it
 
 UCSB LIBRARY 
 

 
 Mr. Bemis was driving furiously." Page 5.
 
 PAULINE WYMAN 
 
 BY 
 
 SOPHIE MAY 
 
 AUTHOR OF " THE DOCTOR'S DAUGHTER," " OUR HELEN," " THE 
 ASBURY TWINS," " QUINNEBASSET GIRLS," "JANET," ETC. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY VICTOR A. SEARLES 
 
 BOSTON 
 LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1898, BY LEE AND SHEPARD 
 
 AH Rights Reserved 
 
 PAULINE WYMAN 
 
 Nortooot) 
 J. S. Gushing & Co. Berwick & Smith. 
 Norwood Max. U.S.A.
 
 9Ta tfje ^rectaug fflemarg 
 
 OF MY NIECE 
 
 REBECCA CLARKE LINDSAY 
 
 FOR WHOSE SAKE 
 ALL YOUNG GIRLS ARE DEAR TO ME 
 
 THIS STORY 
 
 OF AN EARNEST HAPPY YOUNG LIFE 
 IS DEDICATED
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PACK 
 
 I. PAULINE AT HOME i 
 
 II. "THE ENGLISH ROSE" . . . .12 
 
 III. A DISCLOSURE 23 
 
 IV. UNCLE IKE AND ROXY 34 
 
 V. BREAKING IT TO JAMES .... 46 
 
 VI. THE LITTLE TEACHER 59 
 
 VII. THE BOAT RACE 69 
 
 VIII. THE RED-HAIRED STRANGER . . . 82* 
 
 IX. PAULINE'S ENGINEER 97 
 
 X. A NEW IDEA 112 
 
 XI. IN THE WOOD-LOT 125 
 
 XII. JIM'S ROOM" 135 
 
 XIII. THE PROFESSOR AND MRS. WYMAN . . 148 
 
 XIV. THE "TROUT-FLY" 159 
 
 XV. " I THOUGHT YOU WOULD COME " . . 170 
 
 XVI. GRANDMA PETTIJOHN 183
 
 vi CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XVII. MAJOR MELZAR 196 
 
 XVIII. " BLUEBEARD V CHAMBER .... 209 
 
 XIX. THE SILENT NUN 220 
 
 XX. AN EXPERIMENT 233 
 
 XXI. THE END 245
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 "MR. BEMIS WAS DRIVING FURIOUSLY" . Frontispiece 
 
 PAGE 
 
 " IT TAKES A MAN, DON'T YOU KNOW ? ' " . . . 55 
 
 " TYING THE HANDKERCHIEF SECURELY AROUND THE 
 
 ANIMAL'S NECK" . . . -130 
 
 " ' DO YOU MEAN MY LITTLE GIRL, OUR LITTLE PAUL- 
 INE ?'" 154 
 
 " < HELLO ! EVA ! HELLO ! I CAN'T LAND !'" . .168 
 
 PAULINE'S DISCOVERY OF THE WILL . . . .216 
 
 " ' PRAY TELL ME IF INK EVER FADES '" . . . 230 
 
 " ' WHY, WHAT'S THIS ? ' HE EXCLAIMED " . . . 247
 
 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 i. 
 
 PAULINE AT HOME. 
 
 IT had been called the old Wyman place for 
 fifty years or more, a sharp-roofed, two-storied 
 house standing sunning itself on the slope of a hill. 
 
 Formerly it had been red, shaming the cinnamon 
 roses that blushed annually under the west win- 
 dows, and most unbecoming to the lilacs as they 
 blossomed out in the spring. Now it was a glar- 
 ing white, relieved only by green blinds and climb- 
 ing woodbine and bittersweet. 
 
 A picket-fence had once enclosed the simple 
 dooryard, but at present there were no boundary 
 lines except those made by two elm trees, a maple 
 tree, and an enormous willow. 
 
 The house faced the street askance and com- 
 manded a wide view of the river, though in doing 
 this it turned its back upon a wonderful mountain 
 range looming up in the north. It was the sight 
 of Old Saddleback, Mount White, and Mount 
 Abraham, forty miles away, with the glittering 
 ponds, Half-Moon and Lubec, that captivated 
 B l
 
 2 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 Pauline Wyman, and reconciled her to the square, 
 old-fashioned house which had been her home for 
 the sixteen and a half years of her life. 
 
 She liked to stand on the back doorstone and 
 drink in the remote grandeur with her eyes. Paul- 
 ine was not an idler, but an enthusiast. Under the 
 bronze ripples of her hair lay two inordinately 
 large organs of ideality, which her father said were 
 "as flighty as the wings on Mercury's slippers." 
 
 She never meant to linger too long on that flat 
 doorstone. She was the only daughter, the sister of 
 four boys, and there was scant time for lingering. 
 Life was earnest and full of practical demands 
 at the Wymans' ; still it did happen sometimes that 
 the mother was obliged to call " O Pauline, O Paul- 
 ine " ! with considerable emphasis, before the girl 
 would remember to go into the house and finish 
 her sweeping. 
 
 On the particular morning in April when our 
 story begins, as she stood regarding the mountains. 
 in rapt delight, a man drove around to the north 
 door in apparent haste, and, without alighting from 
 his wagon, asked in a loud, aggressive voice, 
 
 " Is the squire at home ? " 
 
 Pauline knew the man, Mr. Bartholomew Bemis, 
 a wealthy farmer from the Johonnet neighborhood. 
 But what right had he to scowl at her so fiercely ? 
 
 " I don't know whether my father is at home or 
 not, Mr. Bemis," she replied with a fine, unused 
 girlish dignity; "but I'll go in and inquire." 
 
 Mrs. Wyman, rolling out cookies in the pantry,
 
 PAULINE AT HOME. 3 
 
 looked up with an appearance of interest on learn- 
 ing who had called. 
 
 " Really, Pauline, I don't know where your father 
 is. He was going to the blacksmith's sometime 
 this morning, but if you didn't see him start I dare 
 say you'll find him in the attic." 
 
 Pauline ran swiftly up two flights of stairs. The 
 second flight was steep, with extremely narrow steps. 
 
 "Father," she called out on her way, "father, 
 are you there ? " 
 
 It would never do, she thought, to keep Mr. 
 Bemis waiting, so angry a man, and a possible 
 client. But there was no answer. Pauline tried 
 the door ; it was fastened. " Then he must be 
 here," she thought, knocking hard. 
 
 " What do you want ? " asked a voice from within. 
 
 " O father ! Mr. Bemis is down there at the back 
 door and wants to see you, and can't wait a min- 
 ute." 
 
 " Bemis ? Ahem ! I'll be there directly," re- 
 sponded Mr. Wyman, a pale, scholarly-looking man, 
 opening the door and peering out, both hands full 
 of papers. 
 
 "Wants that strip of land," muttered he, as if 
 explaining the man's errand to himself, not to 
 Pauline, who stood regarding him uneasily. 
 
 " O father, please, father," she ventured to 
 urge, " do hurry, or he'll drive right away ! You 
 know they call him Bumblebee, he's so impa- 
 tient." 
 
 Mr. Wyman smiled benignly.
 
 4 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " Impatient, is he ? " glancing down at the papers 
 in his hands, and assorting them into two separate 
 piles. 
 
 Then, without the slightest appearance of haste, 
 he turned back to the attic, knelt down, and de- 
 posited the papers in an old brass-nailed hair-trunk 
 near a window. Pauline watched him with inter- 
 est. She had often wondered why her father 
 should spend so much time in that dusty old attic, 
 hung with cobwebs and strewed with ancient news- 
 papers. Papa or father, as he preferred to be 
 called was just a little queer about some things. 
 
 When he was fully ready, and not a moment 
 sooner, Mr. Wyman went down leisurely to meet 
 Mr. Bart Bemis. 
 
 " H'm ! I'd about given you up," said that man, 
 testily, as he flicked a fly off his waiting horse. 
 "Wanted to talk to you about Eben Craig. You 
 know Eb's been trying for some time to crowd me 
 off my land, and now he's gone and built a hen- 
 house right on the dividing-line." 
 
 "Is that so? Why, a hen-house must interfere 
 with your view." 
 
 " It interferes with my views, yes ! Wouldn't it 
 with yours ? How'd you like to have one o' them 
 plaguy things stuck right out here in plain sight 
 before your west windows ? " 
 
 " Why, to be sure, it's wrong, very wrong. Prob- 
 ably Craig didn't consider." 
 
 " Now look here, Squire, none o' your smoothing 
 it over ! Craig did it o' purpose ! He's always
 
 PAULINE AT HOME. 5 
 
 claimed the land was his, and this is the way he 
 takes to bluff it out and drive me to terms. But 
 I'm bound to have the law on him, and I want you 
 to help me." 
 
 Mr. Wyman raised his eyebrows reflectively. 
 
 " Are you thoroughly convinced, Bemis, that that 
 strip doesn't belong to Craig ? Though to be sure 
 if it does, that wouldn't justify him in such un- 
 neighborly behavior." 
 
 " Belong to him ? No. Haven't I got a deed 
 that tells the story ? " 
 
 " To be sure ; but those old surveys were often 
 defective ; there's the point with Craig. Sup- 
 pose we go out, you and I. I know something of 
 surveying." 
 
 "Yes, you know altogether too much," blazed 
 the irate farmer, beginning to turn his horse. 
 " But surveying wasn't what I came to you for. 
 I came to complain of that hen-house as a nui- 
 sance, and get the law on Craig." 
 
 " Still, Mr. Bemis, pacific measures " 
 
 " Pacific measures go hang ! You're the best law- 
 yer in this country, Squire Wyman, if you'll only 
 stick to your business; and there's nobody's word 
 goes further with a jury. But I'm off now to Law- 
 yer Flint. He won't bother me with any of this 
 soft kind of talk." 
 
 And before Mr. Wyman could reply, Mr. Bemis 
 was driving furiously down the road without so 
 much as a "good morning." Pauline had heard 
 the conversation from the pantry window. Mrs.
 
 6 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 Wyman had heard it from the kitchen, but did 
 not look at her husband now, as he entered the 
 house followed by the dog Nox. She presumed 
 he had been exactly right in what he had said, or 
 tried to say, to Mr. Bemis. He was high-minded 
 and scrupulous, and she revered him for it. Still, 
 sometimes it occurred to her that possibly he had 
 mistaken his calling. People said he was unusu- 
 ally well read in the law, and his arguments were 
 apt to be clear and convincing. The drawback 
 was that he seldom got a chance to plead his 
 cases, as he settled most of them outside the 
 court-room. 
 
 Meanwhile his family was growing poorer every 
 day. He regretted this, but did not take it very 
 seriously. He had a happy faculty of forgetting 
 the stern realities of life in " the sweet serenity of 
 books." 
 
 "Pauline," said Mrs. Wyman, "it's time those 
 parlor windows were washed again. You'd better 
 use ammonia." 
 
 "Yes, mother," said Pauline, absently. "Jim 
 doesn't have to wash windows," she thought. 
 
 She could see him, her eldest brother, far down 
 the street, on the bicycle which Uncle Ike had 
 given him as a reward for being a boy. It would 
 have been fairer if he had given it to herself as a 
 slight compensation for being a girl. James was 
 in college right here in Eveleth ; and this again 
 was Uncle Ike's doing. 
 
 " I, too, would like to go to college, Vassar
 
 PAULINE AT HOME. 7 
 
 is my choice, but what have I to do with the 
 higher education ? It is ordained that I should 
 stay at home and wash windows." 
 
 She laughed and ran for the bottle of ammonia. 
 
 "Poor, honorable mother,"- she had just been 
 reading a Japanese book, and had caught some of 
 the Japanese phrases, " poor, honorable mother, 
 don't you call this the queerest house ? On the 
 north side it's all poetry, on the south it's all 
 prose." 
 
 Mrs. Wyman did not reply at once. She was 
 considering whether to ask her husband again to 
 split some kindling-wood. No; he had gone to 
 reading; she would not disturb him. 
 
 " Poetry, Pauline ? There's a stable on the 
 north and a vegetable garden ; where do you 
 find the poetry ? " 
 
 " In the mountain view, honorable mother ! You 
 look at Old Saddleback, and feel that you're go- 
 ing to be something and do something in the 
 world. Then you come into the house, into this 
 old parlor " 
 
 " I wish myself we had better furniture, Paul- 
 ine." 
 
 " Oh, it's not the furniture, mamma ; it's not 
 that at all ! " said Pauline, quickly, fearing her 
 mother's feelings were wounded. " I mean the 
 view from the front windows takes you down a 
 little, trees and a river, and the dust blowing 
 up from the road. I love it, but it's commonplace 
 compared with the mountains."
 
 8 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " But the windows are not commonplace, dear. 
 There's a tinge of unreality about them, surely." 
 
 Pauline laughed. The small panes were so bril- 
 liantly stained and streaked that, in looking out of 
 them, you seemed to peer through a vista of rain- 
 bows. 
 
 " Well, the rainbows do rather glorify the win- 
 dows, if you choose ; but it's the mountains that 
 glorify me," persisted Pauline. Her remarks were 
 interrupted by a wail from outside. 
 
 " It's dear little Arthur crying ; those boys are 
 teasing him ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 She ran to the front door and, without asking a 
 single question, called out : "Go away, you naughty 
 boys ! Arthur hasn't done anything wrong ! " 
 
 The little brother hid his head in her protecting 
 apron, while the other small boys continued to 
 vociferate. 
 
 "Pauline, you're too absurd!" cried James, rid- 
 ing into the mob on his bicycle, followed by his 
 friend, Ned Hallett, on another wheel. "Why 
 didn't you learn the rights of the case ? Arthur 
 has torn their kite. Now, you young ones, stop 
 yelling. Dan will mend your kite. Go find Dan ; 
 he's 'round somewhere." 
 
 There was a lull, while the mob ran in pursuit of 
 Danville Wyman, followed by the culprit Arthur. 
 
 Ned Hallett turned to Pauline, laughing. " I've 
 brought Eva's wheel to you," said he, " and I hope 
 you'll like riding it better than I do." 
 
 Eva was his sister who had lately gone to Michi-
 
 PAULINE AT HOME. 9 
 
 gan to visit her sick grandmother. During her 
 absence it was understood that Pauline, her most 
 intimate friend, was to use her wheel. 
 
 "Come now, Paul," said James, "let's take a 
 spin to Uncle Ike's." 
 
 And before many minutes Pauline was racing 
 away with her brother, leaving the rainbow win- 
 dows to their own bright reflections. 
 
 As Mrs. Wyman took up the ammonia bottle to 
 set it away, she remarked to Ned Hallett, with a 
 smile, 
 
 "Well, at any rate my only daughter is not 
 greatly cumbered with care." 
 
 Ned, watching the gay young girl from the door- 
 stone, only replied, 
 
 " Gee whiz, how she goes, Mrs. Wyman ! And 
 so little practice as she has had, too ! " 
 
 " I know I'm over-indulgent," thought the 
 mother ; " but my own youth was so drab-colored 
 and restrained that I do want Pauline to have a 
 little girlish freedom. Hark, there's the baby cry- 
 ing." 
 
 And she hastened into the house. 
 
 The brother and sister rode on in silence, Paul- 
 ine's eyes shining and dancing, for she was gain- 
 ing a little, and when they reached Uncle Ike's 
 was a few seconds ahead. 
 
 Colonel Isaac Selden was weeding a flower-bed 
 in front of his brick cottage, but arose from his 
 rheumatic old knees as the young people drew up 
 to the cedar hedge and halted.
 
 10 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " How do you do, Paulina ? How do you do, 
 Jamie ? Glad to see you both." 
 
 He always addressed his grand-nephew as Jamie 
 in remembrance of his own little son dead long ago. 
 Uncle Ike had been a widower for more than thirty 
 years, though the young people in the town gener- 
 ally thought and spoke of him as a bachelor. 
 
 " Well, Jamie, does the bicycle go all right ? " 
 
 " Famously, Uncle Ike," replied James, and 
 would have added, " Thank you for it again," only 
 the old gentleman objected to a superfluity of 
 gratitude. 
 
 " That's clever now. And this is Eva's wheel, 
 is it, Paulina ? But what in the world " 
 
 For Jim had begun to laugh immoderately. His 
 mouth emitted no sound, but he was bent nearly 
 double, shaking with a perfect earthquake of sup- 
 pressed mirth. 
 
 " Look at that fellow just heaving in sight, 
 there, coming this way. Keep your eye on him, 
 Paul, till he gets here." 
 
 Pauline peered into the distance at the person 
 indicated. As he drew nearer he proved to be a 
 tall, dark, well-dressed stranger, who removed his 
 hat and swept them all a polite bow. 
 
 " Do tell me," she cried, as soon as he was out 
 of hearing, " is anything the matter with him, or 
 what are you laughing at ? " 
 
 For James, having returned the stranger's bow 
 with preternatural solemnity, was now doubled up 
 again in "comic convulsions."
 
 PAULINE AT HOME. 11 
 
 "Wait till we get home. No, perhaps Uncle 
 Ike would like to hear it," added James, with an 
 afterthought of politeness. 
 
 " To be sure I would, Jamie. But who is it ? 
 He looks like a very respectable young man." 
 
 "That's our new tutor, Uncle Ike. It's Mr. 
 Wishart. And such a joke as we've played on 
 him! Oh, I can't live to tell it!"
 
 II. 
 
 "THE ENGLISH ROSE." 
 
 " YOU'D better alight and come into the house," 
 said the colonel, hospitably. 
 
 " No, thank you, uncle, it's not a long story," 
 returned James, secretly chagrined at being obliged 
 to tell it before a man who was hardly likely to 
 appreciate a college joke. 
 
 "Very well," said the excellent colonel, seating 
 himself on the doorstone and regarding his guests 
 with smiling complacency. 
 
 He had thoughtful, kindly, blue eyes, a sensitive 
 mouth, and a certain meekness of expression, which 
 marked him as one who expects little of life and 
 regards that little as quite beyond his deserts. 
 
 "Very well, Jamie, I'm curious to know what 
 you could have done to that young man." 
 
 " It's just a bit of fun, uncle. You know Mr. 
 Logan, our Latin tutor, went to South America, 
 and we had to have his place supplied. This 
 fellow's an Englishman named Wishart." 
 
 " Wishart? That's a Scotch name," commented 
 Uncle Ike. 
 
 " Is it ? Well, anyway, he has been over in the 
 Provinces a while, and our Prex's wife's relations 
 heard of him, and the Prex pitched on him for a 
 
 12
 
 "THE ENGLISH ROSE." 13 
 
 tutor. 'Twas done on the sly. We fellows were 
 raving. Americans are good enough for us any 
 day ; but our opinion never's asked by Prex Bax- 
 ter. So he came." 
 
 " Who came ? " 
 
 " Why, Mr. Wishart, of course, Allan C. Wish- 
 art ; came here last week to the Windermere ; 
 I told you at the time, Paul ; came to look 'round 
 and see if we were up-to-date and he wanted 
 the position. So English, don-cher-know ? That 
 disgusted us, Uncle Ike, his lordly way of looking 
 'round." 
 
 The colonel nodded. 
 
 " There were fifteen or twenty of us in it. We 
 delegated Ned Hallett, John Blythe, and Sam 
 Fiske to go to the Windermere to tea and watch 
 his table manners. Isn't it our duty the same as 
 his to 'look 'round' and see if all's satisfactory?" 
 
 Pauline smiled, knowing the ways of boys. 
 
 " And how did he behave ? " 
 
 " Worse than we expected. Probably never ate 
 at a first-class hotel before, was scared of so 
 many people. When John Blythe passed him the 
 butter, he said ' Thank you, Miss ! ' Honestly. 
 And they saw him pour milk over his roast beef ! " 
 
 " Why, Jim, what an agony of fright he was in." 
 
 " It seemed like it. But after a while he calmed 
 down, and raised his eyes from his plate and talked 
 more rationally. Quarrelled with his next neigh- 
 bor about one of the planets, contradicted him 
 flatly, and shut the other man up.
 
 14 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 "And for all his bashfulness he was an Eng- 
 lish bully to the head waiter ; wouldn't eat a thing 
 till the waiter explained what 'twas made of and 
 what 'twas called and why it wasn't something 
 different." 
 
 " What insolence ! " 
 
 " Yes. It didn't take our boys long to size him 
 up. He's a chump, and we've no use for him. Con- 
 ceited, donder-headed ; no pretensions whatever to 
 being a gentleman." 
 
 "You astonish me," said Colonel Selden. "Are 
 you sure the boys didn't watch the wrong man ? " 
 
 "Oh, they had the right man, Uncle Ike. The 
 trouble is, Mr. Wishart's a bookworm. We've had 
 that kind and it won't work. We want an all- 
 around man and a gentleman. Mr. Wishart, you 
 see, has been shut up all his life on that ' right 
 little, tight little island,' digging into the dead lan- 
 guages, and now he's come to Uncle Sam's country 
 to lord it over the natives. But he'll find out, oh, 
 he'll find out ! We'll settle him ! John looked him 
 over, and concluded there was a deep-seated inno- 
 cence at the bottom of his heart ; and it would do 
 to play our little game on him." 
 
 " What little game ? " said Pauline. " You boys 
 are so cruel." 
 
 James stole a glance at the colonel. 
 
 " Go on," said the old gentleman, briefly. 
 
 "Well, our plan was in case he didn't suit 
 to initiate him into our secret society. New thing," 
 here James threw back his head to laugh, " quite
 
 "THE ENGLISH ROSE." 15 
 
 new. We hadn't organized. But we met that 
 evening and organized. John said we'd call our 
 society the ' English Rose,' because that was the 
 first name that rose in his mind. Oh, we haven't 
 had such fun since we hazed Si Freeman ! " 
 
 Pauline shook her head ; the colonel frowned. 
 James remembered then that a singular prejudice 
 exists in some minds against hazing, and he added 
 deprecatingly, 
 
 " But that is of the past that's barbaric. This 
 is different ; it isn't what you can call hazing. We 
 didn't mean to hurt a hair of Wishart's head, we 
 just wanted to make things pleasant for him. We 
 got rid of another chump tutor in a similar way, 
 and he never told of it, not he ! 
 
 " Well, we formed our society night before last, 
 and that evening the same fellows went to the 
 Windermere again, and sent up their cards. 
 
 " His lordship seemed surprised when he came 
 down to meet them in the parlor ; didn't remember 
 a soul, though he had been introduced to them all 
 before. They told their names again, but he mixed 
 them all up and blushed like a girl ; evidently 
 wasn't used to visitors. 
 
 " Our boys were extremely deferential ; felt it a 
 great honor to call on him, a distinguished stranger, 
 hoped he liked the place, and so forth. That had 
 a calming effect. He put on a few frills then, and 
 praised the town, and the college buildings, and the 
 campus. 
 
 " They asked him if he meant to stay here long.
 
 16 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 He said he ' hadn't decided.' The boys saw through 
 that ; he would leave if he didn't like. We could 
 get rid of him as easy as rolling off a log. So they 
 grew vejy polite, hoped he would conclude to re- 
 main a good while ; but, anyway, he must join our 
 secret society known far and wide as the ' English 
 Rose.' He had probably heard of it ? 
 
 " He hesitated and stammered, but finally owned 
 up that he hadn't. Being fresh from the Prov- 
 inces, there were things going on in the States 
 of which he was still ignorant. The boys excused 
 him on that plea. But he ought to know that 
 this society was peculiarly adapted to his case. 
 All the members were Britishers at heart ; indeed, 
 it had got its first start from a noted Englishman 
 over here, who wanted to put down the Irish ele- 
 ment in politics." 
 
 " Why, Jim Wyman ! " 
 
 " Oh, just a joke, Paul. And he is such an out- 
 rageous fool ! Nothing would make him happier, 
 he said, than to join such a society, for he was 
 getting a little homesick. Would he meet any 
 members from England ? Oh, yes, Lord Fol de rol 
 and somebody else. Fiske made up two or three 
 names, and Blythe swore to them. 
 
 " Wishart decided that he must join the society. 
 The boys said, very well, they'd take him in the 
 very next evening. 
 
 " ' So soon ? ' said he. And then he demurred, 
 and remembered that his spectacles were in Bos- 
 ton being mended. He should get them back
 
 "THE ENGLISH ROSE." 17 
 
 day after to-morrow, and then would be most 
 happy to become an English Rose. 
 
 "The boys thought this was peculiar; didn't 
 see what spectacles had to do with roses, anyway ; 
 told him we couldn't wait, you see we didn't 
 dare to ! We always initiated our members in 
 April, just such a time of the moon." 
 
 "Jim, why, Jim!" 
 
 " That fetched him. He appeared to us last 
 evening, at eight sharp, in Deering Hall. We 
 hadn't had time to mature our plans, but no mat- 
 ter. There were twenty-two of us present besides 
 the victim. We introduced him to the English 
 Vice-Consul and some other dignitary from abroad, 
 very gratifying, and gave him the password, 
 Popocatepetl. Then came the ceremony of bap- 
 tism. You needn't look so shocked, Paul ; 'twas 
 just a libation of wine poured over his head in 
 the name of Queen Victoria. You ought to have 
 seen the simpleton stand there, with his hair in 
 soak, and promise the master of ceremonies, John 
 Blythe, that he would use his influence against 
 certain Irish leaders, whose names John read over 
 to him. 
 
 " 'Twas awfully funny ; and when we got so 
 tickled we couldn't keep our faces straight, John 
 would call out in a solemn voice, 'Blow, ye trum- 
 pets, blow ! ' and then would follow a racket of 
 tin horns, after which we sang, 'God save the 
 Queen.' " 
 
 "Jamie," interposed the colonel, "such a farce 
 c
 
 18 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 was downright insulting to that man, a perfect 
 stranger ! " 
 
 " So it was, uncle, if he had known 'twas a 
 farce; but the joke of it was that he didn't; he 
 took it all in earnest and enjoyed it. There's 
 about as much fun in him as there is in a grave- 
 digger's spade." 
 
 "We hear that the English have very little 
 sense of humor," said Pauline. "What next?" 
 
 "The second ceremony was a symbolical mar- 
 riage. A white hood was pulled down over his 
 eyes, and he was married spiritually to an invisible 
 bride, Sister Sacharissa. He took it all so seri- 
 ously that it was necessary for Blythe to call out, 
 ' Blow, ye trumpets, blow ! ' with the screech-owl 
 chorus, ' God save the Queen.' " 
 
 " And he stood all that ? " 
 
 " Certainly. Those dulcet tones seemed to melt 
 him almost to tears. 'Twas simply sublime, and 
 we had to hurry up the third ordeal before we were 
 half ready for it ; 'twas death by the axe. 
 
 " Dave Smiley, the executioner, in a white wig 
 and black suit, led Sacharissa's late husband to the 
 scaffold. Censers of incense were slowly waved, 
 pepsin gum and pennyroyal. 
 
 " But there was a break. Smiley was to cover 
 the victim's head and face with a black cap, but 
 when he tried to pull down the cap it wasn't nearly 
 big enough, wouldn't cover even the eyes. 
 
 " This was embarrassing. We hadn't intended 
 he should see himself killed ; it's not customary on
 
 "THE ENGLISH ROSE." 19 
 
 the scaffold. But there he was, his head lowered 
 on a block ; the axe was raised in air, Blythe said, 
 ' Here will I spill thy soul ! ' and Wishart looked 
 right up at the axe. His fingers were joined at 
 the tips like a statue in Westminster Abbey, and 
 there he lay and stared at Smiley. Smiley ought 
 to have stopped, but as the victim seemed to expect 
 something, he kept on swinging the axe." 
 
 " What an anti-climax ! I know you laughed 
 then," said Pauline. 
 
 " Not exactly ; but we blew the horns pretty 
 loud. And that gave Blythe time to think what 
 next. So while the axe was swinging he came 
 forward and sang : 
 
 " 'God save our good Queen Vic, 
 
 The Prince also, 
 With all loyal subjects 
 
 Both high and both low, 
 Except the dead subjects 
 
 With heads off, you know, 
 Which nobody can deny.' 
 
 " Then the chorus struck up, ' Brother, arise ! ' 
 But, if you'll believe it, that idiot never stirred. He 
 had turned over a little on one side and closed his 
 eyes, and seemed as if he were going to take a nap. 
 
 " 'Twas too much for Blythe, and he just as- 
 sisted him slightly with his boot. 
 
 " ' Pardon me,' says Wishart, getting up very de- 
 liberately, ' but this is so soothing ! ' 
 
 "John thinks he had really been asleep.
 
 20 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " ' Am I now an English Rose ? ' he asked. 
 
 " ' No,' says John, on the spur of the moment, 
 and that's where he made a mistake, ' only a 
 rosebud. 'Twill require time and patience on our 
 part to blow you out ! ' 
 
 " As if we hadn't finished him up ! John was 
 sorry enough when he stopped to think; but it 
 couldn't be helped. 
 
 " I spoke up then, and said there was more to 
 follow, but we hadn't the proper tools to work with ; 
 must adjourn till Friday." 
 
 " But he's dead, which nobody can deny. What 
 can you do with a dead man, Jim ? " 
 
 " That's it, what can we do ? Blythe says you 
 must help us out, Paul, and that's why I've told 
 this yarn. He says you're keener witted than any 
 of us." 
 
 " Oh, fie," said Pauline, blushing. " I can't think 
 how to help you ; but, as he's dead, couldn't you 
 take him into the world of spirits, across the river 
 Styx, or something like that?" 
 
 " Maybe we could, Paul. I'll mention it. Wish- 
 art is full of curiosity ; thinks it's a genuine 
 secret society, and is so grateful for knowing the 
 vice-consul and other celebrities. He's right on 
 their track to-day ; gives 'em no peace. And the 
 password, Popocatepetl, if he meets any of us he 
 has it over, and looks perfectly delighted." 
 
 " How stupid ! But won't he be angry when he 
 finds you out ? " 
 
 "Yes, there's the trouble. He has so little
 
 "THE ENGLISH ROSE." 21 
 
 sense that he may complain at headquarters. Do 
 you suppose he would, Uncle Ike ? You haven't 
 said a word." 
 
 "Well," replied the colonel, slowly, "he might, 
 if he's the fool you make him out to be. But is 
 he a fool ? That remains to be proved." 
 
 " Why, Uncle Ike, what else can he be ? I sup- 
 pose he's up on Greek and Latin, but as for what 
 you call ' horse sense ' he hasn't got it. You can 
 see for yourself how childish he acted, more child- 
 ish than our Dan." 
 
 " Don't you dare to compare him to Dan," cried 
 Pauline. " Dan has sense. But come, Jim, we 
 ought to go home. I'm ashamed of having left 
 mother so long with all the work to do. I never 
 thought of staying like this." 
 
 " Do you think your folks would like one of my 
 caramel custards for tea?" said Uncle Ike, point- 
 ing to a covered tin pail which sat beside him on 
 the doorstone. " I made one this morning, and 
 was about to take it over to your house when you 
 came." 
 
 "Uncle Ike," exclaimed Pauline, "we enjoy 
 your custards so much and, indeed, everything 
 you make. We call you the prince of cooks." 
 
 The colonel doffed his cap with a formal bow. 
 
 "Let me have the pail, please," said Pauline. 
 " I can carry it and not spill a drop." 
 
 " Can you ? Well, that's clever ! Now, Jamie, 
 I shall want to hear how your English Rose 
 blossoms out."
 
 22 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 "You shall, Uncle Ike; but I'm afraid 'twill 
 blight on the stem ! " 
 
 And the young people said good-by and wheeled 
 away laughing.
 
 III. 
 
 A DISCLOSURE. 
 
 WHEN they reached home, Pauline ran lightly 
 into the kitchen. There was an odor of vanilla, 
 and Mrs. Wyman, with the baby tugging at her 
 skirts, was stirring pudding-sauce on the stove. 
 
 " O mamma, I did not think of staying away 
 like this ! I'll take up the vegetables." 
 
 There was no answer, and looking at her mother 
 Pauline fancied she was stealthily wiping her eyes. 
 Mother in tears ? How extraordinary ! What 
 could it mean ? 
 
 Silently, but with a sudden sinking of the heart, 
 the young girl hastened to assist in preparing the 
 dinner. She could not recollect more than a half- 
 dozen times in her life when she had seen her 
 mother weep, and then on very grave occasions. 
 Surely nothing could have gone wrong in the 
 family ? Father was calmly reading, Pauline had 
 seen him through the half-open door of his study 
 as she came in ; the boys were uproariously well, 
 and little Arthur was practising a somersault in 
 the dining-room. In all the town, Pauline could 
 not think of any one alarmingly ill or in especial 
 trouble. Had something wounded her mother's 
 feelings ? 
 
 23
 
 24 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 Was it possible, and a sob arose in the girl's 
 throat, just possible that she had been grieving 
 over the thoughtlessness and unkindness of her 
 only daughter ? 
 
 " O wee ! O wee ! How I neglect her, just be- 
 cause she is the tenderest, sweetest mother in all 
 the world, and loves me so ! " 
 
 The dinner was apparently a cheerful meal. If 
 Mrs. Wyman's eyelids were suspiciously pink, no 
 one seemed to observe it. Mr. Wyman chatted 
 delightfully ; it was' always a liberal education to 
 hear his table-talk. To-day, however, Pauline for 
 one did not hear a word he said about Charles II. 
 and the Quakers, or care in the least what became 
 of the redoubtable William Penn. 
 
 After the meal was over, she insisted on wash- 
 ing the dishes without help, while her mother lay 
 down for a rest. Later, when the house was in 
 order for the afternoon, and Mrs. Wyman, looking 
 greatly refreshed, had seated herself at her mend- 
 ing-basket in the sitting-room, Pauline drew up her 
 chair to her mother's side, saying to herself, 
 
 " Now that we are alone together, I must speak ! " 
 
 She caught up a stocking, and made a vigorous 
 onslaught upon the heel with her darning needle. 
 
 " O mother, mother, can you forgive me ? " 
 Mrs. Wyman had hardly time to look up in sur- 
 prise, before the gray stocking was flung upon the 
 floor, the ball rolling after it, and Pauline's two 
 arms were about her neck. 
 
 " To think I should have let you work so hard,
 
 A DISCLOSURE. 25 
 
 while I was taking my ease ! Not to-day only, 
 but every day. It hurt me so this noon to see 
 you grieving about it, mother ; for, really and truly, 
 I do have a heart of some sort wrapped up in a 
 napkin somewhere." 
 
 The ready tears sprang to Mrs. Wyman's eyes, 
 as she returned her daughter's embrace. 
 
 " My precious girl, I am quite as much to blame 
 as yourself. I ought to speak to you in the im- 
 perative mood, and keep you up to your duty. But, 
 Pauline," here the loving voice faltered, " that 
 is not what is troubling me to-day ; far from it." 
 
 "I'm I was going to say glad ; but if it's some- 
 thing worse Are you willing to tell me what it 
 is, mother ? " 
 
 Mrs. Wyman hesitated, gently pushed Pauline 
 from her, and looked at her searchingly. 
 
 " You're too young and tender, dear. It seems 
 cruel to burden you with a woman's trials." 
 
 " I'm tougher than you think. Try me, mother." 
 
 " I'm half inclined to. The question is whether 
 it's best. I will not deny, my child, that it would 
 be a relief and comfort if I could talk to you freely 
 of our affairs." 
 
 " Oh, do, please, mother. I'd so like to hear of 
 our affairs, only I'm afraid you'll find me rather 
 dull." 
 
 Mrs. Wyman looked as if she thought this alto- 
 gether probable. She hesitated again. 
 
 " If I had a sister, she should share my burden, 
 not my little daughter."
 
 26 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " Let me be your sister, then, as the young 
 ladies say to their lovers. Do, mamma, let me 
 be your sister." 
 
 There was so much good cheer in the girl's face 
 and voice and manner that Mrs. Wyman said, 
 
 " So I will. Well, then, dear sister, to begin 
 with, I've no family jars to tell you of. I'm one 
 of the happiest wives and mothers in the whole 
 world." 
 
 "Yes, sister Mary, everybody knows that." 
 
 " And all my trials spring from one cause, the 
 lack of money." 
 
 " There, I'm so relieved. It's no disgrace to be 
 poor. Is that all your trouble, sister Mary ? Is 
 that really all ? " 
 
 There was a flickering smile around the cor- 
 ners of Mrs. Wyman's mouth. How far was 
 this simple child from appreciating the financial 
 straits of the family ! Was it worth while to 
 attempt to make her comprehend ? 
 
 " Pauline, the lack of money is not a grief. It 
 does not wring the heart like the loss of friends ; 
 yet I must tell you it is nevertheless a sore trial. 
 Think of not knowing just where the money is to 
 come from for food and clothes ! " 
 
 "Why, mother, I never thought of it like that. 
 I supposed it always came, only sometimes you 
 had to wait a while. Not know! What does 
 father say about it ? Isn't he frightened ? " 
 
 Pauline herself had a startled look. Her gray 
 "thinking eyes" were larger than ever.
 
 A DISCLOSURE. 27 
 
 "Your father does not say or think so much 
 about it as I could wish, my dear. He is not 
 what is called a practical person." 
 
 " Now I should know that, mother, without 
 your telling me. A man who brings up his chil- 
 dren on Chaucer and Shakespeare! I'm glad he 
 does it, though. He enjoys all the rare, beautiful 
 things, and ignores the common things." 
 
 Here Master Danville burst into the room on 
 an errand to his sister, and had to be sent out 
 again as an interruption. 
 
 "Still, common things have to be attended to," 
 resumed Pauline, with an experienced air. "I 
 think I'm like father in wanting to forget them. 
 But if you'll only keep speaking to me in the 
 imperative mood, mother, I'll try hard to reform." 
 
 "I must, I will," replied Mrs. Wyman, kissing 
 the anxious little wrinkle which had appeared in 
 the girl's forehead. 
 
 " Now, mother, we've been poor always ; it's 
 nothing new, so I'd like to know why you've 
 thought of it to-day more than usual. That is, 
 if you choose to tell." 
 
 " I'm wondering whether you could understand, 
 dear. Do you know what is meant in law by the 
 term ' bondsman ' ? " 
 
 " A slave," replied Pauline, confidently. 
 
 "Not quite so bad as that," laughed Mrs. 
 Wyman. " A man becomes a bondsman when he 
 puts his name to a friend's note, promising to pay 
 the note if the friend cannot pay it."
 
 28 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " How absurd ! A man ought to be ashamed to 
 let another person pay his debts." 
 
 " So I think ; but your generous father has helped 
 many people in that way. And to-day when Mr. 
 Lyford came and begged him to sign his name for 
 him, he could not refuse. This makes me unhappy, 
 for I have little confidence in the Ly fords." 
 
 "Was it that man from West Mills, with the 
 squeaky voice and red face ? Is my father a bond- 
 slave to that man ? " 
 
 " Bond-slave is a forcible word," laughed Mrs. 
 Wyman again. " Still I must admit that your father 
 has put himself in Mr. Lyford's power. Such 
 things done again and again alarm me. Pauline, 
 we might be in comfortable circumstances now if 
 your father had been a little different." 
 
 She checked herself and added, 
 
 " It's an excess of benevolence. His motives 
 are good always." 
 
 "Yes, mother, I know. He couldn't have a 
 wrong motive ; it isn't in him." 
 
 " But what concerns me just now, Pauline, is 
 that we must retrench in some way, and I hardly 
 see how." 
 
 Pauline reflected a moment. 
 
 "I can get along without a new dress this sum- 
 mer." 
 
 "You really need one, my daughter. More 
 than that," added Mrs. Wyman to herself, "James 
 needs a new suit." 
 
 " But, mother, I might freshen up that pretty
 
 A DISCLOSURE. 29 
 
 pongee myself ; you said I did well with the blue 
 serge. And then there's another thing*' she 
 added with evident reluctance. " We've talked of 
 Vassar, but that is only a dream." 
 
 " Oh, my daughter, it is my dream as well as 
 yours." 
 
 " Well, let us be practical, sister Mary ; Vassar 
 is excluded. What we want to talk about now is 
 ways and means ; wasn't that what you said ? " 
 
 It was very quiet in the room for some minutes. 
 Pauline was darning a stocking carefully, but her 
 thoughts were elsewhere. What should she do in 
 this emergency ? The desire for self-sacrifice was 
 strong upon her, and she had half resolved on a 
 bread and water diet for the rest of her days, when 
 it occurred to her that there must be a better means 
 than semi-starvation of serving her family. What 
 if she should try to earn money ? She looked up at 
 last eagerly. 
 
 " Mother, I've been trying my best to think of 
 ways to economize, but it's all so new to me. May 
 I ask you first why you never have Roxy Rix now- 
 adays to help in the kitchen ? " 
 
 Mrs. Wyman drew a discouraged sigh. This 
 childish question coming just now showed, as she 
 thought, that Pauline really could not be made to 
 take in the situation. 
 
 " Are you tired of having Roxy chatter so much ? 
 Was that why you gave her up ? " 
 
 " No, dear ; we simply could not afford to keep 
 her."
 
 30 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 And with an air of dismissing the subject Mrs. 
 Wym'an folded a mended garment, and laid it with 
 others on a chair. 
 
 " I only wished to know, mother, if you would 
 like to have her again if you could." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Another thing, mother. Should you say I've 
 got by the half-way age ? " 
 
 " I should say you are considerably under seven. 
 Can't you see, my daughter, that these foolish 
 questions have no bearing whatever upon the 
 case ? " 
 
 " Oh, but they have, mother, if you'll only hear 
 me through. Are you willing to let me teach 
 school this summer ? That's what is in my mind. 
 I want to teach school." 
 
 "You couldn't. No one would take you." 
 
 "Perhaps not. But if somebody would, I'm 
 supposing a case, if somebody wanted me, 
 would you let me try it ? " 
 
 Pauline's cheeks were flushed, her eyes un- 
 usually bright 
 
 " So this is what you've been leading up to ? 
 Well, I will say in reply that I wouldn't mind 
 your teaching kindergarten, but you've no train- 
 ing for it." 
 
 " No ; and there are two kindergarten teachers 
 in this town already. Mother, what I mean is a 
 public school, one of those back-country district 
 schools, say in the Johonnet neighborhood." 
 
 " Yes, my child ; in any part of this town."
 
 A DISCLOSURE. 31 
 
 " And you really mean it ? " 
 
 "Certainly, with your father's consent." 
 
 Mrs. Wyman spoke wearily. School-teaching 
 was impracticable for a girl like Pauline, so 
 young and impulsive ; why discuss it ? 
 
 "Well, mother, I've finished my list of ques- 
 tions; they may have sounded silly, but they 
 seem to me important. And now, if you don't 
 mind, I think I'll run out for a little while," said 
 Pauline, rolling up another pair of stockings. 
 " There's an errand I've thought of. 
 
