fool thing?" 
 
 Christine strove for calmness. But it was hard to 
 be calm when her blood was singing in her veins, and 
 she wanted to dance from sheer joy-madness. 
 
 " Why, I you I've seen you together ever so 
 many times," she began lamely, " and you both looked 
 so tremendously happy," her mind had quickly re- 
 verted to the glimpse she had caught of the pair in the 
 doctor's car, "and and both of you spoke of a 
 secret " 
 
 " Oh, that," interrupted Freddy, " that isn't a secret 
 any longer." She smiled now through the tears that 
 still glistened on her lashes. " The final arrange- 
 ments were put through yesterday, Dr. Denton phoned 
 me, for a wonderful big orthopoedic hospital in the 
 city, and he's to be the head. The plans are going to 
 be drawn up at once, and they've rented that Brown 
 sanatorium for temporary quarters, and I'm to be on 
 the staff oh, just a weeny-teeny mite of a job, but 
 with a real salary, and now that mother's getting about 
 again, I can be spared, you see." 
 
 " I see," repeated Christine hazily, as one whose 
 mental vision is dazzled by too bright a light. Docky 
 not engaged! Of course he would never love her, but 
 now that heavy torturing weight of mental dishon- 
 esty to Freddy Blue was magically swept away, she 
 was free to pour out for him the largesse of her 
 heart. 
 
 Dimly she was conscious that Freddy was speaking 
 again. Presently she gathered the drift of what she 
 was saying. Douglas never told of his love too
 
 328 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 proud because of his father's past and of course 
 there could be no question of marriage between them 
 it was merely that she was hurt because their life- 
 long friendship was so fragile a thing when he had 
 vowed he would never forget her. 
 
 " Why is there no question of marriage between 
 you?" Christine roused herself at last to ask bluntly. 
 
 Freddy's answer came in a choked tone, " Who'd 
 want to marry a female giant ? " 
 
 " Freddy ! " Christine's exclamation expressed 
 volumes. " You don't mean to say you'd let such a 
 picayune reason stand between you and Doug? " 
 
 Again Freddy's head went down among the pillows. 
 " I'm a head taller than Doug," came in a muffled 
 voice. 
 
 " If I loved a man I wouldn't care if I were seven 
 heads taller." 
 
 "Honest, Christine?" Freddy gazed at her out 
 of glad, incredulous eyes, " Honest? " 
 
 " Honest Injun, cross my heart and hope to die," 
 the old childish vow came from unsmiling lips. " Love 
 is the only thing in the world that really matters. Be- 
 sides, don't you see there's so much more of you to love 
 him with and for him to love," she ended quaintly, if 
 a bit incoherently. 
 
 For a few seconds it may have been five 
 neither girl spoke. Freddy lay pensively thoughtful 
 and Christine was conscious of a growing dismay at 
 her inability to control the situation. She had been 
 here, oh, probably a half hour, and she had not yet 
 approached the real object of her visit. Of course 
 Freddy was too ill to obey Uncle Barty's imperious
 
 FREDDY 329 
 
 summons this afternoon, but she ought to give her at 
 least a hint about Douglas' accident and the real rea- 
 son she had not heard from him to-day. Well, she 
 must set about the difficult task quickly, and then be 
 off. Poor Uncle Barty! By this time he must have 
 worked himself into a fever of impatience at her 
 delay. 
 
 " You've heard of counting chickens before they're 
 hatched," Freddy broke the little silence. " Here we 
 are talking away about my refusing to marry Doug 
 when he's never even asked me." Her little laugh was 
 half a sob. 
 
 Christine made a sharp little exclamation and her 
 heart beat painfully. A thought that had been haunt- 
 ing the outskirts of her mind all during this visit sud- 
 denly pushed itself well to the front. She felt the 
 blood scorch her face and as quickly recede, leaving 
 her cold, pale, trembling. 
 
