y* 

 
 THE SYLVESTER QUARRY.
 
 THE 
 
 Sylvester Quarry: 
 
 Sequel to 
 "Over at Little Acorns." 
 
 BY 
 
 ELISABETH OLMIS, 
 
 Author of "Jack's Hymn," "Over at Little Acorns," ''Theodora," and 
 Other Stories. 
 
 RICHMOND, VA.: 
 THE PRESBYTKRIAN T COMMITTEE OF PUBLICATION.
 
 COPYRIGHTED 
 
 BY 
 
 JAS. K. HAZEN, Secretary of Publication. 
 1901. 
 
 PRINTED BY 
 
 WHITTET & SHEPPERSON, 
 RICHMOND, VA.
 
 IN LOVING MEMORY 
 OF 
 
 my father. 
 
 2228423
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OLD FRIENDS, ..... 7 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 AT LITTLE ACORNS, . . 17 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 BERDEL, ..... 31 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 AN EVENING CALL, ... 43 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 THE PROBLEM, ... 54 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 A MORNING RIDE, ... gg 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 AT THE VANDYNE COTTAGE, . . 82 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 THE SPICED CURRANTS, . . 103 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 A QUIET HOUR, ... 123
 
 4 Contents, 
 
 CHAPTER X. PAGE. 
 
 SOME BITS OF TALK, ..... 133 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 ANDY'S WORK, . . . . . .149 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 ROSE PETALS, . . . . . . .158 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 A SORRY TIME, . . .171 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 DOWN THE MOUNTAIN SIDE, . . . .191 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 A LETTER, . . 200 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 GARET, . ... .218 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 TEMPTATION, ....... 232 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 A DECISION, .... . . 247 
 
 CHAPTER XIX, 
 VARIOUS THINGS, 261 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 A CREEPING SHADOW, ... . 284
 
 Contents. 5 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. PAGE . 
 
 IN THE CHAPEL, ...... 301 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 HOPES AND FEARS, . . . . . . 319 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 ANDY'S GUEST, .... . 343 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 A WOODCHOPPER, ... .361 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 VISITORS AT SKY-HIGH, ... .. 376 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 SUNRISE ON AMMONET MOUNTAIN, . . .391 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 JUNE, . 410
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OLD FRIENDS. 
 
 DR. JOHN STRONG drove slowly home- 
 ward over the Quarry road one warm 
 .Inly evening. The day had been a busy one, 
 so he was glad to take off his hat and let the 
 breeze ruffle his hair as he gazed with never- 
 sate<l pleasure on the beautiful landscape spread 
 out below him. For he was on the crest of the 
 mountain above the Sylvester Quarry on his 
 way through the thriving village which had 
 grown ii]> near by it, and so on to his own home 
 on the other side half way down the mountain. 
 To his right, half a mile below, the stone 
 tower of Little Acorns Chapel could be seen 
 through the tree tops ; farther on, the grey chim- 
 neys of Miss Janet Sylvester's home, Little 
 Acorns, rose against the sky; and still beyond, 
 the massive walls of the Standish home were 
 visible among the oaks which surrounded it. In 
 the distance the fading sunlight was reflected
 
 8, The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 from windows and spires in Standish town, 
 while the sparkle of Ammonet river flashed here 
 and there. Everywhere was the richness of 
 fresh verdure, the varied beauty of hill and 
 dale overhung now with the golden glow of sun- 
 set. 
 
 Gradually, as the wheels of the doctor's buggy 
 turned more and more slowly over the grass- 
 grown road, the look of anxious thought left his 
 face, its lines relaxed ; the serenity of the quiet 
 evening time soothed him. He began humming 
 an old song. 
 
 Just then he heard the quick canter of a 
 horse's hoofs behind him. Almost at the same 
 instant a clear voice called out, "A penny for 
 your thoughts, Doctor Strong ! I've been watch- 
 ing you over your buggy top for a whole min- 
 ute." 
 
 "So long as that, Miss Violet!" exclaimed 
 the doctor, drawing rein and turning to look 
 into the face of the rider now beside him. "Who 
 would believe that you could become so ab- 
 sorbed in any one thing! But be good enough 
 to explain what you are doing away up here 
 alone at this time of the day." 
 
 ^Oh! Keith was with me. But ho had to 
 stop at old Mrs. Fowler's cottage to see some- 
 body who is sick, and I grew tired of waiting;
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. f J 
 
 so when I spied I lie waving of your golden locks 
 at the cross road I told him I'd overtake you, 
 and here I am ! And now aren't you going to 
 earn your penny ?" 
 
 Her blue eyes were dancing with fun. 
 
 "I was wondering how I should find Berdel," 
 said the doctor, simply. 
 
 Instantly Violet's expressive face changed. 
 The girlish mischief gave place to womanly 
 tenderness. 
 
 "Oh !" she cried, softly. "Is dear Miss Ber- 
 del worse to-day ? I'm so sorry." 
 
 "She was suffering much when I left home 
 this morning. I fear she has had one of her 
 hard days, poor child !" 
 
 Violet drew a long breath. 
 
 "It does seem to me wicked," she said, after 
 a silence during which Beauty stepped noise- 
 lessly beside the slowly-moving carriage 1 , 
 "wicked for God to let such sweet dear people 
 as Miss Berdel be sick and endure such horrible 
 pain when he could just as well make them 
 strong. Of course, everybody nearly is ill some- 
 times., but to bo so always and to suffer so ter- 
 ribly oh ! why does it have to be, Dr. Strong ?" 
 
 "Do you remember what Peter says, Miss 
 Violet ? 'Beloved, think it not strange con- 
 cerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as
 
 10 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 though some strange thing happened unto you ; 
 but rejoice, inasmuch as ye are partakers of 
 Christ's sufferings, that, when his glory shall be 
 revealed, ye may be glad also with exceeding 
 joy.' I suppose he probably referred to suffer- 
 ing of the mind or spirit, but I often think his 
 words apply equally to physical suffering. We 
 cannot tell why it has to be, except that it is 
 God's will. But we can feel that suffering of 
 any kind, if rightly borne, allies us more closely 
 to our Saviour and makes us more like him." 
 
 "But why should people who are already 
 Christians and as good as they can be suffer so ? 
 It would serve wicked people right and be a 
 sort of punishment for them, but Christians 
 surely do not need it." 
 
 The doctor smiled, but before he could reply 
 a bend in the road brought them suddenly face 
 to face with a low, open carriage drawn by a 
 pair of handsome horses. Their driver drew 
 them, sharply to one side, while Dr. Strong 
 hastened to turn his dozing mare from the mid- 
 dle of the road. lie raised his hat, with a 
 somewhat keen glance at the occupants of the 
 carriage, Mrs. Lucille Vaiidyne, a beautiful 
 young widow, recently come to live near Stand- 
 isb, and Mac Donald Caldwell, a nephew of the 
 Stand ish family.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 11 
 
 Mac and Violet exchanged lively greetings, 
 and Mrs. Vandyiie flashed a brilliant smile as 
 they passed. 
 
 "Isn't she perfectly lovely, Dr. Sttrong!" 
 exclaimed Violet with girlish enthusiasm almost 
 before they were out of hearing, "and what a 
 dream of a dress she has on !" 
 
 Dr. Strong broke into a hearty laugh, a mel- 
 low, rich laugh, low and very pleasant to hear. 
 
 "I'm not going to stay with you another min- 
 ute, you saucy man, to laugh at me," cried 
 Violet, with a deepening of the rosy color in her 
 cheeks. "Here's Keith caught up with us. He 
 laughed at me, Keith, because I said Mrs. Van- 
 dyne is lovely and has a pretty dress on. Didn't 
 vou meet her just now, and wasn't she charm- 
 ing?" 
 
 A smile and a shadow crossed Keith's face in 
 quick succession. He made no direct reply. 
 
 "Good-evening, Doctor. You look tired." 
 
 "How are you, Dennet ? Yes, I am a bit 
 tired. But Miss Violet has been kind enough 
 to cheer me up by a few minutes of her com- 
 pany." 
 
 "Oh! thank you, Doctor," came mockingly 
 from Violet, as she turned in the saddle to 
 wave him a good-bye. 
 
 In a few minutes they had disappeared down
 
 12 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 the hill, leaving the doctor to his reveries. But 
 the charm of his solitude had been broken, so 
 very soon he tightened rein and drove the rest 
 of the way home at a brisk trot. 
 
 Just as Keith and Violet came abreast of 
 Little Acorns chapel a young lady dressed in 
 white, with a bunch of sweet peas at her belt, 
 opened a side door, came out and locked it be- 
 hind her. 
 
 "Oh ! there's Louise," exclaimed Violet. 
 "She's been practicing on the organ for next 
 Sunday." 
 
 "But she should not stay until after sun- 
 set," replied Keith as they walked their horses 
 over the grassy space near the chapel. 
 
 "Oh! no one would ever harm Louise if 
 she were far up the mountain at midnight. You 
 can't think how all the people love; her." 
 
 "Our own people, yes," answered Keith, his 
 face lighting up in response to Louise's smile 
 of greeting. "Miss Lucinda, don't you know 
 that you are breaking the rules?" he added, 
 speaking directly to the girl who was now he- 
 side them. Louise looked up at Violet, laugh- 
 ing merrily. 
 
 "Mr. Keith never can remember that. I'm 
 not the same little girl lie found at Little Acorns 
 five years ago. Isn't it funny ?"
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 13 
 
 "One need only use one's eyes," was his re- 
 joinder, glancing at the bright face so nearly 
 on a level with Lis own, "to discover that the 
 liUfe girl has gone forever." 
 
 "And one's good sense to know that the big 
 girl can take care of herself within sight of her 
 own vine and fig tree," she quickly added as if 
 completing his sentence. 
 
 "Was there ever such another darling old 
 fuss-budget about two girls, Louise ? Come now, 
 you shall walk beside us and we will be your 
 body-guard," declared Violet. 
 
 "Oh ! no, please go on. I wish to stop on the 
 way home just for a minute, Mr. Keith." 
 
 So they rode away and Louise walked leis- 
 urely along the pleasant shady road. The little 
 exchange of pleasantries had carried her 
 thoughts back to the days when she first knew 
 Keith and Violet; to the home-coming of her 
 long-absent sister Marcia, with her twin children, 
 Mark and Marcia; to the great change in her 
 father from a man of the world to an earnest 
 Christian; to the building of the chapel, and 
 the beginning of the quarry village. So much 
 had happened during the intervening^years that 
 those happy hours seemed far back in the past, 
 But Louise loved to live them over again often. 
 Having done her errand at a cottage near the
 
 14 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 chapel, she walked on wholly absorbed in 
 thought, and did not hear an approaching car- 
 riage until Mac's voice aroused her. Then she 
 heard Mrs. Vandyne saying, graciously, "Do al- 
 low us the pleasure, Miss Standish, of taking 
 you home." 
 
 Mac was already beside her, cap in hand, and 
 she took the proffered seat beside his companion 
 while he sat opposite. The picture of the two, 
 so striking in beauty and contrast, was vividly 
 impressed upon his memory. Years afterwards 
 he had only to close his eyes to bring it before 
 him. 
 
 Lucille Vandyne was like a rich red rose, 
 dark, brilliant, fascinating, with an easy ele- 
 gance of manner and a sumptuousness of attire 
 in keeping with her love of beauty and of self. 
 