 " But, dear mother, I'm glad you've talked to 
 me in this way. I shall lay it to heart ; and who 
 knows but something may come of it? Oh, my 
 dear, precious mother, 
 
 " ' What I hae done for lack o 1 wit 
 I never, never can reca',' " 
 
 she added, with a tearful embrace, and, without 
 waiting for a reply, ran quickly away. 
 
 On the upper landing, she was overtaken by little 
 Arthur, who begged for a nickel to buy some candy. 
 To his surprise, she replied severely, 
 
 " A nickel, Arthur Wyman ? I can't spare it. 
 I've done wrong to spare you so many. I hope 
 I shall be forgiven ! It's a dreadful thing, your 
 buying candy in this way Saturdays ; it must be 
 stopped ! I tell you, Artie, we are poor ! " 
 
 With this crushing remark, she entered her own 
 room and closed the door. The little brother felt 
 himself plunged into financial difficulties far be-
 
 32 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 yond his depth, and could only stare after her in 
 tearful dismay. Pauline's room was her castle, 
 into which no one but the irresponsible baby 
 ever ventured without leave. 
 
 Pauline was very proud of her room with its 
 snowy draperies, fine engravings, and other dainty 
 appointments. In one corner was her "sacra- 
 rium," so-called, where she kept her Bible and 
 prayer-book, and the illuminated maxims of Saint 
 Theresa, and where she did the most of her solid 
 thinking. 
 
 In this corner at the north was a little, round 
 window, though why it was ever put there nobody 
 knew, "one of old Major Wyman's notions," 
 probably ; but it looked out on the mountains, 
 and was Pauline's delight. 
 
 " I've come up to this sacrarium to have a little 
 talk with you, Pauline Wyman," said she, squaring 
 her shoulders. 
 
 " You've been about as useful as a woolly cater- 
 pillar, but now I propose that you turn about 
 even a worm will turn and help your poor 
 wronged mother. 
 
 " There's the Johonnet school ; Mr. Bart Bemis 
 is the agent. Beard the lion in his den ; let him 
 bite your head off if he will. But whether you 
 get the school or not, you'll have Mrs. Roxy Rix 
 here to help your mother. You know how it can 
 be done. Mrs. Rix is adorning her parlors, and 
 there's a piece of furniture in this room which she 
 particularly admires ; do you hear ?
 
 A DISCLOSURE. 33 
 
 " She would take this article instead of money 
 for her wages. Don't pretend you don't know 
 it, Pauline Wyman ! " 
 
 As she spoke she was standing before a beauti- 
 ful inlaid cabinet writing-desk, her father's gift on 
 her last birthday, and probably her choicest pos- 
 session. 
 
 " I need you and Mrs. Rix doesn't. I presume 
 that woman hardly ever writes a letter, and when 
 she does she copies from a slate. But that's no 
 affair of ours ; she'll be willing to work all summer 
 to get you. I give you up from this moment. I 
 know this is right because it hurts me so ! 
 
 " Don't stand there on four legs, you dear thing, 
 appealing to me like some lovely dumb creature. 
 Go you must. I have said it." 
 
 She seized her hat and put it on as she ran, not 
 daring to look in the mirror, for it faced the desk. 
 
 " Good-by, mother ; I'm off on my borrowed 
 wheel," she called out, as she fared gayly forth 
 down the street. 
 
 " The sweet girl ! What wild scheme has she 
 in her head, now ? " thought Mrs. Wyman, still a 
 little puzzled. " Well, I'm not sorry I talked with 
 her. Her irrelevant remarks were rather discour- 
 aging, but I believe she is gradually taking in the 
 situation. Once set Pauline to thinking and she 
 thinks to some purpose." 
 
 D
 
 IV. 
 
 UNCLE IKE AND ROXY. 
 
 " I BELIEVE I'll talk it over with Uncle Ike," 
 thought Pauline. 
 
 Whatever her destination, all roads seemed to 
 lead to the old brick cottage. Uncle Ike had been 
 off for a tramp in the woods, lame though he 
 was, he was a great walker, and now, after a 
 late dinner, he stood on his back porch, shaking 
 crumbs out of a newspaper, to the delight of a 
 brood of doves gathered about his feet. 
 
 Pauline knew that the newspaper had served 
 him as a sort of literary tablecloth. He enjoyed 
 his meals better, he said, when well seasoned with 
 the news of the day. He might have spread his 
 table with fine fringed linen, which lay yellowing 
 in the sideboard drawers, only he had sentimental 
 scruples against using it, and besides linen requires 
 laundering, and economy was always an object with 
 the colonel. 
 
 " Come in," said he, as he folded the newspaper 
 neatly and laid it on the porch step, ready for 
 Jenny Alden, who would call presently and take it 
 to her grandfather. 
 
 Pauline followed the old gentleman into the 
 kitchen, the cat and dog at her heels. 
 
 " Mayn't I help you wash the dishes, Uncle 
 34
 
 UNCLE IKE AND ROXY. 35 
 
 Ike ? " she asked, as he took out a tiny pan from 
 under the table. Sometimes he washed his dishes 
 in the yellow mixing bowl, but just now that was 
 full of sour milk. He usually wiped them on a 
 piece of blue and white gingham or the remains of 
 a flour bag, and always set them away wherever 
 most convenient, now and then on the cupboard 
 shelves, oftener in a basket under the stove. 
 
 There was a charm for him in having to hunt for 
 things. If things are always in fixed particular 
 places, where, pray, is the interest and excitement 
 of doing your work ? The colonel's housekeeping 
 was full of experiments and surprises and kept 
 him well entertained. 
 
 "There, you poor man," said Pauline, as she 
 removed a spotless linen rag from a line of string 
 behind the stove, " everything is so exquisitely clean 
 here, but you do need a cup towel. I'll bring you 
 one to-morrow. Old bachelors have such droll 
 things to work with ! " 
 
 " I was married once," was the quiet reply. 
 
 " Oh, I beg your pardon ; I knew that, but I 
 hardly ever think of it." 
 
 " I dare say." The tone was still quiet, and Paul- 
 ine lamented her thoughtlessness. 
 
 " This is the house where I brought my Margaret 
 as a bride," said he, waving his dishcloth toward 
 the parlor. "The tiled fireplace was built for her; 
 all the things about here were hers, mountain-view 
 and all," he added with a wistful, lingering gaze out 
 of the window.
 
 36 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " And you had children, Uncle Ike ? " 
 
 "Two, a boy and a girl. Maybe we were too 
 happy for earth, and that was why the good Lord 
 chose to separate us. At any rate, my family have 
 all gone before me into ' that world of light.' " 
 
 " Dear Uncle Ike, how hard for you ! " 
 
 "Well, when my wife and boy died within ten 
 days of each other it broke me up, there's no deny- 
 ing it. I went into the army, lost my health, came 
 back to this house, 'twas the only home I knew, 
 and 'twas near your family ; and here I've lived 
 ever since. It does make one a little queer to live 
 alone; but you'll have to excuse my ways." 
 
 " Dear Uncle Ike," said Pauline in a low voice, 
 her eyes filling. 
 
 " And now let me hear what you have to say, my 
 little maid. I see there's something weighing upon 
 you." 
 
 Pauline, thus adjured, unburdened her mind in 
 the most impassioned manner, dwelling especially 
 upon her father's condition of " bondage " to cer- 
 tain dreadful men who expected him to pay their 
 debts. 
 
 Uncle Ike listened with absorbed attention, 
 though he had known all this and deplored it for 
 many a day. 
 
 " But don't fret about Lyford, Pauline. I happen 
 to hold a mortgage on his place, so he can't harm 
 you. And I shall have a face to scold your father, 
 and make him promise never to sign his name 
 again for such poor sticks."
 
 UNCLE IKE AND ROXY. 37 
 
 " Oh, do, Uncle Ike ! Mother will be so glad. 
 She thinks father's a poor financier." 
 
 " So am I, my child. I've no head for finance, 
 but I do understand economy ; won't throw away 
 money; won't run in debt." 
 
 When the plan of teaching was revealed, Uncle 
 Ike exclaimed, " Well, that's clever ! I like that ! " 
 
 " But I'm afraid Mr. Bemis '11 laugh at me, and 
 say I'm too young." 
 
 " If he laughs at you, send him to me. I'll tell 
 him you've been babied too much, but you're get- 
 ting out of leading-strings now, and there's the 
 making of a noble woman in you, and 'twill be a 
 lucky school that gets Miss Pauline Wyman for 
 teacher." 
 
 " Oh, Uncle Ike ! " 
 
 " What does Jamie say to it ? " 
 
 " He doesn't know of it I haven't told him yet." 
 
 " Well, I don't wonder. Jamie wouldn't take it 
 in, would he ? He hasn't waked up to life yet. 
 Boys are slower than girls. The way he treated 
 that Englishman, now ! I've got to lecture him 
 about that. Jamie's very immature." 
 
 "And, you know, Uncle Ike, you've been such 
 a wonderful godfather to Jim, that he hasn't had 
 to think of money matters at all." Pauline's voice 
 quivered a little. " He's provided for, whatever 
 happens." 
 
 "While I live and get my pension, yes. But 
 he'll come to the fore, by-and-by. He may be a 
 little slow, but Jamie will come to the fore."
 
 38 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " Do you believe I can get the school ? I want 
 it; but it scares me to death to think of the 
 scholars." 
 
 "You'll get the school, lassie, and I'll tell you 
 just how you'll manage those scholars. You won't 
 storm 'em like a general taking a fort, they 
 wouldn't stand that from a little girl of your age. 
 You'll walk into the schoolroom looking just as 
 you do now, and they'll like you for not putting 
 on airs. And presently they'll learn to love you," 
 ' how can they help it ? ' he. wanted to add, 
 "and when they love you, the thing is done!" 
 
 And the colonel hung up the gingham rag with 
 an air of finality. 
 
 Pauline left Uncle Ike with a feeling of uplift- 
 edness, and wheeled away to call upon her old 
 friend, Mrs. Roxy Rix. 
 
 " Now if I only had Eva Hallett to talk it over 
 with ! But I'm sure Eva would see it just as I do. 
 Something must be done to help our family, and I 
 feel like the Norseman with the pickaxe, ' Either 
 I'll find a way, or I'll make it ! ' ' 
 
 It was a lovely country ride along Roaring 
 Brook, through an avenue of dark pines and bud- 
 ding maples, with many a white birch here and 
 there, that graceful "lady of the woods." But 
 Pauline had little thought to-day for scenery, and 
 hardly noted the red "boxberries" dotting the 
 roadside, or the white bloodroots hugging their 
 thick green cloaks about their necks. 
 
 A wheelman was approaching. She knew him 
 at once for the English Rose.
 
 UNCLE IKE AND ROXY. 39 
 
 " What a courtly bow he made, and how slowly 
 he put his hat on again. I call that truly respect- 
 ful. Who would ever dream of his being such an 
 idiot?" 
 
 And she smiled as she thought how he had gone 
 to sleep under the full swing of an axe. He did 
 not look like " that sort." She was still smiling as 
 she reached Mrs. Rix's patriotic fence of red, white, 
 and blue, and dismounted by the gate. 
 
 The house was of the cheap, pretentious sort 
 called a " shingle palace," painted a rich Jersey 
 cream, and adorned with showy rococo finish or 
 "gingerbread work." A woman of majestic mien 
 stood in a baby's high chair, training a vine above 
 the lattice-work of the front door. 
 
 "Why, Paulina, Miss Paulina," she exclaimed, 
 and the next moment was standing on the door- 
 stone shaking hands warmly. 
 
 " Dear child, I'm awful glad to see you. Come 
 right into the house. No, you ain't disturbing me 
 a mite. I was only training this wild cucumber 
 vine over the teftts-work, and it's all done. Walk 
 right in." 
 
 Pauline entered the parlor, gorgeous with flowery 
 tidies, patchwork cushions, and other trophies of art. 
 
 "Set down in this red velvet chair," a proud 
 emphasis on "velvet," "and I'll be back as soon 
 as I've put in my teeth." 
 
 When Mrs. Rix reappeared, it was with a 
 broad smile which displayed the handiwork of her 
 dentist to the fullest extent.
 
 40 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " Ain't you glad for me, Paulina ? You remem- 
 ber how I used to suffer at your house with tooth- 
 ache, but now I've parted with 'em; and I tell 
 you it's a satisfaction to take these new ones out 
 nights, and set 'em on the bureau and see 'em 
 ache." 
 
 Pauline laughed and praised the new teeth, and 
 said to herself that the woman would be fine- 
 looking, if her hair and eyes were not mouse- 
 color, and her complexion like the same mouse 
 bleached. 
 
 " Is your house-cleaning done ? " she asked, as a 
 prelude to her errand. 
 
 " Oh, yes. I don't doddle round about spring 
 cleaning, 'thout I'm sent for in sickness. How's 
 the baby ? " 
 
 " He talks a good deal. When I was leading 
 him downstairs yesterday, he said, ' Oo ! I tumby 
 down 'tairs, I de ad ! " 
 
 " I hope your mother's tol'able. And Danville, 
 
 do you help him write his compositions, same as 
 you used to ? " 
 
 " Not so much." 
 
 And then Pauline returned to the charge. 
 
 " I suppose you're very busy, Mrs. Rix, as you 
 always are ? " 
 
 "Well, middlin'. Not partic'ly. There's noth- 
 ing driving me now but two rugs and a silk quilt, 
 
 don't you think I'm fixing up pretty cute in this 
 room ? and making cake and such for the hotel. 
 I tell 'em I feel as if I've nothing to do since Jane
 
 UNCLE IKE AND ROXY. 41 
 
 Dixon and her husband got well, and sister 
 Cinthy's so's 't she can wait on herself." 
 
 " I'm glad your sister is better." 
 
 "Yes, Cinthy owns up to being better; don't 
 send for me now every tack an' turn. I think 
 "myself," added Mrs. Rix, dropping her voice con- 
 fidentially as if revealing a family secret, " I 
 think myself it's nerves with Cinthy." 
 
 " Do you really ? Well, as you're not obliged 
 to go to her as much as you did perhaps you " 
 
 Pauline could get no further, for the mouse- 
 colored eyes very shrewd ones they were 
 seemed to be looking her through and through. 
 
 " Perhaps what, Miss Paulina ? If you've got 
 anything to say, say it. You know I'd be dread- 
 ful glad to oblige you, if it's so's 't I can." 
 
 "Well," said Pauline, desperately, beginning 
 at the wrong end as usual, " I want to teach 
 school ! " 
 
 Both Mrs. Rix's hands went up in surprise. 
 
 " Of all things ! You, Paulina ? But what can 
 I do about that? I ain't a school-agent." 
 
 " I wish you were, Mrs. Rix. I shouldn't be 
 as afraid of you as I am of Mr. Bemis." 
 
 "What, Bumblebee? That little school? It's 
 the easiest you could get, sure enough. Only 
 wouldn't it bother you to make the children mind, 
 being a child so yourself ? " 
 
 This was rather crushing, but Pauline soon 
 rallied and said buoyantly, 
 
 " Isn't it high time I should be a woman ? "
 
 42 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 Mrs. Rix gazed at her in admiration. There 
 was unwonted earnestness in the girl's manner, 
 a steady resolve in her face which arrested 
 attention. 
 
 " Tears to have waked up to their situation ; 
 wants to help the family. Well, well, poor little 
 thing ! " 
 
 " Mother says I may ask for the school, but I 
 I I came here first because " 
 
 " Well, go on, Miss Paulina, free your mind. 
 If you can get the school, though it's 'most a 
 doubt if you can, you'd like to use part of the 
 money to hire help for your mother. Is that it ? " 
 
 " No, Mrs. Rix, not money. I'd like to pay 
 you with my cabinet writing-desk." 
 
 " Not that pretty concern your pa gave you ? " 
 
 "Yes, it's mine to do with as I please. You 
 saw it when it was brought to our house, and you 
 said then 'twas just the thing you wanted to put 
 here in this room between the two west windows. 
 Don't you remember ? " 
 
 " Did I ? I may have made some such remark, 
 for I always did think a handsome writing-desk 
 would set off this parlor complete. But I wouldn't 
 rob you of yours, now you'd better believe," said 
 Aunt Roxy, with a misty shine in her eyes like 
 the sun drawing water. 
 
 " But if I want you to have it, Mrs. Rix, if 
 I really insist ? " 
 
 Mrs. Rix smoothed her drab hair, and regarded 
 Pauline with increased admiration.
 
 UNCLE IKE AND ROXY. 43 
 
 " The child means it. You can kind of see her 
 thoughts come and go in her eyes. There's so 
 much more meaning to big eyes, anyway. And 
 then I always liked blue-gray, kind of streaked in 
 with brown no, green I couldn't have got 
 the color to suit me any better if I'd dyed 'em 
 myself." 
 
 " I'm on my way to see Mr. Bemis," said Paul- 
 ine, in a business tone, feeling no further embar- 
 rassment now that her subject was well launched. 
 " That is, if you'll take the writing-desk and help 
 mother all summer while I'm teaching." 
 
 " Dear, dear, so you don't allow no time for 
 reflection ! It's now or never, if I want the 
 desk. ' Twould look nice, though, between them 
 windows." 
 
 Pauline viewed the oak-graining which might 
 have been done by a man in delirium tremens, and 
 could only say, " The desk is a beauty, Mrs. Rix." 
 
 " So it is, and I feel mean to take it away from 
 you. But there the fact is, I ain't necessitated 
 to work out anywhere, but I have a great respect 
 for your mother, and there's nothing, as I know of, 
 to hinder my helping her." 
 
 "There, I'm so glad!" 
 
 "And your father, well, I ain't going to say 
 what he's done for me. I don't want to get to 
 crying ! Why, Paulina, when my husband died, 
 there, hain't I told you all that?" 
 
 " I think you did speak of a mortgage." 
 
 " Yes, and I shouldn't have kept the house or
 
 44 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 had a cent to bless myself with if it hadn't a' been 
 Well, well, God bless Squire Wyman, that's what 
 I always say ! And if I can do anything for him 
 or his folks But as for that desk " 
 
 " How much is it worth to you, Mrs. Rix ? I 
 mean how long are you willing to work for it ? " 
 
 "While your school lasts, and the day after. 
 And if you don't get the school I'll go all the same. 
 But now be off if you're going to see that Bumble- 
 bee before dark. There, don't stop to thank me ; 
 what have I done ? And don't set your heart on 
 the school ; you won't get it." 
 
 As Pauline rode away Mrs. Rix gazed after her, 
 musing aloud, a habit she had acquired by living 
 alone. 
 
 " Ain't she a picture, though ? She's coming out 
 strong as a helper, and 'tain't so much matter if the 
 squire didn't come into that property." 
 
 "What property?" asked Pauline, turning 
 quickly around. 
 
 Mrs. Rix's face flushed a muddy pink. "I wa'n't 
 talking to you. The Wyman property was what 
 I meant, though Of course you've heard about 
 that ? " 
 
 "Yes, I knew there was some property. Old 
 Major Wyman was a rich man, and he adopted 
 my grandfather." 
 
 "Yes, a rich old bachelor. Kind of queer, 
 wasn't it, his adopting a little boy out of kin, and 
 giving him his own name so ? There, you'd better 
 ride along. You don't want to be out late."
 
 UNCLE IKE AND ROXY. 45 
 
 " But, Mrs. Rix, my grandfather didn't expect 
 any money, did he ? He wasn't any relation to 
 that old bachelor ? " 
 
 "Not a mite. He was adopted out of kin. I 
 just said so. No kin at all. I hope you'll find 
 Mr. Bemis at home. 
 
 " Well, if I don't beat all for letting cats out of 
 bags," confided Mrs. Rix to the beans, as she re- 
 viewed them in the oven. " Who'd have thought 
 the child could have grown up to this age without 
 hearing about that will ? Hope she won't ques- 
 tion her pa. Poor man ! I never heard of his 
 saying a word. But if some other folks had had a 
 conscience as tender as what Squire Wyman's is, 
 things would have gone very different."
 
 V. 
 
 BREAKING IT TO JAMES. 
 
 TEA was over when Pauline reached home, and 
 her mother was just leaving the dining-room bear- 
 ing a tray full of dishes. 
 
 " O mother, I mean sister Mary," cried 
 the girl, seizing the tray and setting it back on 
 the table with a clatter. "Congratulate me ! I've 
 engaged the Johonnet school ! " 
 
 "Why, Pauline!" gasped Mrs. Wyman, her 
 utterance rather impeded by a pair of young arms 
 tightly embracing her. "I never meant " 
 
 " O mother, I was so frightened ! And Mr. 
 Bemis was just beginning to laugh at me, when 
 Mr. Greeley walked in, the institute teacher. He 
 came to ask about grafting apple trees, and Mr. 
 Bemis said to him, as if it were so very amusing, 
 ' Here's this little girl, Mr. Greeley, thinks she's 
 big enough to manage our district school ! ' 
 
 " Fancy it ! And Mr. Greeley a perfect terror 
 to us girls, he's so supercilious when we give a 
 wrong declension. But what did he do, but come 
 forward and shake hands very cordially and say, 
 
 '"This young lady has been a most satisfactory 
 student. And lately I believe she's following her 
 brother through college.' 
 
 46
 
 BREAKING IT TO JAMES. 47 
 
 " I had to correct that, of course, and say I was 
 only following Jim in a few studies, just a few. 
 
 " ' Hear that ! Isn't that her father all over ? ' 
 said Mr. Bemis, laughing and pounding his cane. 
 As if my father were superficial, my father /" 
 
 Mrs. Wyman saw at once that this was not what 
 Mr. Bemis had meant. It was simply Pauline's 
 crystal truthfulness that had reminded him of her 
 father; but she let the girl go on. 
 
 " I was so indignant that I turned to leave ; but 
 Mr. Bemis stopped me and said, ' Look up here, 
 little girl, let me see what kind of eyes you've got.' 
 
 " So disrespectful ! So impudent ! My eyes 
 must have ' worn the green ' then, as father 
 says. You know they do turn green when I'm 
 angry. Mr. Bemis looked at me about half a min- 
 ute, then nodded to Mr. Greeley and said, ' She'll 
 do; she's got plenty of snap.' 
 
 " So 'twas the grit that settled it. I had half a 
 mind to say, ' No, thank you, I'll not have your old 
 school,' but thought better of it, and I'm engaged 
 for the fifteenth of May, three weeks from next 
 Monday. And you, honorable mother, please don't 
 mention it to-night to a soul. I can't have Jim 
 teasing me all day Sunday." 
 
 " No, it is not a finality yet till your father gives 
 his consent. What are the wages ? " 
 
 " Really and truly, mother, I was so scared and 
 dazed that I never asked about wages. I got 
 away as fast as I could." 
 
 Mrs. Wyman restrained a smile.
 
 48 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " There, not another word, dear, till you've had 
 a cup of chocolate. You look very tired." 
 
 " Mayn't I say just this, mother ? Aunt Roxy 
 is coming here to help you." 
 
 Roxy Rix ! It was a name to conjure with ! 
 Mrs. Wyman was sadly overtasked, and in dread 
 of breaking down ; and now the mere thought of 
 laying her household cares on strong, willing 
 shoulders was an unspeakable relief. 
 
 " Roxy Rix, did you say ? We'll talk of this 
 to-morrow ; but now let me thank and bless you, 
 my daughter." 
 
 And that night Mrs. Wyman went to sleep 
 feeling a new sense of confidence and good-com- 
 radeship in this woman-child of hers, who had 
 grasped the situation, and come forward so 
 promptly as helper. 
 
 Mr. Wyman favored Pauline's project. He 
 wished he had taught school himself in his youth. 
 There was nothing like teaching for giving self- 
 reliance, and she would succeed, for she could 
 depend on him to help her over the hard places. 
 
 A week passed before James heard of the 
 school. Pauline had waited for a favorable mo- 
 ment to talk with him, and latterly the young man 
 had seemed decidedly out of sorts. 
 
 "Come here, Jim. I have something to say," 
 said Pauline. 
 
 It was Saturday evening, and they two were 
 alone together in the sitting-room. James turned, 
 with hand on the door-knob, and regarded her
 
 BREAKING IT TO JAMES. 49 
 
 as she sat on the hassock by the hearth, her 
 elbow on her knee, her chin on her hand, with 
 the full firelight shining into her face and into 
 the depths of her large lucent eyes. 
 
 " By George, how pretty she is," he thought. 
 " Talk of a fellow's falling in love ! Some girls 
 are handsomer than Paul, but taking her all 
 around, looks, and ways, and everything, I never 
 saw anybody to compare with her well, except 
 Eva Hallett, perhaps." 
 
 " What is it, Paul ? " he asked, settling himself 
 near her in the large easy-chair. 
 
 She looked up in his face searchingly. " I'm 
 not sure I shall tell you. Your mind is some- 
 where else." 
 
 " No, I keep it around with me." 
 
 " Besides, you feel cross, Jim. You've been 
 feeling cross for two or three days and haven't 
 told me what's the matter." 
 
 Pauline had been having one of her " insights," 
 Jim thought ; but he only said, 
 
 " Why should I tell you when you didn't ask ? " 
 
 " It's the English Rose," said Pauline, her eyes 
 sweeping her brother's face again. " Last night was 
 Friday, the time for you to finish him up, and I've 
 been longing to know how much more the poor 
 man would stand, or whether he would say he 
 had had enough of it." 
 
 " Pooh, I rather hoped you had forgotten the 
 whole business. See here, Paul, you haven't 
 mentioned it to a soul ? "
 
 50 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " What do you take me for, Jim ? Am I one 
 of the chattering sort ? " 
 
 " Well, no, you're not, that's a fact. And now 
 I'll have to tell you the rest of it, and you may 
 tell Uncle Ike. But, mind, it's once for all, and 
 forever after hold your peace." 
 
 He was twisting himself about in his chair, his 
 face undergoing such extraordinary contortions 
 that Pauline tried to help him. 
 
 " I'll tell you where you left off, Jim. He had 
 lost his head on that block, which nobody can 
 deny. And last night did you make a ghost of 
 him ? " 
 
 " Well, that was what we had planned. In- 
 tended to row him across the Styx a small 
 woodpile in a hammock, Ned Hallett for 
 Charon." 
 
 " I see. Was the English Rose as cool as 
 ever?" 
 
 " Cool ? Oh, yes, only we didn't take him 
 across." 
 
 "Well, now, why not?" 
 
 " Because we had to back down, that's all ; 
 we'd mistaken our man." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 "He had been fooling us. We saw it Wednes- 
 day when he began to teach. Pauline, he isn't 
 a Latin tutor, he's a professor of chemistry, 
 a full-fledged professor, with a Ph.D. after his 
 name." 
 
 " Why, Jim ! "
 
 BREAKING IT TO JAMES. 51 
 
 " I tell you we wanted to hide our heads some- 
 where. Why, he's as dignified as Greeley." 
 
 " What, that chump, as you called him ? " 
 
 "Yes; and for all his looking so sleepy and 
 half-witted, he had had more fun out of his initia- 
 tion than we had, twice over." 
 
 " How do you know ? " 
 
 " Well, we knew the moment we saw him with 
 his spectacles on." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 "Why, it's a bad case of near-sightedness 
 and astigmatism. I told you he had broken his 
 glasses, didn't I ? Without 'em he can't tell a hen 
 from a harrow, and that was why he acted so 
 foolish." 
 
 " Is it possible ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and the moment he got 'em back again 
 he spotted us undergrads, let me tell you ; knows 
 just which ones were in the scrape. Ned Hallett 
 wishes he could 'sell himself for a yaller dawg 
 and then shoot the dawg.' So say we all of us." 
 
 "Too bad," said Pauline; "excuse my smiling. 
 So I suppose you haven't said much more about 
 the secret society ? " 
 
 " Not we ! But he started the subject himself 
 yesterday morning; gave John Blythe to under- 
 stand he was agonizing to become a full-blown 
 Rose. John stammered and stuttered ; hoped Pro- 
 fessor Wishart would forgive the disrespect, and 
 all that sort of thing." 
 
 " What did the man say ? "
 
 52 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " That's the best part of it. He couldn't speak 
 at first for laughing. You see he's only twenty- 
 five or so, and John says you never heard such a 
 hearty laugher. And then he asked John if we 
 had composed the rest of the play. He thought 
 we were pretty good in low comedy, for he nearly 
 broke a bloodvessel trying to preserve proper 
 decorum. 
 
 " ' How dared you boys attack me in that way,' 
 said he, ' a perfect stranger to you ? ' 
 
 " But he didn't seem at all offended. He's one 
 of the kind that can take a joke." 
 
 " Well, now, I noticed, myself, that he had a 
 twinkle in his eyes, Jim." 
 
 " A twinkle ? Why, I tell you, before he got 
 his glasses, his eyes hadn't any more twinkle than 
 a grindstone." 
 
 " But he had his glasses on when we met him, 
 last Saturday morning." 
 
 " Did he ? Why didn't you tell me ? " 
 
 " And that afternoon I met him again on the 
 blind road." 
 
 " Oh, then, you were the one he inquired about. 
 He told Ned Hallett he met a girl on a wheel. 
 Well, it's of no consequence what else he said." 
 
 "Yes, it is. You'll have to tell me, word for 
 word." 
 
 " Well, if you must know," laughed James, " he 
 said she was a sylph ! Ned said he hadn't the 
 least acquaintance with sylphs himself, but he'd 
 warrant the girl was Pauline Wyman. I told Ned
 
 BREAKING IT TO JAMES. 53 
 
 I knew better ; you hadn't been wheeling on that 
 road, or I should have known it." 
 
 " But I did go there last Saturday," returned 
 Pauline, still blushing, as she thought of the young 
 Englishman's compliment. " I went there, and 
 I'll tell you why in a minute. But that horrid ini- 
 tiation, Jim ! You certainly ran a great risk, and 
 I'm glad you got off as well as you did. Are you 
 going to like the new professor ? " 
 
 " Famously. Only we wouldn't have the rose- 
 story leak out for the world. Wishart is a person 
 you feel rather particular about. He might not 
 stand it. But what were you doing on the blind 
 road ? " 
 
 Pauline did not reply at once. It was not 
 easy for her to tell of the Johonnet school. Her 
 brother, unlike most girls' brothers, was inclined 
 to approve of her, whatever she might say or do ; 
 still he was capable of sarcasm. 
 
 " Teach school ? You, Pauly Wyman ? " he ex- 
 claimed when the story was told. " Teach school, 
 a girl of your age ? I never mistrusted things had 
 gone so low with our family. Somebody ought to 
 have told me." 
 
 There was no irony here, no jesting. James 
 was plainly disturbed. 
 
 " I thought you and I were bound to have an 
 education. That's what father always said. How 
 came we so poor all at once ? But if either of us 
 has got to break off and earn money, I'm the one. 
 I'm the oldest and I'm a man ! "
 
 54 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " No, Jim, I've talked it all over with father and 
 mother. You are to graduate and study law, and 
 there's Uncle Ike to help you. I'm only a girl, it's 
 no matter about me. I won't say I think it's quite 
 fair, for I don't, but it's so." 
 
 " Now, Paul ! " 
 
 "Well, isn't it so? Isn't a boy the first to be 
 considered ? Doesn't a girl take what's left ? " 
 
 " Pooh, Paul, I want to argue with you about 
 that." 
 
 " Not now, Jim. I'm in a lovely frame of mind, 
 to be sure, but you know I'm apt to fly off. I 
 can't stand being talked to." 
 
 " Polly, O Polly ! " called Dan from the hall, 
 "I've been looking and looking for you. Come 
 into the dining-room, please." 
 
 " What do you want of me ? " 
 
 "I want well, how do you pronounce Iphige- 
 nta?" 
 
 " Just as you do, sir. You pronounced it prop- 
 erly ; accent on next to the last syllable. You 
 didn't race all over the house to ask me that ques- 
 tion, Dan. There's something else." 
 
 Evidently there was, but he only whistled for 
 answer. 
 
 " Come in here, you little hypocrite," said Jim. 
 " You've got a piece to speak, I'll warrant. Come, 
 you needn't be afraid of me." 
 
 " Don't you make fun of me, then," returned 
 Dan, hanging back, but finally entering the room 
 slowly.
 
 BREAKING IT TO JAMES. 55 
 
 " It's our debating society. Pauline likes to 
 have me rehearse to her, you know. Question is, 
 ' Which has been more useful in the world, man or 
 woman ? ' I'm on the man's side." 
 
 "Of course," said Pauline. 
 
 "That's where they put me," said Danville, 
 apologetically, with a furtive glance at James. " I 
 thought I should say, Who invented the steam- 
 boat, the telegraph, the telephone, and all the 
 other things ? It's men, don't you know ? " 
 
 "No, Paul says it's women," corrected Jim. 
 " That is, women would do it if you'd give 'em an 
 education ! " 
 
 Danville went on unheeding, in a drawling tone, 
 " Who built the cathedrals and towers and the 
 other stunning big buildings ? It's men. How 
 would a woman look carrying mortar ? " 
 
 Here Dan struck an attitude and clutched the 
 legs of his trousers. " She would have to hold up 
 her train." 
 
 The audience laughed. 
 
 " Does a woman raise armies, fight battles ? No, 
 she screams at sight of a gun. 
 
 " Finally, my friends, where would America be 
 to-day if a man hadn't discovered it? What if 
 we'd sat down and waited for a woman to come 
 along and discover it ? " 
 
 Here he dropped his voice to a falsetto. " Did 
 you ever hear of a woman's cruising round to dis- 
 cover things ? Naw ! She'd be afraid of getting 
 tanned! It takes a man, don't you know?"
 
 56 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 By this time Dan's audience was in a state of 
 merriment, and the orator retired, saying, 
 
 " Well, I can make up a lot more of that kind of 
 stuff, Polly. Of course they want me to make 'em 
 laugh." 
 
 " What a little monkey he is ! " said James, " the 
 clown of his class. But there's always point to his 
 speeches." 
 
 " Y-e-s. I'd like to hear him on the other side 
 of the question, though ; there's enough to be said, 
 only 'twould take a woman, don't you know ? " 
 
 " Don't go to being cross, Paul. Let's go back 
 to where we left off. What's all this fuss about ? 
 What made us so poor all at once ? " 
 
 " It's not all at once ; it has been growing upon 
 us, Jim, only I've just found it out, and now it's my 
 duty to help. Think how many girls support their 
 families entirely. I've been counting them over. 
 There's Jenny Blake and Susan Mills and 
 
 " Old maids, good gracious ! " 
 
 James sprang up from his chair again, and 
 paced the floor. 
 
 " Do you want to make an old maid of your- 
 self, Pauline Wyman ? " 
 
 Pauline laughed brightly. 
 
 " I never dreamed of such a thing ! I'm going 
 to be married when I get around to it. I wouldn't 
 not be married on any account. Why, what an 
 idea!" 
 
 Jim, apparently much relieved, caught her up 
 and waltzed her around the room.
 
 BREAKING IT TO JAMES. 57 
 
 " How you ever thought of teaching, a girl 
 with no dignity whatever ! They'll turn you out 
 for laughing. As for father's being in difficulties, 
 why, it's simply the hard times. It will soon 
 blow over." 
 
 This was a new view of the matter. Pauline 
 had not thought of the hard times, neither 
 perhaps had her mother, but how easily and 
 naturally the situation of the family was now 
 explained ! And, reflecting upon the transitory 
 nature of hard times, Pauline's spirits rose with 
 a bound. 
 
 "Well, if it's going to blow over, the sooner 
 the better. By the way, Jim, did you ever hear 
 that we ought to have had some money fall to 
 us, the Wyman money?" 
 
 " I've heard something about it. Grandfather 
 Wyman his real name was Curtis was adopted 
 by a rich man, and ought to have had a fortune, 
 only somehow he didn't." 
 
 " And why didn't he ? I mean to talk to Uncle 
 Ike about it, Jim. He can tell us who got that 
 money." 
 
 " Suppose he can, what good would it do us to 
 know ? I don't want to know. See here, that 
 miserable little school of yours isn't even graded. 
 They are Farmer Waybacks out there." 
 
 " I know it. It's an obscure little district tucked 
 away in the northwest corner of the town. I sup- 
 pose my scholars think the earth is flat, and George 
 Washington is President of the United States.
 
 58 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 Have you anything more to say ? If the lecture 
 is over, we may as well close with music." 
 
 And, running across to the piano, Pauline struck 
 up a Scotch song, her father's favorite, "The 
 Bonnets of Bonny Dundee." 
 
 She was thankful that the worst was over, and 
 Jim had not laughed at her.
 
 VI. 
 
 THE LITTLE TEACHER. 
 
 PAULINE had been teaching a week. Friday 
 evening had come, and the whole Wyman house- 
 hold was sighing as one man to behold her again. 
 
 " I see her," called out little Arthur, who had 
 been stationed on duty for half an hour at one 
 of the rainbow windows. " I see her ever so far 
 up the street on her wheel." 
 
 " Mebbe so, mebbe not ; you can't tell a man 
 from a horse out o' them windows," thought Roxy 
 Rix, standing by the kitchen stove, spoon in hand, 
 ready to pour her waffle-batter into the irons. 
 
 And now out rushed the whole family, and Un- 
 cle Ike with them, to welcome the little teacher. 
 James thought she had grown a year older. There 
 was a double allowance of starch in her blouse- 
 waist, and her beautiful wavy hair had been drawn 
 severely back from her forehead and compressed 
 into an extremely hard knot at the very top of 
 her head. This innovation she considered impor- 
 tant and as carrying distinction. She would not 
 commit the mistake of looking young if she could 
 help it. 
 
 " Oh, I'm so glad, so glad to get home," she 
 cried, laying her cheek against her mother's. " I 
 like you in that dainty percale, mother, and you 
 
 59
 
 60 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 look so bright and happy. Tell me you feel a 
 little rested ; I want to hear you say it." 
 
 " Oh, yes, Pauline, I've had nothing else to do 
 but rest; I'm getting very idle." 
 
 There was a general outcry against this amaz- 
 ing statement ; . but when it came out on the 
 authority of Uncle Ike that she had really been 
 " tramping " in the woods with him that very after- 
 noon, Pauline drew a long, contented breath. It 
 was a new thing for mamma to take a tramp ! 
 
 Father, too, seemed in fine spirits. He was 
 subject at intervals to attacks of depression and 
 comparative silence. 
 
 " Now, Miss," said James, as they surrounded 
 the tea-table, " we've heard a flying report of your 
 being turned out of your school, and we want to 
 know if it's true." 
 
 " It has only been threatened," replied Pauline, 
 laughing. 
 
 "Tell us all about it, my daughter," said Mr. 
 Wyman ; "we're all waiting to hear." 
 
 " Well, father, to tell the truth, I wish I could 
 live the first day over again ; I meant to act my- 
 self as you told me, Uncle Ike, but when I entered 
 the schoolroom myself wasn't there ! I was some- 
 body else. Only think, there were thirty-seven 
 children in that schoolhouse of all sorts and con- 
 ditions. I trembled all over ; and when I heard a 
 little boy say, ' Ain't she a whalin' big woman ? 
 What '11 you bet I can't lift her with one hand ? ' I 
 wanted to run."
 
 THE LITTLE TEACHER. 61 
 
 " Stage fright, hey ? " said James. 
 
 " Next thing I felt myself beginning to giggle ; 
 but one of the girls coughed and nodded to an- 
 other girl, and that saved me. I put my foot 
 down hard and began to scowl. I remembered I 
 should be seventeen years old next October, and 
 was I going to be coughed down by a girl who 
 probably didn't know the multiplication table ? I 
 scorned them and took my blank book- and pencil, 
 and marched around and asked their names in a 
 voice sharp enough to cut you in two." 
 
 It may be mentioned here that Pauline's girlish 
 voice was of a ringing sweetness, never even in 
 her scolding moments sharp. 
 
 " I came to a beautiful boy who looked like 
 Dan, and before I thought I patted him on the 
 shoulder. It was a queer thing to do to so large 
 a boy, and he laughed and the boy next him 
 laughed ; but when I shook my head they both 
 stopped, and I loved them from that moment. 
 
 "They're only going till haying. I'm taking 
 them through cube root. They never had it ex- 
 plained to them before, and they're so grateful, 
 poor fellows. I shan't have any trouble with 
 them ; boys are naturally so chivalrous." 
 
 " Yes, when they like the looks of the teacher," 
 said James, with a knowing nod at Uncle Ike. 
 
 " They're different from girls, Jim. Girls of the 
 half-way age are so disagreeable. I remember 
 how I used to act. These girls thought I was too 
 young, so I ' sugared my hair ' to get the kinks
 
 62 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 out, and drew it up to a peak. Don't you think it 
 makes me look older ? " 
 
 " It makes you look like a scarecrow in poor 
 circumstances," replied Jim, with brotherly frank- 
 ness. " The moment tea is over, do you hurry up 
 and make yourself presentable, for there'll be sev- 
 eral in to see you." 
 
 " But your girl scholars, Pauline," said Mrs. 
 Wyman anxiously, "they've not been insubordi- 
 nate ? " 
 
 "They tried to be, I think, mother, just a little. 
 I suppose I began rather too high and mighty, but 
 I soon saw I couldn't hold out that way, and stopped 
 it in time, and remembered what you said about 
 making friends with the older girls." 
 
 "That is sensible, my daughter." 
 
 " So it's all right now. They don't respect me 
 as I wish they did, but they like me." 
 
 "'Rah for you, Paul," said James. "If you've 
 got the big boys and big girls on your side you're 
 all right." 
 
 " I should prefer to be reverenced and looked 
 up to," said the young girl, wistfully ; " but it's 
 better than nothing to have scholars friendly. 
 They're going to help me in all sorts of ways. 
 They said I needn't be at all afraid; they like 
 me for being young and jolly, and want to make 
 things pleasant for me ; they came and said this 
 to me last night, Alice Bemis and Clara Lucas, 
 and they're the leaders." 
 
 " 'Rah ! " cried James, again.
 
 THE LITTLE TEACHER. 63 
 
 " They are ashamed to think how they've wasted 
 their time and tormented their teachers. I don't 
 see what has made them think of this all at once, 
 for I haven't preached to them at all. ' We want 
 now to learn,' they say; 'we want to be like you 
 village girls, Miss Wyman.' I said I'd help them 
 with all my might, and so I will." 
 
 " And the way to help them, my daughter, is to 
 give them an impetus. Don't give ' the draught 
 before the thirst,' " said Mr. Wyman ; " stimulate 
 their minds, that's the first thing." 
 
 " I believe she has caught the right idea," re- 
 marked Uncle Ike, thoughtfully. " It's praising 
 green barley to say Paulina will make a success of 
 her school, but I for one hold that opinion." 
 
 Uncle Ike seldom formed hasty judgments ; his 
 words carried weight, and every one rose from the 
 tea-table in excellent spirits. 
 
 The first callers that evening were Victoria Ray- 
 mond and Ned Hallett. Victoria was a rich and 
 rather haughty girl, not a favorite with Pauline. 
 