 "Oh I Freddy, you'll hate me all your life, 
 but but I as much as told Doug you were engaged 
 to Dr. Denton." Her words came in a rush now. 
 " Don't look at me like that, Freddy. I'll make things 
 right. I'll write to him, no, I'll I'll get Uncle 
 Barty to let me go with Dr. Marsh on the special to- 
 night." 
 
 Freddy had to moisten her dry lips once, twice be- 
 fore words would come. " Dr. Marsh ! Special ! " 
 Suddenly she remembered Christine had spoken of a 
 letter to Mr. Barton. " He he's what's hap- 
 pened ? " 
 
 Again Christine's words came pell-mell, as she de- 
 tailed briefly as she could the contents of the two let-
 
 330 
 
 ters. " The nurse said," she wound up brokenly, 
 " he has a fighting chance, but oh, Freddy, he'll have 
 ten fighting chances when I tell him " 
 
 Freddy rose from the sofa as if projected by 
 springs. " When you tell him if there's anything 
 to tell, I'll do the telling myself." 
 
 Shortly before midnight a special train was thun- 
 dering across peaceful country towards the east. In 
 the private car that belonged to the president of the 
 railroad Joshua Barton's name was potent to work 
 such magic were two guests, a gray-haired man who 
 would be tagged anywhere as a physician of some note, 
 and an over-tall girl with odd, gray-green eyes. The 
 gray-haired man was already fast asleep, the over-tall 
 girl with the gray-green eyes was not. She lay sway- 
 ing to the motion of the express, her eyes on the 
 vague, ghostly landscape that was tearing past but 
 her mind had swung onward, ahead of the rocking 
 train to that tiny hospital in New Amsterdam which, 
 by a curious coincidence, sheltered within its walls her 
 cousin, the head dietitian of the institution, as well as 
 Douglas Barton, her lifelong friend. 
 
 And separated by an ever-growing chain of miles 
 but linked in thought, another girl was lying wide- 
 eyed, staring out into the starry night. " Freddy was 
 a peach not to hold a grudge. I hope Doug won't be 
 an Injun. In seven, no, six hours now Freddy '11 be 
 there, and then, oh God be good to the two of 
 them!"
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 A GRATE FIRE AND THE END 
 
 "If that pesky cake doesn't turn out a perfect pip- 
 pin, Misery, I'll be tempted to drown myself in this 
 frosting." Christine dabbed a moist, floury forehead 
 with a corner of her bungalow apron, and proceeded 
 with a vigorous beating of the aforesaid foamy mass 
 into which she threatened to precipitate herself. 
 
 Misery, who was ever a literal soul, glanced up 
 quickly from the pile of silverware she was polishing. 
 " Now, Miss Christine, don't you go talkin' of drown- 
 in' yourself. You a young thing, and pretty as a rose, 
 if I may be so bold as to say it to your face, and with 
 everything to live for! But listen to me preachin' 
 away. Land knows, most folks got enough sweepin' 
 to do right in their own front yards, says I. Many's 
 the time I've wanted to do that very same thing, and 
 I'd 'a' done it, too, but for that blessed doctor." 
 
 " Mrs. Anderson says silver cake's Docky's favo- 
 rite," Christine remarked, in what she flattered her- 
 self was an indifferent tone, to the accompaniment of 
 the egg-beater. 
 
 Misery stole a glance at her out of the tail of her 
 eye, then nodded slowly to herself two or three times 
 as if supremely satisfied with what she had seen. 
 
 "Of course," the girl hastened to add, as she ran 
 the prongs of a fork through the creamy froth and 
 lifted it here and there into tiny peaks, " it's on 
 
 33i
 
 332 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 Laurie's account I'm anxious that cake should be a 
 masterpiece." 
 
 "Of course. He's the birthday child to-day, and 
 you sure " 
 
 " A telegraph for you," Amelia hobbled into the sun- 
 bright kitchen. 
 
 " For me? " Christine flew to meet her. 
 
 " It's got your name on it, anyhow," Amelia said 
 drily, and lingered in frank curiosity to learn its con- 
 tents. 
 