 Louise Standish crystal clear, frank with 
 a nature of childlike simplicity and a heart of 
 which her sweet, face was true index brown- 
 oyed, slender, fair, brought to one's thoughts a 
 spray of apple blossoms, fragrant and lovely 
 with the freshness of eternal springtime. 
 
 "Did you see the sunset to-night, Louise?" 
 asked Mac. "It was tremendously fine." 
 
 "No, Mac; I was busy in the chapel." 
 
 "You should have seen it, Miss Standish," 
 said Mrs. Vandyne, smiling. "I remember but
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 15 
 
 one such effect before at Lucerne one evening 
 in August. Yon have no idea, Mr. Caldwell, 
 of the color possibilities of the sky in that part 
 of the world. Yon have been there, though, 
 possibly ?" 
 
 "~No, Mrs. Yandyne. My only trip abroad 
 was a hurried visit to a country home in Eng- 
 land when I was but a lad." 
 
 "Then you have a great deal of enjoyment 
 before you. I must have yon for one of our 
 party next summer;" and she smiled again in 
 a flattering way. "Yon have just the appre- 
 ciative temperament which gets the most out of 
 every fine thing." 
 
 "I am sure I should have a jolly time," re- 
 plied Mac, enthusiastically; and his heart was 
 throbbing with excitement as he said to himself 
 that Mrs. Yandyne was certainly a fine woman 
 who understood a fellow. 
 
 .He and Louise bade Mrs. Yandyne good- 
 bye when she set them down at Standish Hall. 
 
 "'And remember, Mr. Caldwell," she said as 
 she drove away, "you are to come over very soon 
 and see my collection of photographs. I shall 
 expect you." 
 
 There was no chance for reply, but Mac stood 
 uncovered, smiling and bowing until she had
 
 10 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 gone, then turned and walked beside Lonise to 
 the house. 
 
 "Isn't she a stunner, Louise ?" he asked, 
 eagerly. 
 
 "She has a beautiful face, but ." Louise 
 hesitated. "I can't explain just what I do 
 mean, Mac, but she isn't a bit like sister or 
 Auntie Jean." 
 
 "Why, of course not-" assented Mac at once, 
 "for she has seen so much of the world, and 
 and everything. She's fine."
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AT LITTLE ACOKNS. 
 
 MISS JANET SYLVESTER'S house- 
 hold consisted of three people besides 
 herself; namely, her cousin Keith Dennet, who 
 was pastor of Little Acorns Chapel, Violet Syl- 
 vester, who had come from her own home in 
 England on the death of her father to live with 
 her only remaining relatives, and little Hilda 
 MacDonald Sylvester, Mac's "name lady," and 
 the dear, adopted daughter of "Auntie Jean." 
 
 It. was a well-ordered household, a haven of 
 peace and comfort for every storm-tossed or sin- 
 sick or over-burdened soul in the whole country 
 around. 
 
 During the three years and more since the 
 larger opening np of the Sylvester Quarry and 
 its active working Keith's hands had been full 
 of many sorts of work. For a village of some 
 thousand souls had grown to vigorous life quite 
 near the quarry, composed almost wholly of the 
 superintendents, assistants and workmen there. 
 As pastor of the little church, already well ac- 
 quainted with the resources as well as the needs 
 2
 
 18 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 of the neighborhood, he naturally became an ad- 
 viser, and, in many cases, the actual helper of 
 the newcomers. His wise counsels had been 
 generally followed, until, little by little, he had 
 come to be relied upon in almost any kind of an 
 emergency by young and old. 
 
 To "ask Mr. Keith" usually meant to see a 
 clear way out of troubles. 
 
 This broadening of his work was pleasing to 
 Keith, who longed for nothing so much as to be 
 of service to his kind. He found, too, that by 
 meeting his people on the plane of their every- 
 day-life he was the better able to interest them 
 in higher things. 
 
 Janet was his efficient helpmeet in all this 
 good work. He often told her that but for her 
 unfailing sympathy, her loving devotion and 
 her readiness of suggestion he should sometimes 
 falter under responsibilities which frequently 
 became heavy. 
 
 On the morning following Dr. Strong's in- 
 terrupted sunset reverie, Janet sat on the wide 
 portico leading to her garden winding a rose 
 chain for Hilda. 
 
 "There, dear, it is long enough now," she 
 said, twining the fragrant garland around and 
 around the plump little figure. 
 
 "One for Dumpling too, please, Auntie Jean,"
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 19 
 
 begged Hilda, holding up her snow-white kit- 
 ten. 
 
 "O fie! Does Dumpling want a chain? I 
 think her mistress had better make it then. 
 See, here are the roses and string, and I will 
 show you how." 
 
 Quite contentedly the little maiden sat down 
 in one corner and began the pretty work. This 
 soon resulted in a rose-decked kitten, which took 
 the first opportunity to bound away over the 
 grass, followed by the loudly-remonstrating 
 Hilda. 
 
 Janet was watching the graceful pair when 
 Keith came out from his study with half a dozen 
 letters in his hand. She noticed at once a look 
 of more than usual anxiety on his face, but she 
 waited for him to speak first. He drew a chair 
 opposite her own and sat for some minutes in 
 silence, looking over the letters. At last he 
 looked up and asked, "Where's Violet?" 
 
 "She has gone for a horse-back ride with 
 Louise and Mac. I think they went to Stand- 
 ish," Janet replied, rather surprised at the ques- 
 tion, for Keith himself had seen them start. 
 
 "Oh ! yes I remember." 
 
 The look of anxiety deepened. 
 
 "I wish my hands were not so tied here just 
 now, Jeanie. I'd like to take that boy off to 
 the other side of the world for a vear or two."
 
 20 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "Do you mean Mac?" asked Janet. "Why, 
 Keith, what has happened ?" 
 
 "Nothing nothing yet that one could put 
 a finger on, but I have had an uneasy feeling 
 about him, which I cannot shake off, ever since 
 he came home from college this summer. Have 
 you noticed any change in him ?" 
 
 "Not the least in the world. He's just the 
 same frank, affectionate boy, as fond of Hilda 
 and of you and me as ever and, I've thought, 
 more devoted than usual to Violet." 
 
 "But he's not here as much as heretofore." 
 
 "He's a young man now, and has more to call 
 him away," replied Janet, with a curious look 
 at her companion. "Why, Keith, I never knew 
 you to be unreasonable before. What makes you 
 so anxious about Mac ? I wish you would tell 
 me plainly just what it is that troubles you. 
 Why are you uneasy about him ?" 
 
 "Mrs. Vandyne," was his brief answer. 
 
 Janet began to laugh, but checked herself as 
 she saw Keith's clouded face. 
 
 "If that is all, my dear Keith, do fling your 
 fears to the winds. Mrs. Vandyne is years older 
 than Mac. Why, she must be thirty-five at the 
 very least. Do you suppose she would be seri- 
 ously interested in a boy of twenty? She has 
 been polite to him as to all our young people be-
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 21 
 
 cause they are friends of Howard St. John, her 
 brother. Why, Keith, I'm amazed at you. If 
 it were I now who was getting into a panic over 
 a possible flirtation, it would not be surprising, 
 for old hens are always ready to fly out over 
 their chicks ; but for you, my clear-headed, sen- 
 sible, matter-of-fact cousin, to be so apprehen- 
 sive, I cannot understand it." 
 
 "I can hardly understand it myself, Jeanie 
 dear," he answered, smiling at her earnestness ; 
 "it is an instinctive distrust of the woman. She 
 is vain, selfish and unscrupulous beneath all her 
 suavity. She sees Mac's open admiration, and, 
 unless I am very much mistaken, she will not 
 hesitate to use him as a tool, a toy, a victim of 
 her egotism." 
 
 "But, Keith, you forget Mac's sterling char- 
 acter his professions as a Christian his in- 
 terest in all the w r ork up at the quarry. I don't 
 believe you could convince Andy Graham that 
 Mac could ever be in the wrong." 
 
 "Andy Graham owes his reclamation from a 
 drunkard's grave to Mac. It is on Andy's ac- 
 count, and that of dozens of other young men at 
 the Quarry village, as well as for Mac's own, 
 that I'd like to get him away from Mrs. Van- 
 dyne's influence," responded Keith. 
 
 "I really think you are making a mountain
 
 22 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 out of a mole-hill, Keith," said Miss Janet, ris- 
 ing. "Do put the whole matter out of your 
 mind. Why, I would as soon think of Louise 
 herself giving us cause for anxiety." 
 
 "Your instincts should be keener than mine, 
 Jeanie. And yet pardon me you do not 
 know the world as I do." 
 
 "I know Mac," she declared stoutly, "and I 
 believe in him and shall believe in him unless I 
 see something worse than his admiration for a 
 pretty woman. I must go now and attend to 
 some household matters. Don't let me hear any 
 more of this croaking, Sir Haven !" 
 
 He sat for a good while after she left him, his 
 thoughts flowing in the same channel. 
 
 "It isn't in Jeanie," he mused, "to under- 
 stand such a woman as Mrs. Vandyne, for one is 
 as unselfish as the other is selfish. I can only 
 hope that my fears may be groundless. Ah! 
 Good morning, Mrs. Eliot !" 
 
 He sprang to meet and shake hands with a 
 tall, sweet-faced lady who had been coming un- 
 observed toward him across the lawn, from 
 Standish Hall. 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Keith; you are just the 
 one I came to see. Can you give me a few min- 
 utes ?"
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 23 
 
 "As many as you like, Mrs. Eliot. Will you 
 sit here ?" 
 
 "Thank you. Mr. Keith, can nothing be done 
 to prevent that new store from being opened 
 in the Quarry village ? Mark tells me that they 
 are to sell cigarettes and beer ; and you know to 
 what they will surely lead. We have been so 
 fortunate hitherto in having nothing of the kind 
 anywhere in the neighborhood. I cannot bear 
 to think of it." 
 
 "I've just received letters from a couple of 
 men in our church Doane and Slocum asking 
 me to forbid these people, Hermann and Com- 
 pany, from coming to Sylvester at all. But 
 that is impossible. The day has gone by when 
 we few families most deeply interested in the 
 Quarry settlement can have the say-so about 
 things. Sylvester is an independent institution 
 now. At its present rate of growth it will in the 
 near future be a town, and its inhabitants must 
 decide on all such matters. Even now, with 
 two or three hundred men, they are the ones in 
 authority. The surprising matter to me is that 
 those people who will have tobacco and liquor 
 have been contented for so long a time to go to 
 Standish for it, or to buy it on the sly, as they 
 undoubtedly have been doing." 
 
 "But something should, something must be
 
 24 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 done about this store, Mr. Keith. We can't just 
 sit quietly by and see wrong things done and 
 say nothing. You surely cannot mean to do 
 that." 
 
 "From Hermann and Company's point of 
 view there is nothing wrong in their selling to- 
 bacco or strong drink in any form. It is as 
 legitimate a business as selling beefsteak and 
 onions. They supply a need supposed to be as 
 genuine as that for garden produce. When 
 remonstrated with by those who think other- 
 wise, they say politely, 'This is only a difference 
 of opinion. You prefer to spend your money 
 for books and fruit, Mr. Jones prefers to spend 
 his at my counter for cigars and beer. Why 
 should he forbid you or you forbid him ? Each 
 has a right to his own personal choice in the 
 matter.' How can that argument be refuted ?" 
 