 " I'm so glad to see you again, Pauline dear," 
 said Victoria, affably ; " but what did possess you 
 to take that odious school ? " 
 
 To almost any one else Pauline would have re- 
 plied frankly, "The money;" but she could not 
 say this to Victoria, who would not have under- 
 stood. 
 
 " Oh, there's a deal of fun in it," said Pauline. 
 "Wait till I tell you about it." 
 
 The parlor was filling with young people who
 
 64 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 all wanted to hear Pauline's experiences in the 
 suburbs, but it was a surprise when Professor 
 Wishart entered, known to a certain few as " the 
 English Rose." 
 
 To say the truth, Professor Wishart fully shared 
 in this surprise. He had called merely to finish 
 out a conversation with Mr. Wyman, begun some 
 days ago, and James, meeting him as he emerged 
 from the study, had inveigled him into the parlor. 
 
 All the " undergrads " who had been concerned 
 in the foolish and unprovoked raid upon the new 
 professor were .trying now to make amends by 
 showing him every possible attention. He knew 
 no one in Eveleth but the college faculty, all old 
 men, and must find it dull, they thought. 
 
 He was fond of music, and John Blythe had 
 asked him to his own house to hear his sister Ada 
 play, Ada being quite a proficient. Some of the 
 others had given him drives, and he was spoken 
 for a week ahead to accompany the Hallett family 
 in their carriage to the Great Eddy to watch the 
 first boat race of the season between " Our Nine " 
 and the Pelhams. And now James Wyman had 
 ushered him into the merry circle assembled in his 
 mother's parlor. 
 
 Mrs. Wyman greeted him with easy cordiality. 
 She was usually present when James and Pauline 
 entertained, sitting quietly in the background, it 
 is true, yet always observant and appreciative, and 
 ready with any needed suggestion. Professor 
 Wishart or Mr. Wishart, as he chose to be
 
 THE LITTLE TEACHER. 65 
 
 called found her charming, and would have en- 
 joyed a quiet chat with her in the corner, if his 
 attention had not been claimed by the young 
 people. 
 
 He seemed at first a little restrained and ill at 
 ease. He liked and understood boys thoroughly, 
 but these bright American girls were new to him. 
 At each introduction he bowed over the young 
 lady's hand with an air of such exalted politeness, 
 that Ada Blythe remarked aside to Pauline, 
 
 " He seems to think girls belong in the sky." 
 
 " Stiff thing," responded Pauline. " Give me 
 seven sticks, and I'll make another just like him." 
 
 " Notice that pink pearl ring on his left hand," 
 said Dolly Stevens. " It doesn't seem in keeping 
 with his ministerial dignity." 
 
 James saw with satisfaction that Pauline was 
 looking her best. In a pretty gown, with her 
 hair released from durance vile, she was a girl 
 any brother might be proud of. 
 
 " Not as handsome as Victoria Raymond," ad- 
 mitted James, reluctantly, "or as queenly. But 
 when Paul smiles Tory can't hold a candle to her." 
 
 The charm of Pauline's smile was admitted, but 
 not understood. Some said, like Eva Hallett, that it 
 was "the heart in it;" others, like Tory Raymond, 
 that it was " the teeth." I am inclined to give the 
 teeth a little credit. We hear of expressive eyes, 
 mouth, and even nose, never of expressive teeth. 
 Yet why not ? Teeth have their individuality. 
 Pauline's, though small and white, were slightly
 
 66 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 irregular, one or two of the upper ones overlap- 
 ping their next neighbor a wee bit in a "cuddly " 
 fashion, confiding and affectionate. It was con- 
 ceded by her admirers, that while Pauline with 
 her mouth closed was " lovely," with her mouth 
 open she was "simply adorable." 
 
 Professor Wishart easily recognized her as the 
 " sylph " he had met awheel ; but wondered why 
 she should be put to the drudgery of teaching. 
 
 " She does not take it very seriously," he thought, 
 observing that to all the questions asked she made 
 playful replies, almost with an air of laughing at 
 herself. How should he know that her light man- 
 ner covered the deepest earnestness ? 
 
 Pauline was a girl of delicate reserves, who 
 always shrank from making a parade of her emo- 
 tions ; nevertheless, " the star of the unconquered 
 will had risen in her breast," and henceforth her 
 life was consecrated to work and duty. 
 
 "And you really mean to tell us, Pauline Wyman, 
 that you enjoy being shut up all day with a roomful 
 of noisy children? " asked Tory Raymond, though 
 Pauline had not once said she enjoyed it. "What 
 do you do with them when they are naughty ? " 
 
 " Well, one little girl I pin to my skirts with a 
 safety pin, and let her walk the floor with me," 
 laughed Pauline. " She doesn't mean to be 
 naughty; she simply can't keep still. / don't 
 blame her." 
 
 " Perhaps you would say with Jean Paul, Miss 
 Wyman, ' Excuse children for being children.' "
 
 THE LITTLE TEACHER. 67 
 
 It was Mr. Wishart who said this with a humor- 
 ous smile. 
 
 " Did Jean Paul say that ? Then he knows ! 
 It's downright cruel to try to keep the little things 
 still, so unnatural ! There, I must tell you how 
 I tried to teach one little tot the points of the com- 
 pass. This was the way she repeated the words 
 after me : 
 
 " ' If I stand with my right hand to the east and 
 my left hand to the west, my back will be in front 
 of me and my face will be behind me.' " 
 
 " Capital," said John Blythe. " I can seem to 
 see her a-twisting a twist. Didn't you have to put 
 your face behind you to conceal your smiles ? " 
 
 " Yes ; that's the worst part of teaching, John, 
 or I find it so, to keep from laughing." 
 
 " Did you ever succeed ? " 
 
 "Now, John Blythe, I'd like you to hear some 
 of the funny things I've heard from those chil- 
 dren, and see what would become of you ! Why, 
 one little boy, when I asked him what was remark- 
 able about Utah, replied, ' It has a religious insect 
 called Mormon ! ' ' 
 
 " There, Pauline Wyman," cried a chorus of 
 voices, " I know you laughed then ! " 
 
 " Not aloud," averred Pauline. Then, on reflec- 
 tion and self-examination, she added meekly, 
 
 "That is, not so very loud, I mean." 
 
 Mr. Wishart chanced just then to look towards 
 Mrs. Wyman, and they involuntarily smiled at each 
 other with mutual enjoyment of the na'fvet^ of the
 
 68 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 young girl who stood the centre of an admiring 
 group. 
 
 " What a fresh-hearted, unconscious little soul ! " 
 thought Mr. Wishart. " If my sister Edith had 
 lived, I fancy she might have been like that." 
 
 Losing both parents in his early boyhood, and 
 his only sister a few years later, Allan Wishart had 
 grown up to manhood comparatively homeless, and 
 almost without female companionship. His friends 
 complained of him that his chief interest lay in 
 books and teaching ; but there was a strong social 
 element in his nature which had lain dormant, sim- 
 ply from force of circumstances. 
 
 He had intended this evening to get back very 
 soon to his room and his work ; but as he lingered, 
 listening to Pauline's guitar and the duets and 
 solos of some of the other young people, he became 
 quite absorbed and forgot his impatience to go. 
 
 At the close of the evening he assured himself 
 that he had been exceedingly well entertained, and 
 that " these Wymans were far and away the most 
 charming people he had met in America."
 
 VII. 
 
 THE BOAT RACE. 
 
 ON Saturday morning of the following week, 
 Mrs. Rix was busy preparing an early breakfast 
 for James, who was going to the boat race. 
 
 " Is that you, Cinthy ? " said she, as a discour- 
 aged-looking woman appeared at the back door. 
 " Set down, and I'll fetch you a cup of coffee." 
 
 Mrs. Potter seated herself, panting and sighing. 
 
 " I've took quite a walk for me. Husband was 
 against it, but I got a lift a little ways in John 
 Gibbs's cart, and Abner Whitney'll take me back 
 about ten o'clock." 
 
 " I'm glad to hear that," said Roxy. Her tone 
 was kind, though her meaning might be somewhat 
 ambiguous. 
 
 " Fact is, Roxy, I wanted to see if you wouldn't 
 come over this afternoon, and give me a rum sweat 
 such as mother used to take ? I ain't been well for 
 some days." 
 
 " You don't mean to say, Cinthy, you've come a 
 matter of 'most two miles just for that? " 
 
 "Yes, I ain't well, got cold on the lungs, and 
 I need to be 'tended to. And I thought as to-day 
 was Sat'day, and Pauline to home " 
 
 " Well, 'taint so's 't I can go," said Roxy, with 
 69
 
 70 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 decision. " The family'll be off to the boat race, 
 and I must be 'round to see to Arthur and the 
 baby. I'll go to-morrer." 
 
 " To-morrer may be too late," returned Cinthy, 
 with a laborious cough, evolved from her own 
 inner consciousness of coming pneumonia. 
 
 Roxy smiled behind the roller-towel. Until 
 quite recently she had been easily deceived and 
 alarmed by her sister's multifarious ailments, 
 treating them with a seriousness which gratified, 
 while it really injured, the patient ; but now she 
 was learning a better way to treat " Cinthy's 
 hypo." 
 
 " Here's your coffee, Cinthy. Want more 
 cream ? Now, I'll bile you two eggs. You want 
 'em hard as rocks, I s'pose ? " 
 
 " Well, I need something to stay me, coming out 
 so early. If you'd only stayed in your own house ! 
 Well, if the time ever comes when you get them 
 Wymans 'tended to, I hope you'll mention it, and 
 then mebbe I shall have somebody to look to in 
 time o' need." 
 
 Roxy hardened her heart as she set the eggs to 
 boil. 
 
 " I ain't sorry I'm here, Cinthy. I feel that 
 I'm filling a void that would otherwise be vacant. 
 And it's my only way of paying back the Squire. 
 What that man's done for me ain't to be put into 
 words." 
 
 "Ephraim's jined to his idols," said Cinthy, 
 plaintively. "And to think o' your coming here
 
 THE BOAT RACE. 71 
 
 when you always said so much against the 'Pisco- 
 pals, Roxy ! " 
 
 " I don't like the Tiscopal religion any better'n 
 what you do ; but it seems to work in this family. 
 They ain't always on the jar like some families. 
 If they was, I wouldn't stay. But here comes 
 Jim. I've got to hurry up." 
 
 Pauline and James could be heard talking in 
 the dining-room. 
 
 " I tell you, Paul, as the time draws near I 
 begin to feel a little shaky, as a lawyer does after 
 a case has gone to the jury. Tell me, honestly, 
 do you think there's any doubt of the Eveleths ? " 
 
 " How can there be ? Why, the Pelhams 
 haven't half the muscle or half the pluck of our 
 boys." 
 
 " No, but they've had fine training lately." 
 
 " It's about time. Being whipped so often has 
 frightened them into that. But I'm not afraid 
 of them, Jim." 
 
 " Nor I, Paul," said James, his courage rising. 
 
 " < We don't want to fight, 
 
 But, by jingo, if we do, 
 We've got the men, we've got the boats, 
 We've got the muscle, too.' " 
 
 " I'm glad our color is the scarlet, Jim. The 
 girls are coming out with the jauntiest ribbons, all 
 but " 
 
 She checked herself. It was not certain that 
 Tory Raymond would wear the green for the
 
 72 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 sake of Frank Joslin, a Pelham. This was merely 
 a rumor, and not to be reported to Our Nine, who 
 might thereby lose heart. 
 
 "It's our duty to keep up their spirits," said 
 the loyal Eveleth girls. 
 
 "Why, Jim, it does seem as if the muscle in 
 your arm had hardened within a week," pursued 
 Pauline, intent on imparting encouragement. 
 "There, now, let go my wrist. Do you think I'm 
 made of cast-iron ? Have you noticed my scarlet 
 geranium in the garden ? It's precisely our shade. 
 Yes, and I shall sacrifice every blossom. One for 
 mother, one for father, a buttonhole bouquet 
 
 "Good! Stick one in my hair, will you?" 
 James despatched his breakfast in haste. The 
 contest was to begin at 10.30. The Pelhams had 
 come seventy miles yesterday, and must return by 
 afternoon train. 
 
 Willow Nook, above the Great Eddy, seemed to 
 have been created expressly as a waterway for 
 racing. The river here for a long distance was 
 glassy smooth, and sheltered by tall trees, while 
 the banks on either side had excellent foot-paths 
 close to the water's edge. 
 
 On the south side was a railway track, and this 
 morning all the open cars that could be begged 
 and borrowed in three towns were running on it. 
 Every car was filled with people, most of them 
 "from Pelham way," and wearing green favors, 
 though flames of scarlet glowed here and there 
 along the line.
 
 THE BOAT RACE. 73 
 
 On the north side of the river the foot-path 
 back of the trees was a solid mass of humanity ; 
 but these were Eveleth people, and the scarlet 
 prevailed. 
 
 " It looks like a sea of blood," said Pauline 
 Wyman to Dolly Stevens, as she pinned a gera- 
 nium on the girl's shoulder. " Don't you like a 
 geranium ? It's such a social flower, every blos- 
 som a bouquet in itself." She spoke with re- 
 strained excitement. In fifteen minutes the race 
 was to begin. 
 
 "Oh, dear," murmured Ada Blythe, "we've 
 always said the Pelhams weren't worth minding ; 
 but of course they're on their mettle to-day." 
 
 " So are our boys," returned Pauline, ashamed 
 of her sinking heart. 
 
 The day was warm, and in her intensity of feel- 
 ing her naturally vivid color had deepened per- 
 ceptibly. Two rude young girls from the "rural 
 districts " watched her with curiosity, and one 
 whispered to the other, 
 
 "I've heard say the village girls painted. Now 
 look at that one ! Didn't she lay it on thick, 
 though?" 
 
 " My goodness ! " was the reply. " I s'pose she 
 thinks 'taint noticed ! Guess I'll let her know 
 some folks has got eyes." 
 
 And the young detective, in her virtuous wrath, 
 drew nearer to Pauline, and bore testimony against 
 her crime by spelling in loud tones, 
 
 " P-a-i-n-t ! "
 
 74 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 Pauline turned about as the explosive sounds 
 struck her ear, but was too bewildered and sur- 
 prised at first to resent the indignity. Blanche 
 Wood spoke for her. 
 
 "Take out your handkerchief at once," she bade 
 the rude girl loftily, " touch it to this young lady's 
 cheek, and see if the color comes off." 
 
 The girl shrank back frightened. 
 
 " I command you," repeated Blanche. " Ah, 
 you are the sort of girl that doesn't carry a 
 handkerchief ! Then keep away from respectable 
 people." 
 
 Both the back-country damsels suddenly disap- 
 peared in the crowd ; whereupon Pauline's young 
 friends rallied around her laughing, though at the 
 same time sympathetic and indignant. 
 
 Professor Wishart, standing, watch in hand, a 
 few rods distant, saw the animated group, though 
 he could not hear their remarks, and said to him- 
 self with a smile, " That little Wyman girl seems 
 from all appearances to be the chief star around 
 which all the lesser stars circle." 
 
 There was one " lesser star " which did not join 
 the circle, indeed had always tacitly refused to do 
 so. This was Victoria Raymond. Victoria, how- 
 ever, did not acknowledge herself a lesser star. 
 As a beauty of much local celebrity, and the 
 daughter, too, of a merchant prince, she naturally 
 claimed the place of honor herself, and " wished 
 to be informed what there was remarkable about 
 Pauline Wyman. She's not pretty to begin with.
 
 THE BOAT RACE. 75 
 
 Mouth too large, and no complexion at all. I 
 don't fancy that high color myself, it's plebeian." 
 (Victoria was admired for her creamy pallor.) 
 "And her utter want of manner ! " (Victoria had 
 undeniably a queenly bearing.) 
 
 On this particular occasion Victoria was strangely 
 subdued and retiring. No one could see whether 
 she wore the Pelham color or not, as her parasol 
 was carefully poised over her left shoulder. 
 
 " I thought I caught a glimpse of green," said 
 Dolly Stevens. "If she wears the green, let's 
 cut her dead." 
 
 " No, that will flatter her ; 'twill look as if we 
 cared," said Pauline. " Hush, they're starting." 
 
 Cheers of encouragement were rising from the 
 populace, "'Rah for Eveleth ! " "'Rah for Pel- 
 ham ! " mingling in one refrain. With thrilling 
 interest hundreds of men and women watched the 
 boats cutting the water like knife-blades, leaving 
 a silent ripple of foam in their wake, while the 
 cheers seemed to keep time with the oars. 
 
 " It's a close start," cried one to another. And 
 then they cheered again, but not so loud; they 
 were intent on watching the boats. 
 
 Pauline's heart throbbed high. She recognized 
 distinctly the forms and faces of every member 
 of Our Nine, James being stationed in the middle. 
 She waved an eager handkerchief at him, and 
 kept waving it as she moved on with the throng. 
 
 Why, what could it mean ? The Pelhams were 
 shooting ahead !
 
 76 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " Really and truly the Eveleth is behind ! " ex- 
 claimed Pauline, in dismay. 
 
 " The Eveleth is behind," echoed Victoria, in a 
 different tone, a tone of exultation. 
 
 Pauline glanced at her coldly. In waving her 
 parasol Tory had exposed her left shoulder ; it 
 was guiltless of a bow of any sort. Surely she 
 had a right to be neutral. 
 
 "The Eveletk is more than a length behind," 
 said a voice in the crowd, repeating the message 
 from some one further on. 
 
 " Losing," cried another voice. " They're pull- 
 ing for all they're worth, but they're losing." 
 
 Pauline heard with fainting heart. The boats 
 were too far in the distance now to be clearly dis- 
 cernible, but if the Eveleth had fallen behind, it 
 was not likely to better itself now, for the Pelliam 
 showed no sign of weakening. 
 
 " ' On what meat doth this our Caesar feed that 
 he has grown so great ? ' " said she, unable to for- 
 give the Pelhams for this unexpected display of 
 muscle. Considering how puny they had always 
 been regarded, this change of base was clearly 
 dishonorable. 
 
 There was comparative silence among the spec- 
 tators, the silence of restrained emotion. Sud- 
 denly this was broken by the shouts of the crowd. 
 The winning boat was nearing the goal. 
 
 " They're just as ready to cheer for one side as 
 the other. What does public applause signify ? " 
 groaned Pauline, as hats, handkerchiefs, and flags 
 rose in the air.
 
 THE BOAT RACE. 77 
 
 " P-e-1, pel, h-a-m, ham, Pelham ! " was now the 
 cry of victory. 
 
 " Everybody has forgotten how to spell Eveleth. 
 Just you hear that," said Dolly Stevens, bitterly. 
 
 " Well, 'twouldn't be any fun if we could always 
 beat," returned Pauline, with a feeble attempt to 
 be philosophical. " Let's hurry on and comfort 
 our boys." 
 
 Both crews had landed by this time, and were 
 in the shady distance, making a change of toilet. 
 Before very long, they were mingling with the 
 crowd on the north bank. 
 
 It must be said of the Eveleths that they bore 
 themselves with a proud dignity which made all 
 efforts to comfort them quite superfluous. They 
 were in high spirits, and wished it understood that 
 in their case " an overthrow was worth many vic- 
 tories." They enjoyed the novelty of it. 
 
 James had seldom carried his head so erect or 
 looked so manly, and, instead of pitying him, his 
 mother and Pauline both said, impulsively, 
 
 " I'm proud of you, James ! " 
 
 " See here, girls," said John Blythe, " I always 
 knew those Pelhams had genius. Do you remem- 
 ber what the Irish senator said in his first speech ? 
 'If you see a spark of genius, water it.' The Pel- 
 hams have had water enough to-day ; their genius 
 is all ablaze ! " 
 
 The Pelhams bore their honors meekly. 
 
 " If you had put on airs, we wouldn't have stood 
 it," said Pauline to Frank Joslin. Ada Blythe
 
 78 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 pinched her arm, and Pauline turned around. 
 Victoria Raymond was holding out her right hand 
 to Frank Joslin, while her left shoulder displayed 
 a bow of green ribbon. 
 
 " I dare say she had both colors in her pocket. 
 She's a double-hearted girl," declared Pauline, at 
 the first opportunity. " Let's take no notice 
 whatever." 
 
 The girls all agreed that this w'as the more dig- 
 nified course, and would meet the approval of the 
 large-minded boys of Our Nine. 
 
 It was characteristic of Pauline, however, that 
 she found it very difficult to follow her own coun- 
 sel. It was safe to predict that, sooner or later, 
 she would end by informing Victoria Raymond 
 what she thought of her. 
 
 For nearly a week after this, she did not see 
 Victoria, but in returning from the Johonnet neigh- 
 borhood, the next Friday night, she met her at a 
 turn of the road. Tory, in all the bravery of an 
 iridescent silk gown, was on her way to Judge 
 Lynde's to tea. 
 
 " Ah, good evening, Pauline, so glad to meet 
 you," said she, blandly. " By the way, have you 
 ever made up that beautiful piece of silk you 
 showed me last spring ? " 
 
 " No," replied Pauline, quickly, with " thunder- 
 gray " in her eyes ; " I hate silk, the rustle is so 
 exasperating ! " 
 
 Victoria viewed her with a pitying smile, and 
 thanked heaven she wasn't born with such a tern-
 
 THE BOAT RACE. 79 
 
 per. What had gone wrong now ? Really, it was 
 hardly worth while condescending to a girl like 
 this, only to meet such impudent rebuffs. 
 
 She was about to pass on, when the attention of 
 both the girls was arrested by the approach of an 
 old woman in a rickety wagon, driving a disreputa- 
 ble-looking horse, with " staring bones." 
 
 " How d'ye do, Tory ? How d'ye do, Paul- 
 ighny ? " called out the old woman, familiarly. 
 " All well at your house, Tory ? " 
 
 " Pretty well, thank you. But I shouldn't think 
 you'd drive that wretched beast. His appearance 
 is really not respectable." 
 
 The old lady only smiled pleasantly at this, and 
 drove on shaking the reins. She was Victoria's 
 great-grandmother, who had been so inconsiderate 
 as to outlive her contemporaries, and linger on in 
 a world which did not need her, to the embarrass- 
 ment of a few relatives, who found her entirely 
 superfluous. 
 
 She was excellent and kind, but her ways were 
 out of date and not to be tolerated in fashionable 
 society, so she had been relegated to the suburbs 
 to board. It seemed to the Raymonds quite an ex- 
 pense, and nobody could say how long it would have 
 to be kept up, for Mrs. Pettijohn was very tough. 
 
 " A mirthful soul she was ; the snows of age 
 Fell, but they did not chill her." 
 
 As she passed on Victoria turned around to 
 Pauline and said,
 
 80 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " Did you hear what that absurd old creature 
 did last week ? She drove that old horse to a 
 picnic, and carried a platter of cold beans in her 
 lap." 
 
 " What if she did ? Isn't she your great-grand- 
 mother ? And allow me to add," blazed Pauline, 
 forgetting herself, " I don't see how you can let 
 that dear old lady live out there alone among 
 strangers. You don't deserve to have a grand- 
 mother." 
 
 These were thoughts that had occurred to Paul- 
 ine again and again ; but in her right mind she 
 would no more have expressed them to Victoria, 
 than she would have risen in church, on a Sunday, 
 and criticised the choir. 
 
 It was a great impertinence, as she saw the 
 moment the words were uttered ; for Pauline was 
 a lady to the innermost fibre, and never made 
 such a slip as this except on the rare occasions 
 when her hasty temper ran away with her. 
 
 " Good evening," said Miss Raymond, passing 
 on with the air of an injured goddess. 
 
 " Good evening," returned Pauline, with an un- 
 conquered, defiant look, which she kept up till the 
 sound of Victoria's footsteps died away in the 
 distance. 
 
 But she was draining the cup of penitence. 
 The moment she was alone with her mother, she 
 threw herself at her feet, and poured forth the 
 whole disgraceful story. 
 
 "Oh, mother confessor, I have her in aversion,
 
 THE BOAT RACE. 81 
 
 and I can't help showing it ! She was a traitor in 
 the camp last week, and now she makes fun of 
 her grandmother. She's ignoble, you must admit 
 it. And to have her condescend to me, merely 
 because I am poor and she is rich, a girl whose 
 father is not educated ! 
 
 " Why, it lashes me to fury. My temper always 
 rises at her condescension, and I frighten myself 
 when I hear my own words." 
 
 " Poor, impulsive child ! And what did Victoria 
 say to your unprovoked assault ? " 
 
 " Nothing. She merely levelled her nose at me, 
 like a drawn dagger, and bade me ' Good even- 
 ing ! ' Oh, she knows how to keep a deadlock on 
 her tongue. 
 
 " She's unwomanly, she's ungenerous, she's 
 ignoble. But, mother confessor, what hurts me 
 worst of all is the thought that I 've made myself 
 her inferior ! "
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE RED-HAIRED STRANGER. 
 
 THE goldenrod had long been glowing by the 
 wayside, foretelling the passing of summer. James 
 Wyman and his three comrades, John Blythe, Ned 
 Hallett, and Sam Fiske, were preparing to camp 
 out at Rangeley ; Victoria Raymond sent home 
 newspapers from Bar Harbor, which made men- 
 tion of her "youthful beauty" and her "rich 
 toilets ; " Eva Hallett was still in Michigan with 
 her feeble grandmother ; Pauline Wyman was put- 
 ting her whole heart into her work and making a 
 successful teacher. She really enjoyed her school 
 when the weather was not oppressively warm, 
 though she could not regret that her " honorable 
 captivity" was now drawing to a close. 
 
 " Oh, dear, what shall we do without you, Miss 
 Wyman ? " wailed the large girls. " You've tried 
 so hard to make something of us. You're the only 
 teacher that has really cared. We all love you, 
 and look upon you as a pattern to follow." 
 
 " You dear souls, you overrate me tremendously. 
 Don't take me for a pattern ! You wouldn't think 
 of it if you knew some of my dreadful faults," 
 replied Pauline, humiliated by their unmerited 
 devotion. 
 
 82
 
 THE RED-HAIRED STRANGER. 83 
 
 How had she, with all her weaknesses, gained 
 such ascendency over these girls, some of them 
 older than herself, and over the manly boys who 
 vied with one another in doing her a favor ? 
 
 It was chiefly because she was so "human- 
 hearted," so " desperately sincere." She did not 
 look down upon them for living in the "rural dis- 
 tricts ; " she only thought it a pity they had not 
 enjoyed better advantages, and she had tried her 
 best to help them forward. 
 
 Victoria Raymond or even Dorothy Stevens 
 would have made enemies of these boys and girls 
 in a week; but " Miss Wyman," they said, "never 
 puts on any airs." So she won their hearts. 
 
 Said Jane Johonnet to Clara Lucas, " Don't you 
 see affectation is all out of fashion ? If you want 
 to be a true lady, you've got to be a lady at heart, 
 and that's all there is to it." 
 
 " That's so ! Like Miss Wyman," was Clara's 
 reply. 
 
 In Pauline's weekly home visits, it was a com- 
 fort to find Roxy Rix always in the kitchen and 
 Mrs. Wyman often in the parlor. Roxy had a 
 positive genius for housekeeping. No dough with 
 the spirit of a hop in it ever failed to rise at her 
 bidding ; no pies of her making ever dared " spew 
 out " in the oven ; even the saucy flies seemed 
 awed by her presence, and met death at her hands 
 with little show of resistance. 
 
 Mrs. Rix had at last convinced Cinthy Potter 
 that she " meant to stay with them Wymans as
 
 84 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 long as she had a mind ter, and 'twas no use Cin- 
 thy's acting so singular about it. 
 
 " When you're down sick, and Hiram comes for 
 me, I'll go, but I ain't goin' without" 
 
 Altogether life had become easier at the old 
 Wyman place, and Pauline could have her leisure 
 on Saturdays and not surfer any pricks of con- 
 science for it. 
 
 But it was distressing to see what a state the 
 trees were in all over the place, festooned with 
 caterpillars' webs ; and Jim, little did Jim care ! 
 Pauline had spoken to him again and again, but 
 he was always otherwise engaged, and meanwhile 
 what was to become of the trees ? 
 
 One Saturday morning, as Mr. Wishart was 
 walking up the street, just in front of the Wyman 
 place, he was startled by a flaring light in the big 
 willow at the corner. He marvelled what could 
 have set the tree on fire ; and, hurrying forward 
 to investigate, saw a female figure dashing madly 
 about, flourishing a jointed stick of immense length 
 with a flambeau at the end. 
 
 The female was Pauline; the jointed stick a 
 rake and hoe tied together, the iron part of the 
 hoe being swathed with oiled rags well ablaze. 
 
 It was impossible to help laughing at the gro- 
 tesque picture, but Pauline was too intent on 
 business to care for appearances. 
 
 " The villainous creatures ! see what they've 
 done," said she, making a flying leap upward, 
 and waving her torch toward the caterpillars'
 
 THE RED-HAIRED STRANGER. 85 
 
 webs high overhead. " Oh, I need a step-ladder ! 
 I wish I were six feet taller." 
 
 " Won't six inches answer ? " laughed Mr. Wish- 
 art. " Pray hand me that murderous weapon, 
 and let me make an onslaught on the enemy's 
 flags." 
 
 "Thank you, Professor Wishart, only I'm so 
 ashamed ! My brother James ought to do it, but 
 he's away. I can't get him interested. There, 
 you're actually reaching them ! I'm so much 
 obliged." 
 
 Probably this was Mr. Wishart's first caterpil- 
 lar-hunt, but he followed it up with untiring ar- 
 dor. He and Pauline roamed about for an hour, 
 carrying war into the colonies, till Pauline ex- 
 claimed, 
 
 "There's not a flag left! The victory is ours, 
 I mean yours, Professor, Mister Wishart. 
 And I thank you a very great thank you. I 
 couldn't bear to see the trees look so untidy." 
 
 " I don't blame you. This is a fine old place, 
 Miss Pauline; in my opinion, the finest situation 
 in town." 
 
 " Do you really mean it ? " 
 
 Pauline looked around with an air of serene 
 satisfaction. He could have said hardly anything 
 that would have pleased her more. 
 
 "The mountain view and river view together 
 do make what the artists call a 'fine composi- 
 tion'; I always thought so." 
 
 "True; and the effect is heightened by the
 
 86 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 quaint old house with its prismatic windows. 
 Who ever saw such glass ? If there's a pot of 
 gold at the end of every one of those rainbows, 
 as there ought to be, how rich you'll be one of 
 these days." 
 
 " Now isn't that pleasant to think of, Mr. 
 Wishart ? I never thought of that before." 
 
 Then, remembering the story of the fortune 
 which her father had missed, she added, 
 
 " But if we should find a pot of gold, it would 
 be only fairy gold. Money flees away from the 
 Wymans, let me tell you, as the waters fled away 
 from Tantalus. Oh, here comes my father. Now 
 I ask you, father, hasn't Mr. Wishart done us a 
 great favor by cleaning our trees ? " 
 
 Mr. Wyman looked around in a bewildered 
 way, as if at a loss to know what she was talking 
 about. Evidently he had never known that any- 
 thing was amiss with the trees. But, trying to 
 be polite and appreciative, he said, jocosely, 
 
 "The trees look as trig as dandelion stems. 
 Has the professor been scouring the bark, like 
 those neat old women of Broeck ? " 
 
 Pauline blushed, and began to talk very fast 
 about the "hideous cobwebs," whereupon her 
 father's understanding was enlightened; and he 
 thanked Mr. Wishart for his trouble, declaring 
 that caterpillars were loathsome creatures. 
 
 " I have been deep in a very peculiar law case," 
 he added, " or I should have paid better attention 
 to my grounds. By the way, Professor Wishart,
 
 THE RED-HAIRED STRANGER. 87 
 
 the case I speak of is one that would interest you ; 
 and if you like, I will talk it over with you." 
 
 Mr. Wishart said he should be most happy; 
 and, as the lawyer proceeded to elaborate the 
 points with many waving gestures of his white 
 hands, Pauline slipped away to deposit her rake 
 and hoe in the stable. She liked to see her father 
 so happy. She knew he had been highly com- 
 plimented by the press for one of his late argu- 
 ments; and her mother had just told her with 
 pride that no less a personage than General Ship- 
 pey desired his services in an intricate matter. 
 
 This was cause for jubilation. If papa could 
 only be duly appreciated, and have the right sort 
 of cases and enough of them, his daughter might 
 go to college after all ; who knew ? 
 
 It was beginning to rain. Pauline was glad 
 the trees were out of their shrouds. Mr. Wishart 
 had been very kind and helpful, and lately she 
 was beginning to feel quite well acquainted with 
 him. She had always supposed that bookish 
 people had introverted minds. If so, it seemed 
 there were exceptions, for Mr. Wishart was cer- 
 tainly very observant, so unlike poor papa. 
 
 It rained furiously all the rest of the day, to the 
 despair of Mrs. Rix, whose immaculate kitchen 
 floor was thoroughly tracked with mud. The good 
 woman surveyed it next morning with a troubled 
 face, and said meditatively to Pauline, who was 
 entering the kitchen, 
 
 " Wish 'twas allowable to wash floors Sunday."
 
 88 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 As a supplement to this remark there was a loud 
 splash. 
 
 " Well, if I ain't a smart woman ! Can't carry 
 a pail o' water across the room without capsizing 
 it. Well, well ! " 
 
 Of course water that is spilled must be wiped 
 up, but it was noticeable that Roxy's mop remained 
 in active service for some time, and when it retired 
 at last, the mud stains had entirely disappeared. 
 
 " She spilled that water on purpose," whispered 
 James, as Pauline tiptoed across the kitchen and 
 met him in the dining-room. 
 
 " To be sure, but she tried to make it acciden- 
 tal," returned Pauline; and they both laughed 
 behind the china-closet door. 
 
 " Hello, Paul, here's some walnut cake. I hope 
 it's allowable to eat it Sunday. I tried to find it 
 accidentally, you know." 
 
 They established themselves in the large window- 
 seat at the east of the dining-room, and James con- 
 tinued, his utterance somewhat impeded by cake, 
 " I forgot to tell you, Paul, I was riding on the 
 blind road Thursday, with father, and we met 
 Mr. Bemis, and he looked amazingly friendly and 
 stopped his horse to say, ' How d'ye do, Squire ? 
 Your little girl just fills the bill out in our neigh- 
 borhood.' " 
 
 " I wouldn't have thought that of Mr. Bemis. 
 Did it please papa ? " 
 
 " To be sure it did. He replied very grandly 
 that he was ' glad his daughter gave satisfaction.' "
 
 THE RED-HAIRED STRANGER. 89 
 
 " ' Satisfaction is about the size of it, Squire,' says 
 Mr. Bemis, throwing out his chin, you know that 
 way he has ; ' I tell you our school is going to 
 break the record this year.' " 
 
 " Well, there ! " 
 
 " Yes, just those words. I made a note of 'em 
 f6r your benefit," pursued James, rather surprised 
 at his own extreme courtesy ; but then, as Eva Hal- 
 lett had often said, "He was not grumpy, like most 
 brothers, it didn't hurt him to say a nice thing to 
 his sister." 
 
 Pauline passed him the cake gratefully. 
 
 " ' Breaking the record,' said Bemis. ' 'Twas an 
 experiment my taking a little girl so, but I saw 
 she had snap in her, and, thinks I, I'll risk it.' 
 
 " ' I was sure my daughter would do her best,' 
 said father, and his head went up pretty high." 
 
 " Didn't Mr. Bemis find any fault ? Why, Jim, he 
 scowls so at table that I thought he disliked me." 
 
 " He did criticise your government a little, Paul. 
 You don't come down firm and solid, don't whip as 
 much as you ought to." 
 
 " Those darling children ! " 
 
 "You're a leetle too easy. He doubts if you 
 keep 'em as still as you might." 
 
 " I will not keep them still, so there ! " 
 
 " But he's graciously pleased to overlook all that. 
 For ' she gets the knowledge into 'em, Squire. I 
 tell you they hold their mouths open for it like 
 young birds in a nest. There's my Alice, never 
 was any hand for books, but now she's at it from
 
 90 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 morning till night, frets her mother some. I tell 
 you what 'tis, Squire, we out our way want your 
 daughter to keep right on another winter. The 
 big boys won't take no for an answer.' " 
 
 " Why, Jim, I wouldn't have thought that. 
 What did father say ? " 
 
 " Not much of anything ; didn't seem pleased. 
 I noticed he gave Selim a touch of the whip, and 
 got away as soon as he could decently. Now, 
 Paul, you wouldn't be willing to stay out there 
 next winter ? " 
 
 " No, 'twould be too cold. It's just the back 
 country, you know, without modern conveniences. 
 But" she added this rather importantly "it's 
 not a question of liking, it's a question of money. 
 My earnings count, you see." 
 
 James's head lowered a little. 
 
 " 'Twill be sometime before my earnings count. 
 But let me once stand on my feet, and I'll show 
 you how the thing is done. I hate to have my 
 sister working, but I'll pay you back for it by and 
 by. You'll forget these hardships when you're 
 driving out after a span of horses with ahem! 
 Attorney-General Wyman ! " 
 
 " So you've fully decided to be a lawyer ? " 
 
 " Certainly, I thought that was understood. 
 Have you anything against it ? " 
 
 " Not a thing. Only," said Pauline, knitting 
 her brows anxiously, " only I'm afraid my best hat 
 doesn't look well enough." 
 
 " What are you talking about ? "
 
 THE RED-HAIRED STRANGER. 91 
 
 " Riding out with the attorney-general. He 
 wouldn't want a lady looking shabby." 
 
 James gave her a vigorous shake. 
 
 " Stop that now. None of your airs ! " 
 
 " It's not airs, it's only proper pride. Don't you 
 think, yourself, the sister of a distinguished lawyer 
 ought to be elegantly dressed ? " 
 
 " No more of your nonsense ! To go back to 
 the point we started from, I don't believe there's 
 the least need of your teaching next winter." 
 
 " I certainly shall not teach if I can do better." 
 
 " How practical, how business-like ! If you can 
 ' do better ' ; always thinking of the main chance. 
 Why, Paul, you don't know how you've changed 
 since you started on this plaguy school. You 
 don't seem like the same girl." 
 
 " Really ? " Pauline looked gratified. 
 
 " Mind you, I never said 'twas any improve- 
 ment! You used to be the j oiliest girl in town. 
 
 Now it's 
 
 " ' Duty, duty must be done, 
 'Tis the rule for every one. 
 Fiddle-de-dee, fiddle-de-dee. 1 " 
 
 And having had the last word, and finished the 
 cake, James walked off to make ready for church. 
 
 Plainly, he was sensitive, and looked upon his 
 sister's position of breadwinner as a tacit reproach 
 to himself. He could not yet take in the sordid 
 idea that more money was needed in the family, 
 and that some one must earn it. 
 
 Jim was the best brother in the world, Pauline
 
 92 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 thought, but it was trying sometimes to see how 
 he rejoiced in his masculinity, thinking it a boy's 
 right to go to college, and a girl's privilege to look 
 on and watch his progress, perfectly content to 
 miss the higher education herself. 
 
 But this was a trifling annoyance. Pauline was 
 chiefly concerned, now that summer was over, in 
 thinking of something to do through the autumn. 
 If she might only stay at home and write a book 
 or paint a picture ! 
 
 " But I'm troubled with youngness and inexperi- 
 ence. I'm only fit for drudgery. Martin Luther 
 was right ; ' this is a hard world for girls.' " 
 
 And oh, such a commonplace world ! This was 
 not what the mountains had said to her when she 
 gazed at them from the north doorstone ; she had 
 read wondrous possibilities in their far-off violet 
 haze. This was not what the poets had said to 
 her. And she still believed in the poets and the 
 mountains, and kept the high heart of youth. 
 
 But one thing was certain. This was no time to 
 dream of the mystical, beautiful future. Now, 
 just now, she must act, she must find work. And 
 God would help her find it, for He always helps 
 those who try to help themselves. She was sure 
 He had been leading her all summer, or she could 
 not have done so well in her school. And now 
 He would open a new way ; she would trust Him 
 for that. 
 
 At tea time, her face still serene with thoughts 
 like these, she turned to Mrs. Rix, remarking,
 
 THE RED-HAIRED STRANGER. 93 
 
 " I promised to go with you sometime to the 
 New Bethel. If you like, I'll go to-night." 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Rix, highly gratified, "I 
 never thought of holding you to your promise ; 
 but I shall be proper glad of your company." 
 
 As the two walked away together rather earlier 
 than necessary, Mrs. Rix was apt to be over- 
 punctual, it did not occur to Pauline that " the 
 new way " she had begun to look for was just 
 opening upon her. 
 
 " Our minister's out of town, and most likely 
 we shall turn it into a prayer-meeting. For my 
 part, I don't ask any better amusement than a 
 good prayer-meeting," said Mrs. Rix, with devout 
 seriousness. 
 
 Pauline had never been to the New Bethel be- 
 fore, and the audience was for the most part 
 unknown to her. One man, with bushy red hair 
 and whiskers, Victoria Raymond would have 
 called him "a very common person,"-- seemed 
 to regard her curiously. He was so persistent 
 that she could not look up without meeting his 
 gaze. He had deep-set, sad eyes, with a wistful 
 expression, and she said to herself, 
 
 " I can't think of anything but Jim's dog, and 
 the way he looked that time Jim scolded him for 
 not bringing a stick of wood in his mouth to put 
 on the fire." 
 
 The story was this : 
 
 Nox was supposed to be wilful. James was 
 very severe to him, and Nox bore the blame as
 
 94 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 long as he could, then came very sorrowfully and 
 laid his forepaws on his master's knees, and, open- 
 ing his red mouth, showed Jim that he was suffer- 
 ing from an ulcerated tooth ; and would his dear 
 master kindly forgive him for not fetching the 
 wood ? 
 
 Pauline, quick at reading faces, was convinced 
 that this man who looked at her so persistently 
 was not intending to be impertinent. He was 
 only sad and self-absorbed. 
 
 " He wants to be forgiven or wants to be helped, 
 I don't know which," she thought. 
 
 She looked straight ahead at the pulpit. It 
 was not occupied yet. Presently, to her surprise, 
 a clergyman stepped forth in clerical vestments. 
 
 "What, a Tiscopal! Well, I s'pose they had 
 to take what they could get," whispered Mrs. Rix, 
 by way of apology. " Never had tJiat kind before." 
 
 Pauline could not follow the sermon very closely, 
 for thinking of the red-haired stranger and his ap- 
 pealing eyes. At the close of the services, as she 
 and Mrs. Rix were threading their way out of the 
 church, the stranger walked close beside them, 
 and Pauline did not like to have Mrs. Rix call her 
 by name in so loud a tone. 
 
 " Now, Paulina Wyman, do you like that kind 
 of doings ? " said she, alluding to the speaker of 
 the evening. " What do you s'pose was his notion 
 wearing that white thing? I thought 'twas our 
 reg'lar prayer-meeting, and I was beat when that 
 ghost came out and began to talk."
 