 " I was thinking somehow it ought to be for 
 Laurie," Christine flopped into the nearest chair, and 
 blew back a stray tendril of gold from one eye. 
 " Everything belongs to him to-day. My hands are 
 so sticky why, why, oh, how perfectly heavenly!" 
 She flung her arms about the nearest form, which 
 chanced to be Misery's, and swept her into a mad jig 
 up and down the room. 
 
 " H'm," Amelia ejaculated reproachfully, after a 
 moment. " I can't wait no longer with all them things 
 to be done before night," and made as if to leave the 
 room. 
 
 Christine who well knew wild horses couldn't have 
 dragged Amelia from the spot before her kindly curi- 
 osity was satisfied, and who yet couldn't forbear to 
 tease, released Misery so suddenly that she flew al- 
 most the length of the room, and waving the telegram 
 triumphantly before the old nurse, cried with her 
 youthful exuberance, " Isn't it great, 'Melia? They've 
 gone and done it." 
 
 Amelia walked out of the door as dignifiedly as 
 rheumatic old joints would permit. " All I can say 
 is, I wouldn't have thought it of you "
 
 A GRATE FIRE AND THE END 333 
 
 "I? 'Melia, I didn't do it," Christine smiled imp- 
 ishly, " but if I'd had the chance, who knows, and 
 here I am grinning like a Cheshire cat when Doug's 
 lost" 
 
 " Lost," Amelia gave a little start. 
 
 " Yes, lost to me forever " tragically " and a 
 couple of days after that. Maybe if I'd been there! 
 Well, anyhow, he and Freddy leaped the awful leap 
 last night, and she says they're coming home after a 
 week of honeymooning." 
 
 " Sho, I ought to know better by this time than to 
 get all worked up over your monkeyshines, but you 
 sure did give me a regular turn about that fine young 
 gentleman. Married, you say. Well, now, I'd cer- 
 tainly call it nice if " 
 
 But Christine did not wait to hear Amelia's pro- 
 nouncement of niceness. She was already running up 
 the back stairs, two or three steps at a time. An- 
 other instant and she had catapulted herself across Mr. 
 Barton's room to the window where he sat in his in- 
 valid's chair sunning himself. 
 
 "They're married, Uncle Barty!" she cried ex- 
 ultantly, waving her telegram at him. 
 
 " They're married, Christine," he replied in instant 
 mimicry of her tones ; and he, too, waved a telegram. 
 
 They regarded each other unsmilingly for a mo- 
 ment, then laughed together. 
 
 " Pouf," sniffed Christine, " I knew it before you 
 did, anyhow. Had a letter from Freddy yesterday." 
 
 A wicked little gleam appeared in the deep-sunken 
 eyes. " Douglas' letter came in the afternoon mail." 
 
 " And you never told me! " 
 
 " And you never told me! "
 
 334 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 Whereupon the two arch-conspirators again laughed 
 together. For the next half hour they were busy 
 quarreling over various arrangements for the home- 
 coming of the newly wedded ones. 
 
 " Well, anyhow, if you insist on all those fool flow- 
 ers," Christine flashed him her most engaging smile, 
 " the other dinner arrangements have to be left to me. 
 You shan't have even a finger in that pie. Pie! Oh, 
 Pete, my cake! My day'll be ruined if " She bit 
 off the rest of the sentence, and swallowed it in her 
 rapid flight. 
 
 But Misery had saved the day and the cake, too, and 
 when the snowy work of art was brought to the table 
 that night, crowned with fourteen tiny candles and 
 the big center candle for good luck, Christine was sat- 
 isfied. It was, if she said it as shouldn't, a perfect 
 birthday cake. But she didn't have to say it. The 
 others said it for her. 
 
 Modestly she had forbidden Amelia and Misery to 
 mention the author of its being. But she had for- 
 gotten to swear the twins, who had been haunting 
 the outskirts of the kitchen during the toothsome per- 
 formance, to secrecy. Hardly had Laurie applied the 
 light to the last candle when the nimble tongue of 
 Daffy broke the awed, ecstatic silence into which she 
 and Dilly had fallen upon the opening of that mystic 
 rite. 
 