 Marcia Eliot's face was a picture of growing 
 amazement and dismay as Keith proceeded. 
 
 "If I were not looking right at you, Mr. -Keith, 
 I could not believe my ears," she exclaimed, in- 
 dignantly. "How can you speak so ? I thought 
 you would be the first one of all to disapprove 
 of this matter." 
 
 Keith's absent-minded gaze came quickly 
 from the distant landscape, and for an instant 
 he looked at Mrs. Eliot in a rather blank fash- 
 ion.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 25 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Eliot. I fear I did 
 not make myself clear. I was only quoting this 
 class of men to show how impossible it is to in- 
 fluence them by any arbitrary method. There 
 is no legal or logical reason why this store may 
 not be opened at the Sylvester Quarry village. 
 Our only chance for success in closing it, or pre- 
 venting its being opened at all, lies in the wish 
 of the people living in the village and neighbor- 
 hood. If public opinion is against it, a ma- 
 jority of public opinion, that settles it; other- 
 wise ." 
 
 He did not finish the sentence. 
 
 "Otherwise," said Mrs. Eliot, "our boys will 
 take the first step downward and our men, many 
 of them, the last step." 
 
 "That is the inevitable harvest of such sow- 
 ing, Mrs. Eliot." 
 
 Again he was silent, and his companion re- 
 garded him with a puzzled expression. Pres- 
 ently his rather sombre face lighted up with the 
 peculiarly bright, winning smile which made it 
 so attractive. 
 
 "But, thank God, we are not left to our own 
 devices, helplessly to witness the degradation of 
 our brothers and sisters. 'Behold, the Lord's 
 hand is not shortened that it cannot save, 
 neither his ear heavy that it cannot hear.' '
 
 26 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "Is he preaching you a sermon, Marcia, this 
 dear minister of ours ?" asked Janet, playfully, 
 coming out just in time to hear the last words. 
 "I wouldn't let him if I were you." 
 
 "No, he' s not preaching ; he is exasperating 
 mo by giving me no satisfaction about this nev* 
 store up at the quarry. I can't find out 
 whether he means to do anything about it or 
 not, So nearly as I can discover, he's leaving it 
 all to the Lord." 
 
 "And isn't that a good place in which to leave 
 it?" inquired Janet, amused at Marcia's im- 
 patience. 
 
 "Why, yes, of course ; only it seems to me that 
 we could help a good deal. The Lord doesn't 
 work without means." 
 
 "I think we will have to> excuse Keith this 
 morning, Marcia," said Janet gravely, though 
 with smiling eyes. "It isn't an hour since he 
 gave me strong proof of mental aberration on 
 a totally different subject. Come now and see 
 my lovely gloxinias. They are just in bloom. 
 And later we will talk with him about this 
 wretched business." 
 
 She took Marcia's hand and led her out to the 
 
 garden without a protesting word from Keith. 
 
 "He really is very much troubled about Mac, 
 
 Marcia," she went on when they were out of
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 27 
 
 hearing. "And it is so foolish. But when 
 Keith does get to looking on the dark side, 
 things are terribly black. Fortunately, these 
 times come very rarely and are soon over. I 
 have never seen him so disturbed as he is this 
 morning. Mac is so dear to him that he cannot 
 endure anything in him short of perfection." 
 
 "But what has Mac done ?" asked Mrs. Eliot 
 curiously. 
 
 "Nothing at all. I won't even mention it to 
 you, Marcia, for Keith will be ashamed of his 
 over-anxiety before the week is over. I'm only 
 sorry he allows himself to be made unhappy by 
 it for even a little while." 
 
 "Janet, what do you think we, or any one, can 
 do about this liquor store ? Isn't it a dreadful 
 thing to think of ?" 
 
 "It surely is, Marcia. My heart grows heavy 
 at the very idea of such a blot on our pretty, 
 quiet, happy village. I suppose it was too much 
 for us to expect that such things could never 
 come, but it is hard all the same. The only way 
 I see to counteract this evil influence is to make 
 our boys and girls so strong in the right that 
 they will resist any temptation to do wrong." 
 
 "But that takes so long," sighed Marcia. 
 
 "Yes, I know it takes time. But strength of 
 character, real genuine Christian character,
 
 28 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 which gets its vitality straight from the Mas- 
 ter's own abounding life, is the only real pro- 
 tection against temptation. Prohibitions and 
 restrictions don't amount to much unless the 
 heart is right. Then they are not needed. You 
 see, my Irish blood is uppermost this morning! 
 I believe it would be a good plan to get our 
 young people togetherour Christian young 
 people at the chapel, I mean and give them 
 some simple, plain, straight-to-the-point talks 
 on narcotics, making them intelligent on the 
 subject. Then, later on, we might organize anti- 
 cigarette societies and a Loyal Legion Band, 
 and ask the members to bring outsiders in." 
 
 "That is just what I had thought of, and 
 what I wanted to suggest to Mr. Keith. I won- 
 der if it is true that Hermann and Company 
 or any one else has a right, a legal right, to open 
 such stores anywhere they choose," 
 
 "Unfortunately, it is true, Marcia, But I 
 hope that it may not always be possible for such 
 centers of harm to be established in the midst 
 of respectable communities. I'll speak to Keith 
 about our plan sometime to-day, and send over 
 for you to arrange things with us." 
 
 "I'll gladly do all I can. Here come the 
 children. What a lovely girl Violet is growing 
 to be. One rarely sees a more perfect blonde 
 beauty."
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 29 
 
 "And she is just as sweet and good as she is 
 beautiful," responded Janet, warmly. "I never 
 knew a nature more free from personal vanity 
 or selfishness. She never thinks of herself, I 
 really believe. How blessed I am, Marcia, with 
 two such darlings as \ 7 iolet and Hilda. Some- 
 times I feel that my cup fairly runs over with 
 good things." 
 
 "And you deserve every one of them, Janet." 
 
 They had walked back to the portico to meet 
 the riders. Violet had dismounted and was 
 chatting merrily with Keith, who seemed to be 
 entirely his own cheery self again. 
 
 "Are you not coming in, you two?" asked 
 Janet, 
 
 "No, thank you, Auntie Jean," answered 
 Louise, patting Brownie's smooth neck. "I 
 must go to see that my horse is properly cared 
 for. Our new groom is not acquainted with all 
 her pet likings yet. Are you coming, Mac ?" 
 
 "Yes. And then we'll finish mounting those 
 views we took the other morning. You've not 
 seen them yet, have you, Mr. Keith ?" 
 
 "ISTo, Mac. You'll be on hand up the hill at 
 four o'clock, won't you ?" 
 
 "Yes oh ! and that reminds me that Mr. 
 Adams gave me a memorandum for you es- 
 timates for our new book-cases at the hall, he 
 said."
 
 30 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 He pulled a big envelope from his pocket and 
 handed it to Keith, then lifted his cap to the 
 ladies and was off after Louise. 
 
 Violet had disappeared. Janet looked after 
 the two as they rode away, then turned to Keith. 
 The cloud had lifted from his face. 
 
 "See, Marcia," she cried gaily, "Richard is 
 himself again. Now we'll sit down and have a 
 good talk about this disagreeable matter up the 
 hill."
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 BEKDEL. 
 
 WITEN^ Dr. Strong stepped from his 
 buggy at the door of his own home, twi- 
 light had fallen. At a low rose-wreathed win- 
 dow opening on a broad veranda he saw the flut- 
 ter of a white handkerchief. Out on the soft, 
 fragrant air floated the words, "Oh ! what a 
 tardy Jackadel it is to-night. Come straight in 
 here and give an account of yourself." 
 
 The doctor's face lighted up as he listened to 
 every cadence of the loved voice. 
 
 "Thank heaven, she is free from pain," he 
 thought as he quickened his steps and, cross- 
 ing the broad entrance hall, was soon in his sis- 
 ter's room. Her arms were extended in wel- 
 come as she half rose from her pillows to receive 
 his embrace. Then he sat on the wide couch 
 and she leaned against him with a long-drawn 
 breath of infinite content. 
 
 For a long while they were silent. At last 
 she looked up at him and said, "There never was 
 a man more rightly named than you are, Jack. 
 How lovely it is for me that you are so strong.
 
 32 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 It rests me just to look at your height and your 
 breadth, while to feel your arms about me is to 
 forget my own weak self." 
 
 Those who thought Dr. Strong a stern man 
 and there were not a few such would never 
 have recognized as his, the tender, reverent ex- 
 pression with which he regarded the sweet, 
 worn face so near to his. 
 
 "I am strong in brawn and muscle, dear child, 
 and so a help to you physically ; but it is from 
 your bright, strong spirit that I gird myself 
 for the daily battle of my life. I ." 
 
 "O Jack !" she interrupted, all the sunshine 
 clouded, "don't say such a thing as that. If you 
 you could only know how I but don't let us 
 talk of it." 
 
 He made no reply except to lay his lips 
 against her cheek. 
 
 Presently she spoke again in a different tone. 
 
 "What pleasant thing has happened to you 
 to-day, Jackadel ?" 
 
 "I found that Mrs. Lowe's little girl will 
 probably get well, and I had a beautiful ride 
 home over the mountain." 
 
 Her hand came down from his hair and gave 
 his trim beard a gentle tweak. From long ex- 
 perience he knew that this meant, "Go on ; tell 
 me some more."
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 33 
 
 For Berdel frequently suffered so greatly that 
 speech' was difficult. At those times she was 
 often soothed by hearing the events of the day; 
 and a little sign language, employed even when 
 she felt comfortable, had come into use between 
 the two. 
 
 "The sunset Avas unusually fine to-night," he 
 went on, promptly obedient. "I enjoyed that 
 as I drove along the Ridge Road from Lowe's; 
 then after I turned down the mountain side to- 
 wards home I was glad to be coming to you. 
 And I saw Miss Violet for a few minutes." 
 
 "And how was she?" came instantly from 
 Berdel's lips. But the words were not more 
 swift than the spasm of pain which contracted 
 her heart for a breathing space. 
 
 "I will not, I will not," she cried to herself 
 vehemently. "I will not be so mean-hearted. 
 Berdel Strong, I'm ashamed of you." 
 
 And again she asked cheerily "And how was 
 she, Jackadel ?" The loving caress of her hand 
 was now on his, but she was looking into his 
 eyes, his dark blue eyes, which could be so 
 searching, but which w T ere now as soft as her 
 own, and fixed upon some invisible object far 
 away. 
 
 "She was as sweet and delightful as the flower 
 for which she was named," he answered, smil- 
 3
 
 34: The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 ing down upon her. "I sometimes think God 
 does well to make few such women as you and 
 she. Otherwise, this world would be too fair a 
 place to leave." 
 
 All the jealous resentment which had flashed 
 so quicklv in the sister's breast had died away, 
 for no evil thought ever lingered long on the 
 threshold of Berdel Strong's noble nature. She 
 laughed softly. 
 
 "How queer it sounds to hear you call Violet 
 a woman. Why, she is but a child, Jack." 
 
 "In years perhaps, but a true woman never- 
 theless. Eternal youth is hers. She never will 
 be old, and," he added, "the experiences of life 
 will only enrich and adorn what is already so 
 exquisitely begun." 
 