 THE RED-HAIRED STRANGER. 95 
 
 Pauline did not reply. The red-haired man was 
 following them into the street, but Mrs. Rix did 
 not observe it. He walked just behind them, 
 keeping time with their steps. It was certainly 
 odd, and Pauline began to feel somewhat per- 
 turbed. As soon, however, as Mrs. Rix had fin- 
 ished berating the 'Piscopals and the pope, she 
 found time to notice that Pauline was pinching 
 her arm, and turning around and looking at the 
 man, she greeted him in a friendly way, 
 
 " Why, Aaron Manly ! Is that you ? " 
 
 Pauline breathed freely ; it was all right, if Mrs. 
 Rix knew him. 
 
 Mr. Manly replied quite as if the meeting had 
 been accidental, and perhaps it had been, after 
 all. 
 
 " Why, how do you do, Mrs. Rix ? " 
 
 Then, after a few more courtesies had been 
 exchanged, he turned down a side street, and was 
 lost to view. 
 
 " He went considerable of a piece out of his 
 way. Wonder what for? " queried Mrs. Rix. 
 
 " Who is he ? " 
 
 " Aaron Manly ; a good likely fellow's ever 
 lived. Engineer on the railroad, or was. I 
 heard they'd turned him off. I don't know what 
 for." 
 
 " That may be what is troubling him, then. I 
 noticed him in church, and his eyes had a sad ex- 
 pression ; a little wild, too. Does he generally 
 look like that? I do believe, Mrs. Rix," added
 
 96 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 Pauline, with one of her sudden intuitions, " I do 
 believe he wants one of us to help him, either 
 you or me, only he hadn't the courage to ask." 
 
 Mrs. Rix smiled indulgently, thinking though 
 she was too polite to say it that, for a girl of 
 her sense, Pauline Wyman did take silly notions 
 sometimes. 
 
 " Why, what could you or me do to help Aaron 
 Manly ? " said she. 
 
 But it soon appeared that Pauline had not been 
 misled by her intuition.
 
 IX. 
 
 PAULINE'S ENGINEER. 
 
 THE next evening, Monday, a gentleman called 
 at Mr. Bemis's, and without giving his name, in- 
 quired for " Squire Wyman's daughter." 
 
 "He looks dreadful scared," whispered Alice 
 Bemis. " I set out to tell him you wouldn't hurt 
 him." 
 
 On entering the parlor, Pauline saw there the 
 red-haired stranger, his anxious look intensified. 
 
 " Miss Wyman, I believe ?" said he, offering his 
 hand, then withdrawing it " My name is Manly," 
 waving away the chair she offered. 
 
 " Didn't I see you Jast night, with Roxy Rix ? 
 Yes, I thought so, ana thought I'd ask Roxy to 
 introduce me, and then I thought better of it, and 
 thought " 
 
 This flow of thoughts suddenly ceased, and 
 there was silence for nearly half a minute, when 
 he began again courageously, 
 
 " I felt rather shy about telling my errand. I 
 feel that way now. I feel as if I want to be able, 
 you see, to to hold up my head." 
 
 And he dropped it abjectly, and took a look at 
 his boots. 
 
 " It's circumstances, that's what it is ; it's 
 H 97
 
 98 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 nothing wrong I've done. Well, I might as well 
 out with it. I haven't done anything wrong." 
 
 " I'm sure you haven't, Mr. Manly," said Pauline, 
 gently. 
 
 He had had some sort of trouble, and it had 
 "gone to the brain," and she knew that lunatics 
 need soothing. 
 
 " I'm sure you were not to blame, Mr. Manly. 
 But would you mind telling me all about it, if 
 it's something you think I ought to know?" 
 
 She could not be afraid of him, a man so 
 afraid of herself. She spoke with straightfor- 
 ward kindness, forgetting that she was young 
 enough to be his daughter, thinking only of 
 helping a poor soul in distress. 
 
 "You talk just like your father," said the poor 
 man, reassured. " I saw last night you looked like 
 him. A kind-hearted man, your father is, noted 
 for it." 
 
 This sounded rational. 
 
 "So you know my father, Mr. Manly?" 
 
 "Yes. Perhaps I ought to have talked with 
 him first ; but my wife said, No, you were the one, 
 nobody could say yes or no for you. The fact is," 
 he cleared his throat, " the fact is, I lived in the 
 Provinces a while when I was small." 
 
 " Oh dear, wandering again," thought poor Paul- 
 ine. 
 
 " Where there are no free schools. Father 
 moved there from New Hampshire when I was a 
 baby. We were poor and I well, I didn't learn 
 to read."
 
 PAULINE'S ENGINEER. 99 
 
 Light began to dawn on Pauline's mind. " We 
 came back to the States when I was twelve. I 
 might have gone to school then, but I was ashamed 
 to. They couldn't get me inside a schoolhouse. 
 I set up as candy-boy on a train, then worked along 
 to be brakeman and finally engineer. Yes, engi- 
 neer. Nobody mistrusted I couldn't read. Maybe 
 I didn't look like that kind of a man." 
 
 He certainly did not, and Pauline said so. 
 
 The ice once broken, he told quite coherently 
 of his wife's efforts to instruct him at home, when 
 the children were in bed, and of her comparative 
 failure because she " hadn't any knack at it," and 
 besides could not use her eyes of an evening. 
 
 But he got on well with his engine. The de- 
 spatches that came to the engineer were read to 
 him on the sly by the telegraph operator. "Haines 
 was my chum, he knew how it was with me." 
 
 But three months ago, Haines becoming ill, a 
 new operator was employed, who did not know 
 "the circumstances," and alas, Mr. Manly's igno- 
 rance had to be exposed. He was turned off as 
 unfit for the place. 
 
 "All right. I wasn't fit. But the worst of it 
 was, my boy heard of it," said Mr. Manly, his 
 voice trembling. " That cut me up worst of all. 
 I'm in the iron works now, but it's not my calling 
 and it's poor pay. I could be taken back on my 
 engine any minute, and they want me back, if I 
 could only pass muster at reading and writing. 
 Do you suppose I could learn .at my age ? "
 
 100 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 He looked at Pauline as if his eternal salvation 
 depended upon her reply. 
 
 "That's what I came to ask. My wife hears 
 you have uncommon faculty. She says if anybody 
 can drill the learning into me, it's you." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Manly, I'm so young. I never tried 
 to teach till this summer." 
 
 " It isn't that, it's the gumption. Your school 
 closes Friday, I've found that out; and now if 
 you'll begin, say next week, and teach me even- 
 ings at your house, I'll pay you handsomely and be 
 everlastingly obliged to you into the bargain. Will 
 you?" 
 
 " I'm afraid I shouldn't know how." 
 
 " If you don't, then nobody does." 
 
 The man's face was clouding. 
 
 "Well, I'm sorry for you, Mr. Manly, and sorry 
 for your children. If you really wish it, I might 
 try. That is, if my father doesn't object." 
 
 "Then it's done, for I'll risk but I can plead 
 my case with the Squire. He'll keep my secret, 
 won't he? You see, I can't have this talked 
 about." 
 
 " Papa will be careful. But all our family will 
 know it, Mr. Manly ; they'll have to know it. You 
 won't mind that ? " 
 
 " No, I can trust anybody of the name of 
 Wyman." 
 
 Mr. Manly was "holding up his head" already. 
 
 " What stumps me most," said he, growing con- 
 fidential, "is this writing business. You can't
 
 PAULINE'S ENGINEER. 101 
 
 guess what it is to have your fingers cramp up, 
 and move contrary to what you expect." 
 
 Pauline cast a commiserating glance at the 
 man's toil-hardened hands, and hesitated a mo- 
 ment. Then she said brightly, 
 
 " But you'll get the swing of it after a while. 
 People like you who are in dead earnest can do 
 almost anything." 
 
 " The Lord bless you for those words ! You 
 make me feel as if life isn't all over yet ! May I 
 bring my wife to your house with me if I come ? 
 She wants to see you. She thinks she can give 
 you a few points about me." 
 
 And so it was virtually settled. Here, as Paul- 
 ine said to herself, was her opportunity, though it 
 had appeared in a guise quite unforeseen. The 
 Manlys came, and proved to be excellent people, 
 grateful and appreciative. 
 
 James called Mr. Manly the " family mystery." 
 He was let in every evening at the side door to 
 receive his lessons in the dining-room in the strict- 
 est secrecy. He had come to the right place for 
 help, and after two or three weeks began to 
 "thank God and take courage." 
 
 " He's abrightman, and will soon read fairly well," 
 said Pauline. " As for writing, when he learns that 
 a pen isn't a pitchfork, he can handle it better." 
 
 It was a pleasure to help him ; and besides, he 
 paid very generously. Still it was slow work, and 
 Pauline did not like to be confined to the house 
 through the beautiful autumn evenings.
 
 102 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 She had another scheme in prospect. Mr. 
 Fields, one of the leading lawyers of the town, her 
 father's friend, needed a copyist, and would give 
 her employment as soon as she should have be- 
 come proficient upon the type-writer. Fortunately 
 she already knew shorthand pretty well ; it had 
 been a favorite diversion with her and Eva. 
 
 A year ago, Mrs. Wyman would have objected 
 to her daughter's going into an office, but now was 
 obliged to consider it a privilege. Copying is 
 easier than teaching; and there was the advan- 
 tage of having Pauline at home nights and morn- 
 ings. 
 
 " And such good wages, mother ! I'm getting 
 sordid ; don't you see it ? " 
 
 Mrs. Wyman did not see it; she only saw in 
 Pauline a "plain devotedness to duty." But she 
 drew one of her little half-audible sighs as she 
 thought how scant would be the girl's time for 
 study. 
 
 "Yes, I know what you're thinking, mother. 
 But let me once graduate my engineer, and then 
 I'll have all my evenings to myself." 
 
 But Pauline's engineer could not be hurried. 
 As Jim said, "he had come to stay." He had a 
 zeal for knowledge, and usually forgot what time 
 it was, thereby causing her much embarrassment. 
 As callers were not aware of his presence in the 
 house, or even of his existence, it began to be 
 wondered what Pauline was doing that kept her so 
 invisible. It was understood that she practised on
 
 PAULINE'S ENGINEER. 103 
 
 the type-writer during the day, closing it punct- 
 ually at five o'clock. But after that what was she 
 doing ? 
 
 " I called there two evenings last week," said 
 Dorothy Stevens, "once at half-past seven, once 
 at eight, and she couldn't be seen. Why not ? " 
 
 "She neglects the King's Daughters," said 
 Miriam Ladd. 
 
 "And our Young Women's Club," said Ada 
 Blythe. 
 
 From far-off Michigan came Eva Hallett's com- 
 plaint that her dear Pauline would not answer 
 letters. 
 
 " Mysterious, isn't it ? " hinted the secretive 
 Victoria Raymond, darkly ; "I hate mysteries." 
 
 Professor Wishart, like the others, wondered 
 what was absorbing Pauline. All through the 
 summer he had been in the habit of dropping in 
 very frequently of an evening at the Wymans, 
 and still continued to come. He enjoyed convers- 
 ing with Mr. Wyman, who never showed him the 
 moody side of his nature. Pauline, when at home 
 from her school, had always sat in the room, an 
 attentive listener, but now she never appeared till 
 late if at all. 
 
 " Ah, Miss Pauline, we've been waiting for you," 
 said he one evening, as she came in at ten o'clock 
 to find a cosy group of four her father, mother, 
 Mr. Wishart, and James sitting around the open 
 fire. 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Wyman; "we thought you
 
 104 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 might like to hear something about the origin of 
 heraldry." 
 
 " Do you mean coats of arms, father ? Well, 
 if there's any meaning to those, I'd really like to 
 know what it is. I'm sorry you had to wait for 
 me, though." 
 
 " ' Our only one ' will have to be excused," struck 
 in James. " She's a great philanthropist, goes in 
 for an evening sch " 
 
 The word was smothered by the brisk appli- 
 cation of a little hand across his mouth, and a 
 reproachful " Now, Jim ! " 
 
 " Daughter, I think I left my spectacles in the 
 study. Will you please get them ? I have lately 
 assumed spectacles, Professor Wishart, and am 
 always losing them. Don't you find them a 
 trouble ? " 
 
 The professor replied that his own were a part 
 of himself, and could not be mislaid any more 
 than his head. As Pauline tripped away on her 
 mission, he remarked to James, 
 
 " I don't believe she weighs half a pound more 
 than a blue butterfly. Isn't she getting thin by 
 over-confinement to the house ? " 
 
 " Oh, she's light on her feet, always was," re- 
 turned James, carelessly. " But as for her taking 
 air and exercise, why, you can't keep her still. 
 You ought to see her on the back doorstone 
 doing her calisthenics." 
 
 " For all that," thought Mr. Wishart, " her su- 
 perb color is waning a little."
 
 PAULINE'S ENGINEER. 105 
 
 It would have risen higher than ever if she had 
 suspected how closely she was watched as she re- 
 turned with the spectacles, pausing on the way to 
 caress the cat, and lay her cheek against her 
 mother's. Her sweet, contented, home-like ways 
 had always attracted the lonely stranger, remind- 
 ing him, though with a difference, of the little 
 sister he had lost. 
 
 Edith had had the same sunny, singing dispo- 
 sition, the same frank, affectionate smile, though 
 with less of roguery in it. And Edith, like Paul- 
 ine, had had a natural aptitude for picking up 
 more burdens than her young shoulders could 
 carry. He looked thoughtfully at the pink pearl 
 ring which he wore as a memento of little Edith, 
 and said to himself, 
 
 " They ought to be careful of Pauline. I wish 
 they knew it. This work, whatever it may be, is 
 wearing on her, I fear." 
 
 "There," said Pauline, disposing herself upon 
 a hassock at her father's feet, " I'm ready now, 
 and dying to hear about coats of arms. What 
 were they for in the first place ? " 
 
 "They were simply shields," replied Mr. Wish- 
 art, laying a small portfolio on the table ; " port- 
 able shields that men carried about in time of 
 war." 
 
 " Was that it ? And what were they made of ? " 
 
 " Of wood or of osiers plaited together and cov- 
 ered with many folds of ox-hides." 
 
 " You always knew about those shields, Paul,"
 
 106 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 exclaimed James. " You remember the ' moun- 
 tain-targe of tough bulls'-hide ' they took to the 
 Battle of Bannockburn." 
 
 " Jim is my admiration," said Pauline ; " he's so 
 fond of Scott. I believe he knows the ' Lord of 
 the Isles' by heart; don't you, Jim? But, dear 
 me, such heavy things to carry ! Those ancients 
 must have been giants." 
 
 " The Greeks and Romans kept improving upon 
 these shields, as you may suppose," continued Mr. 
 Wishart. " They put metallic rims around them, 
 painted portraits, or hung portraits, on them, 
 sometimes pictures representing some heroic feat. 
 I dare say your father remembers how the crow 
 came on a shield." 
 
 "You refer to Marcus Valerius," said Mr. Wy- 
 man, ready, as usual, with accurate information. 
 "The poor fellow was obliged to fight a giant 
 Gaul in single combat. He would have been killed 
 if a quick-witted crow had not kept flying in the 
 face of the enemy and pecking at his eyes, till 
 the giant was blinded and slain. ' The raven as- 
 sisting, I conquered,' was the motto the Roman 
 put on his shield with the crow's picture." 
 
 " One way of crowing over the enemy," re- 
 marked James. 
 
 "And after that," said Mr. Wishart, "the Ro- 
 man took the crow's name, calling himself Marcus 
 Valerius Corvus." 
 
 " Hear that, brother Jim ! You'll be adding 
 your dog's name to your own, some day, and call- 
 ing yourself James Wyman
 
 PAULINE'S ENGINEER. 107 
 
 The dog Nox, at James's feet, looked up as if 
 well pleased with the idea, and James patted his 
 black forehead and said, - 
 
 "Well, old boy, save my life some day, and I'll 
 do it." 
 
 " Thus, Miss Pauline, you trace the evolution 
 of the shield. With these significant pictures and 
 mottoes on it, it became a medium of recognition 
 between nations and tribes." 
 
 " I see ! I see ! " said Pauline, all alert 
 
 Mr. Wishart liked to give her a bit of informa- 
 tion, if only for the pleasure of seeing her eyes kindle. 
 
 " But these ancients weren't all heroes, Mr. 
 Wishart. What was there for a commonplace 
 man to put on his shield ? " 
 
 " Well, there were animals enough. He could 
 put on the picture of one he happened to fancy, or 
 was supposed to resemble." 
 
 "A lion or a tiger, if he thought himself very 
 brave," suggested Mrs. Wyman. 
 
 " Exactly. And then, when shields fell into 
 disuse, this picture was transferred to the man's 
 property. It was affixed to his house, engraved 
 on his seal, chased on his plate, emblazoned on 
 his carriage." 
 
 " Oh, that's it ! Now we come to the coats of 
 arms," exclaimed Pauline. " Let's choose one, 
 father, for the ancient and honorable house of 
 Wyman." 
 
 " You forget, my daughter, that Wyman is an 
 adopted name. Our family name is Curtis."
 
 108 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " Yes, and prettier, much prettier. Why don't 
 we go back to it, father? The Wymans have 
 done nothing for us, that we should carry their 
 name all our lives." 
 
 Mr. Wyman looked at his daughter inquiringly. 
 What could she have heard that called forth that 
 remark ? 
 
 " If you think of setting up a coat of arms, Miss 
 Pauline, perhaps one of these would suit you," 
 said Mr. Wishart, smiling, as he opened the port- 
 folio on the table, and took out some of the papers 
 at random. 
 
 " What brilliant colors ! " exclaimed Mrs. Wy- 
 man. " Red is called gules, I believe, and white, 
 argent. I know all that about heraldry. Yes, 
 and couped means cut off." 
 
 " Well, here's a gules rose for you, and an ar- 
 gent rose," said James, flourishing a picture. 
 " The War of the Roses, I'll warrant, for the 
 motto says, ' Extremes meet.' ' 
 
 "You're a Yankee for guessing," laughed Mr. 
 Wishart. " Yes, the red and white roses, the 
 extremes, met in peace when Henry VII. married 
 a princess of the House of York. Do you see 
 anything else there ? " 
 
 " Why, there's a shamrock on the crest. Hur- 
 rah, that's Ireland! The picture was made just 
 after Ireland came into the kingdom." 
 
 "You're right; that's the story the shield tells." 
 
 "Now, I never knew there was half so much 
 meaning in heraldry," said Pauline. " But, Mr.
 
 PAULINE'S ENGINEER. 109 
 
 VVishart, what is this ? Three trumpet-flowers, 
 three barberry-flowers, and on the crest a sprig of 
 wormwood. What do these flowers have to do 
 with one another ? And what does the motto 
 mean, ' I feel the severity of separation ' ? " 
 
 " This one depends on the language of flowers, 
 Miss Pauline, and needs a key. The trumpet- 
 flower is a native of North America, and when it 
 was transplanted to Europe, it was supposed to 
 miss and mourn its little friend, the humming- 
 bird, so its language is ' separation.' " 
 
 " What a pretty idea ! " 
 
 " Well, the artist tries to illustrate the pangs of 
 separation, by giving us the barberry, which means 
 ' sharpness/ and the wormwood, which means 
 'bitterness.' Quite poetical, you see." 
 
 "I call that piling on the agony. I'll warrant 
 that shield was given to some ' wandering Willie ' 
 by his ' ladye-love,' " said James; and with hand 
 upon his heart, he sang, in a sentimental tenor, 
 
 " ' All joy was bereft me the day that you left me, 
 And climbed the tall vessel to sail yon wide sea.' " 
 
 " It grows late," said Mr. Wishart. " Now, if 
 any of you care to see more of these coats of arms, 
 I'll bring them over again some evening with the 
 language of the flowers written on the backs." 
 
 " Thank you, that will be very interesting," said 
 Mrs. Wyman. " And would you mind my copy- 
 ing some of them, Professor Wishart ? "
 
 110 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " Certainly not. Do with them as you like, and 
 keep them as long as you please." 
 
 Then, as an afterthought, he selected one, scrib- 
 bled a few words on it in pencil, and passed it to 
 Pauline, saying, 
 
 " Please accept with my compliments." 
 
 The moment he was gone, James seized upon 
 the shield. 
 
 It bore one flower, the crowfoot, and on 
 the crest was a sprig of nightshade. Motto, " Re- 
 tiring loveliness commands admiration." 
 
 " Hello ! Listen all. It says here, ' The crow- 
 foot, or goldilocks, prefers secluded places, and 
 its language is "modesty." To illustrate the charm 
 of modesty, we have the pink nightshade, signi- 
 fying "enchantment." ' 
 
 " Well done ! The professor knows how to 
 flatter. See our Goldilocks blush ! If he had 
 given this to a bashful young fellow like me, now, 
 there would have been some sense in it ! " 
 
 And James tossed the picture over to Pauline. 
 Her eyes were glowing with pleasure. Compli- 
 ments were no new thing to her, but one from 
 Mr. Wishart had value. And then, as her eye 
 caught the word "retiring," she said, 
 
 " Oh, that refers to my retiring from the room 
 so often when he calls. It's just a play upon 
 words, Jim." 
 
 "So it is. I didn't think of that. For a 
 demure-looking chap like Wishart, he is an incor- 
 rigible joker. He doesn't often show it off at the 
 house here, but we fellows know it."
 
 PAULINE'S ENGINEER. Ill 
 
 Pauline did not care to look at the picture again. 
 Mrs. Wyman took it from her hand, and studied 
 it thoughtfully without comment. 
 
 " I knew you would enjoy heraldry, my dear," 
 said her husband, looking around for his spec- 
 tacles. "All you need is a little explanation, and 
 then it is so suggestive." 
 
 "Very," she replied. 
 
 She did not tell him what heraldry suggested 
 to her. She wished to wait and discuss her idea 
 first with Pauline.
 
 X. 
 
 A NEW IDEA. 
 
 MRS. WYMAN had been studying the availabili- 
 ties of the goldilocks coat of arms for a fancy- 
 work pattern. Thus far various dainty articles of 
 her making had lain unsold at the Women's Ex- 
 change, but this was a novelty ; how would it look 
 on a cushion-cover or a tidy ? 
 
 " Just the thing," assented Pauline. 
 
 Mrs. Wyman embroidered it forthwith, and it 
 was received with applause. 
 
 " It happened to take," said the business mana- 
 ger of the Exchange. " I'd like any number of 
 articles of this sort, while there's a fad for them ; 
 they will sell at sight." 
 
 Mrs. Wyman felt encouraged, and Pauline 
 thought they had found a bonanza. When Mr. 
 Wishart called a few evenings later, he did not 
 suspect that the little portfolio, which he carried 
 under his arm, held a commercial value for the 
 Wymans. He merely thought they were remark- 
 ably appreciative people, and counted it a privilege 
 to be able to please them. A young man who 
 calls very frequently at a house is glad to do 
 something to make his visits acceptable. 
 
 Pauline opened the portfolio and immediately 
 
 112
 
 A NEW IDEA. 113 
 
 fell into raptures over a " Dinna forget " motto, 
 illustrated by forget-me-nots and golden furze. 
 Her eyes had a remote look, Mr. Wishart fancied, 
 as if she were meditating on the poetical meanings 
 of heraldry. 
 
 "With that broad forehead and those 'think- 
 ing eyes,' she cannot help being a dreamer," he 
 thought. 
 
 Just now, however, she was merely querying 
 how that wonderful, intense blue of the forget-me- 
 nots could be matched in silk. 
 
 When the coats of arms had been duly admired 
 and discussed, the conversation turned to feudal 
 estates in England, and from those to ancient 
 houses in America, and Mr. Wyman gave a brief 
 history of the old Wyman place. 
 
 It was built, he told Mr. Wishart, not long after 
 the War of the Revolution. The two round win- 
 dows the one in Pauline's room and the one in the 
 attic were reproductions of the wheel-windows 
 of the Old State House in Boston. " I believe my 
 grandfather wanted them entirely for the moun- 
 tain view. He had an eye for beauty, though he 
 never owned to it." 
 
 " Have they rainbows like the other windows ? " 
 asked Mr. Wishart. 
 
 "Mine has none," replied Pauline, "but papa's, 
 in the attic, has cobwebs." 
 
 Then Mr. Wyman, warming to the subject, gave 
 the history of the low, brass andirons and fender, 
 of the style of 1820, and exhibited a picture
 
 114 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 wrought in tapestry by the major's sister, repre- 
 senting a puffy-cheeked maiden playing with a 
 garlanded lamb. 
 
 "The major, my adopted grandfather, was in 
 the second war just long enough to get his title 
 well affixed to him. He was a farmer, considered 
 rather crusty, but delightful to those he loved. 
 He never spoke a cross word to me but once, and 
 then I deserved it, for hopping up and down on 
 the kitchen floor when he was shaving, causing 
 him to cut a gash in his cheek. He always shaved 
 before the kitchen looking-glass." 
 
 " Didn't he own a large part of the real estate 
 of Eveleth ? " asked James. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And did he seem to you like a real grand- 
 father ? " inquired Pauline, who had always wanted 
 to know. 
 
 " Certainly ; I remember him much better than 
 my own father, who died in my childhood, while 
 the major lived till I was a grown man. Yes, I 
 loved him with all my heart, and after the death 
 of my father, I am sure I was the dearest object 
 to him on earth." 
 
 Pauline's eyes wore again their far-away look, 
 but she forbore to ask further questions. 
 
 Affairs seemed brightening a little for the Wy- 
 mans, as Mrs. Wyman's work was creating quite a 
 large demand. 
 
 " You'll embroider us into an everlasting fortune, 
 mother," said Pauline. " You stab the wolf at the
 
 A NEW IDEA. 115 
 
 door with your little needle, and I frighten him off 
 with my big type-writer. How things do work to- 
 gether to help us ! My district school and then 
 my engineer and now these coats of arms ; they 
 all seemed to drop down out of the sky." 
 
 " I think they did, dear." 
 
 "My daughter," added Mrs. Wyman after a 
 pause, " considering all this prosperity, I think you 
 may keep your new gown." 
 
 She referred to Mr. Wyman's gift of last winter, 
 which had been sold to the obliging Mrs. Rix. 
 
 Pauline pretended not to understand. 
 
 "A new gownd, is it?" said she, in excellent 
 Irish brogue. " Thrue fer ye, ma'am, I'm nading 
 that same ! I've nothin' but the clo'es that's on 
 me, ma'am, the ragman's got the rest." 
 
 She would not consider seriously the idea of tak- 
 ing back her goods from Mrs. Rix. 
 
 A bargain was a bargain, she said. And any- 
 how she hated silk, it did swish so, and set her 
 teeth on edge. How long had she held this opin- 
 ion of silks? Did it date from that memorable 
 conversation of last April ? Her mother knew it 
 did. Last April ! Why, to Pauline the time 
 seemed prehistoric. She felt as if she had been 
 steeped in poverty from her cradle. 
 
 Mrs. Wyman saw this with pain ; but the fact 
 remained that times were " hard," and as Mrs. Rix 
 truly said, " the Squire's brains didn't do him much 
 good about getting a living." Other lawyers of 
 far less ability took away his clients ; and Mr.
 
 116 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 Wyman was left with more and more leisure for 
 his favorite studies, philosophy, ancient history, 
 and the dead languages. 
 
 He did not feel quite easy about this ; still the 
 family got on somehow, and Pauline was devel- 
 oping astonishingly. He wondered vaguely how 
 they could afford to keep Mrs. Rix ; but his wife 
 knew best, she was a famous manager. Besides, 
 as he told Uncle Ike, it seemed sometimes as if 
 affairs, when once wound up, were almost able to 
 keep going of themselves. He meant not to bor- 
 row trouble, but to take life easy. 
 
 Uncle Ike might have reminded him that who- 
 ever takes life easy causes some one else to take it 
 hard; but instead of that he merely caught his 
 niece's husband by the buttonhole, and made him 
 promise to stop signing notes for " friends." 
 
 When Mary Wyman heard of this, she threw 
 both arms around her old uncle's neck, and de- 
 clared she " was so happy that she need not envy 
 Caesar." 
 
 By the middle of November,' Pauline's engineer 
 was graduated with honors, and thus ended the 
 " family mystery." Mr. Manly could now read 
 quite fluently, write legibly, and sign his name with 
 a flourish. He and his happy little wife were 
 grateful souls, and it looked as if Pauline would 
 never want for flowers so long as they kept their 
 small greenhouse, or for fruit in the season, while 
 their vines continued to bear. 
 
 Pauline lost no time, after Mr. Manly's gradua-
 
 A NEW IDEA. 117 
 
 tion, in beginning her duties at Mr. Field's office. 
 She was in need of rest ; but Mr. Field had a press 
 of business, and could not be asked to wait. And 
 the work was easy, so she declared, and she liked 
 it better every day. 
 
 One morning, as she was leaving the house for 
 the office, her father set forth in a cart drawn by 
 Selim, and bound for the wood-lot He was to 
 cut up the winter's supply of wood, compara- 
 tively new work for him. But then, as he said, it 
 was good exercise, and he needed it. Pauline did 
 not know that he was feeling the stimulus of her 
 example. She rebelled a little, not liking to see 
 her learned father in a working-suit, with an axe 
 in the cart beside him, like a common laborer. 
 
 The season was advancing. The trees had laid 
 aside their court dresses some time ago, and stood 
 by the roadside in modest dun color and gray. 
 
 "They've abjured the pomps and vanities of 
 this present evil world, and so have I," thought 
 Pauline. " I always meant to be something, and 
 do something. Must I give it up ? This is a hard 
 world for girls." 
 
 She was feeling decidedly cross. It was a dark, 
 raw day, and a few tiny snowflakes were dropping 
 slowly into the wheel-tracks of the road. She 
 regarded them disapprovingly. 
 
 " Good morning, Miss Pauline," said Mr. Wish- 
 art, overtaking her. " Prithee, why so serious ? " 
 
 " Perhaps it's the snow-storm. I don't like it 
 much. Do you, Mr. Wishart? "
 
 118 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " But there isn't any. This is only a little 
 bravado. See, there's the sun now." 
 
 It was just peeping over the thin edge of a 
 cloud, and seemed to smile humorously at the 
 meek little snowflakes, drifting uncertainly through 
 the air. 
 
 "There, I'm glad of that. I don't want winter 
 coming yet awhile." 
 
 " But your winters here are fine, aren't they ? " 
 
 " Yes ; only too long. And to wake up in the 
 morning, and find the world so still and white, 
 not a sound of the birds ! I wouldn't mind win- 
 ter, if the birds would only stay." 
 
 " There's a bird in the Yosemite, they say, who 
 sings his sweetest songs in winter." 
 
 " How kind of him ! " 
 
 " He is a wise bird, too. His nest is in the high 
 cliffs above the lake ; and, when the vegetation 
 gets dry around there, how do you suppose he 
 freshens it, and makes things pleasant for the 
 mother and her brood ? " 
 
 " I can't imagine." 
 
 " Why, he takes a dip in the lake, and carries up 
 water on his wings, and sprinkles it over the nest." 
 
 " Why, he's a philosopher ! Why, he's almost 
 an angel ! I never heard of that bird before. 
 Dear me," added Pauline, irrelevantly, " I don't 
 read anything. I've no time ; and it gives me 
 such a starved feeling." 
 
 Mr. Wishart was touched. What could he say 
 to encourage the child ?
 
 A NEW IDEA. 119 
 
 " But it must make you happy, Miss Pauline, to 
 think what you've done for Mr. Manly. He says 
 you've brightened his whole life." 
 
 " Mr. Manly ? Why, that's a profound secret." 
 
 " Then you've kept it better than he has. He 
 told me all about it last week." 
 
 " Why, Mr. Wishart ! And we were all so care- 
 ful not to breathe a syllable. He charged us over 
 and over. Now, isn't that perfectly absurd ? " 
 
 And Pauline laughed heartily. Mr. Wishart 
 laughed with her. 
 
 " He charged me too. That's the way some 
 men keep their own secrets, by intrusting them 
 to other people." 
 
 " Men ? Yes. That's the way Jim does." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Manly told me, Miss Pauline, be- 
 cause he knew I was a friend of your family. He 
 says he is very proud to be able to hold up his 
 head among men, and it's all owing to you, and you 
 are 'one of God's girls.' He said it reverently." 
 
 Pauline's face beamed. 
 
 " But tell me, please, Miss Pauline, do you have 
 to copy very steadily at the office ? " 
 
 " Not every minute, oh, no. Mr. Field and Mr. 
 Ferguson dictate letters whenever they happen to 
 think of it, and are not talking to callers." 
 
 "And I suppose they have a good many 
 callers ? " 
 
 "Yes. I don't see them, I'm glad to say. I'm 
 shut off behind a screen. My father insisted upon 
 that."
 
 120 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 The young Englishman was glad of this, and 
 scored a point in Mr. Wyman's favor. 
 
 " But I hear all they say, and law cases are so 
 tedious." 
 
 " I suppose while they talk you beguile yourself 
 with a book ? " 
 
 " I never do. I'm afraid I should be too much 
 beguiled." 
 
 " Well, it might not be safe. I was only think- 
 ing how dull it must be for you there at times, 
 doing nothing. Isn't that partly the cause of 'the 
 starved feeling ' you speak of ? " 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Wishart, I didn't mean to complain. 
 I have a bad habit of speaking out the thought of 
 the moment. I had just been thinking of the 
 higher education, and how it seems farther and 
 farther away." 
 
 " I understand. But there is time enough yet, 
 Miss Pauline." 
 
 " Perhaps. But did you ever think, Mr. Wish- 
 art, if there's anything we particularly want, 
 that may be the very thing we ought not to 
 have?" 
 
 She spoke with a brave little smile. Mr. Wishart 
 reflected a moment. They had now reached the 
 door of the office, and he had only time for a few 
 words. 
 
 " What you need, Miss Pauline, is encourage- 
 ment. If you had a course of study marked out 
 for you, you would be surprised to see how much 
 can be accomplished at odd moments."
 
 A NEW IDEA. 121 
 
 " Do you think so ? Do you really think so ? " 
 
 " I do. That is, with a competent person like 
 your father to offer suggestions, and hear you 
 recite. You can't do it alone." 
 
 Pauline did not reply, but her face fell suddenly. 
 Mr. Wishart could not fail to observe it as he bade 
 her good-by. 
 
 " I ought to have known better than to say that. 
 I dare say her father has desultory modes of 
 teaching, it would be like him, and his help 
 wouldn't amount to much," thought the young 
 man. " She's counterchecked every way. I wish 
 I could teach her myself ! " 
 
 Which shows that, while Professor Wishart 
 might not be exactly conceited, he certainly held a 
 pretty good opinion of himself as an instructor. 
 
 He thought the matter over at intervals all the 
 morning, and said to Pauline that afternoon as he 
 met her again, purely by accident, on her 
 way to the office, 
 
 " Have you thought any more of what I said to 
 you this morning about a regular course of study ? 
 If you wish to undertake it, and will accept me as 
 an instructor, I shall count it a pleasure to serve 
 you." 
 
 Pauline looked up in bewildered surprise. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Wishart, how kind ! " she exclaimed, 
 while the blue deepened in her eyes, and the pink 
 in her cheeks. " How very kind you are ! There's 
 nothing I should like half so well." 
 
 "Then I'll call to-morrow evening, and if your
 
 122 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 parents approve we will discuss the matter further. 
 But here we are at the office. Good-by." 
 
 The little lever clock on Pauline's desk ticked 
 at high pressure all that afternoon. Study ? To 
 be sure she could. What shady seclusion her 
 screen afforded, as if placed there expressly to 
 encourage students ! Her mother would be sure 
 to say again that there was a Providence in all 
 these helps. 
 
 "And it's really no affair of Mr. Field's what 
 I do with my leisure, if I'm only on the ' quee 
 vivvyj as Mrs. Rix calls it, when I'm needed. 
 He says I'm ' level-headed.' I'll prove it ! " 
 
 To Pauline's surprise, her mother did not show 
 any great eagerness when the plan was unfolded 
 to her. She only looked thoughtful, and said, 
 
 " It is worth considering. But why don't you 
 ask your father to teach you ? " 
 
 "I might, mamma, if but you remember 
 we've tried it over and over, and it didn't work." 
 
 " Y-e-s, I know it's hard for your father to 
 be on time," said Mrs. Wyman, apologetically ; 
 " that's your father's weakness." 
 
 " Besides, mamma, he's apt to ramble off on 
 subjects that have nothing to do with the lesson. 
 It's just delightful," Pauline hastened to add, 
 "but it doesn't advance me very fast in my 
 studies." 
 
 "Your father is too discursive, I know. It 
 comes, I suppose, of his omnivorous reading. He 
 says himself he's not fitted for a teacher.
 
 A NEW IDEA. 123 
 
 " But as for Professor Wishart, Pauline, with 
 all the demands on his time, how can he take a 
 private pupil ? Isn't it asking too much ? " 
 
 " I didn't ask it, mother ; 'twas his own propo- 
 sition." 
 
 Mrs. Wyman still looked undecided. 
 
 "And he would come to the house, would he, 
 to hear your lessons ? " 
 
 " I suppose so. And do you know, mother, I 
 think he speaks the truth when he says it would 
 be a pleasure. Haven't you noticed, yourself, 
 how he seems to enjoy coming here ? " 
 
 "Ah, does he ? " 
 
 Mrs. Wyman looked at her daughter, inquir- 
 ingly. 
 
 "Yes, he can appreciate father's conversation. 
 And, besides, he tells Jim it's the loveliest home 
 he ever saw, and he envies him such a mother." 
 
 "That's wholesale flattery! Fie, little girl, for 
 making your mamma blush." 
 
 " But you'll think seriously about these lessons, 
 mother. Oh, do ! You know it's my only chance." 
 
 " I'll talk to-night with your father," said Mrs. 
 Wyman, still with that singular absence of enthu- 
 siasm which the eager daughter found it so hard 
 to understand. 
 
 There was a long conclave in the study, that 
 evening, between her parents, and once or twice 
 the murmur of voices grew so earnest that Pauline 
 began to feel anxious. 
 
 Before she learned the " sense of the meeting,"
 
 124 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 however, an event had occurred of importance so 
 grave that Mr. Wishart and his project sank to 
 insignificance, and became as foreign and uninter- 
 esting to Pauline as the Great Wall in China.
 
 XL 
 
 IN THE WOOD-LOT. 
 
 JAMES stood by the half-cleared breakfast-table 
 next morning, pencil and note-book in hand, amus- 
 ing little Arthur by illustrating the mishaps of the 
 old woman in the house with two windows, who 
 started out for a pail of water. Arthur knew the 
 story by heart, yet watched eagerly the ups and 
 downs of the pencil as "down she fell; she got up 
 and walked along a little further, and down she 
 fell." But just as this slippery-footed old woman 
 had nearly got back to the house, and Arthur was 
 waiting breathlessly to hear her cry out, " Scat, 
 you old cat ! " James's pencil paused in air. 
 
 Mr. Wyman, who was putting on his cap and 
 overcoat to start for the woods, had been seized 
 with a violent fit of coughing. 
 
 " Let me go this time, father," cried James, 
 stuffing note-book and pencil into his pocket. 
 " Let me go ! It is a shame for you to be out 
 to-day with such a cough, and the ground white 
 with snow. It must have snowed all night." 
 
 " Oh, my cough is nothing," replied Mr. Wy- 
 man, lightly, pleased nevertheless by his son's 
 thought for him. " Merely a frog in the throat. 
 I don't give up to a trifle like this." 
 
 126
 
 126 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 He drank a mixture his wife brought him, and 
 then began to draw on his mittens. 
 
 " But I can skip a day now and then from my 
 studies, father. I can't have you out there taking 
 all the hard knocks, while I'm sitting by a com- 
 fortable fire. I can't stand it any longer ! " de- 
 clared James, his manly face flushing. 
 
 Pauline looked at him approvingly, but Mrs. 
 Wyman remonstrated. 
 
 " My son, think how little experience you have 
 had in felling trees. It's not safe for you to be 
 out there in the woods all alone." 
 
 James listened respectfully, but with an air of 
 mortification, being proud of his muscle ; and, 
 partly to soothe the boy's feelings and partly for 
 argument, his father said, 
 
 " Why, Mary, as to that, James has a good 
 strong arm. And he's cautious, too ; I'd risk 
 him where I'd risk myself. But I'm not going 
 to give up to this insignificant cold." 
 
 And with that he relapsed into another paroxysm 
 of coughing. 
 
 "My dear," said his wife, "you must certainly 
 stay at home. But why should either of you go ? 
 I can't see the necessity." 
 
 Mrs. Rix, coming in to clear the table, listened 
 in mute consternation. 
 
 " Wish 'twas allowable to speak my mind," she 
 thought, giving the coffee-pot a shake. "A boy that 
 ain't used to the axe ain't no business in the woods. 
 I do hope the Squire will have more sense."
 
 IN THE WOOD-LOT. 127 
 
 But the Squire had already declared he would 
 risk his son where he would risk himself. 
 
 " Now, mother," pleaded James, "you hear what 
 father says. There's not the slightest danger ; so, 
 unless 'twill make you really unhappy " 
 
 He turned to his father, and Mrs. Wyman 
 looked at them both. They were exchanging hu- 
 morous glances, after the manner of the sterner 
 sex when they consider women a little unrea- 
 sonable. 
 
 " I won't do it, mother, if 'twould make you 
 nervous," said James, most dutifully. 
 
 Mrs. Wyman took herself to task, thinking she 
 might have been over-apprehensive ; so, against 
 her better judgment, she yielded the point, and 
 James " rose to the privilege," as he expressed it 
 in law phrase, of going to the woods in place of 
 his father. 
 
 "You'll see where I left off yesterday, James. 
 I was in a clump of yellow birch." 
 
 " Selim will walk straight up to it," said James. 
 " Look here, mother, can't you add something to 
 that luncheon you put up for father? I like 
 mince-pie myself." 
 
 Ten minutes later the youth rode off in the 
 pung triumphant, followed by his admiring com- 
 rade, the collie Nox, and watched wistfully out of 
 sight by his mother. 
 
 " I'll do this once a week, anyway, till the job 
 is finished. Paul will find she's not the only one 
 who works for the family."
 
 128 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 It was a bright, crisp morning, and he sang and 
 shouted, glad for once to go "on holiday," and 
 forget that " a book was ever bound, or a fellow 
 bound to study it." 
 
 Reaching the wood-lot, which was finely pow- 
 dered with snow, he began at the place where his 
 father had left off, and attacked with his axe a fine 
 yellow birch. 
 
 " Now this is good practice. I enjoy this." 
 