 " Docky, Docky, isn't it the bee-you- fullest cake 
 you ever saw?" Daffy almost precipitated herself in 
 her eagerness into Dr. Denton's arms. " 'N' Christie 
 made it all herself." 
 
 " It certainly looks like the bee-you-fullest cake I 
 ever saw," was the doctor's prompt and satisfactory
 
 A GRATE FIRE AND THE END 335 
 
 reply, " and " slowly he consumed the morsel he 
 had raised to his lips, with the air of one who was 
 enjoying ambrosia to say the least, " it tastes like the 
 bee-you- fullest cake in all the world." 
 
 His eyes met the brown eyes with the golden flecks. 
 The brown eyes fell, and clung obstinately to the lace- 
 doily-covered plate below them as he continued, 
 " Somebody in this family, Daffy, has fairy fingers as 
 well as fairy feet." 
 
 It was a homely meal, simple in all its appoint- 
 ments, but the food was well cooked and seasoned 
 with Misery's loving care, and partaken amid joyous 
 chatter, badinage, and many peals and bursts of laugh- 
 ter. Never had those old rafters, though they had 
 looked down upon many a formal, elaborate dinner 
 party, graced by men of note and women of wit and 
 beauty, rung with merrier echoes. Everyone was in 
 a lightsome mood as befitted the occasion, and Chris- 
 tine rejoiced inwardly at the quiet contentment that 
 shone from Mr. Barton's deep-sunken eyes. His birth- 
 day gift to the boy had been a check ample enough to 
 cover a year's instruction with the best master of the 
 violin the city afforded. Though it had been an un- 
 usually pain-filled day for him, he had insisted on 
 being present at the birthday supper, and now as he sat 
 at Laurie's right, it warmed the girl's heart of hearts 
 to see the look of understanding that flashed now and 
 then between the man and the boy. They had no 
 need of words, those two; they were in perfect ac- 
 cord. 
 
 When even the twins could not crowd down an- 
 other morsel of birthday cake, and the birthday 
 speeches were over Misery's and Amelia's reminded
 
 336 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART. 
 
 Christine forcibly of the brook that ran on forever 
 they trooped into the living-room. There Laurie 
 played all the old favorites, and then they gathered 
 about the piano, and sang round after round of song. 
 Presently Christine was persuaded to slip into the 
 silver-green gown and dance for them. And that 
 night she danced as she never had before. It seemed 
 to Dr. Denton, at least, that she was a bodiless sprite, 
 a winged spirit, so immaterial and delicate that she 
 moved on air. And to the girl herself it seemed that 
 she had never dreamed of the possibilities of such 
 ecstasy she was dancing the sheer beauty of life 
 and young love and she was dancing it all for him. 
 When it was over, she obeyed Mr. Barton's out- 
 stretched hands. 
 
 " You are a wonder-girl," he half whispered. " I 
 haven't been so so stirred since I don't know when. 
 I wish Douglas had been here, to " he put up his 
 hand to hide the twitching of his lips and chin. " Nine 
 o'clock," he snapped the next minute, as " the old- 
 grandfather " in the hall sounded its rhythmic boom; 
 " an hour past my bedtime ! You'll have me down 
 sick to-morrow, Christine. What's that man Mark 
 thinking of?" 
 
 " I'll send him " Christine made an impulsive 
 move towards the bow-window in which Mark sat be- 
 tween Amelia and Misery with all the dignity of a 
 box-seat holder. 
 
 " Not so fast, not so fast," the old man caught at 
 her hand. 
 
 She half wheeled and met his wistful gaze. 
 
 " Of course, Uncle Barty," she said on the instant, 
 and presently she was accompanying Laurie in the
 
 A GRATE FIRE AND THE END 337 
 
 opening tars of " Oh ! That We Two were Maying." 
 Her voice trembled at first she had never sung be- 
 fore Docky but soon it steadied itself and as the 
 melody swelled tenderly under the touch of Laurie's 
 sensitive fingers, she sang with the same sweet, ex- 
 quisite freshness as birds sing. 
 