 There was no answer to this. The deepening 
 shadows folded them in a dusky silence, into 
 which before long came a, brisk voice, "Have you 
 two forgotten again that there's such things as 
 vittles and drink in the world ? I declare for't, 
 John B., you're a good enough doctor for other 
 folks mebbe, but what your poor sister would do 
 ef it warn't for me', I dunno. She'd be likely 
 to starve to death. Here she's waited a hull 
 hour to eat her supper with you'n you ain't 
 done moon in' over her yet. Ef ye ever do git 
 a sweetheart, which I've small idee of, I pity 
 her more'n I pity Pharaoh."
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 35 
 
 "Yes, Aunt Diana, we're all ready for sup- 
 per." called Berdel through the darkness. "I 
 forgot to ask Jack to light the lamp." 
 
 "She forgot," mumbled Aunt Diana as she 
 returned to the pleasant dining-room, where a 
 tempting ineal was in readiness. "She never 
 forgot nothin' since she was born, but she kin 
 make excuses for John B.'s fast's he needs 'em, 
 ef not a leetle faster." 
 
 ''Will you walk, Dell, or shall I carry you ?" 
 the doctor was asking. 
 
 "Oh! let me walk when I can, please," she 
 said. 
 
 So with his arm about her frail figure they 
 passed slowly along the hall, following Aunt 
 Diana and smiling at her fond grumbles. 
 
 In the mellow radiance of the lamp swinging 
 above the table the close resemblance between 
 brother and sister could be seen. Both had the 
 same clear-cut features, fair, broad brows and 
 Saxon coloring. The doctor's face glowed with 
 ruddy health, while BerdeFs was of the lilies, 
 waxen pallor. But the shining out of a sweet, 
 strong spirit illuminated her countenance until 
 its physical delicacy was forgotten. 
 
 They sat opposite each other and Berdel 
 poured the tea, as she always insisted on doing 
 when she could. Her gentle "It does not tire
 
 36 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 me, Jackadel, and I am so much happier" often 
 overcame the doctor's better judgment. 
 
 This evening she felt unusually well after a 
 hard morning, and the rapid exchange of ques- 
 tion and answer, the lively wit and laughing 
 repartee between the two brought a wreath of 
 smiles to Aunt Diana's grim but not unkindly 
 face. 
 
 "It beats all how you can keep the run of 
 everything for miles around, Mary Berdel," she 
 exclaimed at last, after an inquiry of Berdel' s 
 for a patient of her brother miles away over the 
 mountain. "Ef you had four good legs to go 
 about on, I don't believe you'd know a bit more'n 
 you do now about folk's affairs." 
 
 The doctor's hearty laughter chimed in with 
 his sister's merry peal at this statement. 
 
 "Oh! no, Aunt Di. If I were a four-footed 
 creature, I wouldn't know half as much as I 
 do now, for I couldn't ask questions. And say- 
 ing four-footed, Jack, reminds me of Mrs. Van- 
 dyne's new horse. Have you seen it yet ?" 
 
 "Yes. She took me out to the stable this 
 morning. It is a handsome animal, but rather 
 too spirited for her to ride, I should think. She 
 says Mac has promised to get it well broken in 
 for her. He is an uncommonly fine horseman." 
 
 "He's a lovely boy in every way, Jack. I
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 37 
 
 think I'm as fond of him as you are of Violet. 
 What a splendid pair they two would make." 
 She said this quite innocently to all appear- 
 ance, but with a quick, keen look into her broth- 
 er's face. For some time a sure instinct had 
 warned her that this beloved brother of hers, 
 Avhose every thought she had shared her life 
 long, was becoming very fond of their fair 
 young neighbor, Violet Sylvester. She noticed 
 that his red-letter hours were those marked by 
 Violet's presence; she had detected a quite new 
 expression of tenderness in his eyes when Violet 
 was in their little home or when her name was 
 mentioned. So, at least, it had seemed to her, 
 but whether it were really so or only her ex- 
 cited fancy she could not make up her mind. 
 For her brother was forty years old ; so many 
 years Violet's senior as to make the idea of an 
 attachment between them absurd, if not wholly 
 unfitting. The thought, however, first lodged 
 in her mind some weeks before by an indescrib- 
 able something in the doctor's look and voice 
 when speaking to her of Violet, refused to be 
 banished. As a consequence of its persistent 
 recurrence, and of her inability to come to any 
 definite conclusion, Berdel occasionally made 
 little experiments, such as the one at the tea- 
 table this evening.
 
 38 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "I should consider it dishonorable," she al- 
 ways said to herself, by way of making com- 
 fortable a sensitive conscience, "were it not that 
 there is so much I may do to help him if I find 
 that it is really so. For Jack ad el shall have 
 the wife he chooses if he can win her, no matter 
 how unsuitable I or any one else may think her 
 to be. And you, Mary Berdel Strong, are not 
 to be allowed to be jealous and horrid the very 
 least bit." 
 
 She laid down the law to herself in such 
 whimsical fashion, and no one ever knew how 
 hardly won was the victory which finally en- 
 abled her to give up her heart's idol to another, 
 even in thought. 
 
 Her eager glance across the table as she 
 coupled Mac's name with Violet's brought no re- 
 ward of discovery as to Dr. Strong's feeling in 
 the matter. He kept on buttering a slice of 
 Aunt Diana's toothsome brown bread with quiet 
 unconcern. 
 
 "Yes," he said ; "they do seem made for each 
 other." 
 
 "Umph !" uttered Aunt Di, setting down her 
 cup emphatically; "I guess things won't turn 
 out as they was intended ef the widder Van- 
 dyne is permitted to flourish around like a green 
 bay tree much longer."
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 39 
 
 Berdel was surprised to see a frown of an- 
 noyance settle on her brother's brow. 
 
 "Suppose we don't repeat village gossip here, 
 Aunt Di," he said pleasantly, glancing from 
 Mrs. Bolton to Berdel. 
 
 "That ain't gossip, John B.," was the worthy 
 woman's answer, "but plain doin's in broad day- 
 light, I'm as careful of Mary Berdel as you 
 be, but she'll hear of all this sooner or later'nd I 
 consider she'd better get it first from her own 
 folks, who'll sift the sheep from the goats." 
 
 Again the mingled laugh of the brother and 
 sister rang out merrily. There was no resist- 
 ing Aunt Diana's characteristic use of English 
 on occasion. 
 
 When Berdel's amusement had subsided she 
 looked from one to the other of her companions 
 in a good deal of bewilderment. 
 
 "What is it all about ?" she asked. "I don't 
 in the least understand." 
 
 "Oh ! nothing much, Berdel," began her 
 brother. 
 
 "Now, see here, John B.," interrupted Aunt 
 Diana, "don't you go to salvin' things over. I've 
 found out, ef you haven't, that the best way to 
 deal with Mary Berdel from her cradle up is to 
 give her the worst end fust. Then she's got it, 
 hammer and tongs, and there ain't no call for
 
 40 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 her to go on imaginin' that things is a thousand 
 times worse than they really be." 
 
 An exchange of laughing glances flashed 
 across the table. 
 
 "All right, Aunt Diana," said Dr. Strong, 
 resignedly. "Get it over with as quickly as you 
 can." 
 
 "You recollect, mebbe, Mary Berdel," con- 
 tinued Aunt Diana at once, "one day last June 
 when I come home and told you that our new 
 neighbor was a settin' out on her front porch in 
 the middle of the forenoon in a fire-red dress 
 a listenin' to some young calf of a boy tinker in' 
 away at what looked to me like a Hubbard 
 squash some new-f angled fiddle, I guess likely 
 'twas. Well, I didn't tell you so, but I made up 
 my mind then and there that she wasn't nothin' 
 more nor less than a piece o' vanity'n I haven't 
 had no call to change my mind." 
 
 Berdel laughed. 
 
 "Is that all, Auntie?" she asked. "Why, 
 Jackadel has often played on his violin to me on 
 our porch in the morning, and you don't 
 
 "No, I don't," interrupted Aunt Di, more 
 sharply than she often spoke, "an' don't you 
 ever speak of yourself in the same breath with 
 her. I don't care how rich nor fine-mannered 
 a woman is, but there's something wrong when
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 41 
 
 she sits decked out in that way forenoons en- 
 ticiii' boys like Mac Caldwell away from their 
 work like a big yellow spider a-drawin' silly 
 flies into her web." 
 
 "But, Auntie, you mustn't be so prejudiced. 
 Mrs. Vandyne isn't a big yellow spider if she 
 is gay and worldly. As for Mac, he is a sterling 
 Christian, strong and true as he can be, and 
 never could be drawn into any spider's web. 
 You think so, too, don't you, Jack ?" 
 
 "I think," said Dr. Strong, rising and com- 
 ing around to her side, "that it is high time 
 you were back on your couch. You won't sleep 
 a wink to-night with all this romancing of Aunt 
 Di's in your head." 
 
 So saying he lifted her tenderly and carried 
 her back to her nest of pillows. 
 
 "But what is it really about Mrs. Vandyne 
 and Mac?" 
 
 "A good deal of gossip, Dell, and I fear some 
 truth. He seems to be fascinated by her, and 
 is there much more than he lets the home people 
 know, I imagine." 
 
 "But she is not a young woman, Jackadel. 
 She must be years older than Mac. Why, Garet 
 is eight or ten. I can't imagine what has got 
 into you people to be so suspicious. Aunt 
 Diana is usually quite indifferent to her neigh-
 
 42 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 bor's affairs, and as for you, Jackadel, you al- 
 ways see good in everybody. And you've been 
 so fond and proud of Mac." 
 
 ''I am still. We all are. And that is why it 
 hurts us to have him come under such an influ- 
 ence. ]STow, my darling girl, this must positively 
 be the last word on this subject, for to-night at 
 least. Are you comfortably arranged ?" 
 
 "Entirely so, thank you, Jackadel, and quite 
 ready for you to begin." 
 
 The doctor brought out his violin, and for 
 an hour Berdel listened to its soothing strains.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Ax KVKM.XG CALL. 
 
 THE last faint, sweet notes of Traiimerei 
 were dying' away when light! footsteps 
 were heard crossing- the veranda, and Violet 
 stood in the doorway, a slender white outline 
 against the dusk of the dimly-lighted hall. 
 
 "May we come in, Doctor ?" she begged softly. 
 "We won't make a bit of noise; and please go 
 on playing." 
 
 "I'm not asleep, Violet," spoke Berdel from 
 her corner before her brother could respond. 
 "Come over here, and, Jack, bring some more 
 light, so we can see each other." 
 
 "Good evening, Miss Violet," the doctor was 
 saying, as he led Violet across the dark room, 
 "And who is with yon? Mac, I judge, by the 
 size of him. How are yon, MacDonald ? Just 
 stand where you are a minute, will you, and I'll 
 fetch a lamp. Berdel and I have a heathenish 
 love for darkness sometimes, and forget to be 
 civilized." 
 
 By this time Aunt Diana appeared with a 
 lamp, which the doctor promptly took from her 
 and placed on the table.
 
 44 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "Thank you, Aunt Di," he said. 
 Miss Violet and 
 
 "My eyesight ain't failin' that I know of, 
 John B.," she remarked as she shook hands with 
 the two young people. "How does Miss Janet 
 do to-day, Violet ?" 
 
 "Oh! Jeanie is very well indeed, thank you, 
 Mrs. Bolton. One of my errands over here this 
 evening is to ask you for your recipe for spiced 
 currants for her. Ours are just ripe. Jeanie 
 wants to have some especially nice spiced ones, 
 and she thinks those you sent her last winter 
 the best she ever tasted." 
 