 It was slower work than he had supposed. He 
 began to respect his father's muscle ; but when 
 the tree came down at last, with a resounding 
 crash, he cried out, 
 
 " There, I did that by main strength and awk- 
 wardness ! I wish mother were here. She'd find 
 I have sense enough to clear the track when a 
 tree is falling. We know a thing or two, you 
 and I, don't we, Nox ? " 
 
 Nox responded that they knew more than 
 tongue could tell. He was proud of the perform- 
 ance, and took half the credit to himself as a part- 
 ner on equal terms. 
 
 After the boughs and branches of the birch had 
 been cut up and laid in a goodly pile, James began 
 upon another tree still larger than the first. He 
 was growing tired by this time, and probably 
 hungry, as was to be expected of a knight of 
 labor at high noon, with a dinner pail near him 
 containing choice edibles. 
 
 At any rate, whether from combined hunger 
 and fatigue, or from sheer carelessness, the young
 
 IN THE WOOD-LOT. 129 
 
 wood-cutter made a slight miscalculation, as many 
 a man has done before him, and failed to get out of 
 the way in season. When the second tree fell, it 
 came down upon him with terrible force, breaking 
 one of his legs, and pinning him fast to the ground. 
 
 Agonized with pain, yet utterly unable to move, 
 he lay there, literally buried alive in the snow. 
 Of what avail to cry out ? He was a mile from 
 the highway ; no human being could hear him. 
 By nightfall his father would be alarmed and 
 come in search of him ; but long before that he 
 would be frozen to death where he lay, alone in 
 his grave of snow. 
 
 He had forgotten Nox ; had not heard, or had 
 heard, as in a dream, his piercing howls. The 
 dog paused now to lick his master's face ; it was 
 his only means of expressing sympathy. 
 
 "You'd help me if you could, yes, yes, Nox. 
 Oh, yes. But, poor fellow, what can you do ? " 
 
 Yet Nox was a dog of remarkable intelligence, 
 as James had been heard to declare times without 
 number. 
 
 " I might send him home, but, bright as he 
 is, he couldn't make them understand what has 
 happened." 
 
 Then, in his dire strait, a sudden thought 
 came to him, almost as if his guardian angel had 
 spoken it. 
 
 " I might write a note to father and pin it around 
 Nox's neck. He'd take it home. Must know as 
 much as a carrier pigeon. I'll try it." 
 
 K
 
 130 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 Fortunately, his note-book and a lead-pencil 
 were in his pocket ; he had put them back after 
 drawing the cat-picture for Arthur, could it have 
 been this morning ? He took them out, his arms 
 were free, and with difficulty managed to write, 
 
 " Help, help, father ! A tree has fallen on me. 
 Come quick!" 
 
 This note he wrapped in his handkerchief, tying 
 the handkerchief securely around the animal's neck ; 
 then in firm, even tones, he commanded, 
 
 " Nox, go home. Go home, Nox." 
 
 The loving creature looked at him earnestly, 
 inquiringly. 
 
 " Dear master," said the soft, pleading, brown 
 eyes, " ask anything but that. I can't leave you 
 here all alone." 
 
 There was a moment of terrible suspense to 
 James ; then Nox, comprehending the situation, 
 turned suddenly about and ran for the road. 
 
 " Good boy ! Good Nox ! He's going home ! 
 Thank God ! Thank God ! " sobbed James, aloud. 
 " How long will it take him ? Will anybody see 
 his necklace and find the note ? If Paul were 
 only there ! Or Dan ! Will he be out of school ? 
 Father wouldn't notice. Mother might. Or Mrs. 
 Rix. Well, I've done all I could." 
 
 Never before had James prayed as he prayed 
 now, on that couch of snow. But in the midst of 
 a broken, wordless appeal he dropped off to sleep, 
 forgetting the flight of time and the appalling un- 
 certainty of his fate.
 
 'Tying the handkerchief securely around the animal's neck." 
 
 Page 130.
 
 IN THE WOOD-LOT. 131 
 
 Nox must have travelled with unprecedented 
 speed. It lacked a quarter of two o'clock when 
 Mr. Wyman, Dr. Mixter, and Ned Hallett arrived 
 in the wood-lot. 
 
 " The only wonder is that he got off so well. 
 No sign of internal injuries," announced the doc- 
 tor, when the youth was safe at home in his own 
 bed, with his mother and sister crying over him. 
 
 Pauline resented Dr. Mixter's lightness of speech ; 
 and the patient, just emerging from another swoon, 
 thought, " if folks had it to bear themselves, they 
 wouldn't be quite so flippant." 
 
 But, coming to full consciousness and reflecting 
 on the dangers he had passed, James was really 
 thankful it was no worse. Broken bones can be 
 mended. He had "got off well," and he "highly 
 resolved " to bear his mishap like a man. 
 
 A youth who has had scarcely a sick day in his 
 life does not take kindly to gruel and pillows, and 
 it was well that Jim had Paul to "groan to," as 
 he freely admitted. 
 
 "A junior hasn't time to waste horizontalizing," 
 he growled, faintly, next morning, while she was 
 bringing him his breakfast. " I tell you, Paul, 
 I'm going to get my discipline this time, and you 
 must help me bear it ! " 
 
 " I will, Jim ; I will," returned Pauline, patting 
 his cheek, as she surreptitiously winked off a tear. 
 " Order me about. Scold me all you like. You 
 know I've always scolded you fearfully, and it's 
 the greatest relief ! "
 
 132 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 Nox stood near the bed, on his hind feet, cross- 
 ing his paws to beg for food. 
 
 "We'll feast him like a king, the dear little 
 beastie," said Pauline, "and we'll call you James 
 Wyman Cants, Jim ; how do you like it ? Nox 
 is the toast of the town." 
 
 For two or three days no visitors were allowed 
 except Uncle Ike. The dear octogenarian, or as 
 Mrs. Rix had it, " octo-geranium" was much crip- 
 pled, and every thud of his cane on the floor 
 struck terror to the patient ; but Jim bore it like 
 a hero. Uncle Ike walking was an instrument 
 of torture ; Uncle Ike seated was a trap to catch 
 a sunbeam. There was no doing without him. 
 He not only brought good cheer to his favorite 
 nephew, but always came laden with delicious 
 dainties of his own preparing. He had recipes 
 enough to last through a winter's siege. 
 
 Soon the "undergrads " were allowed to drop 
 in, and James considered life worth living. They 
 all praised his room, and, now he thought of it, 
 really it was charming. Pauline had hung the 
 pictures straight, scoured the three silver-washed 
 tankards cherished as prizes, put up fresh cur- 
 tains, and set vases of flowers here and there ; 
 but that wasn't it, of course ; it had always been 
 a delightful room, only he had never noticed it 
 before. So little do boys appreciate the deft 
 touches given by feminine fingers ! 
 
 " Don't meddle with that oar on the wail, Paul, 
 or 'twill come down. Those moose horns, be
 
 IN THE WOOD-LOT. 133 
 
 careful how you dust 'em; they're not firm on 
 the shield. I think Professor Wishart would like 
 those horns, don't you ? Suppose I give them to 
 him? A true friend Wishart is, coming here 
 every evening; it's pleasant to have it to look 
 forward to." 
 
 The professor had just suggested coaching Jim 
 to keep him up with his class, and Dr. Mixter was 
 considering the question. A few days later, when 
 all danger of fever was over, and the doctor saw 
 that his patient gained apace with a book in his 
 hand, the question was settled. 
 
 "Look here, Nox," said Jim, jubilantly, "legs 
 are not needed to get us through college. ' Easy 
 does it.' Just horizontalize, and the thing's done." 
 
 Pauline rejoiced for Jim ; but what of her own 
 lessons ? Her mother had never alluded to them, 
 and she had not felt like asking any questions. 
 Mr. Wishart, however, seemed to take it for 
 granted that she was included in the new arrange- 
 ment, and her father advised her to " improve her 
 opportunities." As her mother simply said noth- 
 ing, it came about very naturally that Pauline 
 entered, without further formalities, upon a regu- 
 lar course of study. 
 
 It was hard for her, with all her office work and 
 the time she gave her brother ; but she was not to 
 be daunted by trifles. She had laid to heart the 
 old Scotch proverb, told her by Mr. Wishart: 
 
 "A regiment of armed men always stands be- 
 tween you and the thing you ought to do. Go
 
 134 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 straight to it, and they turn into mist and vanish 
 away." 
 
 Within the past year she had seen many an 
 armed man " vanish away ; " it was becoming a 
 daily experience. 
 
 Mrs. Wyman always sat in her son's room listen- 
 ing with flattering attention to all the recitations. 
 She evidently liked Mr. Wishart and was touched 
 by his interest in her children ; still, Pauline could 
 not help seeing that for some reason she did not 
 entirely approve of her daughter's being included 
 in this "evening school." 
 
 " It does not seem like you, mamma, not to be 
 more enthusiastic. Father says a great deal, you 
 know, and is very much pleased. Don't you un- 
 derstand it's a great favor, Professor Wishart's tak- 
 ing me in in this way ? and he does it from choice 
 and out of pure benevolence. 
 
 " Oh, mother, he is certainly the kindest and best 
 of men ! And then as a teacher he does make 
 everything so clear and so interesting ! Why, 
 what are you smiling at, mother ? " 
 
 " To see what a hero you make of this man ! I 
 have known many people in my life who are fully 
 equal to Professor Wishart ; but my little Pauline 
 is never moderate in her likes or dislikes ; she 
 always glorifies her friends."
 
 XII. 
 
 "JIM'S ROOM." 
 
 IT was wearing on toward spring. James had 
 ridden out twice in the pung after Selim, whose 
 gait was well adapted to " horizontal " patients, be- 
 ing even, regular, and very slow. Dan, the wit of 
 the family, declared, 
 
 " I've found out why you can't get Selim to 
 move. He doesn't know he's a horse ; he thinks 
 he's real estate ! " 
 
 James was not allowed to walk yet, even on 
 crutches, but it began to appear that there may be 
 compensations even in a broken leg, as he frankly 
 admitted. 
 
 " It's fun going through college flat on your 
 back. Just like swimming." 
 
 It was a fact that he had never studied like this 
 before. His motto had been " Easy does it," but 
 now he was trying Mr. Wishart's motto, " Strike 
 hard upon the anvil." Mr. Wishart was a great 
 student and a man of tireless energy. James ad- 
 mired him, and what we admire we unconsciously 
 imitate. 
 
 "Jim's room" continued to be the centre of all 
 the good times in the house, and half the good 
 times in the village. The young people had never 
 been so social and entertaining as now, yet the 
 
 135
 
 136 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " evening school " was never allowed to fail. Vic- 
 toria Raymond came out brilliantly in songs and 
 recitations, and sometimes delighted her audience 
 by a striking costume well adapted to the part. 
 The young men had always admired Tory, and 
 James was flattered by her kind notice of him. If 
 he had known what some of the girls said to one 
 another of her evident desire to "captivate the 
 professor," his pride would have had a fall. 
 
 It seemed that the professor was becoming very 
 popular with the young people, for no apparent 
 reason except that he took no pains whatever to 
 win their favor, and seldom called at any house but 
 the Wymans. When Tory Raymond learned acci- 
 dentally of the evening school, she came as near 
 staring at Pauline as was strictly polite, and said, 
 
 " So you have appropriated him ? He told me 
 to-night there were quite too many claims on 
 his time. We must try to be merciful to the 
 stranger within our gates : don't you think so ? " 
 
 She spoke playfully, but there was a false note 
 in her laugh. 
 
 "What hateful thing has Tory been saying 
 now ? " thought Ned Hallett, noting Pauline's 
 heightened color. He was always sensitive for 
 Pauline; indeed, he had been her silent admirer 
 for years. He drew nearer now, hoping to have 
 the satisfaction of " hearing Polly give Tory as 
 good as she sent." But he was doomed to disap- 
 pointment. Pauline knew better than to give 
 way to her flashy temper in her own house. She
 
 "JIM'S ROOM." 137 
 
 answered the offending guest with admirable dig- 
 nity, fortifying herself the while by repeating the 
 magical words, "Noblesse oblige, Noblesse oblige." 
 
 Later, as she stood in a group near Professor 
 Wishart, she turned to him, asking suddenly, 
 
 " Can you tell me exactly what the phrase means, 
 'Noblesse oblige,' and where it originated ? " 
 
 He replied, " I think I can. A French soldier 
 in the time of Henry IV. refused the honors 
 offered him, thinking another man deserved them 
 more. ' I come of an honorable race who have 
 never profited by unlawful gains,' said he, proudly. 
 For this he was knighted, and the motto Noblesse 
 oblige was put on his shield." 
 
 "Thank you, Professor Wishart," said Tory 
 Raymond, effusively; "it's so satisfactory to know 
 the precise meaning of these common phrases." 
 
 "The adopted Wymans are 'an honorable 
 race,' " mused Pauline. " I wish we had kept 
 our true name of Curtis ; but all the same let me 
 never forget that we are an honorable race, and 
 noblesse oblige." 
 
 She was not likely to forget ; she had too great 
 pride of family. But the time was drawing near 
 when this anecdote of the French soldier would 
 appeal to her with tenfold significance. How 
 much would she be willing to sacrifice then to 
 noblesse oblige ? We shall see. 
 
 One evening Mr. Wishart called at the Wy- 
 mans earlier than usual, and found Dan inquiring 
 anxiously for " Polly."
 
 138 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " She's putting the baby to bed. Come right 
 in here, sir, and speak your piece, if that's what 
 you want," said Jim. " Oh, here she is ! " 
 
 Dan entered reluctantly. He accepted the fact 
 that his sick brother ought to be amused, but it 
 was much more comfortable to have only Pauline 
 for audience. And here was the professor too ! 
 
 " I've got to speak on the War of the Revolu- 
 tion and the War of the Rebellion, and say which 
 had the most sense in it," said Dan, with a wry 
 face. 
 
 " Which side are you on ? " asked Pauline, with 
 ready interest. 
 
 " Oh, we don't have any sides, and there's the 
 fun of it. I can tell what I think this time, 
 honest Injun. Now, Jim Wyman, if you begin 
 to laugh " 
 
 " Go ahead. Don't you see my face is as long 
 as a minister's arm ? " 
 
 Dan advanced to the middle of the room, and 
 bowed toward the bedstead. 
 
 " Gentlemen, I mean ladies and gentlemen, 
 I stand before you to-night, that is, it's my duty 
 to stand before you (pause), and my subject is the 
 two wars. (I'm going to make a preamble. Pro- 
 fessor Wishart, isn't that proper ?) 
 
 " Certainly, Dan, by all means a preamble." 
 
 " Well, then, people have fought for very queer 
 reasons and for no reason at all. They've fought 
 for religion with the religion left out, that's the 
 crusades. They've fought for little pieces of land,
 
 "JIM'S ROOM." 139 
 
 just bits of swamp, with maybe a few trees to 
 cut down for kindling wood ; they've fought for 
 water, and fought for opium, and everybody 
 knows what mean stuff opium is ; ruins the brain. 
 Xerxes carried war into Greece because he liked 
 Attic figs. And so forth and so on. 
 
 " But I don't mean any of these wars in for- 
 eign parts. I mean our two wars right here in 
 America. (You see I'm getting started, Professor 
 Wishart.) 
 
 " Glad to hear it. About time," said Jim. 
 
 " You're doing capitally, Dan," said Mr. Wishart, 
 warmly. " Go on." 
 
 The orator bowed toward the fireplace. 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen, it requires (I'm afraid 
 I shall make poor work of this) it requires a 
 knowledge of politics ; and you don't expect a 
 man to understand politics till the day he's twenty- 
 one and goes to the polls. You expect it of Irish- 
 men ; they learn it in three years digging dirt on 
 a railroad." 
 
 "Good," cried Jim, clapping his hands, "good 
 for you, Dan ! " 
 
 " I don't see any other chance they have to 
 learn it," went on Dan, elated by the unexpected 
 applause. " But what do American boys know of 
 politics, my friends ? What do we care for our 
 country? Our brains may be as big as Daniel 
 Webster's, and crammed full of knowledge, but 
 who thinks of asking our opinion of the way this 
 nation is governed?"
 
 140 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " Or the opinion of girls ? " interpolated Pauline, 
 with spirit. 
 
 " No ; right you are. Ask an Irishman carrying 
 a hod, ask an Italian digging a ditch. They'll 
 know, they can tell. Don't ask us boys ! For 
 this reason I was greatly surprised, ladies and 
 gentlemen, when I was called upon to discuss 
 this question. I'm an American boy ! " (Bow 
 and pause.) 
 
 " Come, hurry up, Dan ; start out on the wars," 
 said Jim. 
 
 " I shan't start till I get ready. Make him be- 
 have, Polly." (Bows.) " Well, I didn't see either of 
 these wars ; I could compare 'em better if I'd seen 
 'em both. I came to this country about twenty-two 
 years too late even for the second war. Nobody 
 feels worse about it than I do ! But then, I had a 
 great very great grandfather in the first war, 
 and a comparatively small grandfather in the sec- 
 ond war; and I've heard folks talk, and I've read 
 things, and I know what I think, that is, I shall 
 when I'm twenty-one! And if you'll grant me your 
 indulgence, I'll set forth my views." (He takes a 
 drink of water.) " My hearers, what did we fight 
 for in 1776 ? 'Twas to beat the old folks at home. 
 Were we going to be imposed upon by that three- 
 eyed George ? No, sir; we wouldn't stand any non- 
 sense ! (Beg your pardon, Professor Wishart.) " 
 
 " Not a bit of it, Dan. I wouldn't have stood 
 it, either ! " 
 
 " What did we want of their old tea, all bitter
 
 "JIM'S ROOM." 141 
 
 with taxes ? We put it to soak in the Atlantic 
 Ocean, and it's soaking there yet ! What did we 
 want of their old protection and their old pity ? 
 We could take care of ourselves ! So we beat 
 the old folks ; they had to give up. 'Twas a war 
 of spunk, my friends, that's what it was, and I 
 glory in it ! " 
 
 There was loud applause here, in which Mr. 
 Wishart joined heartily. 
 
 " And now we come to the War of the Rebel- 
 lion. What was that for ? My friends, forty years 
 ago you could have heard a yelling all over the 
 South ; 'twas negroes being whipped ! 
 
 "We Northerners couldn't stand that; we had 
 to put cotton in our ears. We had hearts, ladies 
 and gentlemen ; we had big hearts. We said a 
 whipping hurts a black skin as much as a white 
 skin. We said all men are born free and equal, 
 and none of 'em born to be horsewhipped. ' We'll 
 put a stop to this ! ' said we, and we all rose to 
 our feet. 
 
 "Well, you'll say that wasn't all we rose for, 
 and it wasn't. There was talk down South about 
 state rights, and up North about the gl-ori-ous 
 Union. There always has to be talk, but all it 
 meant was slaves or no slaves ! 
 
 " So we buckled on our armor. Oh, 'twas a 
 hard case ! We didn't want to do it. We weren't 
 mad ; we felt more like crying. Only think of it, 
 these were our brothers ! What we wanted was 
 to shake hands and jog along pleasantly together.
 
 142 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 But no, we couldn't. We had been growing more 
 and more enlightened; we knew slavery was wrong, 
 and we knew we were the ones to crush it out. 
 
 "We just choked down our tears, and shut our 
 eyes, and fired ! That was the way we did it ! 
 
 "And now the blacks are free. No more 
 screaming down South, no more buying and sell- 
 ing. We stopped all that. And, ladies and gen- 
 tlemen, I glory in it ! 
 
 " So, you see, to sum it all up, the first war was 
 for spunk and the second war was for love. The first 
 had lots of temper, the second had lots of high- 
 toned principle. They were each good in their own 
 way ; but I throw up my cap for the second one ! 
 Hurrah! Hurrah! Glory, Hallelujah !" 
 
 " The second one has won ! " cried Pauline, giv- 
 ing the speaker a sudden embrace, rather upset- 
 ting to his oratorical dignity. 
 
 " Three cheers for the war of high-toned prin- 
 ciple ! " exclaimed Mr. Wishart, with feeling. 
 
 Jim drew his hand across his eyes. " Come here 
 and shake hands, Dan. You're nobody's fool ! " 
 
 This was as high praise as the elder brother 
 ever felt justified in using. Dan was very proud 
 of such commendation, yet ashamed to let his 
 pride be seen. 
 
 " Well, but my gestures were horrid," said he, 
 deprecatingly. 
 
 " Nobody denies it. You plunged round like a 
 kangaroo, and you forgot to address the chair, 
 and the prologue was a mile longer than the argu-
 
 "JIM'S ROOM." 143 
 
 ment. But I want you to speak it over again 
 before father. I can guess what father would 
 say, can't you, Mr. Wishart ? " 
 
 And Mr. Wishart made Dan his friend for life 
 by replying, 
 
 " He would say, ' Make room for another lawyer 
 in the family ! '" 
 
 James's fracture was healing apace. By April 
 he could walk quite respectably, and there was no 
 longer any excuse for his holding receptions at 
 home. 
 
 " Jim's room is like the temple of Janus in the 
 time of peace, it's cl-o-sed," wailed John Blythe ; 
 and the young people joined in a chorus of lament. 
 
 Uncle Ike made a family party at Easter-tide, 
 to celebrate Jim's emancipation, and Mr. Wishart 
 was invited. 
 
 " I declare, he seems so much like one of the 
 family that I did it before I thought," said Uncle 
 Ike. 
 
 "You needn't apologize on my account," re- 
 turned James. 
 
 " Nor on mine," echoed Dan, with enthusiasm. 
 " We always have a better time when he's 'round." 
 
 Pauline was silent. She only hoped Tory Ray- 
 mond would not hear of this. She always felt 
 uncomfortable when she remembered little re- 
 marks Tory had made about " the professor's time 
 being monopolized." And lately even Dolly 
 Stevens had been heard to say that " Mr. Wishart 
 seemed to find the Wymans very absorbing."
 
 144 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 "And all the while it's pure benevolence, and 
 they know it. What do I care what they say ? 
 I won't care ! " 
 
 But the pin-pricks had reached the quick, and 
 Pauline did care more than she would acknow- 
 ledge even to herself. 
 
 The young Englishman had always felt inter- 
 ested in Colonel Selden, and was glad to see him 
 in his own home, dispensing a quaint and hearty 
 hospitality. Though the old man was painfully 
 circumscribed in his powers of locomotion, no 
 amount of lameness could conceal a certain grace 
 and dignity which were his by birthright. To his 
 intimate friends it was always apparent that in re- 
 ceiving guests he considered himself in the light 
 of a family man, and was trying in some sort to 
 make up for the absence of his wife and children. 
 
 " ' Gone are they, but I have them in my soul,' " 
 he seemed to say, as he raised his eyes now and 
 then, in the midst of his cheerful chat, to look at 
 three beautiful portraits on the wall, which fol- 
 lowed him with smiling eyes. He always kept on 
 hand a moderate supply of driftwood, and now a 
 few sticks laid across the copper andirons sent up 
 gorgeous prismatic flames to the delight of the 
 whole company. 
 
 " Come, let's all gather around the rainbow fire," 
 said James. " Look at that motto on the tiles 
 overhead, Professor Wishart, 
 
 " ' Let the sparks rise 
 Till the stars fall P
 
 "JIM'S ROOM." 145 
 
 "Pretty old. Doesn't that date back before 
 Dan's ' war for spunk ' ? " 
 
 " It was my mother who suggested that ancient 
 motto," remarked Mr. Wyman, gazing at it affec- 
 tionately. " The whole fireplace is an exact repro- 
 duction of one she had seen in Salem, is it not, 
 Uncle Ike ? " 
 
 " Yes, your mother took a lively interest in my 
 Margaret, and helped us about settling to house- 
 keeping. Paulina Wyman was our staunch friend." 
 
 " I wish I could remember her," sighed Pauline, 
 wistfully. 
 
 " Well, put on a white cap sometime," said 
 Uncle Ike, "and look in the glass." 
 
 The idea of the rosy young girl in such a guise 
 amused Mr. Wishart. 
 
 " I can fancy that with cap and all, it would be 
 like the old moon holding the new moon in her 
 arms," laughed he. 
 
 " That is so. Yet we always think Pauline is like 
 her grandmother," said Mr. Wyman, reminiscently. 
 " Mother's eyes were black, but don't you see 
 it about the eyebrows, and the mouth, Uncle 
 Ike?" 
 
 " Y-e-s, it may be that ; but your mother's color- 
 ing was so different. There certainly is a resem- 
 blance, but I should say it's in the expression." 
 
 Pauline felt as if she were under inspection, and 
 involuntarily turned away her face. Mr. Wishart 
 saw her embarrassment, and hastened to say some- 
 thing to divert attention from her.
 
 146 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 "The hardest resemblances to define are the 
 spiritual ones," he said. " And that reminds me, 
 by the way, of a beautiful little anecdote I read the 
 other day about the daughter of Linnaeus. She 
 once saw hovering, just over a flower, its spirit as 
 a delicate flame. I would have liked that vision 
 myself ! " 
 
 " So would I," said Mr. Wyman. 
 
 "And so would I," echoed Pauline, breathing 
 more freely now that the conversation had drifted 
 away from her venerated grandmother. 
 
 And as Uncle Ike moved with leisurely steps 
 toward the kitchen, she rose to follow him. She 
 was to whip the cream for the coffee, and help set 
 the table. 
 
 " Hear them laugh in the other room, Uncle 
 Ike," said she, as she put on her apron. "They're 
 having a good time, and we'll be as long as we like 
 getting tea, now won t we ?" 
 
 Her uncle took out the sacred fringed linen, and 
 she helped him lay it straight. She had brought 
 a choice bouquet from the Manlys, and he smiled, 
 as he fricasseed the chicken, to see how attractive 
 she was making the table. " The women folk do 
 have a knack," thought he. 
 
 " There, Uncle Ike, your coffee is just perfect," 
 said she, pouring some into a cup. " Clear as 
 wine. There's not much more to do, is there ? 
 Will it disturb you if I ask you a question? " 
 
 " Not a bit of it," replied Uncle Ike, carefully 
 turning a chicken's wing.
 
 "JIM'S ROOM." 147 
 
 "Well, then, it's about old Major Wyman, my 
 adopted grandfather. Did he leave a will ? " 
 
 " I presume you mean your great-grandfather. 
 I'm sure I don't know." 
 
 " But Mrs. Rix says he did." 
 
 " She knows no more about it than I do. It 
 was generally supposed that he made a will, but 
 very likely he destroyed it afterwards ; at any rate 
 it never was found." 
 
 " Oh, is that all ? " 
 
 " Don't for pity's sake rake up that old story, 
 Paulina. Ben Franklin says, this chicken's 
 done, Ben Franklin says, and he was a shrewd 
 man, ' To be thrown on one's own resources is to 
 be cast in the very lap of fortune.' Will you wipe 
 the bottom of this platter while I hold it up ? 
 
 " Money might have spoiled you, Paulina. Try 
 to thank the Lord 'twas denied you, for you're 
 making a far more valuable woman without it 
 Burnt ground yields the finest wheat, and I'll 
 prove it to you some day. Oh, I can tell you 
 things! But no time now. Only this I'll say: 
 Don't listen to old wives' fables, and dream of sil- 
 ver mines in the moon ! 
 
 " And now, if all's ready, we'll call them out to 
 supper."
 
 XIII. 
 
 THE PROFESSOR AND MRS. WYMAN. 
 
 " JUNE 1 7th. 
 
 "DEAREST EVA, This is an 'evening off,' and 
 I mean to write you a long letter for once, and 
 answer all your questions. I am in my own room 
 at my own desk, which Roxy Rix leaves here for 
 safe keeping, as she leaves the silk gown. The 
 curtains are up, the sky is gay with stars, and a 
 young moonlet is there, which I took pains to gaze 
 at over my right shoulder. All's well with the 
 world ; you are coming home next month, and my 
 heart sings for joy. 
 
 "Yes, I can partly guess how you miss the 
 sweet grandmother ; but in ' that high country ' 
 the angels will care for her better than you could 
 do down here with all your loving-kindness ; and 
 isn't that a comfort, dear ? 
 
 " I am longing to show you the present I've had 
 from Uncle Ike : a boat. It's small, holds four 
 (generally 'twill be you and me and no more!). 
 I've named her the Trout-Fly ; and we gave her a 
 merry christening the other night, Dolly Stevens 
 officiating. Ned stuck an Old Glory in one end, 
 Mr. Wishart a Union Jack in the other (by per- 
 mission), and Tory Raymond, who happened along 
 
 148
 
 THE PROFESSOR AND MRS. WYMAN. 149 
 
 without invitation and quite accidentally, recited 
 with much effect the lines, 
 
 " ' And see ! She stirs, 
 
 She starts, she moves, she seems to feel, 1 etc. 
 
 " I keep the Trout-Fly moored above the bridge, 
 by that beautiful elm that has a woodbine around 
 it; and when the moon is larger I'm going to take 
 mother out rowing of an evening with ' the other 
 girls.' There's very little time during the day. 
 Mother has perfect confidence in my oarsmanship ; 
 you know I've had long practice. 
 
 "You'll be surprised to see how young that 
 woman has grown, Eva. You remember a year 
 ago she was sadly overworked. Not that I ob- 
 served it at the time especially, thoughtless 
 creature that I was ! but I know now she was 
 on the point of breaking down, for Dr. Mixter 
 tells me so. 
 
 "That she didn't break down is all owing to 
 Roxy Rix, who is still a fixture in our home. She 
 sees us all through rose-colored spectacles, does 
 Roxy ; considers father her best friend, and says, 
 three times a day, she's glad she's needed at our 
 house, for she always ' hankered ' to stay with us. 
 
 " Father is still rather moody, dear man, but 
 Mr. Wishart has been a great help in keeping up 
 his spirits. 
 
 " Uncle Ike grows doubler and doubler with that 
 dreadful rheumatism, but is otherwise well and 
 seems happy. I can't bear to have him an octo-
 
 150 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 geranium ; I wish he might live fifty years longer 
 to give comfort and assurance to our trembling 
 hearts, dear old Uncle Ike ! 
 
 " Jim studies tremendously. That ' horizontal ' 
 experience ' waked him up to life,' says Uncle 
 Ike. I think it did. He desires his warmest re- 
 gards to you, says he likes you as well as Ned does, 
 and is just as anxious to get you back again. 
 
 " The baby has grown beyond recognition. 
 Arthur has lost all his front teeth, no, he says 
 ' they are not lost ; mamma has put them away in 
 a box.' He looks like a fright. 
 
 " Dan is still the orator. And thus ends the 
 account of our charming family. 
 
 " I've told all I know about the young people. 
 Tory Raymond and Frank Joslin have reached 
 the point now, where they do not recognize each 
 other without an introduction. The only gentle- 
 man whom Tory considers worth while, at present, 
 is Mr. Wishart. I wonder if he notices this ! He 
 seems to admire her, you know men always ad- 
 mire Tory. Still he does not choose to give her 
 private lessons, though I know she has insinuated 
 very broadly that she would like to take them. 
 For a proud girl Tory is certainly peculiar in some 
 respects, as you and I have often remarked. 
 
 " But you are to recite with me. When I spoke 
 of it to Mr. Wishart, he highly approved. I know 
 you will like him, you can't help it ; and I shall 
 be glad to show him what a nice girl I have for a 
 friend. I think I seem to him rather young and
 
 THE PROFESSOR AND MRS. WYMAN. 151 
 
 uninteresting, though he is so very kind ; but I 
 am sure he will see at once that you are of a 
 higher order of being. 
 
 " He has taken an immense fancy to mother. 
 At this moment, they two are chatting together 
 in the sitting-room, while father pores over some 
 abstruse reading in his study, and Jim is out with 
 some of the boys. 
 
 " Good-by, dear. I shall write you every week 
 till you come, but not again a long letter like this. 
 " Ever your devoted 
 
 " PAULINE WYMAN." 
 
 As Pauline had said, Mr. Wishart and her mother 
 chanced to be alone together in the sitting-room, 
 while she was writing. Mr. Wishart was not in a 
 social mood, however, and met Mrs. Wyman's at- 
 tempts at conversation with such apparent indif- 
 ference, that she wondered he did not quietly take 
 his leave. 
 
 " Usually he is so interesting," she thought, 
 as her crochet-needle danced in and out of the 
 worsted; "but I believe men are alike, all the 
 world over ; they never will talk unless they have 
 something to say." 
 
 She did Mr. Wishart injustice. He had some- 
 thing important to say, and was only deterred by 
 the immense difficulty of saying it. Yet here was 
 his opportunity. He had at last found Mrs. Wy- 
 man alone, a rare event, and time was flying. 
 How to begin? Little matter. "All roads lead
 
 152 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 to Rome." At the next pause in the conversa- 
 tion he would make a random remark, and trust 
 to luck for the rest. She happened to speak of 
 Colonel Isaac Selden and his flower garden, and 
 he broke in at right angles, 
 
 "I have always been much interested in that 
 man. He seems to be a favorite in your family." 
 
 "Yes; we are all deeply attached to Uncle Ike, 
 and with excellent reason." 
 
 " He is very unlike an uncle of my own, of 
 whom I have been thinking this evening," said 
 Mr. Wishart. 
 
 And then he paused, as if inwardly employed 
 in deciding whether or not it were best to go on. 
 
 " My great-uncle, a wealthy, eccentric bachelor." 
 
 Mrs. Wyman said, " Ah ? " 
 
 " He had few relatives, but contrived to quarrel 
 with every one of them except myself ; and would 
 have quarrelled with me, too, if he had seen me 
 often enough. But, as I lived at a distance, he 
 thought very well of me, and finally decided to 
 make me his heir." 
 
 Mrs. Wyman looked interested. It was new to 
 her that Mr. Wishart was a man of fortune. 
 
 " He wrote me what he proposed to do. But 
 he spoiled it all by making a stipulation. I'm sure, 
 Mrs. Wyman, you can't guess what it was," said 
 Mr. Wishart, with an embarrassed laugh. 
 
 "Was it something unreasonable?" 
 
 " I thought so. But I must tell you a little more 
 about this man, Mr. Hugh Wishart. Tradition
 
 THE PROFESSOR AND MRS. WYMAN. 153 
 
 said he had been disappointed in love, and disliked 
 all womankind. At any rate, if he made his will 
 in my favor I must solemnly promise never to 
 marry." 
 
 " How old were you at the time ? " 
 
 " Seventeen." 
 
 " And you accepted the condition, did you ? " 
 
 " I declined it absolutely." 
 
 " And you were only seventeen ? " 
 
 Mrs. Wyman seemed to find this rather amusing. 
 
 " I may as well laugh with you, Mrs. Wyman. 
 I was a shy, studious lad, not given to speculating 
 on matrimony. If I thought about it at all, I thought 
 people had a better time single, browsing among 
 books. But when it came to coercion I couldn't 
 stand that. No, I was a freeborn Briton, and 
 ' Britons never shall be slaves.' I would marry or 
 not marry, just as I chose." 
 
 " There you were certainly right," said Mrs. 
 Wyman, still amused, though wondering a little 
 why the young man should have cared to give her 
 this bit of family history, and still more why he 
 should look so extremely uncomfortable over it. 
 
 " I did not think it was so late," he exclaimed, as 
 the little Swiss clock on the mantel struck the half 
 hour after ten. There seemed no good reason why 
 he should not leave, but still he lingered, rolling 
 pieces of newspaper into little pellets, as if he had 
 been set to do it as a task. 
 
 " I was only a callow lad when I wrote that curt 
 reply to my uncle. All I thought of was liberty
 
 154 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 and independence. Of course I had never seen a 
 woman who moved my fancy then." 
 
 He had rolled a cigarette, and was viewing his 
 handiwork with a shamefaced air. 
 
 " That goes without the saying at seventeen," 
 returned Mrs. Wyman, to fill the pause. 
 
 " But now that is no longer true. I can no 
 longer say it. At twenty-four I came to America. 
 Mrs. Wyman, I have seen your daughter." 
 
 Mrs. Wyman was a woman of foresight and in- 
 sight, but this speech took her completely by sur- 
 prise. It would be untrue to say she had never 
 once thought of Mr. Wishart in the light of a pro- 
 spective suitor for Pauline. The idea had occurred 
 to her again and again, but only as a remote possi- 
 bility, as something which might have to be faced 
 in the far-off future, but not yet, oh, most certainly 
 not yet ! 
 
 She had never been quite easy to have matters 
 go on as they were going now. She had always 
 blamed herself for listening to her husband in the 
 first place in regard to the lessons ; and now she 
 blamed herself still more for her lack of watchful- 
 ness. 
 
 " Do you mean my little girl, our little Pauline?" 
 said she at last, looking so perturbed and alarmed, 
 that it was no wonder the young man's embarrass- 
 ment was visibly increased. 
 
 " Yes, Mrs. Wyman, you know now what is in 
 my mind. I deemed it only right that you should 
 know."
 
 THE PROFESSOR AND MRS. WYMAN. 155 
 
 "Right? Oh, yes." 
 
 She was arranging her work-basket with care. 
 Mr. Wishart waited for some moments, but she 
 did not look up. 
 
 "Am I to understand " he began, then 
 checked himself, and added, with an increase of 
 dignity, " But you are not the one to blame me, 
 Mrs. Wyman. You are her mother, and know 
 that she is far and away the most charming girl 
 in the world, and that it is utterly impossible to 
 help loving her." 
 
 The tone was manly. He might wince under 
 a fancied rebuff, but he would not be humiliated, 
 or own himself in the wrong. Mrs. Wyman liked 
 his spirit ; moreover, he had touched a responsive 
 chord when he appealed to her mother-love. She 
 rose and held out her hand to him. 
 
 " Do not misunderstand me, Professor Wishart. 
 I have merely been taken by surprise. So far 
 from blaming you for your appreciation of my 
 daughter, it is a bond of sympathy between us. 
 How could it be otherwise ? But you seem to 
 forget, I must remind you, that Pauline is 
 only a child." 
 
 "Ah, is that all?" cried the young man, im- 
 mensely relieved. "Am I to understand that 
 that is your sole objection to my suit? Why, if 
 that is all, I can afford to wait ! " 
 
 " I think that is all. But, of course, I must 
 talk with her father." 
 
 "Oh, to be sure, Mrs. Wyman; I await the
 
 156 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 permission of both her parents. Now, doesn't 
 that remark have the true ring ? " he added, play- 
 fully. " For I'm trying to be a model lover, you 
 perceive, one you can't find any fault with. If 
 you wish me to fall on one knee before you, just 
 mention it ; I'm ready." 
 
 " I shan't insist upon that," laughed Mrs. Wy- 
 man. " But you are behaving beautifully, and I 
 shall tell Mr. Wyman that I recommend you to 
 his mercy." 
 
 The young man looked happy. Evidently there 
 was small doubt in his mind as to Mr. Wyman's 
 approval. 
 
 " Though I am sure he will say, as I do, that 
 our daughter is far too young." 
 
 " For marriage ? Yes. But that is far in the 
 future, Mrs. Wyman. I would wait for years." 
 
 " But our girl ought not to be handicapped by 
 love affairs yet, Mr. Wishart. It can't be thought 
 of till she is at least eighteen, and shouldn't be 
 mentioned till she is twenty." 
 
 " You are cruel. How old is she now ? " 
 
 " She was seventeen last October ; and the gay- 
 est little creature till a year ago, when she learned 
 that life for her meant work. That sobered her 
 surprisingly." 
 
 " Did it ? " 
 
 Mr. Wishart had had an intimation of this be- 
 fore, but the thought of Pauline's soberness pro- 
 voked a smile. He smiled easily now, having cast 
 aside his excessive dignity of a few minutes ago.
 
 THE PROFESSOR AND MRS. WYMAN. 157 
 
 "What she has been to us for the past year, 
 you partly know, Mr. Wishart. I cannot trust 
 myself to speak of it." 
 
 She would have liked to say a great deal, feel- 
 ing so sure of his warm interest in the subject. 
 They were standing by the table, and she laid 
 her hand impressively on his arm, as she con- 
 tinued, 
 
 " Thanks to you, she sees her way clear to an 
 education ; her life is a dream of happiness. Do 
 not dispel that dream, Mr. Wishart ; leave her 
 heart free for six months longer." 
 
 " Would you really be so hard on me, Mrs. 
 Wyman ? Are you inexorable ? What if I should 
 see a rival in the field ? " 
 
 " That would alter the case. But there is no 
 such danger at present. Pauline is too much ab- 
 sorbed in her studies. And then, too, she is the 
 most unconscious creature." 
 
 " I know it, Mrs. Wyman. Her unconscious- 
 ness is her greatest charm. It is a gift. Most 
 of us go through life watching our own shadows ; 
 she never sees hers, hardly knows she has one. 
 But I'll not detain you longer," said he, moving 
 toward the door, "though nothing would please 
 me better than to discuss Pauline's perfections 
 with her mother." 
 
 Mrs. Wyman's mouth went up at the corners. 
 The young man had completely won her over, 
 as he must have seen. 
 
 " Mr. Wyman knows my plans and prospects.
 
 158 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 I've often talked with him." He turned back with 
 his hand on the door-knob. 
 
 " And you really expect me to maintain the 
 bearing of an iceberg toward your daughter for 
 months to come ? Do you think you're giving the 
 heart its rights ? " 
 
 There were footsteps on the gravel-path. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Wishart," said Mrs. Wyman, hur- 
 riedly, " don't go away feeling so injured. Reflect 
 on what I've said, and tell me by and by if you 
 don't see the matter from my standpoint." 
 
 " My head is of your opinion already, Mrs. 
 Wyman," said the young man, ingenuously, "and 
 my heart may follow, sometime." 
 
 He looked very handsome as he spoke, and 
 withal so virile and so assured of himself, that 
 Mrs. Wyman thought, " He is a man I can trust, 
 even without a promise." 
 
 She lay awake far into the night, not yet ready 
 to talk the matter over with her husband. 
 
 " I like the young man. I like what he said, 
 and the way he said it. But my only daughter, 
 let me hold you fast while I may ! Who was it 
 that said, ' A woman may hope to be an angel 
 some day, but she can never be a girl again ' ? 
 Pauline, little Pauline, your mother knows those 
 words are true. And girlhood is a thing too fair 
 and sweet to lose."
 
 XIV. 
 
 THE "TROUT-FLY." 
 
 IT was three o'clock of a warm afternoon in 
 September, and Eva Hallett, a very tall, fair-haired 
 girl of rather commanding presence, was on her 
 way to the old Wyman place. She had just met 
 Mrs. Wyman, and learned that Pauline was at 
 home for a half-holiday. 
 
 " And I'm sure you want to go out rowing, Paul- 
 ine," said Eva, entering the house unannounced. 
 " Now don't say you're too busy. I have an errand 
 at the Aliens' and might have taken my wheel, 
 but prefer the Trout-Fly for a change." 
 
 "The Trout-Fly feels honored," said Pauline, 
 curtseying. " Wait for me two minutes." 
 