 At last, when Mr. Barton had withdrawn with 
 Mark's aid, and Amelia had swept off the sleep-heavy 
 but still protesting twins, and Laurie, drowsy-eyed 
 from the exciting events of the day, had made his ex- 
 cuses, Dr. Denton drew up a huge leather-covered 
 chair for Christine before the grate-fire. 
 
 " It's been a pretty full day, but, oh," she half- whis- 
 pered, with a deep, tremulous, indrawn breath, " it's 
 been a real day." 
 
 There was a quiet moment or two in which the clock 
 ticked. Then came the tinkle, tinkle of rain drops on 
 the window-panes like the refrain of a lullaby. 
 
 " How cozy ! " Dr. Denton stretched his hands to 
 the crackling blaze. 
 
 There was another silence in which the tinkle, tinkle 
 of the drops swelled into a pitter-patter, pitter-patter, 
 and then burst suddenly into a tempest of rain and 
 wind. Any observer at that moment would have said 
 both occupants of the room had their eyes fixed on the 
 fire. But somehow she was seeing his deep gray, 
 kindly eyes, the sweep of wavy brown hair which he 
 had a boyish trick of tossing back from his forehead, 
 the squareness of his shoulders, his splendid length of 
 limb. 
 
 And in turn, he was seeing the softness of her 
 mouth, the sweep of the long lashes on her cheek, the 
 virginal beauty of her low bosom, the crisp, rounded
 
 338 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 shoulders and finely molded arms under their cloud of 
 green mist. More than ever she made him think of 
 an orchid, with her glistening gold hair, and her in- 
 credibly airy gown with its whisper here of lace and 
 there a promise of palest green chiffon. 
 
 The flames that had been leaping high and casting 
 weird shadows on ceiling and walls, suddenly sank. 
 Christine darted from her chair, and, seizing a poker, 
 began to prod the live coals. 
 
 " Let me " Dr. Denton rose too. 
 
 " No, I want to," pouted Christine childishly. 
 
 There was a playful wrestle for the poker, and then 
 neither ever could explain how it happened a 
 fiery eye of coal had touched the light chiffon, and 
 she was aflame. 
 
 Almost before she had time to think, to be fright- 
 ened, he had beat out the fire with his bare hands. Al- 
 most before she had time to think, to know what was 
 happening, he had gathered her in his arms, her head 
 was in the hollow of his shoulder, and vaguely she 
 heard him saying wild words of rapture ; she heard, 
 too, the pounding of his heart against her own. 
 
 Then he bent down, drew her head up, and, fram- 
 ing her face in his hands, kissed her lips. The next 
 instant he released her, and threw himself into a chair, 
 plunging his face in his hands. 
 
 " Brute ! " he gritted between his teeth. 
 
 The quiet was unbroken except for the steady down- 
 pour, and the occasional crackle and snap of a coal. 
 Dr. Denton still sat, head bowed, and Christine still 
 stood motionless, rapt, where he had left her. 
 
 " Docky," the whisper came little more than a 
 breath, but he heard it.
 
 A GRATE FIRE AND THE END 339 
 
 " Christine ! " He was on his feet again, and even 
 in the dim wavering light of the fire she could see the 
 ashy pallor of his face, the dark distress in his eyes. 
 " Can you ever forgive me, child ? I never can for- 
 give myself." 
 
 For answer her arms went up and encircled his 
 neck. Her lips brushed his cheek. Then she drew 
 his head down, his face so close to hers that he could 
 see only those deep, brown velvet eyes flecked with 
 gold. "I'll I'll never forgive you if you don't do 
 it again." 
 
 Their lips clung for one exquisite moment, then 
 gently he put her from him. " You don't know 
 you don't understand, dearest " he was trying to 
 pull himself together " you're so young.' ? 
 
 " Time'll soon change that," she smiled up at him, 
 with alluring audacity. " I'll grow older by leaps and 
 bounds. I'm ten years older now than I was last 
 September." 
 