 With her usual happy tact, Violet had struck 
 just the right chord. A pleased expression stole 
 over Aunt Diana's face. 
 
 "I got that recipe from your grandmother, 
 Mary Berdel," she said. "She was a famous 
 housekeeper. Every thing she did was just 
 right. She wan't much older than you, Violet, 
 when she married John Berdel, 'n she lived to 
 be ninety. Girls in those days amounted to 
 something." 
 
 "And you think girls nowadays don't amount 
 to much ?" was Violet's merry retort. "But 
 they do, you know, Mrs. Bolton, and you'll say 
 so when I bring you some of the spiced currants, 
 for Jeanie is going to let me do them ; and who
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 45 
 
 knows but what I, too, shall become a famous 
 housekeeper !" 
 
 Aunt Diana was smiling broadly. For once 
 she had no answer ready, but hurried off to get 
 the recipe, while Violet turned to Berdel and 
 began a low-toned conversation with her. 
 
 Dr. Strong had listened to the exchange- of 
 words between Aunt Diana and Violet with a 
 quickly beating heart. What pictures they 
 brought before his fancy! The sweet, slim 
 grandmother in her bridal white at Violet's 
 age ; the sedate young matron, busy with house- 
 hold affairs ; the long row r s of currant bushes he 
 so well remembered at the homestead where his 
 childhood had been passed, yielding their crim- 
 son beauty to the deft hands of the mistress; 
 the toothsome compound stored away on pantry 
 shelves. And then another fair young maiden 
 using the ancient recipe. Might she also not 
 some day be arrayed in bridal white, and, as a 
 charming matron, fill a home, his home, God 
 willing, with gracious benediction? His eyes 
 were now fixed on her face as she bent towards 
 Berdel; his thoughts were full of her. Mac, 
 who was sitting silent at his side, quite forgot- 
 ten, glanced towards the doctor's handsome head 
 resting against the back of his favorite easy 
 chair.
 
 46 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "You are tired to-night, Dr. Strong," he 
 remarked, noticing his attitude. 
 
 A guilty flush crept to the brow of the older 
 
 man. 
 
 
 
 I was tired when I came in," he said, turn- 
 ing squarely away from the tempting vision at 
 his right, "but an hour with Berdel and with my 
 violin always refreshes me. Have you had a 
 busy day, MacDonald ?" 
 
 "Oh ! so-so. I was up at the Quarry with Mr. 
 Keith all the morning, trying to find how the 
 land lies with regard to the new store Hermann 
 and Company, of Standish, are talking of open- 
 ing up there. There seems to be a small but de- 
 termined element in its favor, with Jim Fowler 
 at its head. Then this afternoon I had Mrs. 
 Vandyne's new horse out for a gallop. You 
 should see it, Doctor. A finer creature never 
 wore saddle." 
 
 "I was over the other morning to see Garet, 
 and her mother took me out to the stable. Don 
 is a handsome animal, but I thought not quite 
 as amiable as a lady's horse should be." 
 
 "'Oh ! he has plenty of spirit," replied Mac, 
 laughing. "So has his mistress. She can man- 
 age him fast enough, lie's thoroughly broken 
 and only needs to be used. I have discovered 
 no ugly tricks about him."
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 47 
 
 "I hope not," said Dr. Strong, absently, but 
 with his keenest look fastened on Mac's counte- 
 nance. He had suddenly recalled his sister's 
 remark at the table, "They seem made for each 
 other," and he was weighing the youth in his 
 mind as he had never done before. What sort 
 of care would this beardless boy be able to take 
 of so precious a treasure as Violet ? In his rash 
 venturesomeness, his ignorance and inexperi- 
 ence, how could he cherish and guard her as such 
 a woman should be tenderly shielded ? How 
 and then the doctor pulled himself up with a 
 tight rein once more, and turned his chair a little 
 farther away from the two still chatting confi- 
 dentially. 
 
 "Has Mrs. Vandyne ridden Don yet ?" he in- 
 quired. 
 
 "No ; we are to go out in the morning." 
 
 "To-morrow ?" queried the doctor, looking at 
 a calendar hanging on the wall. "Isn't it the 
 20 th, the day for trustees' meeting at the 
 chapel ?" 
 
 "So it is. I had forgotten. Well, I'll get 
 somebody to take my place. Sturgis will. 
 There'll only be the minutes to read and a few 
 notes to take down. There isn't much business 
 on hand." 
 
 "Don't you think this matter of Hermann 
 and Company will come up ?"
 
 48 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "Possibly. But I really don't see what can 
 be done about that. I met young Hermann 
 over at Mrs. Vandyne's the other morning. He 
 says the store has got to come in compliance with 
 popular demand. Of course, he puts it rather 
 strong; naturally he would, as it is his father's 
 concern. But even if a majority is against it 
 when a hundred or two men want a thing, any- 
 thing, they ought to have some show." 
 
 "You wouldn't have said that about a tobacco 
 and liquor store a year ago, MacDonald," said 
 Dr. Strong, gravely, after a short silence. 
 
 This time it was Mac's turn to flush. 
 
 "Oh ! er well, perhaps not. But, you 
 know, a man gets to see things differently ; and, 
 Doctor, Mr. Keith can't run Sylvester as he did 
 the Quarry village when it was a village. There 
 are a thousand people up there now. They 
 simply won't stand it." 
 
 Violet had caught Keith's name and turned 
 quickly around, in time to hear his last words. 
 
 "And I'm not going to stand any such heresy 
 as that, Mac," she announced, smiling as she 
 rose. "Whatever are you and the doctor talk- 
 ing about? I think it high time I took you 
 home. Good-night, dear Miss Berdel. Wait 
 just a minute, Mac, until I run up to Mrs. Bol- 
 ton's room for the recipe."
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 49 
 
 She stood by Mac's side, tall and straight and 
 winsome as a sunbeam, while he adjusted a light 
 fleecy wrap about her head and shoulders. 
 
 "Good night, Dr. Strong; I'll bring you a 
 jar of spiced currants next time I come to re- 
 mind you of your grandmother," she said gaily 
 as she gave him her hand. Then, with an ex- 
 change of adieus between the men, they disap- 
 peared in the darkness of the thickly-wooded 
 walk. 
 
 Dr. Strong did not at once return to Berdel. 
 He stood for a long time on the veranda, all the 
 gladness of his look shadowed more and more 
 deeply by disturbing thoughts. 
 
 Mac had no sooner closed the gate than Violet 
 asked him a question : "What was that you were 
 saying to Dr. Strong, Mac, about the people up 
 at the Quarry not standing Mr. Keith ?" 
 
 "We were speaking of the store the Hermanns 
 are to open there. There is need for a larger 
 store than Mrs. Brien's. They propose to buy 
 the old Library Hall and put in a full stock of 
 goods all sorts dry goods, groceries, furni- 
 ture, shoes, hats, and soon making very much 
 such a place, though on a smaller scale, of course, 
 as Hitchcock's over in Standish. There'll be 
 patronage enough to support it. I don't believe 
 you know, Violet, how the Quarry is growing. 
 4
 
 50 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 I heard Mr. Stockton say a few days ago that 
 he should employ a hundred new men after the 
 first of August. And that means a lot more new 
 houses this fall." 
 
 "Why doesn't Mr. Keith approve of this new 
 store ?" inquired Violet, by way of reply. 
 
 "Because tobacco and beer will be sold there, 
 I suppose." 
 
 A long drawn and very expressive "Oh !" was 
 Violet's first answer, quickly followed by: "But 
 you don't think that is right either, do you, 
 Mac ? You didn't once, I know." 
 
 Mac felt an uncomfortable twinge at this 
 second reference within an hour to his former 
 views. But he responded easily enough : "Oh ! 
 of course, I think it is a great deal better for 
 some men not to smoke and drink. But I be- 
 believe, too, that one man can't dictate to another 
 about these things. Every one is responsible for 
 himself. Let every one then judge for himself." 
 
 "But, Mac, that isn't the way Christ taught 
 us to do, is it ? Suppose you had not taken the 
 glass away from Andy that day. Maybe no one 
 else would ever have cared, and he wouldn't be 
 the splendid strong man for all right things he 
 is now. Don't you think we really are our 
 brother's keepers in some ways ?" 
 
 ? Violet," said Mac, with more impati-
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 51 
 
 ence in his voice than she had ever heard before, 
 don't you, too, turn preacher. It's bad enough 
 to have Mr. Keith and Louise keeping watch of 
 a fellow all the time." 
 
 "Why, Mac," began Violet, with some spirit, 
 "I was only speaking of the store and 
 
 "Yes, dear, I know," interrupted Mac, lay- 
 ing his hand over hers, swiftly penitent for his 
 rough speech. "And I was a bear to be cross. 
 Forgive me and tell me how you like Lorna 
 Doone. I saw you reading it this morning." 
 
 "I think Lorna is a sweet girl, but John Ridd 
 is fine!" replied Violet, appeased at once, as 
 she always was by a kind word. "He is so simple 
 and so strong for what he thinks to be right, like 
 Mr. Keith or Dr. Strong, don't you think, 
 Mac?" 
 
 "I think he was uncommonly strong with his 
 fists on occasion," laughed Mac. "I don't know 
 that I admire him particularly, except for his 
 splendid physique. And that reminds me of 
 Don, Mrs. Vandyne's new horse. We'll ride 
 over in the morning and show him to you." 
 
 "Is he named for you, Mac ?" 
 
 "Yes. Wasn't it nice of her to do that ?" he 
 cried. "I tell you, Violet, she is the best friend 
 I ever had."
 
 52 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 Violet was so amazed at this unexpected re- 
 mark that she stood quite still in the pathway. 
 
 "Why, MacDonald Caldwell, what do you 
 mean ?" she exclaimed. "You haven't known 
 her but a few weeks, and yet think her a better 
 friend than Mr. Keith, or Jeanie, or Mrs. Eliot, 
 or Louise, whom you've known always." 
 
 Mac couldn't help laughing at the horrified 
 way in which she spoke, but he had the grace at 
 the same time to blush hotly in the darkness. 
 
 "Oh! well, perhaps I don't mean quite that, 
 Violet," he explained, rather lamely. "But, you 
 see, all the home folks never seem to< think I'm 
 grown up. Why, I'll be twenty-one next Octo- 
 ber." 
 
 Violet glanced up at the tall, finely developed 
 figure of her companion. 
 
 "You're a good deal larger than you were 
 when you came to Sylvester Hall, taller and 
 broader, and you didn't have then that beautiful 
 mustache you are so fond of, but I don't see as 
 you are any more 'grown up' in other ways," 
 she said, saucily, as they ascended the front steps 
 at Little Acorns. "If you really are, though, I 
 must be more respectful! Good night, Mr. 
 Caldwell!" 
 
 She swept him a mocking courtesy and was 
 gone. Her merry laugh rang in his ears during
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 53 
 
 his walk across the lawn to his own home, and 
 some of her direct words lingered in his 
 thoughts. 
 
 But, though Violet could jest while with him, 
 her heart was heavy. For the first time since 
 the bright day four years gone by, when Mr. 
 Keith had brought him, a tall, slender lad, to 
 her English home, a cold little doubt crept in 
 beside her love for him and chilled her with a 
 vague apprehension of coming sorrow.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE PROBLEM. 
 