 " Now, girls, I wouldn't," remonstrated Mrs. 
 Rix, from her chair by the kitchen window. " It's 
 eleven days since we've had a drop of rain, and 
 the sky looks to me as if we'd got to catch it." 
 
 " Here comes father," said Pauline, " I'll ask him. 
 Father, \io you think 'twill rain this afternoon ? " 
 
 Mr. Wyman went to the dining-room windows, 
 and looked out leisurely. 
 
 " I'm afraid not." 
 
 " There, I thought it wouldn't. We want to go 
 rowing, father, and if a shower should come up 
 we could put ashore almost anywhere, you know." 
 
 159
 
 160 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 "You'll run very little risk, I'm thinking," said 
 he, with an introspective smile. 
 
 Mrs. Rix looked at him in silence. She stood 
 greatly in awe of his book-lore, but his weather- 
 wisdom was as naught to her. When he was 
 fairly out of hearing she went on as if there had 
 been no interruption. 
 
 " Yes, the sky's what I call threatening. I may 
 be wrong, but the old saying is, 
 
 " ' A mackerel sky and gray mares' tails 
 Make lofty ships carry low sails.' " 
 
 " Oh, the Trout-Fly always carries low sails," 
 laughed the girls, not much impressed by the 
 sonorous doggerel. 
 
 They ran along the bank toward Pauline's boat, 
 which was moored just above the bridge. The 
 sky was slightly veiled, tempering the oppressive 
 heat. Farmers had been cutting the aftermath, 
 which lay in rows along the fields, and the trees 
 were in various stages of preparation for their 
 autumn masquerading. The willows had scarcely 
 changed ; the leaves of the locust were tipped with 
 yellow ; some of the maples were still green, show- 
 ing here and there patches of blinding color ; others 
 had turned throughout to a deep crimson. On a 
 dark background of pines were interspersed pop- 
 lar leaves like drops of gold. A woodbine curled 
 about one of the elms like a living flame ; and at 
 the foot of this elm, between two sheltering rocks, 
 drowsed Pauline's Trout-Fly.
 
 THE "TROUT-FLY." 161 
 
 " What perfect shadows ! " said Pauline, as they 
 entered the boat and began to row up the river, 
 which seemed to be dyed red and yellow from the 
 reflections of the trees on the banks. " ' Who is 
 this that cometh from Edom with dyed gar- 
 ments ? ' Eva Hallett, watch these pictures be- 
 fore we cut into them with our oars ! There on 
 the bank are the willows like green billows, there 
 are the silver poplars half turned to gold. And 
 here, behold them in the water, just the same 
 thing over, not a leaf missing." 
 
 " I know it ; the soil of this river-bed is very 
 dark, and that is the reason the reflections are so 
 wonderfully clear." 
 
 " Yes ; but don't be scientific and geographical, 
 Miss Hallett. How long it has been since we 
 used to take boat-rides together ! It's so good to 
 have a playday once in a while." 
 
 Eva looked at her friend pityingly. For her- 
 self life held no stern necessity of work, and she 
 secretly wondered at the sweetness with which 
 Pauline accepted her treadmill round of duties. 
 It did not seem like her. 
 
 " Here we are by the ' fairies' ring,' " said Pau- 
 line, as they approached a worn circle in the grass, 
 high up on the left bank. " When I was a child 
 I really believed, didn't you, that some mischiev- 
 ous fairies had danced there in a 'ring-round- 
 rosy.' 
 
 " ' Where such fairies once have danced 
 No grass will ever grow.' " 
 
 M
 
 162 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " No, Pauline Wyman, I never saw the time 
 when I believed in any such nonsense. I can tell 
 you the history of that fairies' ring. Old Mr. Pot- 
 ter kept a sheep tethered there long time ago ; 
 and as the sheep went round and round grazing, 
 it nibbled the grass down so close, that it killed 
 the roots. That's the way with sheep." 
 
 " And that's the way with prosy creatures, like 
 you, to store up such stupid facts. I'm ashamed 
 of you ! It's so much more interesting to believe 
 in fairies than sheep ! But where's our rain ? 
 Aunt Roxy'll be ashamed of all her croaking." 
 
 " Yes ; won't she ? It's what may be called a 
 dead calm." 
 
 " Let's break it," laughed Pauline, " the way the 
 Scotch do." 
 
 " How is that ? " 
 
 " Oh, it's easy enough. A Scotch sailor just 
 sticks a knife into the forward part of the main- 
 mast, just this way," playfully inserting her 
 penknife into the bow of the boat. " There, see 
 what that will do." 
 
 Pauline seemed in a rollicking mood, to-day. 
 They rowed on for some time, discussing what 
 they would have for fall hats, and chatting of a 
 thousand other trivial things, as two light-hearted 
 girls may who have been intimate all their lives, 
 and are off " on holiday." 
 
 " Isn't Professor Wishart delightful ? " said Eva. 
 " I'm so fortunate in having his help, though I 
 know all the interest he takes in me is for your
 
 THE "TROUT-FLY." 163 
 
 sake. There's nothing like having a friend at 
 court." 
 
 " Father and mother are your friends at court, 
 Eva. It's precious little that the man cares for 
 me," returned Pauline, with grim sincerity. 
 
 James had said two months ago, 
 
 " Isn't it rather hard on Wishart, keeping up 
 this thing so far into the summer ? " 
 
 Pauline did not know that Jim had his own pri- 
 vate grievance, and objected to Eva's being in the 
 class, and absorbing so much of the young Eng- 
 lishman's attention. She never suspected Jim's 
 jealousy, but took his remarks to heart, and 
 thought Mr. Wishart ought to be relieved of the 
 lessons. Sometime she meant to say this to Eva, 
 but not just yet 
 
 " How we do chatter, to-day ! " she exclaimed, 
 when they had finally got around to fall hats 
 again. 
 
 "Yes, Pauline, we've been separated so long, 
 that it seems as if we never should catch up. I 
 don't believe, dearie, I've ever tried to tell you 
 how much you've improved. When I first came 
 home, I was rather overwhelmed ; for I always 
 thought of course I did that I was rather 
 better than you. But now 
 
 " Eva Hallett, if you're going to flatter me, just 
 mention it, and I'll drop you out of the boat." 
 
 " Don't ! I was only going to say you are a 
 witch ; for, look here, Pauline, you did break that 
 calm with your penknife."
 
 164 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " So I did. The wind is actually rising, a west 
 wind ; and it's rather hard rowing up-stream. I've 
 been noticing that for the past five minutes." 
 
 " So have I. Take out the penknife, Pauline." 
 
 The gray mares' tails were growing bushier and 
 darker, particularly in the west ; but Pauline chose 
 to ignore this trivial fact. 
 
 " I wish the sun hadn't so retiring a disposi- 
 tion," was all she said, as his face vanished tem- 
 porarily under an inky cloud. 
 
 "It is hard rowing," said Eva, leaning a moment 
 on her oar. " If it blows like this, I, for one, don't 
 care to go any farther up than the Aliens'." 
 
 " Neither do I. We came for fun, not hard 
 work. Here we are right in front of the Aliens' 
 house. I'll land you, and wait for you in the 
 boat. How long will it take you ? " 
 
 " Fifteen minutes or so ; just to say two words 
 about that dress Fanny is making for me. But 
 why don't you beach the boat and come with me, 
 for fear of a shower ? " 
 
 " 'Twould take too long to fasten and unfasten 
 the boat," said Pauline, looking at the clouds. 
 "We want to get home before it rains." 
 
 " I agree with you," said Eva, alighting rather 
 hurriedly. "I'll be as quick as I can. I'm glad 
 the wind is west, for 'twill help us home." 
 
 " But it isn't west now ; it was when we spoke 
 of it," returned Pauline, "but now it's east. It's 
 what Mrs. Rix calls 'shifty." 
 
 Before Eva had fairly climbed the bank, the
 
 THE "TROUT-FLY." 165 
 
 " shifty " nature of the wind became still more 
 apparent. It seemed to blow from all points at 
 once ; and waiting in the boat bade fair to be 
 an entirely different matter from what Pauline 
 had expected when she proposed it. 
 
 The coquettish young Trout-Fly was full of 
 vagaries, and to keep her reasonably sedate was 
 out of the question. Seeing this, Pauline ought at 
 once to have changed her purpose and followed 
 Eva ; it was a great error of judgment to risk the 
 water just now. But tempests are not common in 
 New England ; she had never encountered one on 
 the water, and it really did not occur to her at 
 first to be afraid. 
 
 "Well, Miss Trout-Fly" said she, in an indul- 
 gent tone, " if you're determined to go, we'll go ; 
 but please specify which way." 
 
 The Trout-Fly answered by inclining playfully 
 toward the further bank. 
 
 " Very well ; that way then ! " 
 
 The wind increased. The silver birches on the 
 bank bent nearly double, the water was lashed 
 into waves, and suddenly there were flashes of 
 lightning, with low peals of thunder. 
 
 "Well, this is a situation," said Pauline, as heavy 
 drops of rain began to fall. " Why didn't I land 
 with Eva ? Some people haven't sense enough 
 to go in when it rains ! Well, I'll land now, and 
 we'll walk home together." 
 
 She began to turn toward the left bank. Too 
 late! She had always boasted that her boat
 
 166 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 knew her as a horse knows his rider ; but now 
 the Trout-Fly ignored her acquaintance altogether, 
 and brooked no control. To the north bank she 
 would not turn, up-stream she would not go. She 
 was bent on a devious and uncertain downward 
 course. 
 
 In vain Pauline plied the oars. She could suc- 
 ceed only in delaying this mad rush down river, 
 and making the Ttvut-Ffywlui] around and around 
 in a dizzy maze. 
 
 " Hurrying, hurrying, never getting anywhere, 
 any more than the leaves on those trees. But 
 if I can hold my own, it's all I ask for." 
 
 The loneliness was oppressive. Where were all 
 the boats which were usually to be seen coming 
 and going with parties of young people ? Now 
 she thought of it, not a single boat had met or 
 passed them this afternoon. Mr. Wishart rowed 
 almost every day after class hours ; and for some 
 reason, or more likely for no reason at all, she 
 half expected to see him. He had a singular 
 way of happening along at the very time he was 
 needed, and when had he ever been more needed 
 than now ? A moment's reflection assured her, 
 however, that he would not be on the river to- 
 day; there was the advantage of being a man, 
 and having a few grains of common sense ! 
 
 She had become thoroughly drenched, but this 
 was only a minor discomfort. Was she holding 
 her own ? that was the question. She had not 
 begun to ask what the end would be.
 
 THE "TROUT-FLY." 167 
 
 The sky was now of a murky darkness, almost 
 black. She could see the outline of her white 
 boat above the water, but could scarcely distin- 
 guish the banks on either side except during the 
 flashes of lightning. The Aliens lived a little 
 more than three quarters of a mile above the 
 bridge. For a long time she was certainly keep- 
 ing nearly opposite their house ; but now, to her 
 dismay, the lightning revealed the fact that she 
 had drifted a few rods below it. 
 
 But she could have done no better; she had 
 exerted all her strength. If she should let the 
 boat have its own way it would do one of three 
 things : rush against the piers of the bridge, 
 strike the right bank, or capsize against the hidden 
 rocks, which were so easily avoided in still water 
 or a good light. In any event she was in evil 
 case, and by this time fully aware of it. 
 
 " It makes you feel as if it weren't of much con- 
 sequence about fall hats," thought the poor wan- 
 derer, recalling bits of her light-hearted chat with 
 Eva. 
 
 Eva must have done her errand long ago, it 
 was probably about half-past four o'clock, and 
 would now be at the water's edge calling out for 
 the boat. 
 
 Hark! was that her call? The wind and water 
 were both so loud that it was impossible to tell. 
 A human voice could hardly be distinguished 
 above the din. Still, Pauline lost no time in 
 answering. She called out to the turbulent storm
 
 168 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 as if Eva were a part of it, and had ubiquitous 
 ears. 
 
 " Hello ! Eva ! Hello ! I can't land ! " 
 
 She had little hope of Eva's hearing her, yet 
 again and again she shouted the words. The 
 electric lamps on street and bridge shone for a 
 few moments, then went out ignominiously ; they 
 could not live in such a storm. 
 
 Darkness everywhere. Where would she be 
 when there was light again on the face of the 
 waters ? Where ? No matter where. She " could 
 not be where God is not." And the words came 
 to her, "God's music will not finish with one 
 tune." Where had she heard that ? What did it 
 mean ? She said it over and over, and it soothed 
 her like a lullaby. Then she remembered that 
 when people are freezing they must not be 
 soothed, they must be roused. Perhaps she was 
 freezing, she was certainly cold. 
 
 She bestirred herself with a masterly effort, and 
 tried to row up-stream against the current. She 
 was awake now. 
 
 " I must not die," she said. " Don't let me die, 
 there are so many depending upon me ! " 
 
 Was it not a touching appeal ? In that supreme 
 moment, knowing that she faced death, she forgot 
 self and thought only of others. 
 
 Life was sweet, no girl in the happy teens 
 could well have found it sweeter ; but it was a life 
 of service. She knew and God knew that the 
 dear ones at home needed her; they could not 
 spare her yet.
 
 "'Hello! Eva! Hello! I can't land! '" Page 168.
 
 THE "TROUT-FLY." 169 
 
 " Dont let me die, there are so many depending 
 upon me ! " 
 
 Her overtasked strength was giving way; she 
 could no longer pull a stroke. 
 
 " Father, help me, I cannot help myself," she 
 murmured ; the oars fell from her hands, and she 
 lay back in the boat faint and spent, with the 
 lullaby in her ears, 
 
 "Will not finish, will not finish with one 
 tune." 
 
 All was now in her Father's hands ; she waited 
 to see what He would do.
 
 XV. 
 
 " i THOUGHT'YOU WOULD COME." 
 
 IT was really Eva Hallett's voice that had 
 called to Pauline, but Pauline's reply had been 
 lost in the storm. Eva strained her ears to listen, 
 and then thought, with some misgiving, 
 
 " Pauline has gone home, or she would an- 
 swer me." 
 
 Then she herself hurried homeward as fast as 
 wind and rain would permit. There was nothing 
 else to be done. She went first to the mooring- 
 place to look for the boat. It was not there. 
 
 For the first time thoroughly alarmed, she ran 
 out on the bridge to call for help. 
 
 " Pauline Wyman is out in a boat, out in a boat," 
 she cried to the first person she met, not waiting 
 to see that it was old Mrs. Pettijohn, nicknamed 
 by the boys, " Mother Carey's Chicken," because 
 of her propensity for straying abroad in the very 
 worst weather. 
 
 " Dear heart, Paulighny Wyman, did you say ? 
 Has she been out in this hurricane ? " responded 
 the good soul from her wagon-seat, her voice all 
 a-quiver with unavailing pity. 
 
 " Pauline Wyman ? " echoed a boy, his mouth 
 full of spruce gum, which he never ceased chew- 
 
 170
 
 "I THOUGHT YOU WOULD COME." 171 
 
 ing. It was half-witted Jake Farrand; but a man 
 stopped short, hearing the name the boy uttered. 
 
 "Pauline Wyman ! What of her?" cried Mr. 
 Wishart. 
 
 " On the river in a boat. Go as fast as you 
 can ! " shouted Eva, like one speaking a ship in 
 a storm, though Mr. Wishart was close by her side. 
 She was strongly excited, and there was cause. 
 
 "What part of the river?" he asked, rushing 
 past her to get to his boat, which he kept moored 
 just below the bridge. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know what part! When I left 
 her an hour ago, she was three-quarters of a mile 
 up-stream ; but there's no telling where she is 
 now; whirling and drifting, maybe. Oh, do you 
 suppose she's gone down ? " 
 
 " Run for her brother James. He is on the 
 street somewhere. Tell him to row down-stream. 
 I will row up." 
 
 As Mr. Wishart said this he was already in his 
 boat, shouting back to Eva on the bank. Eva's 
 story was incomprehensible. If she had been out 
 rowing with Pauline, why was she not with her 
 now ? Where had she landed, and how had she 
 arrived here to tell the tale ? But he could not 
 pause for questions and explanations. 
 
 The hurricane had abated, though the rain was 
 still falling, and in the unaccustomed darkness he 
 could see but a short distance ahead. There was 
 no boat visible and no sound of oars, yet he did 
 not cease calling out,
 
 172 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " Hello, we're coming for you, Pauline. Speak ! 
 Hello ! Where are you ? " 
 
 There was no answer. He had only the merest 
 speculation to guide him. In his brief conference 
 with Eva he had learned that the last known of 
 Pauline she was three-fourths of a mile above the 
 bridge ; but that was an hour ago, during the dread- 
 ful tornado. If she had then lost control of her 
 boat, which was very probable, he thought she 
 would drift diagonally downward, and if not stopped 
 in her course might now be a mile below the bridge, 
 perhaps further. In that case James might find 
 her. 
 
 " Hello! " he shouted for the twentieth time. At 
 that moment an opportune flash of lightning re- 
 vealed a boat spinning aimlessly around, not many 
 rods above the bridge near the south bank. It had 
 an occupant, a reclining figure ; he saw it for an 
 instant distinctly. He made for the boat with all 
 speed, calling out encouragingly, 
 
 " Here we are, Pauline, here we are ! " 
 
 Another flash of lightning gave him a glimpse 
 of a luminous pale face, Pauline's beyond a doubt. 
 Joyful assurance ! But why was she so quiet ? He 
 thought she must have fainted, but when his boat 
 came so near hers that the bows touched, and he 
 repeated, " Oh, Pauline, dear Pauline, we've come 
 for you," there was a low murmur in response. 
 He bent his head, and caught the half-articulated 
 words, 
 
 "I thought you would come."
 
 "1 THOUGHT YOU WOULD COME." 173 
 
 At the moment she had no idea what she was 
 saying. Long ago, before the oars dropped from 
 her hands, before she had the wild feeling in her 
 head, she had vaguely hoped Mr. Wishart might 
 come ; and now in the half-understood relief of 
 hearing his voice, and knowing he was there, she 
 told this thought without reserve, speaking like 
 one in a dream. 
 
 " You thought I would come ? That was very 
 strange," said he, wonderingly, yet with a note of 
 joy in his voice. 
 
 And then it occurred to him that she might have 
 mistaken him for her brother James. 
 
 "You know me, Pauline ? It is Allan Wishart." 
 
 " Yes, I know." 
 
 It was necessary to tow the Trout-Fly. He pro- 
 ceeded to fasten the two crafts together with the 
 painter of his own boat. There was no trouble 
 or danger now, and Pauline began to draw long 
 breaths of ineffable content, but did not speak 
 again and scarcely moved. She was evidently suf- 
 fering from extreme exhaustion. 
 
 Mr. Wishart rowed on in silence, trying not to 
 think what might have happened if his coming 
 had been delayed, and the little Trout-Fly had had 
 its insane way till it reached the piers. 
 
 As he touched the bank, James Wyman and Ned 
 Hallett both cried, 
 
 " Oh, is she there ? " 
 
 Eva Hallett had met James coming out of the 
 town library, and he and Ned were just starting v
 
 174 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 now on the quest Ned had a lantern swung on 
 his arm. 
 
 " Here, safe and sound," said Mr. Wishart 
 " Let us take her out in our arms and carry her 
 up the bank." 
 
 But Pauline would not have it so. She had 
 rallied by this time, and insisted upon walking 
 between James and Ned, though lamenting her 
 dripping condition. She remembered the remark 
 she had made to Mr. Wishart, and was sure he 
 had called it "very strange." She dropped her 
 blushing face. What could he have thought of 
 her? 
 
 " I suppose he thinks the more he does for me 
 the more I expect him to do. He must be tired 
 of it by this time, of being so kind to a girl who 
 takes everything for granted." 
 
 This was not the first time the idea had entered 
 her mind, but it came now with crushing force. 
 Hardly a word was said by any of the little party. 
 Mr. Wishart had raised his finger to enjoin silence 
 upon the boys, and really, they were both so full 
 of suppressed emotion that they could hardly trust 
 themselves to speak. 
 
 But Pauline felt that something must be said. 
 
 " I haven't thanked you, Mr. Wishart. I can't, 
 I haven't any words," she gasped. " I suppose I 
 acted strangely when you came to me. I didn't 
 know where I was, the boat was whirling, whirl- 
 ing so." 
 
 This was meant as an explanation and apology
 
 "I THOUGHT YOU WOULD COME." 175 
 
 to Mr. Wishart, but James did not know it, and 
 said tenderly, 
 
 "There, dear, don't talk. No wonder you lost 
 your grip. 'Twas a regular Western cyclone." 
 
 " And we never dreamed you were out in it," 
 added Ned, with a shudder. 
 
 But Pauline could not be silent. 
 
 " Don't touch me, boys, either of you. I'm in 
 such a dripping condition, a perfect ' maid of the 
 mist' " 
 
 She withdrew from them, holding herself erect 
 enough, though her gait was rather uncertain. 
 
 " Before you found me, Mr. Wishart, you know 
 the boat ran away with me. I did not know where 
 I was ; I think I was stunned." 
 
 "No doubt of it," said Mr. Wishart, "but do 
 take my arm." 
 
 " Here, you poor thing, walk between us again ; 
 don't talk," said James. 
 
 Under ordinary circumstances he would have 
 been ready with a good scolding. What had 
 those girls been thinking about to venture on the 
 river in this kind of weather? But he could not 
 scold now; the escape had been too frightfully 
 narrow. 
 
 Pauline's behavior was extraordinary. Was half 
 her brain still asleep ? It really seemed as if she 
 retained but two impressions of her late awful 
 experience : one was that she was dripping wet, 
 the other that she had been stunned. 
 
 " I've heard people speak of being stunned," she
 
 176 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 said slowly and musingly ; " I never knew what it 
 meant before." 
 
 "How she does harp on one string," thought 
 James ; " her mind isn't quite right ; " and he gave 
 Mr. Wishart's arm a significant pinch. 
 
 " Mr. Wishart," asked Pauline, anxiously, " were 
 you ever stunned ? " 
 
 " No, of course he never was," said James, " and 
 doesn't want to hear you talk about it. Don't try 
 to talk, Paul." 
 
 But Mr. Wishart thought best to fall in with her 
 mood. 
 
 " I've heard people describe the sensation, 
 Pauline. Perhaps you felt as Dr. Livingstone 
 said he did when he was shaken by a lion, 'a 
 merciful indifference as to what was to come 
 after.' " 
 
 "Oh, I did, I did. I never can tell you " 
 
 " And we don't want to hear," protested James, 
 grasping her suddenly as she was about to fall 
 forward. 
 
 They were near home now, and he and Ned 
 carried her the rest of the way in their arms. She 
 offered no resistance, and did not even speak 
 again. 
 
 Fortunately there had been no excitement at 
 the Wymans, no one imagining for a moment 
 that either of the girls had been out in the heart 
 of the storm. Pauline would naturally remain at 
 the Halletts to tea, and Mr. Wyman was talking of 
 having Dan harness Selim and drive over for her.
 
 "I THOUGHT YOU WOULD COME." 177 
 
 " It rains too hard now," said his wife. " And 
 if it doesn't clear off, she will be only too glad to 
 spend the night with Eva." 
 
 Even as she spoke the dear child was coming 
 in at the hall door, though not with her spring- 
 ing step and merry smile. No ; her face lay up- 
 turned on her brother's shoulder, white and still. 
 For the first time in her life Pauline had fainted 
 away. 
 
 There was intense surprise and alarm before 
 the hasty explanations could be given. It was 
 hard to believe that this limp, white girl had not 
 been taken out of the river bodily, for her appear- 
 ance closely resembled that of a person just res- 
 cued from drowning. 
 
 There were several minutes, and they seemed 
 like hours, before Pauline recovered consciousness. 
 
 " Don't she look saintish, though ? " sobbed 
 Mrs. Rix, kneeling before her, with the camphor 
 bottle. " I guess 'twould have been a slim chance 
 for her, if they hadn't got her out of the bo't just 
 when they did." 
 
 And in the privacy of her heart the good 
 woman thanked the Lord not only that her pet 
 lamb was saved, but that she herself was on 
 hand to minister to the family on this trying 
 occasion. 
 
 " The poor child has had a terrible strain, but 
 a night's sleep will set her right again," said Mr. 
 Wyman, who, despite his occasional "moods," 
 was naturally optimistic.
 
 178 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 He stood in the hall, speaking to Mr. Wishart 
 and Ned Hallett 
 
 " She's so young and strong," said Ned. " Are 
 you going, Mr. Wishart ? " 
 
 But the professor lingered a few moments after 
 Ned had left ; he found it difficult to tear himself 
 away. 
 
 " May I call early to-morrow morning to inquire 
 for her? " he asked; and her father thought none 
 the worse of him that there were tears in his eyes. 
 
 " Come, by all means, Allan ; come as early as 
 you please," said he, taking both the young man's 
 hands in his own. " And remember, that her 
 mother and I are not only grateful, but we shall 
 always love you for having saved her precious life." 
 
 Allan Wishart hardly needed this assurance, 
 still it was pleasant to him ; and as he followed 
 and overtook Ned Hallett, in the pouring rain, 
 his heart was lighter than it had been for many a 
 day. He repeated to himself Pauline's words, " I 
 thought you would come," and wished he could be 
 sure that her mind had really turned to him in her 
 extremity. Until a short time ago, he had con- 
 sidered her the most transparent of human beings, 
 but of late she often perplexed him. It seemed 
 to him just possible that this evening's adventure 
 might restore them to their old relations. If he 
 could only be to her once more a dear and trusted 
 friend, it was all he would ask just now. 
 
 It took more than a night's sleep to " set Paul- 
 ine right again." Mrs. Rix told Cinthy Potter,
 
 "I THOUGHT YOU WOULD COME." 179 
 
 next day, 'twas " 'most a doubt if she got through 
 it without a fever;" but this prediction proved 
 happily wrong, and by Tuesday, though still pale 
 and languid, she declared herself able to go back 
 to the office. Up to this time she had declined 
 to see Professor Wishart. 
 
 " I'm so grateful to him that I can't trust my- 
 self, mother. You know how I laugh and cry 
 in a breath. He would think me unutterably 
 foolish. Talk to him for me ; tell him everything 
 you can think of, that's sweet and lovely and 
 appreciative ; you can do it so well." 
 
 " But what more is there to say ? Your father 
 and I have already thanked him sufficiently," was 
 Mrs. Wyman's cool reply. 
 
 In Pauline's overwrought condition it was best 
 to treat the matter as lightly as possible. 
 
 " Don't magnify it, dear, as if Mr. Wishart had 
 been a hero. Why shouldn't he have gone to 
 your rescue ? How could he have helped going, 
 if he were human ? He merely got the start of 
 your brother because he happened to be called 
 on first." 
 
 " I know it, mother, oh, certainly," said Pauline, 
 ready to cry again. " 'Twas mere humanity ! If 
 I had been, well, say Jake Farrand, Mr. Wish- 
 art would have gone just as soon ; he would have 
 cared quite as much." 
 
 Mrs. Wyman's eyes twinkled. 
 
 " I don't think you quite understand my feeling, 
 mother dear." The smile had irritated her. " I've
 
 180 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 always imposed upon Professor Wishart's kind- 
 ness ; taken advantage of it ; tired him to death. 
 And now " here the poor child laughed out 
 hysterically, " and now, after all the trouble and 
 plague I've been to the man, I do think 'twas 
 rather superfluous for me to go and plant myself 
 in the middle of the river, and make him row out 
 after me ! " 
 
 Mrs. Wyman and her husband had much amuse- 
 ment in private over Pauline's morbid sensitive- 
 ness, quite a new phase of her character, and 
 largely due now to the terrible strain her nerves 
 had undergone. 
 
 But the fact remained that Professor Wishart 
 took her strange behavior very seriously. He was 
 not well read in heart-lore, and could not under- 
 stand the girl's studied avoidance of him. She 
 was grateful and deferential to the last degree ; if 
 he had been the austere and elderly teacher, Mr. 
 Greeley, she could not have been more docile and 
 studious. 
 
 But there was poor satisfaction in this. The 
 fresh, spontaneous, delightful intercourse which 
 Professor Wishart and his pupil had enjoyed for 
 so long seemed now a thing of the past. So far 
 from making them closer friends, the rescue on 
 the river had caused a greater alienation. 
 
 James, without the slightest intention, did much 
 to widen the breach. For his own part he was 
 feeling far from comfortable. It is surprising how 
 much needless suffering there is in the world, and
 
 "I THOUGHT YOU WOULD COME." 181 
 
 he had managed to appropriate a share, though no 
 one suspected it. 
 
 Wishart was a fine fellow, so James said to him- 
 self, a fine fellow, he had never denied it ; well 
 informed, a capital teacher. But why the girls 
 should all with one accord consider him so fasci- 
 nating he failed to comprehend. 
 
 This had not concerned him much, however, till 
 Eva fell under the spell. " Thou, too, Eva ? " was 
 the cry of his wounded heart. 
 
 Of course Wishart was attracted by Eva, he 
 thought ; no man in his senses could help seeing 
 that she was a girl of a thousand ; and, in his 
 absurd jealousy, Jim grew very captious about the 
 lessons. What right had the girls to encroach in 
 this way on the poor man's time ? 
 
 " You may depend, Wishart is getting tired of 
 it," said James, quite sincerely, for he prided him- 
 self on his superior discernment. " Wishart looks 
 awfully bored sometimes, Paul." 
 
 " I've noticed it myself," replied Pauline, meekly. 
 " I'd have let him off long ago, only Eva lost so 
 much time in Michigan, and has been so glad to 
 catch up." 
 
 After this the lessons were shorter and not so 
 frequent, and Pauline was careful not to say an 
 unnecessary word to the long-suffering, much- 
 abused professor. He ought to have felt relieved, 
 but if so, there were no signs of it. On the con- 
 trary, he grew low-spirited to a noticeable degree. 
 
 Thus, taking it altogether, it began to seem as if,
 
 182 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 unless something new should intervene, these two 
 foolish creatures, Allan Wishart and Pauline Wy- 
 man, would soon be bowing to each other from 
 the distant peaks of politeness. 
 
 Weeks passed ; nothing had occurred yet to 
 change the current of events, and it was now late 
 in December.
 
 XVI. 
 
 GRANDMA PETTIJOHN. 
 
 " Now, do tell me, Paulina, what's all this do- 
 ings they're going to have at Minerva Hall, for 
 Christmas ? " asked Mrs. Rix, her slate-colored eyes 
 beaming with curiosity. " It ain't a theatre, is it ?" 
 
 " Oh, no ; a fancy dress party, where people 
 dress in costume, as they call it, to represent kings 
 and queens, and various nationalities." 
 
 "Well, I'm glad it's no worse! Ought to get 
 sister Cinthy to go. She can represent 'most any- 
 thing. There, I shall have to tell you what she 
 represented the other day ; 'twas the solemnest 
 thing, to be a funny thing, that ever I heard of," 
 said Mrs. Rix, shaking with laughter. 
 
 "You know she's always catching rides, 
 Hiram nor nobody can't seem to break her of it ; 
 but I guess she's broke now ! But you can't stop 
 to hear it." 
 
 "Yes, I can," Pauline was just leaving the 
 house, " yes, I can. Do tell me about it." 
 
 "Well, just after the roads were broke out 
 Monday, nothing would do but she must come out 
 to see me. Set at the window with her bonnet 
 on till she spied a man coming along in a sleigh ; 
 then she out and hailed him. ' Going to the vil- 
 
 183
 
 184 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 lage ? ' says she. ' May I ride with you ? ' He 
 didn't say much of anything; only halted long 
 enough for her to get in. He didn't seem very 
 sociable, but she didn't think anything of that ; 
 she only thought he rode kind of slow. And, lo 
 and behold, when she come to look ahead, there 
 was a hearse right before 'em ! And 'way behind 
 'em was a little funeral procession of four or five 
 sleighs, and she was chief mourner, riding along 
 with a widower that was following his wife to the 
 grave ! " 
 
 " Why, Mrs. Rix ! " 
 
 " Yes, that's a solemn fact ! I guess Hiram 
 never'll get done plaguing her about it ! " And 
 Mrs. Rix laughed again, well pleased to see that 
 Pauline was joining her. " Well, she got let out 
 at the first house they passed ; and dreadful 
 'shamed she was, too, I can tell you. And we 
 live in hopes Hiram and I do that she'll look 
 sharp before she tries to catch any more rides." 
 
 Cinthy's melancholy experience recurred to 
 Pauline that evening, as she was coming home in 
 a fast-falling snow-storm. 
 
 " I'd like to catch a ride, but not exactly in a 
 funeral procession," she thought laughing. "Dear 
 me, I must be thinking of my fancy dress cos- 
 tume. What can I devise that will be pretty and 
 effective, yet not cost me a cent? There's that 
 beautiful cream-colored nun's veiling of mamma's. 
 Could I possibly make it do for Mary Stuart, 
 when she wore mourning for her first husband,
 
 GRANDMA PETTIJOHN. 185 
 
 and was called ' the white queen ' ? It's worth 
 thinking of." 
 
 Turning a corner she met a sleighing-party of 
 her old school friends, caught unaware in the 
 storm. The sleigh-bells beat in time to happy 
 hearts, but their silvery music could scarcely be 
 heard above the laughter which accompanied it. 
 What a merry time the boys and girls were hav- 
 ing ! They were probably going to the Winder- 
 mere to dine and maybe dance. Two years ago 
 Pauline might have made one of the hilarious 
 party, but that was before she had grown old 
 and humdrum. Now it was seldom she could be 
 spared from the office, even when people were 
 good enough to invite her. 
 
 But how particularly gay they looked facing the 
 storm : John Blythe, Dolly Stevens, and all the 
 rest, yes, even her own Eva Hallett and Ned. 
 They nodded from their sleighs at commonplace, 
 workaday Pauline, trudging through the storm 
 without an umbrella, all but Miss Victoria Ray- 
 mond, who made a pretence of watching the 
 horses' ears. 
 
 A certain covert superciliousness had been grow- 
 ing on Victoria of late. At another time Pauline 
 might not have noticed her slight, but everything 
 seemed to be amiss to-day, and her nerves were 
 in revolt. The office radiator had been "seven 
 times hotter than human conception," her head 
 had ached, and, being less on the " quee vivvy " 
 than usual, she had made unusual blunders in her
 
 186 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 writing. Why did people think her so light- 
 hearted ? Why did Jim say that " Paul could get 
 sunshine out of cucumbers " ? Jim always judged 
 by appearances. She did not always tell when she 
 was unhappy. 
 
 " Perhaps I shall feel better after supper," said 
 she, with a touch of " most humorous sadness ; " 
 "at any rate, after a night's sleep and pleasant 
 dreams. God gives us dreamland as a sort of 
 playground. We go there for our holidays, or 
 I do." 
 
 But more and more, as she urged her way 
 through the blinding storm, the happy lot of these 
 old schoolmates kept looming on her mental hori- 
 zon, like a Fata Morgana. 
 
 " Wouldn't I enjoy the feeling of sitting wrapped 
 up in furs and lap-robes, and allowing four horses 
 to waft me along like an angel on a cloud ? Now, 
 there's Tory Raymond, it's second nature to her 
 to be wafted. She wonders why people should 
 work ; she couldn't bear the confinement of an 
 office. 
 
 " Neither could I if I were Tory. She'll come 
 out in something magnificent at the masquerade 
 party, ' all dazzling like gold of the seventh refin- 
 ing.' A Zenobia, perhaps. And pray why not ? 
 
 "Ah, there's her father." 
 
 A small, inferior-looking man was approaching, 
 scowling into vacancy. He had always reminded 
 Pauline of a monkey, and she quoted to herself 
 mischievously,
 
 GRANDiMA PETTIJOHN. 187 
 
 " ' Should a monkey wear a crown, 
 Need I tremble at his frown ? ' " 
 
 Then, ashamed of her ill-natured, cynical mood, 
 she stamped her foot hard on the pavement. A 
 gentleman coming toward her paused suddenly. 
 
 "Ah, good evening, Miss Pauline." 
 
 " Good evening. Oh, is that you, Mr. Wishart ? 
 Do you see those icicles clinging to that roof ? 
 Who was it that fed the poor on icicles ? " 
 
 " St. Sebald, was it not ? " 
 
 " Well, he could feast a regiment here, couldn't 
 he," laughed Pauline. 
 
 But the very chill of icicles was in her laugh, 
 and Mr. Wishart passed on, forgetting to offer her 
 his umbrella, as he had at first intended. 
 
 " He does seem rather odd at times," thought 
 Pauline, with a little pang which she took to be 
 part of the general discomfiture of the evening. 
 " I never used to observe it so much, indeed, I 
 denied it ; but his ' heart is entirely English,' like 
 Queen Anne's. 
 
 " What a little goose I was to be so confidential 
 with him, and he trying all the while to conceal 
 his annoyance. Oh wee ! Oh wee ! There's 
 something about him that charms you, I don't 
 know why ; a deep sort of kindness, a kindness that 
 wishes the best things for you in this world and the 
 next. And at the same time that grand manner, 
 -I can't make Eva see it, which says, Til do 
 any kindness for you, and count it a privilege, but 
 don't presume upon it. My heart, after all, is
 
 188 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 entirely English, and I prefer you should keep at 
 arm's length.' ' 
 
 Pauline was walking very fast. 
 
 " I couldn't thank him for saving my life on the 
 river ; he wouldn't give me the chance. But my 
 heart thanks him. Bless him ! Bless him ! Bless 
 him ! " 
 
 Tears were raining down the girl's face, but 
 she shook them off impatiently. 
 
 " I may as well give my attention to the land- 
 scape. The snowflakes are as dry as homoeo- 
 pathic pills. And where do these russet leaves 
 come from, that are so mixed up with the snow ? 
 
 " Oh, I've turned Hallett Corner ! Those leaves 
 have been rifled from my favorite oak tree, where 
 they've been hanging all winter, like semi-detached 
 jewels. This is a high wind, to shake them off. 
 
 " ' Now trees their leafy hats do bare, 
 To reverence Winter's silver hair.' 
 
 " And here comes old Winter, or the wraith of 
 him," she added, as a snow-covered figure ap- 
 proached, in a pung. It proved to be an old 
 woman, with a gay quilted robe over her knees, 
 and she was shaking the reins, and clucking inces- 
 santly to her dilapidated horse. 
 
 On seeing Pauline, she stopped short and called 
 out, 
 
 " Get in, little girl, get in and ride." 
 
 "Why, is it you, Mrs. Pettijohn ? Thank you, 
 I will," answered Pauline, stepping into the pung 
 without a second thought.
 
 GRANDMA PETTIJOHN. 189 
 
 " Oh, but don't turn around. I live at the old 
 Wyman place just a very little way off." 
 
 " So you do ; I know you well enough," groaned 
 the old woman. " Only my thumbs ache so I 
 don't justly remember my own name." 
 
 "Give me the reins, Mrs. Pettijohn, and take 
 my muff, do, please." 
 
 The old woman obeyed, but continued to groan 
 and mutter. 
 
 " Oh, dear, how come I out in such a storm ? 
 Froze my thumbs once, froze the side of my ear. 
 Been dreadful tender ever since. How'm I go- 
 ing to get home, and night a-comin' on ? " 
 
 " Oh, cheer up, Mrs. Pettijohn. Here we are 
 within a few rods of our house, and you shall come 
 in and get warmed, and my brother James will 
 take care of your horse." 
 
 The rainbow windows were so blurred with 
 snow that the lights from within shone out like 
 the moon through a fog. As Pauline drove up to 
 the front door, James, hearing the sleigh-bells, 
 came out, and went back for a lantern. It was 
 barely quarter-past four o'clock, but the lantern 
 was opportune, for there occurred an unexpected 
 difficulty in getting the old woman out of the 
 pung. 
 
 "Why, poor Grandma'am Pettijohn, you're as 
 stiff as a clo'es-pin," said Roxy, appearing in the 
 hall. "Come, lean on me." 
 
 The wood fire on the hearth had gone out, but 
 the furnace heat was well on, and as the benumbed
 
 190 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 traveller stumbled over the threshold the warm air 
 of the sitting-room overpowered her, and she sank 
 to the floor partially unconscious. 
 
 James and Pauline thought her dying, but she 
 soon yielded to proper restoratives, drew a long 
 breath, and murmured as Mrs. Wyman chafed her 
 cold, thin hands, 
 
 " Only my thumbs. Don't be scared. Froze 
 'em once, dreadful tender ; hate to scare you so ! " 
 
 James and Roxy easily lifted and carried her to 
 the sofa, she was a very light burden, and 
 Roxy departed for the kitchen to make some pip- 
 ing hot gruel, wiping her eyes as she went, for she 
 " couldn't help crying if she was to die." 
 
 Mrs. Pettijohn's bright old eyes followed her, 
 then rested gratefully on Mrs. Wyman, who still 
 sat beside her holding the tender old thumbs. 
 
 " Lord love ye, I ain't so used up as what you 
 think. But I'm a'most too old to drive in such 
 weather, a'most too old, Where's the Squire?" 
 
 " He went to Boston yesterday. We don't ex- 
 pect him till to-morrow or next day." 
 
 " Hope he won't get caught out. I tell you, 
 Mrs. Wyman, this warm room does seem master 
 good to me." 
 
 Pauline, her face all smiles, she seldom 
 brought her low spirits into the house, was 
 kneeling on the hearth, and Mrs. Pettijohn invol- 
 untarily turned her head a little, to watch her as 
 she blew the bellows. The wood, which had lain 
 black and dead across the brass andirons, leaped
 
 GRANDMA PETTIJOHN. 191 
 
 into life, the flame running all over it like a living 
 thought. Warmth and cheer followed the dancing 
 flame, and Mrs. Pettijohn's wrinkled face took on 
 a contented, restful smile. 
 
 She was accustomed to an air-tight stove, in the 
 place she called home. She had rather plain 
 living,, out there in the Johonnet neighborhood, 
 few luxuries of any sort, and hardly more com- 
 panionship than the sparrow on "some lonely 
 building's top;" yet she found no fault, being 
 meekly aware that people without money have no 
 right to complain. Her granddaughter Nancy, 
 Mrs. Raymond, was as kind to her as Seth would 
 permit her to be. The old lady might have "her 
 opinion " of Seth and his aristocratic daughter 
 Victoria, but she did not express it. She only 
 said sometimes, in confidential moments, that she 
 hated to be an expense to anybody, and thought 
 she had "lived a'most too long, a'most too long." 
 
 It was a happy accident that had brought her 
 to the Wymans' to-night, and when she found she 
 was expected to stay to tea, her withered heart 
 expanded like a Jericho rose in a vase of water. 
 
 Well, she hadn't thought of such a thing, but 
 mebbe there wouldn't be any harm in it. Nothing 
 set her up like a good cup o' tea. She guessed 
 she could drive home in the evening just as well 
 as she could now ; 'twouldn't be any darker. 
 