 Involuntarily he made a move to draw her to him 
 again, then dropped his arms with a groan. " You're 
 not at fault, Goldilocks. You're just perfect. It's I 
 I that must seem like a doddering old grandfather." 
 
 " A grandfather ! Oh, Docky ! You've always 
 been though I didn't always know it and no 
 matter what happens, you'll always be my fairy 
 prince." Her face was transfigured with the light 
 that shines for only one man. He saw it and ac- 
 knowledged it in every fiber of his being, but still he 
 managed to keep his hands at his sides. 
 
 " I could not give you the setting of wealth you've 
 always known," he said, quietly. 
 
 " Not always, Docky, not for the best part of my
 
 340 CHRISTINE OF THE YOUNG HEART 
 
 life. Yes, these months have been the best part of 
 my life. Oh, I've learned, and " suddenly she flung 
 out her hands towards him in an expressive gesture 
 " and I've lived since that afternoon you brought me 
 home from the club. It isn't money or fame or any- 
 thing like that that counts, Docky; it's Just love." 
 
 The sweetness of her was pouring fire into his veins 
 like a draught of some rare old wine. He made a 
 move as if to gather her close to him, but stopped 
 himself his misgivings had not been banished. 
 "You're forgetting, Goldilocks, your career. You 
 have an undeniable gift straight from the gods and " 
 
 " Docky," she broke in, and her face was beautiful 
 in its enthusiasm, " love is stronger than work or fame 
 or anything. I found that out to-night. I don't 
 want to dance for money. It's it's " she groped 
 for the right word " it's profaning the loveliness of 
 the art to dance for money I want to dance just 
 for the sheer love of it. I knew that when I was 
 dancing to-night for you." 
 
 " My darling ! My little love-girl ! " His arms 
 were about her, his lips on hers. 
 
 The storm had spent its fury and only the faintest 
 tinkle-tinkle of rain-drops was to be heard when 
 Christine gently drew herself away from Dr. Denton's 
 arms and moved all of an inch from him on the daven- 
 port, the better to see his face. 
 
 " Tell it to me all over again. When was the very 
 first minute you loved me Paul ? " 
 
 " Little Gift of God," he strained her close again, 
 " the very first minute I set eyes on you, I'm half in- 
 clined to believe." 
 
 " Docky," she whispered, her lips close to his ear,
 
 A GRATE FIRE AND THE END 341 
 
 " I dreamed you you kissed me that night in your 
 car, and called me little love-girl." 
 
 " Brute that I was," he half groaned. " I com- 
 pletely lost my head that night, and was ready to shoot 
 myself when I thought of Cort and " 
 
 The red of the coals in the grate had faded into the 
 gray of ashes, with here and there a tiny fiery winking 
 eye, when Dr. Denton said, " I wonder if you realize 
 it's going to be rather hard on you to be a doctor's 
 wife, Goldilocks. And now with that big hospital " 
 
 " I know what you mean, Docky," she cut in. 
 " You'll have to be away from me a great deal and 
 all that. But when the hospital's running there'll 
 surely be something, oh, perhaps a tiny little thing 
 that I can do to help. But I don't see why I need to 
 wait for that," her tone was colored with youthful 
 enthusiasm, " I can find something to do in the tem- 
 porary hospital if " 
 
 It was his turn to interrupt. " You, child, you with 
 your distaste for illness, and sick-rooms and cripples." 
 
 " The Christine of a year ago used to feel like that, 
 and and," her laugh broke forth irresistibly, " this 
 Christine hasn't entirely outgrown it, either. But she's 
 coming on, Docky, she's coming on." She stopped; 
 then, 
 
 " Did you ever see that old sampler of Freddy 
 Blue's? " she asked, with a sweet seriousness that made 
 him draw her close to him again. " I can't quite re- 
 member the queer old verse, but it's something about 
 helping the lame dogs you meet over the stile. You've 
 been doing that for years, Docky. I want to give 
 them a helping hand, too." 
 
 THE END
 
 ^S&tejy 
 
 OOQ 
 
 364