 "Little Acorns Mission Chapel" had 
 -L been wonderfully blessed during the 
 nearly four years of its life. Forty members 
 were received by Mr. Keith on the beautiful 
 October day of its dedication. Now the roll 
 numbered two hundred, more than one-third of 
 whom were workmen of the Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 Robert Stockton, chief superintendent of the 
 Quarry Works, was an earnest Christian, who 
 had, so far as possible, employed only such men 
 as were willing to be temperate in their habits 
 and to observe the Sabbath as a day of worship 
 and of rest. With Mr. Keith's active co-opera- 
 tion, this had not been a difficult matter to con- 
 trol during the early days of the Quarry vil- 
 lage; but since the capacity of the works had 
 been greatly enlarged a number of families had 
 come in who held quite different views. Little 
 by little their influence had extended among 
 those of their neighbors not very decided either 
 way until an undesirable condition of things was 
 fast being established, and both Mr. Keith and
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 55 
 
 Mr. Stockton felt that something must be done 
 to counteract it. 
 
 Hence the special meeting of the trustees of 
 the chapel to which Dr. Strong made reference 
 in conversation with Mac. It was called for ten 
 o'clock on the morning of July 26th. Promptly 
 at the hour all were present with the exception 
 of MacDonald Caldwell. They were five in 
 number Mr. Standish, who had given the 
 money for building the chapel ; Miss Janet Syl- 
 vester, w r ho first began mission work in the hill 
 before the present quarry works were estab- 
 lished, and for whose home the chapel had been 
 named ; Dr. Strong, who, during his three years' 
 residence in the neighborhood, had been a 
 staunch friend and supporter of the little 
 church; Andy Graham, a foreman at the 
 quarry, a Agged Scotchman, once a hopeless 
 drunkard, and MacDonald Caldwell. Through 
 MacDonald's instrumentality Andy's reforma- 
 tion began, and by God's continued grace it had 
 kept on until he w y as a power for good among 
 the men around him. The two latter had been 
 the first converts and the first to unite with the 
 chapel at its dedication. 
 
 Keith Dennet, pastor of the church from its 
 start, an ex-officio member of the board, had 
 been invited to preside at this special meeting.
 
 56 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 Mr. Stockton and Robert Graham, Andy's 
 father, the two elders, and James Sturgis and 
 Henry Brown, the two deacons, had been invited 
 also to attend its session. For the perplexing 
 question of the proposed new store was to be the 
 chief subject of discussion, and every one felt 
 that the united wisdom of the entire corps of 
 church officers was needed for the solution of the 
 problem. 
 
 Mac's absence was noted by them all, but no 
 comment was made except that James Sturgis 
 said he had been requested by Mac to take his 
 pla.ce as secretary. 
 
 "Let us ask God to be with us, brethren," said 
 Keith, rising. 
 
 "Dear Father in heaven, we thank thee for 
 the countless blessings thou dost richly shower 
 upon us. Accept our praise for aft thy mercies 
 and hear our prayer for a continuance of thy 
 love. Wilt thou be with us to-day in an es- 
 pecial way. Give us, each one, thy Holy Spirit 
 to quicken and direct our thoughts, to strengthen 
 our hearts, to lead us to all right decisions. Thou 
 knowest, dear Father, the whole matter that lies 
 before us. Thou hast wrought great things here 
 through us. Help us to feel sure that thou wilt 
 still use us for 'the helping of these needy souls 
 and for the glory of thine own great name.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 57 
 
 "Take from us now everything which stands 
 between us and thee. Make us strong and will- 
 ing and eager to do thy holy will, for Jesus' 
 sake. Amen." 
 
 "I would suggest, Mr. Chairman," said Mr. 
 Standish, after a moment's silence, "that we dis- 
 pense with all formalities for the present at 
 least, and talk over the matter which has called 
 us together heart to heart. . And for one, I 
 would like to hear first from Brother Stockton 
 as to the precise state of affairs at the Sylvester 
 Quarry. How many families, do you think, 
 Brother Stockton, are likely to sympathize with 
 us and to work with us against the opening of a 
 liquor shop in the village ?" 
 
 "There are now on our pay-roll one hundred 
 and sixty-five names ; nearly all the men are 
 married, and, I suppose, they represent an ag- 
 gregate of say five hundred souls. I think we 
 might call that number the maximum for the 
 village, though it is commonly estimated at 
 nearer one thousand, taking in the two or three 
 outlying settlements over the mountain, settle- 
 ments which will patronize the Sylvester stores 
 very largely in preference to those in Standish. 
 
 "Of these one hundred families fifty are 
 represented on our church roll, and twenty are 
 regular attendants at, at least, one service a day
 
 58 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 with children in the Sunday-school. That leaves 
 say thirty families on whom we have as yet no 
 hold. A few of these are among the older em- 
 ployees of the Quarry, but most of them have 
 come to us within the last year. They are 
 foreigners, largely Germans, Italians and Irish 
 from the abandoned stone works on Monk's 
 Head Mountain over in the next county. While 
 they have proved themselves good workmen in 
 the main, they are a rough lot. From the first 
 they have shown signs of displeasure at the ab- 
 sence of grog-shops in the village, and have 
 grumbled openly at being obliged to go so* far as 
 Standish for tobacco and liquor. I have even 
 heard them boast that there would soon be ac- 
 commodation near at hand, and I have no doubt 
 that Hermann and Company have also heard 
 their talk and are catering to this element, while 
 apparently setting up a store for general mer- 
 chandise." 
 
 "It appears then," remarked Mr. Standisn, 
 "that we stand about two to one. Can the two- 
 thirds be counted on to fight against the sale of 
 tobacco and liquor should so decided a stand be- 
 come necessary ?" 
 
 "I hardly know, Mr. Standish," was Mr. 
 Stockton's rather hesitating reply. "They 
 ought to do so, judging by their previous course,
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 59 
 
 but public opinion is a pretty tough thing to 
 run against sometimes. I think that we can, 
 without doubt or reverse, count on every one of 
 oiir church members, can we not, Mr. Keith?" 
 
 Keith smiled slightly. 
 
 "That surely should go without saying, 
 Brother Stockton. But to make assurance 
 doubly sure, here is the list. Let us get a con- 
 sensus of opinion. I will read each name. If 
 no one expresses a doubt, we will consider that 
 member as with us. Are you all agreed to this ?" 
 
 As no dissenting voice was heard, the roll was 
 carefully gone over. 
 
 But three names were challenged, those of a 
 father and two sons, Kirby by name, who had 
 been irregular in attendance at Sabbath service 
 for some time, and who were known to be keep- 
 ing bad company. 
 
 "The father's the worst of the lot," said Andy 
 Graham. "There's a wee bit mither, puir soul, 
 who keeps somethin' o' a haud on the lads. I'll 
 go over there the nicht they live beyond the 
 ridge an' mebbe the dear Lord'll gie me a 
 word to help them." 
 
 "If they are not looked after speedily, I'm 
 afraid they never will become interested in 
 church matters/'said Mr. Sturgis, a tall, spare 
 man, austere in feature.
 
 60 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "Nay, nay, Brother Sturgis, dinna say that. 
 If the Master could have his patience wi' Peter 
 an' wi' Andy Graham, he's got plenty for a' the 
 rest o' mankind, praise his name !" said Andy, 
 earnestly. 
 
 "What do yon think, Andy, as to the general 
 sentiment among the men ?" asked Mr. Stock- 
 ton. 
 
 "There's not more than twenty or thirty of 
 'em that wants to get their tobacco and heer 
 every nicht, sir ; but they're a nasty lot beggin' 
 your pardon, Miss Janet and there'll be trouble 
 from 'em sooner or later." 
 
 "Why wouldn't it be a good idea," suggested 
 Janet, "to discharge all that sort of men and so 
 get rid of the disturbing element." 
 
 "And then ?" queried Dr. Strong, smiling. 
 
 "Why, get some more in their places, good 
 men, as has been done heretofore." 
 
 "I'm afraid you do not realize, Miss Sylves- 
 ter," said Mr. Stockton, "how much the good- 
 ness of the 'heretofore' has been due to the lov- 
 ing labors of Mr. Keith and yourself. When 
 there were few families whom you could and 
 did reach personally, it was comparatively an 
 easy matter to control public sentiment and so 
 k ep the most of them interested. For the last 
 few months this has been impracticable. Were
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 61 
 
 we to discharge these last comers, the chances are 
 against our being able to fill their places with 
 such men as we would choose." 
 
 "That is true enough on general principles, 
 Brother Stockton," replied Mr. Standish. "But 
 why may we not follow Miss Janet's sugges- 
 tion in part, if not in toto? If a dozen of the 
 strongest advocates of the sale of tobacco and 
 liquor in Sylvester were to be discharged on 
 that ground, and the reason clearly stated to the 
 whole corps of workmen, while at the same time 
 the management of the Quarry should announce 
 that no man using tobacco or liquor would be 
 employed by them in the future, would the moral 
 effect not be just what we desire ?" 
 
 "Undoubtedly," was Mr. Stockton's response. 
 "But at the same time more than half of the men 
 would leave us. Your broom is a very sweeping 
 one, Brother Standish. Walk through the 
 Quarry village some evening about sundown and 
 count the pipes on the front-door stones. '"No 
 liquor' might possibly do for a shibboleth for 
 the Sylvester Stone Works ; 'no tobacco' would 
 shut them down." 
 
 "I fully agree with Mr. Standish that such a 
 condition as he suggests should be attached to 
 the employment of every man at* the Quarry," 
 said Dr. Strong, speaking with unusual earnest-
 
 62 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 ness. "And I hope to live to see the day when it 
 is done. But for the present generation of mid- 
 dle-aged men such a question is not to be con- 
 sidered. With the children we may and should 
 do much. But in regard to the use of liquor, I 
 see no reason why a strong hand should not im- 
 mediately be taken. How much of the stock 
 
 > 
 
 of the Sylvester Quarry Works is represented 
 right here ? Is there any objection to a state- 
 ment, Mr. Standish?" 
 
 "None in the world, with your permission, 
 Janet. I believe, Doctor, that thirty-five per 
 cent, of the stock is owned by Miss Sylvester 
 and myself; fifteen per cent, by John IT. Mor- 
 ris, of Standish ; thirty per cent, by the heirs 
 of Dana Brooks, of New York City, and the re- 
 maining twenty per cent, is scattering." 
 
 "I thank you. John Morris will vote with 
 you and Miss Janet. He's sound on the liquor 
 question. That will give fifty per cent. Now, 
 why can't we get control of enough of the re- 
 maining stock to give us a majority ? Five 
 shares would be enough, would it not?" 
 
 "No; ten. We require two-thirds vote for a 
 majority." 
 
 "Well, ten. At what is it selling now ?" 
 
 "Our last sales, two months ago, were made at 
 $125."
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 63 
 
 "Very well. I will take two shares of the 
 ten necessary to give us control. Provided, of 
 course, this plan meets the approbation of all 
 concerned," the doctor concluded with a smile. 
 
 "I'll tak one," said Robert Graham, promptly. 
 
 "Before following out any further Dr. 
 Strong's practical suggestion," remarked Keith, 
 "might it not be well for a committee from this 
 meeting to wait on Hermann and Company and 
 confer with them on the matter ? It may be that 
 when they fully understand our position they 
 will make a compromise, at least so far as the 
 sale of liquor is concerned." 
 