 "Don't think of it, madam," said the gallant 
 James ; " I shall drive you myself, whenever you 
 choose to go."
 
 192 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " A beautiful young man ; so good to old folks," 
 thought Mrs. Pettijohn. 
 
 And later, when he gave her his arm to lead 
 her to the tea table, her heart was completely won. 
 
 It was a delicious repast, with a few choice tid- 
 bits served especially for the guest, who praised 
 everything, though she ate but sparingly. Indeed, 
 having found people who would listen to her, she 
 preferred talking to eating. At home she received 
 no more attention than the cat, and at the Ray- 
 mond's, where she took a meal once or twice a 
 year, the table was heavy with silver and silence. 
 
 " Don't you think your son James grows to 
 favor your family, Mrs. Wyman ? His forehead 
 is some like the colonel's, your uncle Isaac's. 
 But your little Paulighny is growing to be the very 
 image of her grandmother Wyman." 
 
 Pauline raised her eyes, smiling. Her grand- 
 mother had died when she was two years old, but 
 she had tender recollections of her ; rather con- 
 fused, perhaps, with Bible pictures of saints and 
 angels. 
 
 " I don't feel much sorry I was obleeged to stay 
 to supper. I feel it to be a privilege," said Mrs. 
 Pettijohn, " it brings back the old times so. You 
 see, I used to be well acquainted with Major Mel- 
 zar Wyman, the old bachelor that lived in this 
 house tor sixty years of his life." 
 
 " Oh, I want to hear about that lovely old bach- 
 elor," said Pauline. "What sort of looking person 
 was he ? "
 
 GRANDMA PETTIJOHN. 193 
 
 "Well, not to call handsome, but he looked 
 well enough. Had black eyes that snapped ; hair 
 black as a coal when he was young ; but I remem- 
 ber him as pretty middlin' bald. You see, he was 
 'most as old as my father. 
 
 " Well, well, 'twill be twenty-three years, come 
 another Spring, that he has been laying under 
 green bedclothes." 
 
 " She means his grave," thought Pauline, after 
 a moment's reflection, and was struck with the 
 homely euphemism. 
 
 " He's been dead 'most twenty-three years," 
 repeated Mrs. Pettijohn, sipping her tea; "and 
 he was eighty-six when he died." 
 
 " How old was he when he adopted that little 
 boy, my grandfather ? " 
 
 " He must have been nigh onto forty. 'Twasn't 
 a baby, though ; 'twas five years old, an orphan 
 child George Curtis. 'Twas said the major and 
 George's mother had calculated to marry each other 
 when they were young, but something crossed their 
 path." 
 
 "That reads like a story," said Pauline. 
 
 "Well, I don't know the truth of it. All I 
 know for certain is the major adopted George, 
 and gave him his name, and set his eyes by 
 him." 
 
 " And as the major was so wealthy," began 
 Pauline, "I wonder " 
 
 "Will you have some more tea, Mrs. Petti- 
 john ? " interrupted Mrs. Wyman, with a glance
 
 194 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 intended to warn the old woman that the conver- 
 sation was drifting into dangerous channels. 
 
 The warning passed unheeded. "Thank you, 
 yes, ma'am ; your tea is most reviving. And it's 
 come across me since I sat here that I hain't 
 been in this room for sixty-four years and two 
 months ; that is to say, 'twas sixty-four years the 
 twenty-second day of last October." 
 
 " How can you be so accurate ? Will you have 
 some jelly-roll?" said Mrs. Wyman, nervously. 
 
 " Well, no more, I thank you, there's things 
 that fixed that date in my mind. Let's see, 'twas 
 this room ? 'Twas a kitchen in the major's day. 
 I see you use it now for a dining-room." 
 
 "Yes, for a dining-room. My husband's mother 
 thought " 
 
 But Mrs. Pettijohn paid little heed to what 
 Squire Wyman's mother had thought, and was not 
 to be diverted. 
 
 "'Twas a kitchen then, and there was a table 
 stood right there against the wall, next to a 
 Hampshire cupboard. It all comes back to me 
 as plain, for you see 'twas my birthday. I was 
 twenty-two years old. I had on my new bom- 
 bazine gown, and I was visiting my Aunt Mar- 
 tha Reese. She was the major's cook. And 
 while I was there, the major got Squire Hallett 
 and Squire Jones up to the house to make his 
 will." 
 
 " His will ! " cried Pauline. 
 
 " Oh, that will ! " echoed James.
 
 GRANDMA PETTIJOHN. 195 
 
 Mrs. Wyman settled back helplessly in her 
 chair. The story must all come out now, and 
 she dreaded the effect on James and Pauline. 
 Fortunately Danville was not there to hear it.
 
 XVII. 
 
 MAJOR MELZAR. 
 
 "YES," said Mrs. Pettijohn, with an air of 
 pleased importance, "I can tell you all about that 
 will ; for I was asked to sign it, along with two 
 of the neighbors. My aunt and the hired man 
 couldn't sign on account of being legatees." 
 
 " Certainly not," declared James. 
 
 " And I felt very proud. I remember the ink 
 was kind of dried up in the inkstand, and the 
 major poured in a few drops of water and stirred 
 it with a stick." 
 
 "What about sealing-wax? " asked James. 
 
 " I didn't see anything of sealing-wax. Squire 
 Jones made a jiggly circle with his pen, and I 
 guess that passed for a seal. Well, only think," 
 she sighed, " they're all dead now, they're all dead 
 now, Aunt Marthy and the major and the law- 
 yers and the hired man, and those neighbors, too, 
 the Blaisdells. The youngest of 'em died at eighty- 
 four. All dead but me. Seems strange ! " 
 
 " Passing strange ; in fact, unaccountable," 
 thought unfeeling young James. But there was 
 no hint of a smile on his face. 
 
 "We've heard before about this will, Mrs. 
 Pettijohn. And now what became of it, that is 
 the question ? " 
 
 196
 
 MAJOR MELZAR. 197 
 
 " Yes, Mrs. Pettijohn, please tell us," said Paul- 
 ine, glad to see James interested at last. 
 
 The old lady looked darkly mysterious, slowly 
 shaking her head. 
 
 "That's what folks wished they knew. When 
 'twas looked for, 'twas missing." 
 
 "Stolen?" asked Pauline. 
 
 "More'n /know." 
 
 "Paul, don't jump so at conclusions," reproved 
 Jim. 
 
 " More'n I know what became of it. But I 
 can testify to seeing of it put in a leetle mahog- 
 any desk about three feet high, with a green top 
 to it and brass pulls." 
 
 " I know what you mean," cried Pauline. " It's 
 up in the attic now, that very desk. Do go on, 
 Mrs. Pettijohn. This is so interesting." 
 
 " My daughter, I fear we are wearying Mrs. 
 Pettijohn." 
 
 " Now, don't you worry," said the delighted old 
 lady. " It don't tire me a grain to talk. Yes, 
 I see that will put in a box and locked up, and 
 then the box put into a leetle mahogany desk 
 just high enough to write on, and that was locked, 
 too." 
 
 " But what was in the will ? Did you hear it 
 read ? " asked James. 
 
 " Certain. The major didn't make any secret 
 of it. He gave all his property to that little boy, 
 George, your grandfather, all but a few bequests 
 to the hired folks and such. George was ten
 
 198 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 years old at the time, but, mind you, he didn't 
 know what was going on. He was out to play." 
 
 "The major was very fond of George, was 
 he ? " said James. 
 
 " Yes. From the time the little chap was five 
 years old, the major used to set him on his knee 
 and let him poke the tobacco into his pipe for 
 him, and then light it with a twisted lamp- 
 lighter." 
 
 "Did the major leave a large fortune, Mrs. 
 Pettijohn ? About how large, do you think ? " 
 asked Pauline. 
 
 " Well, 'twasn't told in figgers ; 'twas property 
 mostly, not money. But 'twas the general opinion 
 that the major could have sold out any time for 
 half or three-quarters of a million. And after he 
 died the property riz in value, bless you ! So by 
 the time they began to hunt for the will, it had 
 doubled and trebled, well, I can't say but quad- 
 rupled." Mrs. Pettijohn's voice rose. She was 
 letting her imagination run away with her. " Well, 
 anyway, it had mounted up to a monstrous big 
 pile." 
 
 " My grandfather's money," exclaimed Pauline, 
 her eyes lighting with green fire. "The money 
 that should have descended to my father. But 
 tell me, who has it now, Mrs. Pettijohn ? It's 
 what I've been wanting to find out." 
 
 " Don't, Pauline," said her mother, beseechingly. 
 "That is something it is quite as well you should 
 not know."
 
 MAJOR MELZAR. 199 
 
 "Then I ain't goin' to tell 'em, not if you don't 
 want me to," said the guest, with a quick, deprecat- 
 ing glance at Mrs. Wyman. "I'm the last one 
 't would want to tell ; though, to be sure, 'twas be- 
 fore Nancy married him, so she wasn't to blame ! " 
 
 Nancy Raymond ! 
 
 The poor old lady was intelligent enough, but 
 her wits moved rather slowly at times and en- 
 tangled themselves to her confusion. In speak- 
 ing the name Nancy she had made an irretrievable 
 blunder. She saw it herself next moment, and her 
 face took on a comical look of distress like the face 
 of a little child caught in mischief. 
 
 " Nancy married Seth Raymond. He has that 
 money," said Pauline's eyes to Jim. 
 
 " Raymond's the man," replied Jim's eyes to 
 Pauline. 
 
 Mrs. Wyman, from behind the tea-urn, noted 
 these glances and smiled involuntarily. She had 
 tried, and so had her husband, to keep this from 
 the children, but with the guileless and garrulous 
 Mrs. Pettijohn under their roof, concealment was 
 no longer possible, -and, on the whole, it might 
 be quite as well. James and Pauline were old 
 enough now to be confided in, and after their first 
 indignation would probably settle down to a quiet 
 acceptance of facts. 
 
 The well-meaning grandmother of Nancy Ray- 
 mond looked uncomfortable. She bemoaned her 
 stupidity, and heartily wished herself in the pung 
 driving home through the storm. Too bad, when
 
 200 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 she had enjoyed her visit so uncommonly, and had 
 been making herself so interesting ! Mrs. Wyman 
 saw the old lady's disturbance and was moved to 
 pity. 
 
 " There's no harm done," said she, with a re- 
 assuring smile as they rose from the table. " It 
 is high time my children should know all this, and 
 you can relate the facts better than any one else." 
 
 " We want to hear more, we want to hear every- 
 thing," cried Pauline. 
 
 James escorted their guest back to the sitting- 
 room. 
 
 "Now is a good time, Mrs. Pettijohn," he said; 
 "for we can't talk of these things before my 
 father." 
 
 The old lady settled herself among the sofa 
 cushions with a look of relief and genuine pleas- 
 ure. When had she had an audience like this 
 hanging upon her words? 
 
 "Well, then, if your mother's willing to have 
 me, I suppose it's no harm for me to say that 
 when proper search was made and the will 
 couldn't be found, the major's property went to 
 Seth Raymond." 
 
 " So that was what made him rich," exclaimed 
 Pauline. 
 
 "Naturally." James spoke with sarcasm. 
 
 " But who was Seth Raymond, anyway, Mrs. 
 Pettijohn, and where did he come from ? " 
 
 " Came from Taunton. Married my grand- 
 daughter, Nancy Davis, after he got the prop-
 
 MAJOR MELZAR. 201 
 
 erty," with an emphasis on "after," which might 
 imply a doubt whether Nancy would have accepted 
 him before he got the money. Possibly this doubt 
 existed in the old lady's mind, and it may have 
 been well founded. "Yes, he married Nancy 
 Davis, the youngest of six children ; and a likely 
 girl she was too ! " 
 
 " But what claim had he on that money? " asked 
 James. 
 
 " Well, you see, he was the major's grand- 
 nephew, and all the kin there was left when the 
 major died." 
 
 "Ah, that explains it." 
 
 " But, mind you, the old major thought he had 
 cut him off," admitted Mrs. Pettijohn, frankly ; 
 "he thought he had cut off all his own kin; he 
 meant to. He had good grounds for it, too. That 
 was why he adopted that child, so he could cut 'em 
 off." 
 
 " Now I understand it." 
 
 " Yes, he up and adopted that boy, that is, he 
 didn't have any 'doption papers made out ; the 
 lawyers couldn't get him to ; but he gave the boy 
 his own name, and said he should fare the same 
 as if he was his own son." 
 
 "And that boy was my grandfather," said Paul- 
 ine, impressively. 
 
 " Certain ; and ten years old at the time the 
 will was made, the major forty-five. I remember 
 that, and how apologetic he spoke about making 
 a will so young. 'The Flints live forever,' says
 
 202 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 he, that's his mother's folks, ' and the Wy- 
 mans live forever and etarnally. But I'll be on 
 the safe side, and cut off my brother Jacob and 
 his children while I'm alive, and then I'll be 
 sure the money goes where I want it to go, to my 
 heir, George Wyman.' " 
 
 "But it didn't!" 
 
 " Paul, don't interrupt. Pray go on, Mrs. Petti- 
 john. So Jacob and his heirs were cut off. And 
 this Seth Raymond was Jacob's heir ? But which 
 died first, the major or his brother Jacob ? " 
 
 "Jacob. He was a good sight younger than 
 the major, but he died very sudden of typhus 
 fever." 
 
 " And left children ? " James spoke with a legal 
 air quite edifying, like a lawyer cross-questioning 
 a witness. " How many children did Jacob leave ? " 
 
 " He left one child, Betsey, and she married a 
 Raymond off in Taunton, and died young, very 
 young, leaving a son, a baby ; his name was Seth." 
 
 " Then that baby was the only relation after 
 let's see after Betsey had died, that's his 
 mother, and Jacob, that's his grandfather," 
 said Pauline, counting up the departed ones on 
 her thumb and forefinger. 
 
 James brushed her aside. 
 
 "Well, Mrs. Pettijohn, the major died next, I 
 suppose ? " 
 
 " No, he ought to. That would have made it 
 all right ; but he didn't, not he. He lived to be 
 eighty-six. He lived forty-one years after he
 
 MAJOR MELZAR. 203 
 
 made his will. He lived to see your grandfather 
 laid in his grave, and there was what made the 
 difficulty. Old folks hadn't ought to live too 
 long," she added, with a pathetic smile, "it's apt 
 to cause trouble. Your grandsir died first ; he 
 died at this house when he wasn't but thirty, leav- 
 ing a widow and one child." 
 
 "The widow was my beautiful grandmother, and 
 the child was my father," said Pauline. 
 
 "Yes, and the major was amazing fond of the 
 little shaver ; brought him up and lived to see him 
 through college." 
 
 " But the major died at last," said Pauline, as if 
 she almost feared he had forgotten to do so. "And 
 when people die, that's the time to look up their 
 wills ; isn't it, Jim ? " 
 
 " It's not generally done before they die, Paul. 
 Well, Mrs. Pettijohn, my father must have been 
 twenty-three or four, when Major Wyman died." 
 
 " Mebbe he was. 'Twas twenty-three years ago. 
 He'd got through college, I know, and was study- 
 ing law. Good habits, and engaged to be married 
 to an extra " 
 
 Here she arched her eyebrows and looked at 
 her hostess meaningly. 
 
 "But the least said about that the better; 'Praise 
 to the face,' you know. I was only going to remark 
 that folks envied Charles Wyman. For one thing, 
 he was looked upon as the richest man in the 
 county." 
 
 "If the will hadn't been stolen," broke in Pauline.
 
 204 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " What did you say ? Oh, there didn't nobody 
 steal the will. I'm certain sure they never did." 
 
 " Paul, be careful. All that is known is that it 
 couldn't be found," said James, warily, in a dispas- 
 sionate tone. " It couldn't be found, and so the 
 money went to Mr. Seth Raymond." 
 
 "Yes, that was the way of it. It naturally went 
 to Seth, he was next of kin. But his wife didn't 
 have a thing to do about it, not a nameable thing," 
 added the old lady, deprecatingly. "'Twas before 
 she was even acquainted with Seth." 
 
 " Did Mr. Seth Raymond know that that money 
 was meant for my father ? " asked Pauline, with 
 suppressed wrath. 
 
 " Yes, he knew fast enough. Everybody knew 
 about the will." 
 
 "Then he was the same as a thief." 
 
 " Pauline, Pauline ! " said her mother, gently. 
 
 It was the first time Mrs. Wyman had spoken. 
 But she need not have feared for Mrs. Pettijohn's 
 feelings. That woman had never been known 
 to take offence at anything said against Seth Ray- 
 mond. She merely cleared her throat now and 
 looked at James, who was still regarding her with 
 judicial calmness. 
 
 " You say proper search was made for the will ? " 
 
 " My ! I guess you'd ha' thought so ! The old 
 gentleman's papers had been kep' in the garret for 
 some years, and your father went up and thought 
 he was going to lay his hand right on the very 
 paper he wanted ; but it wa'n't there, it wa'n't
 
 MAJOR MELZAR. 205 
 
 anywhere. He wore himself all out hunting, but 
 'twas no use, it never turned up." 
 
 Mrs. Wyman arose to put a fresh stick of yellow 
 birch on the fire. She looked as if she were pass- 
 ing through an ordeal. 
 
 "Well, 'twas a heavy cross for your father; but, 
 you know, riches does take to themselves wings, 
 and we're warned not to set our hearts on 'em," 
 added Mrs. Pettijohn, dropping her cheery voice 
 to "a holy whine," so exasperating to Pauline that 
 she would have spoken out again, if James had not 
 pinched her into silence. 
 
 " Seth Raymond had a right to the money, by 
 law," said he. "There was no will; Grandpa 
 Wyman had not been legally adopted, and Mr. 
 Raymond was the true heir." 
 
 " Well, he was next of kin to the major, sure. 
 Yes, everybody said he had the law on his side." 
 
 " The law ! " vociferated Pauline, her eyes a fine 
 emerald color ; " the law ! " 
 
 " Seth didn't do anything illegal ; no, he didn't," 
 said Mrs. Pettijohn, sitting upright and pushing 
 aside the cushions. " He took no more'n what 
 the law allowed." 
 
 She turned to Mrs. Wyman. 
 
 " You know he seemed to think he was gener- 
 ous, Seth did ; for he give your husband this 
 house and nine acres of land. 'Twas a present 
 right out, he wasn't obleeged to give him a 
 nameable thing." 
 
 "Why, Mrs. Pettijohn, are you trying to justify
 
 206 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 Mr. Raymond? I wouldn't have believed it of 
 you," said the irrepressible Pauline. 
 
 " It ain't for me to express an opinion," returned 
 the old lady, guardedly. "I've been asked for 
 facts, and I've been giving of 'em, that's all. 
 Some was of the opinion that Seth ought to have 
 gone halves with your father. But, well, it 
 didn't look that way to Seth." 
 
 " Evidently," remarked James. 
 
 A speech of withering sarcasm was on his lips, 
 but he looked at his mother, and merely asked, 
 
 " How long did father search for that paper ? " 
 
 " More than twenty years, my son." 
 
 There were bright spots of red in Mrs. Wyman's 
 cheeks ; her voice was unsteady. 
 
 " Can that be the reason father would never 
 allow any of us children to play in the attic ? " 
 asked James. " He has usually kept the door 
 locked, you know ; and whenever I've been allowed 
 up there, I knew 'twas one of the deadly sins to 
 touch so much as an old newspaper." 
 
 "Why, I never dared brush down a cobweb," 
 said Pauline. "Oh, mother, I always wondered 
 what made father spend so much time in the 
 attic, among those rubbishy things. Is it possi- 
 ble he has been looking all the while for that 
 paper ? " 
 
 " Not lately. I think he has given it up ; or I 
 hope so." 
 
 Mrs. Wyman spoke sadly, and with a certain 
 reticence. She would not have even her own
 
 MAJOR MELZAR. 207 
 
 children suspect what a shadow had been cast 
 over her whole married life by this unreasonable, 
 and worse than useless, quest. 
 
 " Where did all those cartloads of yellow paper 
 come from, mother?" asked Pauline. 
 
 " They belonged to Major Wyman, who seems 
 never to have destroyed anything. So far as I 
 know, they are not of the slightest value, except 
 to antiquarians. But I've never been allowed to 
 lay profane hands on them, and burn them up. 
 You know," she added, trying to laugh, "your 
 father is a perfect Bluebeard, if you go near that 
 haunted chamber." 
 
 " I'm rather glad you never did burn them up," 
 said Pauline, "for now Jim and I can take our 
 turn at hunting." 
 
 " Oh, don't say it, Pauline. Don't you or James 
 allow yourselves to think about that terrible piece 
 of paper ! It has been the bane of your father's 
 life. I can't have the curse descend to my 
 children ! " 
 
 Mrs. Wyman looked almost terrified. It was a 
 revelation to Pauline. 
 
 " How she must have suffered," thought the 
 girl, and tears sprang to her eyes. 
 
 " Oh, mother, I didn't really mean it, and if I 
 did I couldn't enlist James, he would know better." 
 
 "Thank you, I should hope so. Nobody of 
 common sense would go gleaning after father ! " 
 
 The conversation drifted now to other subjects, 
 but Pauline had had one of her insights. She un-
 
 208 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 derstood now, as never before, her father's moody, 
 dreamy ways, his fitful bursts of gayety followed 
 by hours of silent depression. That dreadful paper 
 had been the bane of his life, an ignis fatuus, ever 
 luring and beckoning and misleading him. 
 
 Poor papa ! this was no doubt the reason he had 
 never settled steadily to the practice of his pro- 
 fession. His optimistic temperament had never 
 allowed him to give up hope. And Pauline re- 
 membered a sentence she had often heard him 
 quote, 
 
 " Hope is like a bad clock, forever striking the 
 hour of happiness whether it has come or not." 
 
 "A little pessimism would have been a good 
 thing for father, strange as it may seem, for then 
 he wouldn't have clung to this foolish hope. And 
 what a constant trial this hope must have been to 
 mother ! How could she have kept her distress to 
 herself ? She might have told me, her sister- 
 daughter. I know why she didn't. 'Twas because 
 she wished to spare me the sorrow and worry of it. 
 It's because she's the noblest, bravest, dearest 
 woman that ever lived on earth." 
 
 It was still storming, and Mrs. Pettijohn was 
 easily persuaded to remain for the night. The 
 good woman little knew how her revelations were 
 to affect this quiet family. She dropped off to 
 sleep in a very happy frame of mind, pleased to 
 find that she was still a good talker, and a person 
 of much more consideration than was generally 
 supposed.
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " BLUEBEARD'S " CHAMBER. 
 
 " ' ALL the world is queer but thee and me, Pru- 
 dence, and I'm afraid thee is getting rather queer,' " 
 quoted James derisively to his sister as he stood 
 with her next morning by the east window in the 
 kitchen, looking at the driving storm. 
 
 " But, Jim, I can't understand your indifference." 
 She spoke so low that her words were inaudible to 
 Mrs. Rix, moving noisily about the stove. "This 
 is a leisure day for me ; I can't go to the office, and 
 you need not go to your recitations unless you 
 choose. And mother has consented that for this 
 day only we may explore the attic in strict privacy. 
 Don't you want one look at those yellow old papers, 
 Jim?" 
 
 " Not a look," said Jim, planting his feet far 
 apart, throwing back his head and laughing. " You 
 always were the most visionary creature, Paul." 
 
 " Now, dear, maybe I was in youth, but that was 
 long ago ! It's curiosity that moves me now, just 
 curiosity. I'd like to see what sort of things 
 father has been turning over and over all these 
 years. I shan't be satisfied till I do." 
 
 " Yes, Paul ; and you don't own it even to your- 
 self, but you expect to find something he has over- 
 looked. Pretty likely, isn't it now, that he wouldn't 
 p 209
 
 210 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 know the right paper if he should see it ? As the 
 lawyers say, ' It's generally safe to assume that the 
 Court knows a little law.' " 
 
 " Now, Jim, I haven't the slightest idea of find- 
 ing anything. But my mind was in a tumult last 
 night like a sea after a storm ; it wouldn't calm 
 down ; and I thought then if it should keep on 
 snowing " 
 
 "Well, it does. Let's see, there are six kinds 
 of snowflakes, lamellar, spicular, etc., but only 
 one kind during one storm, hey ? I think these 
 are the spicular." 
 
 "I don't care what kind they are. I want one 
 chance at that attic before father comes home, and 
 I thought we'd have a fine time exploring it to- 
 gether. Haven't you any curiosity, Jim ? " 
 
 " Not a grain. There's none of the ' eternal 
 womanly' about me." 
 
 " No, it's the eternal manly that makes you so 
 obstinate, is it ? When I see those eyebrows go 
 down I stop talking. But myself says to me, ' Go,' 
 and I'm going." 
 
 " And / say to you, ' Take a pan of coals with 
 you, Paul, or the kitchen stove or something. 
 You'll get your death of cold up there.' ' 
 
 " No, mother has provided a hot-water bag, and 
 I shall wear hood, cloak, and mittens. Good-by. 
 I go on pilgrimage." 
 
 "Good-by, arctic explorer." 
 
 Mrs. Wyman regretted her promise when she 
 saw Pauline mounting the narrow staircase. She
 
 "BLUEBEARD'S" CHAMBER. 211 
 
 had objected to the girl's going out of doors, but 
 how much better was this expedition into the 
 chilly attic ? Besides, Pauline surely needed the 
 time to prepare her fancy dress costume. What 
 could she be thinking of ? She was a mere child 
 after all. 
 
 Mrs. Pettijohn sat like incarnate serenity in the 
 large easy chair before the fire, thankful that she 
 was " necessiated " to remain in such comfortable 
 quarters. She little thought that her last night's 
 story, like a " wandering witch-note," was luring 
 on the daughter of the house to a mazy journey in 
 a region all unknown. 
 
 Out of doors the storm seemed only to have 
 begun. It snowed right and left and diagonally, 
 troops of flakes from all quarters joining in white 
 battle to the bugle music of the wind. 
 
 " It begun this way about half-past seven," said 
 Mrs. Pettijohn, "but it can't last long. Folks 
 used to say when I lived down to the Cape, that 
 when a storm comes butt-end foremost it blows 
 itself out inside of eight hours." 
 
 Mrs. Wyman sincerely hoped " folks " might be 
 right ; otherwise there was little chance that her 
 husband would be able to reach home on the after- 
 noon train. 
 
 "Now, where shall I begin?" said the "arctic 
 explorer," peering around the wintry attic like 
 Nansen searching for the North Pole. It was 
 festooned with cobwebs, and carpeted several 
 inches deep with old newspapers.
 
 212 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " I shall probably catch a microbe ! If I were a 
 Japanese I should be afraid of stepping on a spider 
 who might be one of my ancestors ; it's a sin to 
 kill an ancestor ! " 
 
 Her mother had lent her the key to the attic, 
 but no other keys were needed. Her father had 
 given up his irksome habit of locking boxes and 
 trunks. She looked around for the " leetle mahog- 
 any desk with brass pulls." There it was, close to 
 the eaves, pretty well hidden under an accumula- 
 tion of papers. How had her mother, a dainty 
 housekeeper, endured such rubbish in her domains ? 
 Papa, though easy and amiable, had something of 
 the tyrant in him, or he would not have imposed 
 such restrictions. 
 
 " Dear old Bluebeard Wyman ! " said Pauline, 
 between a smile and a tear. 
 
 The mahogany desk was a pretty piece of fur- 
 niture, bursting with worthless, mouldy letters 
 addressed to " Honored Sirs " lying in their 
 graves from " Obedient Servants " long since gone 
 to their reward. There were worm-eaten invita- 
 tions to forgotten balls and parties, melancholy 
 orgies they seemed in the retrospect, which no 
 one now living had ever attended, and at which no 
 one but uncanny ghosts had ever danced. 
 
 " What an old house this is when one thinks of 
 it ! The people who lived in it in its prime are all 
 silent now in the graveyard by the river. 'The 
 youngest of 'em died at eighty-four. All dead but 
 me. Seems strange ! ' as Grandma Pettijohn says.
 
 "BLUEBEARD'S" CHAMBER. 213 
 
 I wanted to put my arms around her neck then, 
 the dear old thing ! I wish she had somebody to 
 love her ! " 
 
 These old letters were in the desk, and business 
 cards, cuttings from old newspapers, balls of 
 candle-wicking, a pair of snuffers. Pauline wished 
 the professor would come up here to see these old 
 things. Her father seemed to hold them less 
 sacred than formerly. Perhaps he could be per- 
 suaded to make an exhibition of them sometime, 
 and then a bonfire ! She hoped so. 
 
 The old writing-desk was soon disposed of. It 
 held nothing, from pigeon-holes to claw-feet, of the 
 slightest importance. If the shades of the de- 
 parted ever haunted -this region at midnight they 
 might enjoy such dreary relics ; Pauline soon tired 
 of them. 
 
 " I fear I'm not a true antiquarian in my tastes," 
 she thought, but kept on exploring. 
 
 Was she searching for anything in particular? 
 She told herself that she merely wanted to " look 
 around ; " she never expected or desired to pay 
 another visit to Bluebeard's room. 
 
 " Well, here are two chests, a bureau, and a 
 little brass-nailed hair-trunk ! How old-fashioned ! 
 First for the trunk." 
 
 A man's cloth cap, a tin candle-mould, and a 
 roll of old letters were lying in it, as they had 
 probably lain for years. "Now one of these chests 
 ah ! here are deeds ; now for it ! " 
 
 She laughed scornfully at her own foolishness ;
 
 214 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 still she untied the red tape and fluttered through 
 the dusty heaps. Of course she did not expect 
 to find anything in this refuse which had been 
 searched a thousand times. She was not a con- 
 firmed idiot, whatever Jim might say. 
 
 Ugh ! how the wind crept in at the loose case- 
 mepts ! She began to feel slightly chilled, and 
 paused to warm her hands at the rubber bag. It 
 was well her thoughtful mother had insisted on 
 overshoes. 
 
 Now and then, on the floor or in the chests, she 
 came upon sheets and half-sheets of blank paper 
 which ought long ago to have been given the 
 children for drawing and scribbling purposes, but 
 her father would have been horrified at the dese- 
 cration. Everything here was sacred. He had 
 even been at the trouble of burning insect powder 
 and scattering gum camphor to warn off the moths. 
 
 " I'm foolish to linger here, and if I take cold 
 I shall never hear the last of it from Jim." 
 
 Pauline had wandered back to the eaves. The 
 large old secretary stood there with a desk mid- 
 way toward the top, a rickety old affair made 
 in Germany, and precious alike for its donor and 
 for the hardships it had seen by sea and land. 
 
 One of its drawers was half-way open, and no 
 amount of pushing could close it. 
 
 "Well, stay open then ! I don't believe you've 
 been shut since the memory of man. Any num- 
 ber of papers here, but they can't be of importance 
 exposed here in an open drawer."
 
 "BLUEBEARD'S" CHAMBER. 215 
 
 Pauline turned them over carelessly. The same 
 endless conglomeration of loose letters, letters tied 
 in a bundle, and packages of deeds. One stray 
 paper had stuck in the crack of the drawer. She 
 took pains to draw it out. It was folded like a 
 deed, but there was no writing on it ; it was mani- 
 festly a blank sheet of foolscap, which nobody 
 would have looked at a second time ; nobody, that 
 is, but a keen-eyed and critical observer. But as 
 Pauline held this in her hand, the question oc- 
 curred to her why that sheet of foolscap should 
 ever have been folded. 
 
 "We don't usually fold blank paper. Could 
 father have folded it ? " 
 
 It was not likely. The creases were jagged and 
 time-worn. 
 
 " I don't know what this is, but it probably dates 
 back to the time of Melzar. Rather peculiar. I 
 may as well take a look at it." 
 
 She opened the sheet. 
 
 " Blank paper, certainly. But what's this ? It 
 looks like part of a pen stroke, faint, very faint. 
 One, two, here's another." 
 
 The windows were so clouded with snow that 
 she could see nothing distinctly. Those were not 
 pen-strokes, they were merely flaws in the paper 
 or parchment. She went to the wheel-window, 
 which let in more light than the others. It was 
 becoming interesting. 
 
 Why, this was not blank paper ! Something 
 must have been written here once, a word or two
 
 216 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 at any rate. She could discern the faintest possi- 
 ble traces of what looked like parts of letters, 
 the long tail of a^/ or a^for example, the upper 
 parts wanting. 
 
 Had her father ever examined these ghostly pen- 
 strokes ? His eyes had been weakened by over- 
 study, and it was only of late that he would 
 consent to wear spectacles. He might have given 
 this paper the most rigid scrutiny twenty years 
 ago : and then again, it would be hardly strange if 
 he had only glanced at it casually. At any rate, it 
 seemed he had passed judgment upon it since as 
 worthless ; and after doing that he would natu- 
 rally let it alone and never think of it again. 
 
 It was pretty old. It must have been up here 
 long before the major died. Pauline fell into deep 
 thought over the ancient paper. She thought and 
 dreamed, for she was visionary still, this hard- 
 worked child, who had tried so long to develop "a 
 practical turn." 
 
 " Up with the bonnets of bonny Dundee," she 
 sang at last in a triumphant voice, which had not 
 rung in that attic before, turned her back upon 
 the north pole, folded the parchment carefully, 
 put it under her arm, and hurried down-stairs. 
 
 " Here I am, mother, can't you welcome me 
 back ? I've found the northwest passage, and 
 now, if you please, I'd like to get thawed." 
 
 A smile of relief broke over Mrs. Wyman's face. 
 " I like that, Pauline ; I didn't expect to see you 
 so soon. I was almost afraid that awful fascina-
 
 Pauline's Discovery of the Will. Page 216.
 
 "BLUEBEARD'S" CHAMBER. 217 
 
 tion would seize upon you, and you wouldn't know 
 how to break away." 
 
 " There is a fascination up there, mamma ; I can 
 imagine how it would hold one like the Old Man 
 of the Sea. I don't blame my poor father any 
 more." 
 
 Mrs. Wyman looked at Pauline closely. "Re- 
 member, my dear, you've promised." 
 
 " Yes, mother, can't you trust me ? Mrs. Petti- 
 john is in the sitting-room, isn't she ? I'll make 
 myself agreeable to her while I warm my feet." 
 
 It is to be feared, however, that Pauline proved 
 but indifferent company. She propounded any 
 number of far-fetched questions, and before they 
 could be answered repeated them, very much to 
 Mrs. Pettijohn's bewilderment. 
 
 " Sixty-four years. I think I've heard that ink 
 does fade out completely sometimes, bad ink. 
 And there's a way of restoring it, but I forget 
 what will do it." Thus ran Pauline's wandering 
 thoughts. 
 
 " Father would know instantly, but the question 
 might set his wits to wool-gathering. I'll not ask 
 Jim ; I'm not going to subject myself to ridicule. 
 Why shouldn't I ask Professor Wishart ? It is 
 quite in his line." 
 
 Ah, Pauline, Pauline, was there no one else to 
 inquire of but Professor Wishart ? 
 
 " I need not tell him the circumstances. ' Do 
 you know just what will restore faded ink?' I'll 
 say. Just this, and nothing more. /And I shall
 
 218 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 look so extremely innocent, that he'll never dream 
 there's anything more at stake than some old let- 
 ter or visiting-card. 
 
 " If I could only see him this evening. But he 
 is on his way to Portland, I don't see why he 
 went just now, and I dare say will only be home 
 in time for the Christmas party, even if he comes 
 then. 
 
 " Beg pardon, mother, what were you saying ? " 
 
 " Have you decided on a costume for the fancy 
 dress party, my daughter ? " 
 
 Pauline started guiltily. The costume which 
 had seemed to her yesterday of grave importance, 
 requiring hours of anxious thought, had been for- 
 gotten, actually forgotten, till this very moment. 
 
 " I was intending to talk with you, mother, about 
 your old nun's veiling, if you're willing to lend it 
 to me. And I shall be so glad of your advice 
 about everything. I believe I'm feeling rather 
 dazed." 
 
 " A little thorough wort tea'll be complete for her 
 to take, come night," suggested Grandma Pettijohn, 
 as Pauline went for the nun's veiling. 
 
 The sky was clearing, and later the good old 
 lady was conveyed to her boarding-house in smil- 
 ing content. 
 
 She reflected behind her wraps that she was 
 "rather glad those Wyman children took it so easy 
 about Seth's folks having their money. Never 
 once alluded to it to-day. Their mother needn't 
 have been so afeared o' their knowing."
 
 "BLUEBEARD'S" CHAMBER. 219 
 
 Mr. Wyman arrived at seven, looking tired and 
 haggard, having been delayed a little by a snow 
 blockade. Pauline kissed him on the perpendicular 
 line in the forehead, which she called "father's 
 noon-mark," and said to herself that now she knew 
 why the mark was so deeply indented. 
 
 " Dear father," she thought, " I've found that 
 some hopes are cruel, more cruel than fears." 
 
 No allusion was made by any one to her raid on 
 the attic, and Mrs. Pettijohn's visit was only men- 
 tioned casually. Even Jim was too busy over 
 his costume to ask any questions about arctic 
 discoveries. 
 
 And all the while the fateful parchment lay in 
 Pauline's beloved writing-desk, sallow and silent, 
 biding its time.
 
 XIX. 
 
 THE SILENT NUN. 
 
 PAULINE meant to keep her impersonation of 
 Mary Stuart a profound secret from Jim, who was 
 equally reserved as to his own costume and char- 
 acter. But little Arthur reported that Polly was 
 going all in white, with a window-curtain over 
 her head ; and that " Jim's feet looked awful 
 funny, some like a cow's. And what was that 
 thing at the end of his cane ? Looked like a 
 great big fish-hook." 
 
 Pauline's quick intelligence divined that James 
 was to be Pluto, carrying a trident, and she meant 
 to keep a sharp lookout for the god of the under- 
 world ; but when they finally entered the hall, in 
 full dress, she forgot Jim's existence. 
 
 Here was Wonderland. She had often dreamed 
 of it, but never thought to see it with her waking 
 eyes. Who were all these fairy folk, glittering in 
 gold and silver and clad in garments of every hue, 
 like a garden of flowers, color on color ? 
 
 No, not like a garden ; more like a tumultuous 
 sea of rainbows. Some of these strange beings had 
 stepped out of history, some out of fable, meeting 
 here on common ground and all talking in character. 
 
 Napoleon Bonaparte asked the Goddess of 
 Liberty, with imperial rudeness, what right she 
 220
 
 THE SILENT NUN. 221 
 
 had to wear a crown ? Hamlet discoursed on 
 metaphysics with an Indian chief in war-paint 
 and feathers. William Penn exchanged " thee's " 
 and "thou's" with the ancient Queen of Sheba. 
 George Washington begged an introduction to 
 the Maid of Orleans, who forgot to shake hands, 
 but looked beyond him, at spirits in the distance. 
 Undine, in misty white, glided through the crowd, 
 with folded hands, and long fair hair veiling her 
 face. She was seeking her false knight, Hilde- 
 brand, to kiss away his life. 
 
 " Eva makes a capital Undine," thought Paul- 
 ine, " but I wish I could get at her. She has too 
 much powder on her nose." 
 
 Titan ia, with her attendant fairies, floated by, and 
 James Wyman, in the character of Pluto, waved 
 his trident toward the airy beings, calling out, 
 
 " Is that you, little Mustard Seed ? Smart fel- 
 low ! You and your kin have made my eyes 
 water ere now ! " 
 
 Mustard Seed shook his roguish head, and said 
 to his little companion, Cobweb, " Let's be off. 
 Who wants to stay here to be insulted by Pluto, 
 or any of the other impudent gods ? " 
 
 At this, Pluto laughed and advised Cobweb not 
 to fly too high, or there would be an old woman 
 after him to sweep him out of the sky. 
 
 His godship was moving on, but the White 
 Queen caught his arm, and whispering, " Stop, 
 Jim," drew into place a loose fold of his drapery, 
 securing it with a pin.
 
 222 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 "See here, Paul, this is you," whispered Jim; 
 " but who on earth are you ? " 
 
 "That's for you to find out, Mr. Pluto. I'm 
 historical." 
 
 " Indeed, ma'am ; then how do you happen to 
 keep pins in your pocket ? " 
 
 The queen laughed, and quickly turned away, 
 leaving Pluto racking his ethereal brains to recol- 
 lect what historical characters had made a prac- 
 tice of dressing in white. 
 
 " I hope I shall fall in with Queen Elizabeth ; 
 she ought to be here," thought the unfortunate 
 Mary of Scotland, walking slowly along, pausing 
 here and there to admire the brilliant costumes, 
 making low obeisance to glorious Night and 
 Morning, and laughing behind her crape veil 
 when John Blythe as Brother Jonathan doffed his 
 white hat and asked the Evening Star how much 
 she paid for that spangle on her forehead. Things 
 were "dirt cheap deown his way," he drawled, 
 flourishing a cotton handkerchief with stars and 
 stripes, which "didn't cost him but six cents, 
 honor bright." 
 
 He wished to know what the White Queen 
 washed her clothes with, as he " might like to 
 peddle some of the soap." 
 
 " Who be you, anyhow, ma'am ? " 
 
 " Mary of Scotland, good sir. Have you seen 
 aught of my Cousin Elizabeth ? " 
 
 " Elizabeth who ? I ain't any acquainted with 
 your folks as I know of, and it's pretty thick set-
 
 THE SILENT NUN. 223 
 
 tied raound here ; but tell me her last name, and 
 I'll try to look her up." 
 
 Pauline walked on with an attempt at proper 
 sobriety, but her course was soon blocked by the 
 crowd which had gathered before a sombre nun, 
 standing near the wall, with bowed head, counting 
 her beads. 
 
 "Sister," she asked the nun, "hast seen aught 
 of Queen Elizabeth ? " 
 
 For reply the nun shook her head, and Pauline, 
 looking at her critically, saw that her mouth was 
 closely muffled by a white linen band. Little 
 could be seen of her face under the black bonnet, 
 and her eyes were protected by a shade. 
 
 She was only a humble Sister of Charity, but 
 it had been noised about that no one had yet been 
 able to make her speak, and now she was becom- 
 ing an object of marked attention. 
 
 " She'll soon tire of it," said one and another. 
 
 " A vow of silence, is it, the miserable papist ! " 
 thundered Oliver Cromwell. 
 
 " If she were a monk now, that might answer," 
 said the Wandering Jew. " I very well remember 
 the monks of La Trappe, when they saw their 
 cloisters burn. I was on the spot myself, and they 
 never broke their vow of silence ; but a woman 
 pooh ! She can't hold out." 
 
 "Who were you before you took the veil, Sis- 
 ter ? " asked Di Vernon. " Your countenance 
 looks so familiar." 
 
 As nothing was to be seen of it but the tip of
 
 224 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 the nose, there was great hilarity, and the crowd 
 passed on, leaving the Queen of Scots alone with 
 the silent nun. 
 
 " I shall talk to you, my sister, whether you an- 
 swer me or not. A worldly scene like this must 
 pain you. Do you not long for the quiet of your 
 cell?" 
 
 The nun drew a deep sigh of assent, and touched 
 her string of black beads. 
 
 " Dear Sister, I too am a Romanist," said Mary 
 Stuart, displaying her silver crucifix. "When a 
 child, I wished to be a nun like you ; but, alas, 
 queens cannot have their way. Well, no matter 
 now. I've been dead three hundred years. Are 
 you alive, Sister ? " 
 
 The bonnet nodded. 
 
 " One would hardly think it of you. You seem 
 very dead, Sister ! " 
 
 The nun's figure shook a little, perhaps with 
 suppressed laughter. % 
 
 At this moment a royal personage appeared, 
 whose high ruff, red hair and crown marked her at 
 once as good Queen Bess. Mary sprang toward 
 her. 
 
 " Good morrow, Your Highness ; wait, I implore 
 you. I would have speech with you." 
 
 " I know you not," replied Elizabeth, with freez- 
 ing dignity ; and her voice betrayed her as Victoria 
 Raymond. 
 
 " You would not pass me by ; I am a queen," 
 pleaded Mary.
 
 THE SILENT NUN 225 
 
 "An English queen?" asked Elizabeth, looking 
 at her critically. 
 
 " That question, Your Highness, has never yet 
 been answered. I once used a seal with two crowns 
 on it, and the motto, ' A third awaits me.' " 
 
 " Beshrew me, but I know you now for that 
 liar, Mary Stuart. Let me pass." 
 
 But the silent nun laid a detaining hand on her 
 Majesty's shoulder. 
 
 " Who are you, you wretched papist ? " cried 
 the angry Elizabeth. " And by what right do you 
 stop me ? " 
 
 " She is a pious nun under a vow of silence," 
 returned Queen Mary, gently. " She would have 
 you wait and confer with me." 
 
 " So be it then for a moment. But, Mary, you 
 always stood in my way. I have no love for you ; 
 that you know," said Elizabeth, her eyes flashing. 
 
 It seemed like excellent acting, but there was 
 a touch of realism in it. Tory Raymond had 
 recognized Pauline Wyman, and was glad of this 
 opportunity of freeing her mind to her, under 
 cover of a mask. 
 
 This was evident enough to the silent nun who 
 knew both the girls, and evident to Pauline, who 
 said to herself, 
 
 "Tory can berate me now to her heart's con- 
 tent ; she always longed to do it." 
 
 " You are my natural enemy, Mary Stuart ! " 
 said Elizabeth. 
 
 "And you are mine," thought Pauline; "a 
 Q
 
 226 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 worse one than you dream. But the adopted 
 Wymans are an honorable race, and noblesse oblige. 
 I'll try for once in my life to keep my temper." 
 And she held her peace. 
 
 "What brought you here, Mary?" cried Eliza- 
 beth Tudor, raising her hand almost as if she 
 would have struck her cousin. 
 
 The silent nun repeated to herself the words 
 of the old ballad : 
 
 " ( With that she smote her on the lips 
 
 So dyed double red. 
 Hard was the heart that gave the blow, 
 Soft were the lips that bled. 1 " 
 
 For though the blow had not been struck, the 
 queen of the Stuarts was cowering a little and 
 drawing nearer to the watchful nun. 
 
 "What brought you here, Mary, and how dare 
 you, a sinner, come in white ? " 
 
 " I wear it in honor of la belle France" said 
 Mary, pensively. " Centuries have passed, as mor- 
 tals count time, since I was wedded in white at 
 Notre Dame ; and you know, royal cousin, when 
 the amiable Francis died I wore it again," waving 
 her long veil. "It was my widow's garb. I was 
 known among the people as the White Queen." 
 
 "The Whited Sepulchre it should have been! 
 After that, Mary, you married Darnley, and you 
 murdered him ! " 
 
 " God save your Grace, that was a slander ! " 
 
 "No, go to, Mary Stuart, you were a wicked 
 murderess ! "
 
 THE SILENT NUN. 227 
 
 " Do you, Elizabeth Tudor, taunt me with mur- 
 der ; you, who signed my death-warrant ? Look 
 at your hands ! Wot you not they are yet red 
 with my blood ? " 
 
 " Well said ! " exclaimed Benjamin Franklin, 
 who had been listening with several others to this 
 animated conversation, " well said ! I'll leave it 
 to the nun if it wasn't. Have you anything to 
 answer back, Betsey ? " 
 
 Elizabeth was speechless for a moment. Ben 
 Franklin was evidently Frank Joslin, and she did 
 not relish his championship of Pauline, even in 
 play. Her own costume had been studied care- 
 fully from reliable pictures ; she had spared no 
 pains or expense in procuring a red wig and mag- 
 nificent jewels ; yet here was Pauline triumphant 
 in an old gown, unadorned. . It was really too vex- 
 ing. She glared on her, retorting, 
 
 " As for my signing your death-warrant, Mary 
 Stuart, everybody knows that was a 'terrible 
 accident.' " 
 
 " So you said, sweet cousin ! But when you 
 shut me up in Lochleven Castle for nearly eigh- 
 teen years, methinks that was not an accident." 
 
 " Mary Stuart, you know well that as queen of 
 England I could not allow you your liberty. Had 
 you not plotted against my crown ? " 
 
 " Your crown, O mighty queen ! " 
 
 " You couldn't have hurt her much if you had 
 tried, could you, little Mary ? " said Franklin, with 
 a nod. " Though I do suppose Betsey might have
 
 228 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 let you alone if you had been content with Scot- 
 tish thistles and hadn't looked at English roses." 
 
 He smiled so mischievously that his hearers 
 knew he had in mind Professor Wishart, whom 
 the college boys sometimes spoke of even now as 
 the English Rose. 
 
 Queen Bess turned away in angry confusion. 
 What had she ever said or done to indicate a pref- 
 erence for university professors ? Frank Joslin 
 was certainly no gentleman. 
 
 As she moved away in one direction, and Mr. 
 Joslin in another, Pauline still remained standing 
 near the silent nun, blushing, she scarcely knew 
 why. If people had been "saying things," just 
 because the professor was so kind as to hear her 
 lessons, then people were very foolish, and she 
 only hoped Mr. Wishart would never hear of it. 
 
 At that moment, however, the nun chanced to 
 raise her left hand in telling her beads, and, to 
 Pauline's intense surprise, it was no other than 
 Professor Wishart's hand, long and shapely, and 
 bearing on the third finger a pink pearl ring. 
 
 She uttered an involuntary exclamation, where- 
 upon there was an audible laugh from the muffled 
 mouth of her companion. He drew out a note- 
 book, and scribbled a few sentences on a leaf, 
 which he handed her unobserved. 
 
 " I forgot to take off my ring, but I'm glad you 
 found me out. I came home this evening too 
 late to get up a costume, and your brother and 
 Ned Hallett borrowed this nun's suit for me,
 
 THE SILENT NUN. 229 
 
 and put me under bonds not to speak for the 
 evening." 
 
 " What a capital disguise ! I was sure I knew 
 you, but couldn't think of a woman so tall, and, 
 of course, never dreamed of your being a man," 
 laughed Pauline, as the professor slipped off the 
 telltale ring and deposited it in his vest-pocket 
 under the voluminous folds of his gown. 
 
 "I'm so glad of this chance for a word with 
 you, Mr. Wishart," said Pauline in low tones. 
 
 " Are you making her speak ? " asked some one 
 in the crowd passing. 
 
 " Oh, no ; only pouring my troubles into her 
 ears, good sir ! " 
 
 Then, in a whisper to the nun, 
 
 " I have a question to ask you." 
 
 " Is it anything of importance ? " wrote the 
 Sister. " You seem perturbed." 
 
 "Oh, it's nothing, Mr. Wishart, just nothing; 
 and I mustn't tell you what it is. See how the 
 people watch us." 
 
 " Then I fear I cannot help you, Pauline." 
 
 " Yes, you can, Mr. Wishart. But I don't want 
 you to think I'm perturbed. I'm not in the least ; 
 or if I am, you mustn't notice it." 
 
 As she said this with delightful incoherence, 
 her head went back royally, and the nun's drooped 
 with silent laughter. They were certainly carry- 
 ing on a conversation under great difficulties. 
 
 " It's the simplest thing in the world, Professor 
 Wishart, if I could only explain it to you without
 
 230 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 being overheard. Pray tell me if ink ever fades. 
 That is, how long does it take ? And where do 
 you have to put it to make it fade ? " 
 
 He wrote back, 
 
 " Was it spilled on white cloth ? If so, the 
 stain can be removed easily." 
 
 "How stupid I am!" exclaimed Pauline. "I 
 don't want to get ink out. I want to get it in ! " 
 
 The professor cleared his throat in some be- 
 wilderment. 
 
 " I mean I want to restore it ! I began with 
 my questions at the wrong end, Mr. Wishart ; for 
 the truth is, I don't really know whether there's 
 anything there to restore." 
 
 "Is the cloth fine? I may be able to judge 
 better after you have shown it to me. Possibly 
 paint, you know ; possibly wheel-grease," wrote 
 Professor Wishart, hopelessly befogged. 
 
 Pauline threw back her veil, and laughed wildly. 
 
 " Oh, dear, dear, dear ! This comes of trying 
 to be so very reserved and secretive. It's not 
 cloth, it's paper, paper at least forty years old. 
 It looks blank, but I fancy I can spy faint traces 
 of a pen." 
 
 Professor Wishart was becoming somewhat en- 
 lightened now, and so curious that he was on the 
 point of forgetting himself and speaking. 
 
 " I might show it to father, but there are rea- 
 sons why it is not best. And though I don't like 
 to trouble you But what do I say ? I will not 
 trouble you ! I merely wish to ask "
 
 " ' Pray tell me if ink ever fades.' " Page 230.
 
 THE SILENT NUN. 231 
 
 " Where is the paper ? " wrote the professor. 
 " You did not bring it here ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ; it belongs to my father. Am I talk- 
 ing too loud? What a noise! If anything was 
 ever written on it, and has faded out, can the writ- 
 ing be restored ? There, that was what I meant 
 to say in the first place." 
 
 " Faded ink can be restored, certainly, that is, 
 if it has a basis of iron. The new, cheap inks of 
 aniline dyes are quite another thing." 
 
 " So I thought. Well, this must be good, or- 
 thodox ink, for aniline dyes weren't heard of - 
 here she was interrupted "weren't heard of 
 when Major Wyman made his will." 
 
 Ah, a will indeed ! The whole story was com- 
 ing out presently, thought the professor ; but he 
 only wrote calmly, 
 
 "Try sulphide of ammonia." 
 
 " Thank you, thank you ! " 
 
 "Wet the paper first, then apply the solution 
 with a sponge." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Wishart, if you'll only do it for me ! " 
 cried Pauline, forgetting that she had resolved not 
 to trouble him. " I might not get it of the right 
 strength, or might tear it I mean the paper." 
 
 " I will do it for you, if you will trust me. You 
 know nothing delights me so much as to oblige you." 
 
 The words, though only in cold pencil-mark, 
 sent a glow to Pauline's heart. He would not 
 have said that if he had thought her forward 
 and presuming.
 
 232 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 "You are very kind, Professor Wishart. Sup- 
 pose you come 'round to-morrow evening, and bring 
 the sulphide of ammonia. Oh, if it should prove 
 to be ink ! But we'll try to prepare for the 
 worst ! " 
 
 " Did you make that nun speak ? " asked the 
 Wandering Jew, as he met Mary Stuart at the 
 close of the evening. " I saw you were doing 
 your best." 
 
 And the queen replied, 
 
 " She never uttered a syllable ! "
 
 XX. 
 
 AN EXPERIMENT. 
 
 PROFESSOR WISHART went to Mr. Wyman's next 
 evening, taking with him his magic lantern. The 
 pictures proved a brilliant success, and the chil- 
 dren had now gone to bed drawing deep breaths 
 of satisfaction. 
 
 Pauline stood by the kitchen stove, making a 
 pretence of scraping the candy-kettle, Professor 
 Wishart by the table, pouring something from a 
 bottle into a cup. It was understood that he 
 was busy with a chemical experiment, and must 
 not be disturbed. 
 
 As James and Mrs. Rix were both gone out 
 for the evening, and Mr. and Mrs. Wyman were 
 in the sitting-room, it was a favorable time to 
 put the sheet of ecru parchment to the test, and 
 settle once for all wheth'er it were a thing of vital 
 interest or only a piece of worthless foolscap. 
 
 " First you are to wet it thoroughly, you say," 
 said Pauline, suspending her knife in air. " Please 
 wait a minute ; I'm coming to the table to watch 
 you. I must see every movement. I don't be- 
 lieve much in this ; do you, Professor Wishart ? " 
 
 " It's not my business to believe or disbelieve, 
 it's my business to experiment," said he, with an 
 immovable face. 
 
 233
 
 234 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 "Ye-es." 
 
 " Pray give me another lamp. This thing needs 
 a good light, and a fair perspective." 
 
 "Certainly; there's something wrong with that 
 lamp. Mrs. Rix says ' it doesn't give enough light 
 to show a man the way to the tomb.' ' 
 
 And, laughing, Pauline ran and brought two 
 more large lamps, lighted them, and set them on 
 the table. Her manner was eager and nervous, 
 but without a vestige of the extreme reserve which 
 had characterized it for the past few months. She 
 had forgotten all that in the new interest at stake. 
 
 " Oh, don't be in haste, Professor Wishart. It 
 doesn't seem reasonable, now does it, that this can 
 be the will ? You know I only guess at it." 
 
 "A golden guess. Well, we both doubt whether 
 we have anything here but blank parchment, but 
 we'll give it the benefit of the doubt." 
 
 And he was about to apply the sponge when 
 Pauline stopped him. 
 
 " Wait a minute, I want to be calm, very calm, 
 before you begin. You say the writing will come 
 up suddenly if there's any there. As buried mem- 
 ories rise in the mind when we're drowning." 
 
 " I did not say just that," returned the professor, 
 smiling, "but 'twill rise suddenly." 
 
 Pauline started and trembled. 
 
 "Oh, I thought somebody was coming," she 
 said, as Peggy, the cat, walked in softly, having 
 lifted the old-fashioned door-latch with her paw. 
 
 Professor Wishart had laid the dry sponge back 
 upon the table.
 
 AN EXPERIMENT. 235 
 
 "This is like the trial of the Pyx," said he, wish- 
 ing to cause a diversion. " I mean the annual 
 testing of the gold and silver coins in the English 
 mint." 
 
 " So it is. And we Americans test our coins, 
 too. Oh, wee ! Oh, wee ! We shall soon know 
 whether we have the real thing here, or only such 
 stuff as dreams are made of." 
 
 " My dear girl, don't hope, or you are likely to 
 suffer a cruel disappointment." 
 
 "Oh, I don't hope, it's unreasonable. This is 
 what father calls the 'supposable impossible,' just 
 an ideal," said Pauline, with a tremulous smile 
 which tried to be very mature and very con- 
 siderate. 
 
 "But before we go any farther, Mr. Wishart, I 
 want to give you the particulars, for I think 
 you've a right to know." 
 
 And she told, in her impassioned way, the whole 
 story, so far as known to her, of the old bachelor, 
 Melzar Wyman, and the adopted boy, her own 
 grandfather, whose son had been defrauded by "a 
 man in this town with a very feeble and inadequate 
 conscience, Mr. Seth Raymond." 
 
 "Not Miss Victoria's father?" 
 
 The story was new to Mr. Wishart. Twenty 
 years ago, even ten years ago, the Eveleth people 
 might have discussed the affair with him ; they had 
 often done so then with strangers, throwing in very 
 unflattering comments upon Mr. Raymond, who 
 was "too grasping to be honest." But it was an
 
 236 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 old story now, seldom mentioned except casually 
 by one old resident to another. 
 
 " My dear Pauline, a large fortune, really a large 
 fortune? You overwhelm me." 
 
 " Try to bear it, Mr. Wishart. Has that sponge 
 been dipped in the solution ? I'm ready." 
 
 " No, I am merely wetting the paper with water 
 now. Don't you see, Pauline, since I learn how 
 much is at stake, I'm dreading to begin ? " 
 
 "You, too ? Why, what have you to dread ? " 
 
 " More than you think. You and I are good 
 friends now, are we not, Pauline ? " 
 
 " Oh, certainly." 
 
 "But reflect a moment. If you "become an 
 heiress, you cause me to reconstruct my opinion of 
 you." 
 
 " Yes ; I shall be quite another person. Noth- 
 ing to do any longer but paint and embroider and 
 dance and travel. I shall be a fin de sihle young 
 lady of elegant leisure. Just fancy," said Pauline, 
 looking dreamily into the distance. 
 
 "And I shall not like that or any change in 
 you. You suit me just as you are." 
 
 The look said more than the words, said so 
 much, indeed, that Pauline was disconcerted for a 
 moment, and could only stammer out, 
 
 " Oh, I thought you must think 
 
 What she meant to say she did not know, but 
 something about having made him so much trouble. 
 He took up her words. 
 
 " I have never yet told you what I think of you,
 
 AN EXPERIMENT. 237 
 
 Pauline. I was very near it once, some time ago. 
 Since that I have been waiting. You seemed 
 more like yourself last night, I almost dared. 
 And now a fortune or an ill fortune must not 
 step in and make a barrier between us ! " 
 
 " How could it ? " said Pauline. Her eyes 
 still kept the far-away look. He was talking 
 of some contingency remote, impossible ; yet the 
 words thrilled her with a new apprehension, sweet 
 and vague, like something foretold in a dream. 
 And his voice what a fine, sweet baritone it 
 was ! fell on her ears like music. 
 
 " You know I am a proud man, Pauline. If I 
 make a wall between you and me, how am I going 
 to scale it ? " $ 
 
 "You. can't make a wall between friends, real 
 friends, Mr. Wishart." 
 
 Pauline involuntarily drew nearer. 
 
 " Will you give me your hand on that ? " said 
 the young man, dropping the sponge, which left a 
 wet impress on the table. 
 
 " There, does that settle it, Professor Wishart ? 
 I did not know you could say such foolish things," 
 said Pauline, touching the foolscap with trembling 
 fingers. "Besides, you ought to know that the 
 Wymans can't be rich if they have a dozen fort- 
 unes left them. My father is the exact opposite 
 of Midas, who turned everything he touched to 
 gold. If father touches gold, it turns to some- 
 thing else." 
 
 Then as Professor Wishart did not answer,
 
 238 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 or seem to consider what she said, but still looked 
 at her, she went on irrelevantly, 
 
 " This is what you may call ' a lamentable com- 
 edy,' isn't it ? I don't quite know what we've been 
 talking about, do you? Only we hesitate, and 
 dare not put this thing to the test." 
 
 " Well, then, Pauline, let us be sensible. Now, 
 there's one thing to be considered about this will, 
 if it should turn out to be a will, the witnesses 
 are probably all dead." 
 
 "No; didn't I tell you? Mrs. Pettijohn, the 
 old lady who started me on the search, was one of 
 the witnesses." 
 
 " Is that so ? Then there would be no tedious 
 delay in proving handwriting." 
 
 " No, I've thought of that. I know something 
 about probate courts. But what are we waiting 
 for, Professor Wishart ? " 
 
 "What indeed?" returned he, collecting himself 
 and taking up the wet sponge. 
 
 He dipped the sponge into the solution. 
 Pauline's heart throbbed high, her breath came 
 fast. Of course she had been cherishing a delu- 
 sion, but at least no one beside Professor Wishart 
 need ever know. It was a secret between them. 
 Even Jim had been spared this suspense. 
 
 But look ! Why, what was this ? Wherever 
 the sponge touched the paper, a line of black ap- 
 peared, written words leaped up to view ! 
 
 What words ? Another invitation to a ghostly 
 ball ? Another letter to an Honored Sir ?
 
 AN EXPERIMENT. 239 
 
 The sponge had begun at the middle of the 
 page, it travelled upward. Near the top the magi- 
 cal sentence flashed out, 
 
 " I, Melzar Wyman, of sound mind, do will and 
 bequeath " 
 
 " That's it, that's it ! " cried Pauline, with a 
 quick scream of delight. 
 
 It was as plain as print. She read on aloud, 
 
 " Do bequeath to my dear adopted son, George 
 Wyman, all my real and personal property herein 
 described, with the exception of fifteen thousand 
 dollars, which I leave in equal shares to my faith- 
 ful servants, John Andrews and Martha Reese, 
 their heirs and assigns." 
 
 Then followed minute descriptions of farms, 
 mills, and bank stock, and last of all the signa- 
 tures of Melzar Wyman and three witnesses, dated 
 October 22, 1833. 
 
 It was the original will. Professor Wishart said 
 there could be no reasonable doubt of it. Not a 
 word or a comma missing. It had waked to life 
 after a sleep of more than half a century, a new 
 life, prepared to undo past wrongs and fulfil at 
 last the wishes of the testator, Melzar Wyman. 
 All this was not to be apprehended in a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 " O father, poor father ! " gasped Pauline, whirl- 
 ing around in a mad dance. " When he had quite 
 given up hope ! And mother, dear patient mother, 
 bearing it all without a word. And Jim, too, think 
 of Jim ! "
 
 240 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " And Pauline, is it forbidden to think of Paul- 
 ine?" said Professor Wishart, smiling to note her 
 characteristic ignoring of self. 
 
 Would this excitement prove too much for her ? 
 She was of a super-sensitive organization, and we 
 are told that "with melody's divine excess the 
 crowded reed may break." He wanted to stay and 
 watch the workings of her mind, and see her re- 
 cover her equipoise, but felt with a pang that he 
 had no right to linger. He must leave her to 
 break this astonishing news to her family without 
 the intrusive presence of an outsider. 
 
 "I'll not stop now to offer my congratulations, 
 Pauline, I'll come later for that. Will you please 
 make my adieux to Mr. and Mrs. Wyman? Good 
 night." And, without trusting himself even to 
 take her hand, he was gone. 
 
 This heroic self-denial was rather overdone. 
 
 " How can he be so cold to me ? And I thought 
 we were dear friends. Why, I want him here this 
 minute to tell me what to do," thought Pauline, 
 dropping a belated tear, which came of a tumult 
 of conflicting emotions. 
 
 So little did she dream that the man had 
 achieved a cruel victory over himself by running 
 away ! 
 
 She went to the sitting-room door and opened 
 it. Her father's back was toward her. She beck- 
 oned to her mother, who arose and followed her 
 into the kitchen. 
 
 "I'd like to show you Professor Wishart's chemi-
 
 AN EXPERIMENT. 241 
 
 cal experiment, mother. It is something very sur- 
 prising, but you must not speak aloud, for that 
 would excite father ; he's not to know yet. ' Pit 
 on your speckets.' " 
 
 Mrs. Wyman mechanically raised her eye-glasses. 
 
 " A chemical experiment, did you say ? Why, 
 this is nothing but a sheet of wet paper." 
 
 At that moment James entered the room, whis- 
 tling. 
 
 " What's up, Paul ? What are you capering 
 about in this way for?" 
 
 "Hush, Jim, hush! Father isn't to know till 
 morning. Here's the will, here's the will ! " 
 
 Mrs. Wyman read aloud slowly, 
 
 " I, Melzar Wyman," and gave a diminutive 
 scream. 
 
 " Oh, don't, mother, don't make a noise ! " said 
 Pauline, pressing her hand over her mother's mouth. 
 
 " Stop that ! " cried James. " My own mother 
 shan't be strangled ! " 
 
 He made a dash for the paper. 
 
 " It's wet," cried Pauline ; " you'll tear it." 
 
 Mrs. Wyman was regarding the document with 
 a fixed stare, repeating in an awed whisper, 
 
 "I, Melzar Wyman." 
 
 " A fellow'd like to know what all this is 
 about," said James. 
 
 " Didn't you hear me say 'twas the will ? I 
 found it in the attic the other day." 
 
 " Really, when I saw you in that pumpkin- 
 hood "
 
 242 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " But, James, can't you see I'm in earnest ? It's 
 the genuine, reliable old will." 
 
 "No, it's a forgery," said Mrs. Wyman, in low, 
 excited tones. "A chemical joke, James, and I, 
 for one, call it a poor joke." 
 
 " Please listen to me, both of you," said Pauline, 
 with a commanding gesture. 
 
 Having raised now such a tumult in other minds, 
 her own mind was strangely calm. It seemed to 
 her that this wonderful thing had happened so long 
 ago that it had become a part of her own life. 
 
 " It's not strange at all when you hear the 
 explanation." 
 
 She gave the history of the paper from her find- 
 ing itjn blank, to the present time. Her hearers 
 were naturally incredulous ; but when at last con- 
 vinced, there was a little scene in the old kitchen. 
 
 "Three cheers for our only one ! " cried James, 
 in a whisper that was half a shout, and turned a 
 neat somersault in the middle of the floor. 
 
 Mrs. Wyman caught her daughter around the 
 neck, and gave way to the wildest sobbing. This 
 unnerved Jim completely, and fearing he could not 
 maintain a decorous composure, he stole out "to 
 get his bearings " under the light of the stars. 
 Pauline brought her mother a glass of water, say- 
 ing playfully, 
 
 " Remember, mother dear, it might have been 
 worse ! We'll try to bear up, won't we, for father's 
 sake." 
 
 " But Pauline, my sister-daughter, it's the 'bear-
 
 AN EXPERIMENT. 243 
 
 ing up ' that has hurt me. And now the blessed 
 relief ! Let me cry a minute, and then I'll have 
 done." 
 
 " Cry on my shoulder, sister-mother. Cry till 
 you're satisfied. It breaks my heart to think how 
 you've been keeping guard over yourself all these 
 days and years, and I never knew it." 
 
 Mrs. Wyman smiled through her tears. "There's 
 only one drawback to this glorious news, Pauline. 
 Your poor father " 
 
 " Yes, I know, mamma. It must be broken to 
 him gently. Let me undertake it. Rest easy. 
 I'll do it as softly as a zephyr putting a flower to 
 sleep. I'll do it to-morrow. Trust me for that. 
 I'll study out a way, sister-mother." 
 
 It had been the most remarkable evening of 
 Pauline's life, and she lay awake that night for 
 hours, thinking over the strange events. 
 
 As if the finding of hidden wealth had not been 
 startling enough, something else had come to light 
 that touched her far more deeply than the recovered 
 fortune. The fortune was for her wronged father, 
 she could not think of it yet for herself ; but this 
 other thing was for her alone. 
 
 Why had Mr. Wishart said, " I've never told you 
 what I think of you," and what had he meant by 
 looking at her in that deep way ? 
 
 Or had there been a glamour over her eyes, and 
 had his looks meant nothing more than the usual 
 cool kindness ? He had spoken of the barrier 
 money might raise. Was he thinking of such a
 
 244 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 barrier when he went away without shaking 
 hands ? 
 
 Or had he gone in mere indifference because 
 his heart was " entirely English " ? 
 
 Would that she knew !
 
 XXI. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 NEXT morning the sky was closely veiled in 
 white. 
 
 "What a mystical look everything wears," said 
 Pauline. " No, father, don't move. I'm only 
 taking up a few shreds with the carpet-sweeper. 
 I was just thinking that this is the very sort of 
 morning when one might expect something un- 
 usual, something very remarkable, to happen." 
 
 Mr. Wyman raised his eyes from his newspaper, 
 as if politeness required him to take some notice 
 of his daughter's remark. His face wore an ex- 
 pression of brooding melancholy, which was be- 
 coming more confirmed of late. His wife, who 
 was mending his coat, looked curiously and ex- 
 pectantly at Pauline. The girl must be starting 
 soon for the office ; there was scant time for pre- 
 liminaries, if she meant to tell her story this 
 morning. 
 
 " You know, father, a fog always seems to sug- 
 gest mystery." 
 
 "Does it? This is pretty thick," said Mr. 
 Wyman, as if making a discovery, " and we seldom 
 have snow so deep." 
 
 "That's true. Jim says the snow is as 'deep 
 as first love, and nearly as soft,' " laughed Pauline. 
 245
 
 246 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " Now, father, you were speaking, the other day, 
 of 'blue roses.' Do you believe there are any 
 under this snow ? " 
 
 She had planted the carpet-sweeper squarely 
 against the wall, and was regarding him with a 
 humorous expression which did not wholly conceal 
 her real earnestness. 
 
 " ' Blue roses ? ' " he repeated, vaguely. 
 
 " Why, father, have you forgotten what you 
 told me, that the term ' blue roses ' signifies the 
 improbable, the unreal ? " 
 
 "Ah, I recall it now. No one ever saw in nat- 
 ure a blue rose ; it is something that never was 
 on sea or land. It is like a Greek kalend, or a 
 burning iceberg, or a cairn hurricane. Let me 
 see, what was your question ? Are there any 
 blue roses under a snowdrift ? Was that the drift 
 of it ? " 
 
 He made an effort to be sportive. 
 
 " Yes, father. In other words, would you say 
 that anything very desirable and decidedly out 
 of the common is ever likely to happen to the 
 Wyman family ? " 
 
 He laughed rather bitterly. 
 
 " Judging by the past, no ! Don't allow yourself 
 to think of such a thing, child. If anything can be 
 counted on, in this changing world, it is that the 
 humdrum Wymans were not born to luck." 
 
 Then, as Pauline slipped out of the room, he 
 said to his wife, 
 
 " My dear, I can't bear to think that that girl
 
 m 
 
 'Why, what's this?' he exclaimed,"^ Page 247.
 
 THE END. 247 
 
 has a dreamy cast of mind. Did it ever occur to 
 you that she is at all like me ? " 
 
 " She is practical enough, never fear," replied 
 Mrs. Wyman, with distinct mental reservation. 
 "But here she comes. She looks as if she had 
 something important to say." 
 
 Pauline's face was aglow with happy excitement. 
 
 " Now, father, we'll see what sort of eyes you 
 have. Here is a blue rose for you, as blue as the 
 sky. Take it in your hand ; give it a good look." 
 
 He smiled good-naturedly, though he would 
 have chosen to finish, without interruption, the 
 report of the doings in Congress. He dropped 
 his newspaper and opened the parchment. 
 
 " What ? Why, what's this ? " he exclaimed, 
 leaning forward in surprise. He looked again, 
 closely. 
 
 "What is it?" he cried, and rose to his feet. 
 " Where did you get this ? " 
 
 He had become very pale, and the document 
 shook in his hands. 
 
 " This this forgery ? Speak and tell me, 
 Pauline ! Who did it ? " 
 
 The girl was kneeling by his chair, her eyes 
 moist with "the tear that trembles just before 
 the smile." 
 
 " It is not a forgery, father ; it is the real thing. 
 It has been lying in the attic all these years." 
 
 "Impossible!" 
 
 "And you overlooked it, because it was faded 
 out to nothing, a mere blank."
 
 248 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 "But, my child " 
 
 Pauline did not wait for him to finish the sen- 
 tence. 
 
 "You want to know who found it? It was I. 
 Mother allowed me to go up there. You see my 
 curiosity was piqued by what Old Lady Pettijohn 
 told of Major Wyman, and the making of the will." 
 
 " Old Lady Pettijohn ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear," said Mrs. Wyman, breaking in. " I 
 told you she was here the other day, and you know 
 she was one of the witnesses. There's her maiden 
 name, if you'll look at it, Jerusha Ladd." 
 
 "Yes, I knew her maiden name was Jerusha 
 Ladd ; but what has that to do with it ? " said Mr. 
 Wyman, putting his hand to his forehead. 
 
 " Oh, father, this bewilders you, of course. It's 
 too wonderful for belief. But haven't you always 
 known Jerusha Ladd was in this house when the 
 will was made, and that she signed as witness ? " 
 
 " Pauline," said Mr. Wyman, sinking back in his 
 chair, and holding the paper at arm's length be- 
 fore him, " will you please speak slowly and dis- 
 tinctly ? Did this come out of the attic ? There's 
 the point." 
 
 "Yes, father. 1 happened to spy a sheet of 
 blank paper in that tall secretary, and it struck me 
 as queer " 
 
 " In the tall secretary ! I've gone through that 
 a thousand times. Blank paper, you say ? " 
 
 " It looked blank, certainly. I don't believe one 
 person in a hundred would have noticed those
 
 THE END. 249 
 
 little pen-scratches. But you know my eyes are 
 preternaturally sharp; you always said so." 
 
 " Yes, yes. But where is your blank paper ? " 
 
 Pauline began to laugh. 
 
 " Oh, mother, you'll have to explain. You see 
 how I confuse him." 
 
 " I am afraid I shall do no better than you, 
 Pauline. This is the blank paper that she found 
 in the attic, Charles." Mrs. Wyman spoke gently 
 but emphatically, as one repeats a lesson to a child. 
 "This is the paper; you are holding it in your 
 hand. The writing on it had faded, but it was 
 restored by " 
 
 "Sulphide of ammonia, father." 
 
 "Incredible!" he exclaimed. "Absurd on the 
 face of it ! What does Pauline know about chem- 
 istry ? " 
 
 As if that settled the matter conclusively. 
 
 " It was Professor Wishart, father, who put it 
 on with a sponge I mean the sulphide. But 
 don't try to believe it ; don't try." 
 
 " Professor Wishart ? Why, that sounds more 
 reasonable." 
 
 " It must have been poor ink, father. Old Lady 
 Pettijohn said they had to put water in it." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; poor ink. Sixty-four years old. It 
 faded out. Why not ? Mary, this is my grand- 
 father's signature. As true as you live, it is Melzar 
 Wyman's signature." 
 
 " I knew you would say so, dear. I recognized 
 it myself."
 
 250 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " So did I," echoed Pauline. " I've seen it on 
 the fly-leaves of so many books. Oh, father, you 
 couldn't understand this at first, could you ? You 
 can't now ; but when you do, you'll be so happy, 
 so glad you're alive ! " 
 
 Mr. Wyman laid the paper on the table, sprang 
 up, and caught his daughter to his breast. 
 
 " I understand enough to be glad you're alive, 
 Pauline ! Yes, I comprehend the whole thing." 
 
 " Dear father ! " 
 
 " I had reason to think the will had not been 
 destroyed ; that was why I held on to every 
 scrap in that attic. I couldn't give up our rights, 
 Pauline." His voice was high-pitched, unnatural. 
 "And now our rights have been restored to us 
 through you, my daughter ! It's the most natural 
 thing in the world that it should be through you. 
 Ever since the day you were given to us, Pauline, 
 you've been our joy and our blessing." 
 
 " And it doesn't spoil her to tell her so ; that's 
 the best of it," said Mrs. Wyman, with one arm 
 around Pauline's neck and her cheek against her 
 husband's hand. 
 
 It seemed to the girl just then that life was 
 almost " sweeter than a heart can bear." 
 
 "There was a pot of gold under our window 
 rainbows," said she to Professor Wishart, when 
 he called that evening to offer congratulations. 
 
 " But not fairy gold, Pauline ! " and this time 
 he shook hands warmly. 
 
 It was a very happy group assembled in the old
 
 THE END. 251 
 
 sitting-room : Mr. and Mrs. Wyman, Professor 
 Wishart, James and Pauline, and, in the centre of 
 all, Uncle Ike, looking as if this great happiness 
 had befallen himself, and he were sharing it with 
 the others. 
 
 " This will do for Christmas-tide," said he, rev- 
 erently. "The Lord has been better to us than 
 we trusted Him for." 
 
 A little later, as Mr. and Mrs. Wyman were 
 summoned to the parlor to entertain callers, James 
 said, turning to Professor Wishart, 
 
 " You think you know the whole story, but you 
 don't ; there's a sequel to it. Paul won't let us 
 have this money." 
 
 " Now, Jim ! " 
 
 " I'll leave it to Uncle Ike. She thinks Mr. 
 Raymond would prefer to keep it." 
 
 The professor's hand sought Pauline's again. 
 
 "Tell me about it, please. James shan't chaff 
 you." 
 
 " I've been wanting to tell you, Professor Wish- 
 art, for you will understand." 
 
 He gave the little hand a sympathetic pressure. 
 
 " I'm not sure, Pauline ; but go on." 
 
 "This money is ours ; but if we take it all away 
 from Mr. Raymond, the man is undone, I fear, 
 virtually ruined." 
 
 " Serves him right, too ! " 
 
 "What ! to take it all, Mr. Wishart ? " 
 
 "The whole is yours, Pauline, or none is yours." 
 
 " Yes ; but to let the Raymonds suffer ! "
 
 252 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 " Suffering may be good for them," said the 
 young man, with apparent seriousness, exchanging 
 glances with Uncle Ike ; " particularly for Miss 
 Victoria. It may teach her not to be supercilious 
 to people who work for a living." 
 
 " Oh, have you noticed that ? " said Pauline, her 
 face flushing. " Isn't she hateful ? " 
 
 " Very. But when the tables are turned, shan't 
 we all enjoy seeing her humbled ? " 
 
 " Don't say that ! That's just what myself said 
 to me in the first place. And it frightened me. 
 It's just like Tory's own self to feel so. Am I 
 going to stoop to take her money if 'twill drag me 
 down to her level ? No ; I'll throw it in the sea 
 first !" cried Pauline, with a regal toss of the 
 head, given only on rare occasions, when she felt 
 that her high ideals were assailed and she must 
 not yield her ground. 
 
 How much did the girl mean, and how far would 
 she carry her transcendental notions ? wondered 
 the professor. He went on in a bantering tone, 
 
 " So you don't care in the least for Miss Tory's 
 good, Pauline? 'The healthy stimulus of prospec- 
 tive want ' would wake up her faculties. Think 
 what it has done for you ! " 
 
 "That's so," said Uncle Ike. 
 
 " And it might make a noble woman of Victoria," 
 went on Mr. Wishart. " Yet here you step in and 
 thwart the designs of Providence." 
 
 "I didn't think you'd laugh at me, Professor 
 Wishart," said Pauline, with an appealing glance,
 
 THE END. 253 
 
 which somehow reminded Uncle Ike that he might 
 be in the way if he should stay much longer. " I 
 wanted to talk seriously, Mr. Wishart, and ask 
 you if you don't think Mr. Raymond as a blood- 
 relation of Major Wyman ought to have half this 
 property ? " 
 
 " I should say, Pauline, that your father is the 
 one to answer that question. I am sure he will 
 do what is right." 
 
 " Yes, but he left it to me ; he will do what I 
 say." 
 
 " Well, then, don't you say anything" pronounced 
 Uncle Ike, rising. " Let your father work it out 
 to suit himself ; he's the one. And Charles Wyman 
 can be trusted to do the square thing. But I must 
 go home now. Good night ; kiss me, little girl, 
 and remember, whatever's before you, and what- 
 ever new paths you may enter upon, you carry 
 Uncle Ike's blessing ! " 
 
 As he went into the hall to put on his overshoes, 
 Professor Wishart remarked to James, 
 
 " I suppose there will be no change in your plans, 
 as regards the law ? " 
 
 " No, I always had a leaning that way, and a man 
 should follow his bent ; don't you think so ? " 
 
 " And pray, brother, what should a woman fol- 
 low ? " said Pauline, rising and bowing low before 
 him. 
 
 " Look here, sister, you're not going to harp on 
 the higher education after all this?" 
 
 "And why not ? " spoke up the professor. " Why
 
 254 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 shouldn't she enjoy a few care-free, happy years 
 among books, just as you've done and are going 
 to do ? Life is all before her where to choose. 
 Would you restrict her because she's a woman ? " 
 
 " So you aid and abet, do you, Wishart ? For 
 my part, I don't want a brilliant girl like my sister 
 settling down into an " 
 
 Here James paused and decided not to finish 
 the sentence. For one thing, nobody seemed to be 
 listening. For another thing, his perceptions hav- 
 ing been considerably sharpened to-day, he noted 
 the rapt way in which Professor Wishart looked at 
 Pauline, and it was a revelation to him. 
 
 " What an idiot I've been ! It isn't Eva after 
 all," he thought. 
 
 And his eyes lighted like the eyes of Jonathan 
 after he had tasted the honey in the wood. 
 
 "Wait for me, Uncle Ike," he called out, hurry- 
 ing toward the door, " wait a minute, please. I 
 want to walk home with you." 
 
 As he left the house with the colonel, James 
 shut the front door with a thud. 
 
 " Well, if this isn't a thunderbolt out of a clear 
 sky ! And I think Pauline is about as much sur- 
 prised as we are, don't you, Uncle Ike ? " 
 
 There was no answer. 
 
 " Perhaps you saw it a minute before I did, 
 Uncle Ike. I didn't think at the time ; but was 
 tJiis what you meant just now when you gave her 
 your blessing on ' new paths ' ? " 
 
 " Yes. She understood, the dear child ! "
 
 THE END. 255 
 
 " Now, look here, Uncle Ike, isn't this a pretty 
 time of day for Wishart to step forward and lay 
 claim to our only ? / don't think he's mercenary, 
 mind you, but there are plenty of people that 
 will. They'll say, ' Why hasn't he thought of this 
 before?'" 
 
 " How do you know he hasn't ? " 
 
 Jim whistled. 
 
 " What do you mean, uncle ? How long have 
 you noticed it ? " 
 
 " How long has he been in town, Jamie ? " 
 
 " Twenty months or so. Yes, I know he has 
 been coming to our house right along ; in fact, he 
 has haunted the Wyman place, but not for the 
 sake of seeing Paul ! " 
 
 " Ah ? " 
 
 " Why, Uncle Ike, you don't mean it? I thought 
 I could see through this sort of thing, and I cer- 
 tainly could if there had been the least sign given." 
 
 " Indeed ! " 
 
 " Why, Uncle Ike, what keen eyes you have ! 
 Well, well, well, just put me in a blind asylum, 
 will you ? And you are dead sure Paul likes 
 him ? " 
 
 " Didn't I just give her my blessing ? " 
 
 The old gentleman spoke in gasps. James was 
 hurrying him out of breath. 
 
 " Good ! There's one thing I'll say right here, 
 Uncle Ike : this suits me ! He'll make her an 
 admirable husband. Paul is notional, and he 
 means to let her go through college before they
 
 256 PAULINE WYMAN. 
 
 marry, just to gratify her; I see it's all understood 
 between them. Why, he's too good to live ! I 
 always said Wishart was a fine fellow, and I say 
 now, there's nobody I'd sooner choose for a 
 brother." 
 
 " That's clever," panted the colonel. " I have 
 not the least doubt you'll like him for a 
 brother ! " 
 
 " Now there's a meaning to that," thought 
 James. "Why, I never talked to him of Eva 
 in my life ! " 
 
 " I didn't quite understand your last remark," 
 said he, aloud. 
 
 "I wasn't aware that I had said anything," 
 replied Uncle Ike, looking up at the radiant 
 winter sky with a smile.
 
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