 "I fear the wish is father to the thought in 
 your case, Brother Dennet," responded Mr. 
 Stockton. "Hermann and Compan- is not that 
 sort of a corporation. They have made all their 
 money from whiskey, disguise it as they may. 
 I understand, too, that the late Mr. Vandyne 
 was one of the company, and that Mrs. Vandyne 
 came out here with an eye to business." 
 
 "Well, brethren," said Keith, rather hastily, 
 "our business is to get rid of this plague spot up 
 at the Quarry. What is your opinion as to the 
 advisability of an interview with Hermann and 
 Company ?" 
 
 "It can do us no harm, Mr. Keith," Mr. 
 Standish made answer. "I will move, sir, that
 
 64 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 a committee of three, of which our pastor shall 
 be chairman, be appointed from this meeting to 
 lay the matter in all its interests before Her- 
 mann and Company, with a view to the non- 
 opening of a liquor department in their pro- 
 posed store at the Sylvester Quarry, and to re- 
 port at our next meeting." 
 
 The motion was seconded, put and carried, 
 and Mr. Stockton, with James Sturgis, ap- 
 pointed on the committee. 
 
 "And now, brethren," spoke up Robert Gra- 
 ham, "I'd lak to have somethin' done about Dr. 
 Strong's notion o' gittin' control o' the whole 
 business oop ta t' Quarry. To my mind that's 
 the quickest 'n surest way o' managin' the whole 
 business. Your ain coo is handier to milk than 
 your neighbor's. There's nae half way work in 
 the devil. Gi' him a crack to peep through an' 
 he'll wiggle his whole pesky body in. We can't 
 fight him off in any palaverin'. So lang as ane 
 drop o' whiskey can be found oop ta t' Quarry, 
 so lang we'll hae to fight. I'll tak two o' them 
 shares, brethren." 
 
 "I'll buy five," said Janet, quickly. 
 
 "And I five," added Mr. StanJish. 
 
 "That's the dear Lord's ain wurk," exclaimed 
 Robert, jubilantly. "]SToo, brethren, we'll hae
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 65 
 
 four mair than enough o' t' votes to decide 
 things. Is that richt, Dochter ?" 
 
 '"'That is right, Kobert," Dr. Strong declared. 
 ''Xow the next question is, How can the pur- 
 chase be made, and how soon ?" 
 
 "I will gladly undertake that," volunteered 
 ]\Ir. Standish. "We have a meeting on the fif- 
 teenth of August, and it can doubtless be ar- 
 ranged then. Let me suggest, however, that the 
 matter be kept entirely to ourselves. We have a 
 wily foe to meet, and cannot be too constantly 
 on our guard." 
 
 So it was settled, and the meeting was ad- 
 journed until the fifteenth of August.
 
 CHAPTEK VI. 
 
 A MORNING RIDE. 
 
 LEAVING the chapel, the group of friends 
 separated, Mr. Staridish and Dr. Strong 
 riding in one direction, while Mr. Stockton and 
 the others walked up to the Quarry. 
 
 Keith and Janet strolled slowly down the 
 mountain, talking over matters recently under 
 discussion. 
 
 Suddenly she asked, "Keith, where was Mae 
 this morning ?" 
 
 Scarcely had she uttered the words before 
 merry voices were heard, and a party of eques- 
 trians came galloping towards them. 
 
 Foremost were Mac and Mrs. Vandyne; 
 closely following came Mark Standish with his 
 sister, while Violet and Louise were at some 
 little distance behind. 
 
 Caps were raised, bows and smiles and a -few 
 gay words exchanged, then the lively cavalcade 
 passed on. 
 
 "Your question is answered, Jeanie," re- 
 marked Keith. 
 
 "It is strange he should have forgotten the 
 meeting."
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 67 
 
 "He did not forget, Jeanie, Did you not 
 hear Stnrgis say that Mac asked him to take his 
 place ?" 
 
 "Yes so he did. It is not like Mac to do 
 anything of this kind. Do you think the girls 
 knew of the meeting ?" 
 
 "Probably not unless Louise might. She 
 usually knows most things that are going on." 
 
 Janet gave a swift glance at Keith's troubled 
 face. 
 
 "There !" she thought. "He's all down again 
 over Mac. I cannot understand it. I wish I 
 Ladn't said what I did." 
 
 "Keith," she said aloud, "Marcia and I want 
 to get up a little entertainment for the chapel 
 children, all the Quarry children, in fact, as a 
 s rt of preliminary to the organization of a 
 Loyal Legion. We thought of having a supper 
 on the lawn at Little Acorns and some music. 
 I know Dr. Strong will play something himself 
 and will arrange a little orchestra, Mark and 
 Joe Stockton and one or two others. We'll have 
 Mac give a short talk on his trip through the 
 Great Lakes. You know he has a quantity of 
 views, and his stereopticon can easily be put in 
 order. And then we want you to give them a 
 wee temperance talk. What do you think of our 
 program ?"
 
 68 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "It is just the thing, Jeanie, as your pro- 
 grams always are. A fine idea. When will it 
 all come off ?" 
 
 "Oh! in a week or so. There's nothing spe- 
 cial to prepare. Have you anything to sug- 
 gest?" 
 
 "N-no. Unless we could get that ventrilo- 
 quist friend of Mac's over from Wiltonburg. He 
 is capital, and the children would be wild over 
 his performances." 
 
 "You are a genius, Keith. I'll ask Mac for 
 his address the first thing when he comes home." 
 
 "If you could get Andy Graham to speak to 
 the children, Jeanie, it would be far more help- 
 ful to them than anything I could say. You 
 haven't an idea how they love him, nor how 
 great an influence he has over them." 
 
 "They love you too, Keith," responded Janet, 
 with jealous fondness. 
 
 "Yes, surely; but not as they do Andy. He 
 is a wonderful man, Jeanie, wonderful. I often 
 think of our Saviour himself when I see Andy 
 with an ailing or hurt or unhappy child in his 
 arms, as frequently happens. ISTo mother could 
 be gentler, and his rugged face is almost divine 
 in its tender compassion and loving eagerness 
 to comfort. When I think of what he was five 
 years ago, and see how he has developed every
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 69 
 
 Christian grace until he is far beyond any man 
 I ever knew of twice his years, I am dumb with 
 wonder." 
 
 "Why should you be, Keith, when you know 
 that there is no limit to God's willingness to 
 give. Our receiving is limited by our willing- 
 ness to receive." 
 
 "Yes, that is it, Jeanie. Jesus Christ emptied 
 himself of self more than any other man ever 
 did, and so he received of the Holy Spirit more 
 abundantly. Well, there's very little in Andy 
 Graham that doesn't come straight from his 
 heavenly Father. He is a tower of strength to 
 me in many ways." 
 
 "How can I get him to speak to the children, 
 do you think ?" 
 
 "Tell him your object. If there is one thing 
 more than another he is interested in, it is the 
 temperance question. I believe he would give 
 his life-blood willingly if he could keep liquor 
 out of Sylvester." 
 
 Meanwhile Violet was saying to Louise as 
 they rode along: "I wonder what is going on 
 this morning! First we met your father and 
 Dr. Strong, then Keith and Jeanie, coming 
 from the direction of the chapel ; and now here 
 are Mr. Stockton and Robert and Andy Gra- 
 ham and several others going from it the other 
 wav."
 
 70 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "I don't know. Oh ! yes, there was a meeting 
 of the trustees to talk over the new store up at 
 the Quarry. I think Mac must have forgotten 
 it, though it isn't like him to forget such things. 
 I'll ask him." 
 
 She spoke to Brownie and rode on to Mac's 
 side. 
 
 "Mac, did you forget to go to the trustees' 
 meeting at the chapel this morning ?" 
 
 Violet heard the question which straightway 
 recalled to her Mac's ungracious remark about 
 Louise the evening before, but the wind blew 
 his reply from her. 
 
 "He says they didn't need him," she repeated, 
 rejoining^ Violet. 
 
 "I guess he means that he didn't want to go," 
 laughed Violet. "It must be that Mac is get- 
 ting lazy. He hasn't felt disposed to do several 
 things I've asked of him lately." 
 
 "Well, he is busy, too, doing a lot of copying 
 for papa." 
 
 "What a graceful rider Mrs. Vandyne is, 
 Louise! And how well she manages that fiery 
 horse ! Did you know she had named him Don, 
 after Mac ?" 
 
 The color in Louise's cheeks deepened as she 
 quietly answered that she did not know it. 
 
 It was on the tip of Violet's tongue to repeat
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 71 
 
 what Mac had said about Mrs. Vandyne being 
 his best friend, but something in Louise's ex- 
 pression checked her. 
 
 "I wonder how old she is !" she said instead. 
 "She looks like a girl, but Gay must be ten 
 years old." 
 
 "Garet is a dear little thing, Violet, I feel 
 sorry for her, for it always seems to me as if 
 she were lonely. She says the strangest things 
 sometimes. Only the other night she asked me 
 if I thought Auntie Jean would sell Hilda, and 
 how much she would charge. 'My mamma,' she 
 said, 'has heaps of money, and will buy me any- 
 thing, and I would a great deal rather have a 
 little girl than ever so many parrots. I had a 
 parrot once, and it could talk, but it couldn't 
 love.' " 
 
 "Poor little girlie ! I wish she could be more 
 with Jeanie and Hilda." 
 
 "What are you two girls chattering about so 
 fast?" called back Mark Standish. "Bide on 
 up here with the rest of us." 
 
 Mac and Mrs. Vandyne had stopped their 
 horses, and were taking a look at the fine view 
 off across the Ammonet Valley. 
 
 On the opposite horizon Manoosic mountain 
 stretched its curving length, broken here and 
 there by sharp peaks piercing the blue sky.
 
 72 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 Either side of the winding Ammonet river lay 
 fields of grass, orchards and meadows. 
 
 A little further ride up the mountain would 
 hring the Quarry in sight. Sounds from the 
 busy place came to the ears of the riders. 
 
 "Let us have a peep at the workmen," sug- 
 gested Mrs. Vandyne, when she had exhausted 
 her stock of adjectives over the pictures spread 
 out before them. "I asked Mr. Stockton, not 
 long ago, to take me over the Quarry, but he 
 politely declined to do so. 'Very well,' I thought 
 to myself, 'I'll ask Mac Caldwell sometime; I 
 know he'll not refuse me anything I ask him.' ' 
 
 This was said with a slight but flattering 
 emphasis on the pronouns, accompanied by a 
 brilliant and captivating smile, while the so.t 
 di.rk eyes looked straight into Mac's. 
 
 He hesitated a moment. 
 
 "I'd take you with all the pleasure in the 
 world, Mrs. Vandyne, but it is against the rules 
 of the Quarry. Even Louise and Violet have 
 never been allowed to go there when the men 
 are at work. There is always more or less danger 
 from the blasting, you know." 
 
 "But we need not go near enough to be hurt, 
 And I have such a desire to see how it is all 
 done. I really must. I'll take all the respon- 
 slbilitv. Come!"
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 73 
 
 Again the well-modulated, persuasive tones, 
 which Mac found it harder than he would have 
 believed to resist, fell softly on his ear. Al- 
 ready she had turned Don's head up the road. 
 
 "I can't hear to refuse you, dear Mrs. Van- 
 dyne," he exclaimed, laying his hand on her 
 bridle. "But it is not safe for you to go on 
 Don. "Wait till another time, and I'll bring you 
 in the carriage. There is blasting continually, 
 and there's no telling how Don will take it." 
 
 "Don will do as his mistress tells him," was 
 the laughing answer, "and the blasting can be 
 stopped for a few minutes, nicht wahr? if it 
 proves too startling for him. I am going at any 
 rate. Will you come ?" 
 
 Her beautiful face, lighted now by a mock- 
 ing smile, was turned back to him, and a tanta- 
 lizing laugh rang out, as she dashed away. Mac 
 followed instantly, calling back to Mark, "Don't 
 bring the girls." 
 
 "I should say not," was Mark's quiet com- 
 ment. "Mac seems to be losing his senses." 
 
 "I think Mrs. Yandyne is the one who is los- 
 ing her senses," said Louise, quickly. "Why 
 does she care to go up there among all those 
 men ? And what could Mac do but follow her ? 
 You surely wouldn't have left her to go alone, 
 Mark?"
 
 74 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "If I had, I guess she wouldn't have gone 
 very far/' that wise lad replied. 
 
 Violet turned on him a beaming look. 
 
 "Good for you, Mark," she cried. "Of course 
 she wouldn't. Mac has such a tender heart he 
 can't bear to hurt anybody's feelings." 
 
 "How do you suppose she will make out with 
 Andy ?" Mark inquired of nobody in particular. 
 "He's the foreman, you know, and has orders 
 not to admit any one without a pass from Mr. 
 Stockton." 
 
 "Perhaps they will arrive before the others 
 do," suggested Marcia. 
 
 "Well, you may be sure that whoever Andy 
 left in his place will be stricter even than Andy 
 himself. He has his men in fine discipline. I 
 heard my grandfather say only yesterday that 
 half the success of the Quarry was due to Andy 
 Graham." 
 
 "And all he is is due to Mac," said Louise, 
 her eye kindling at the thought. 
 
 "It seems odd, doesn't it, that Andy is the 
 one now to straighten Mac out ?" was Mark's 
 unexpected rejoinder. 
 
 "Straighten Mac out?" quoted Louise, indig- 
 nantly. "What in the world do you mean, 
 Mark?" 
 
 "Why, isn't Andy to be the one who will tell
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 75 
 
 Mrs. Vandyne that she can't ride about through 
 the works at her own sweet will, and won't that 
 be just the same as telling Mac that he ought to 
 have known better than to bring her there, as he 
 had ?" 
 
 "]STow, Mark, it isn't Mac's fault at all. He 
 had no idea when he started out with her that 
 she would want to go there. They came over 
 to show Don to \ r iolet just as we had gone to 
 ask her to ride with us, and we all came to- 
 gether without any special place in view to go 
 to." Louise spoke with a good deal of decision. 
 
 "Oh ! well, Louise, I won't quarrel with you 
 over Mac. We all know he can't do wrong in 
 your eyes. But when I choose a companion for 
 a ride it won't be a person who is subject to 
 whims and things." 
 
 Again Violet laughed. 
 
 "Only hear him, girls ! One would think 
 him fifty at the very least, Mark, dear, here is 
 a little poem for you to cogitate over some time : 
 
 " 'When a woman will, she will, 
 
 An' you may depend on 't ; 
 When she won't, she won't, 
 And there 's the end on 't.' 
 
 "Let's go down and see Miss Berdel a little 
 while, all of us." 
 
 "I promised Mamma I wouldn't stay out
 
 76 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 long," said Marcia. "She needs me at home 
 this morning." 
 
 "I'll stay with you then, Marcia," announced 
 Mark. "Suppose we go around by the lily pond 
 and get some lilies for Mamma." They gal- 
 loped off to the right, while Violet and Louise 
 took the shady road leading down the mountain 
 towards Bird's Nest, as the Strongs called their 
 cosy home. 
 
 After Mac had overtaken Mrs. Vandyne, he 
 rode beside her in silence, rather perplexed as 
 to what was to be done. 
 
 During the six weeks and more since he had 
 known her he had been growing more and more 
 fascinated by her beauty, her gracious manner, 
 and most of all by the deference she paid him 
 and the unfailing sympathy she showed him for 
 his opinions on all subjects but one. He did not 
 then realize it, but he afterwards recalled the 
 fact that he never spoke with her concerning 
 anything connected with his spiritual life. 
 
 It was Mac's first acquaintance with a woman 
 of the world. He admired her beauty ardently, 
 the brilliance of her intellect as well as the keen- 
 ness of her satire attracted him ; he felt the mag- 
 netism of her personality. Had any one at- 
 tempted to convince him of other phases of her 
 complex character, he would have shrunk back,
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 77 
 
 appalled, and refused to believe what he heard. 
 
 And he impulsive, generous, noble, impres- 
 sionable, fine his character was unrolled before 
 her experienced eye as a map. She was incap- 
 able of understanding the strong points of a 
 nature like his ; its weaknesses she knew by heart 
 before she had been with him an hour. For 
 purposes of her own, she was playing on them 
 deftly, unscrupulously, with no thought or care 
 that the beautiful instrument of a human heart 
 would be marred under her touch. 
 
 As they drew nearer the lower entrance to the 
 Quarry, Mac made one more effort to induce her 
 to give up her visit there. But in vain. With 
 a gay retort she turned him off and leaned to- 
 WLrds Andy, who stood at her horse's head. 
 
 "Good-morning, Mr. Graham!" she began, 
 with suave courtesy. "I've been asking Mac f o 
 take me through the Quarry, but he thinks it 
 may be dangerous. What is your opinion ?" 
 
 Andy gave a keen, comprehensive glance at 
 the graceful figure on the pawing horse. His 
 hat was in his hand, but no answering smile 
 brightened his face. He moved nearer to Mac. 
 
 "Have you a pass, Master Mac ?" he asked. 
 
 "No, Andy," answered Mac, wondering why 
 he should feel so much like a very small boy. 
 "I T we, that is"
 
 78 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "Oh! never mind trying to explain, Mac/' 
 said Mrs. Vandyne, coming to the rescue. "The 
 fact is, Mr. Graham, he's been trying to dissuade 
 me from coming, says it's against the rules or 
 some other equally silly thing. Now, you know, 
 there are always exceptions to all rules." 
 
 "Not at a quarry/' ma'am, when there's such 
 work goin' on as we're doin' to-day. Mr. Mac is 
 right. It's no place for ladies, nor horses either 
 like yours, ma'am." 
 
 "But you'll surely let us in, now that we've 
 ridden all the way up here, won't you, Mr. Gra- 
 ham ? We'll just ride quickly through without 
 stopping at all or we'll only go to the top of that 
 hill and look down. Come up, Don." 
 
 She spoke softly to her horse and gave the 
 reins a swift jerk, her idea being to pass Andy 
 before he knew it, feeling certain that he would 
 not prevent Mac's following. 
 
 But, quick as she was, a hand of steel was 
 quicker, and Don was thrown on his haunches. 
 Then Andy turned him and led him a few paces 
 down the road. 
 
 "Gude-mornin' to you, ma'am ; gude-mornin', 
 Master Mac," was all he said, standing there, 
 cap in hand. 
 
 Mrs. Vandyne was furious, but wise enough 
 to curb her anger in Mac's presence. They rode
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 79 
 
 on without speaking for some distance. Mac 
 was angry, too, but lie knew that nothing he 
 could do or say would move Andy a hair's 
 breadth, and for his companion's sake he re- 
 frained from saying what he felt. 
 
 "You seem to have a man of deeds, not 
 words, to guard the quarry gate," she said at 
 length when sure that her voice was under con- 
 trol. 
 
 "I never knew Andy to be quite so rude," 
 was Mac's response, in instinctive defense of the 
 Scotchman's summary proceedings. Mac had 
 not heard the low-spoken word to Don which did 
 not escape Andy's alert ears. 
 
 "Oh! well, that class of people never know 
 their places." The sneering words jarred on 
 Mac, but were speedily forgotten when she 
 added, in her most winning tones, "Now come 
 home with me to luncheon, and let us forget all 
 this disagreeable business. Marie is making a 
 delicious salad. But we'll have our ride through 
 the quarry yet, you see !" 
 
 With a roguish glance she challenged him to 
 a race, and off they flew. 
 
 Just before reaching Bird's Nest they met 
 Louise and Violet returning from their call on 
 Miss Berdel. 
 
 "O Mac!" said Louise, "sister wants to see
 
 80 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 you when you get home. I forgot to tell you be- 
 fore." 
 
 "All right, but I'm not coining home until 
 after luncheon. I'll be there by two o'clock." . 
 
 "Or three or four," chimed in Mrs. Van- 
 dyne. "You know we have that book to finish 
 to-day." 
 
 Again Mac's words about Mrs. Vandyne be- 
 ing his best friend came back to Violet, and this 
 time she repeated them to Louise. 
 
 "Can you imagine how it is he feels so, 
 Louise ? I think it is dreadful, don't you ?" 
 
 "I'd rather not talk about it, if you please, 
 Violet," said Louise, so gently and so sadly that 
 the tears sprang to Violet's eyes. 
 
 "Well, there's one thing sure," she declared 
 vehemently, "I'm going to have a talk with 
 MaeDonald C aid well. Nobody else seems to be 
 doing a thing, and when it comes to your being 
 unhappy about him it's high time somebody 
 did." 
 
 Louise watched Violet in amazement during 
 the delivery of this little speech. Surprise, dis- 
 may, and finally amusement crept over her face 
 in succession, but amusement tarried. 
 
 Violet's fierce wordis, uttered in the most 
 musical of voices, seemed so at variance with her 
 fair, sweet face and loving nature.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 81 
 
 "There!" she went on, drawing a breath of 
 relief, "I feel better now, that I see your dimples 
 coming, you dear Louise." 
 
 "I wish you could see yourself turning mentor 
 to Mac," laughed Louise. "I'd as soon think of 
 a bit of mignonette putting out thorns. You 
 can't scold if you try, dear, and, besides, the way 
 to manage Mac is not to preach him out of a 
 thing, but to love him out." 
 
 Violet looked curiously at her friend. 
 
 "Where did you learn that, Louise?" she 
 asked, drawing Beauty nearer to Brownie. 
 
 "In my heart," was the quiet answer. 
 
 "Well, then, we'd all better begin loving hiui 
 as hard as we can," announced Violet, with an 
 air of conviction.
 
 CHAPTEK VII. 
 
 AT THE VANDYKE COTTAGE. 
 
 "T WONDER how Don takes fences," re- 
 
 JL marked Mrs. Vandyne, after the girls had 
 left them. "I've a notion to try that one on 
 Dr. Strong's lot just for fun. I see him stand- 
 ing on the porch, so he'll be handy if anything 
 happens. Now are you ready to say, 'Oh! 
 please, Mrs. Vandyne, I wouldn't.' ' 
 
 She imitated Mac's tones of protest so 
 cleverly, and looked so like a charming, wilful 
 child determined to have her own way, that 
 Mac could only smile, half vexed with her as he 
 was. 
 
 Neither of them had fully recovered from the 
 incident at the quarry, and Mrs. Vandyne found 
 relief in an impish desire to do something to 
 shock somebody. She knew quite well how Dr. 
 Strong would regard her leaping fences along 
 the roadside. As for Mac, even if he did disap- 
 prove, she felt sure of her power to placate him. 
 
 So, waving her hand by way of farewell and 
 speaking a spirited word in Don's ear, away they 
 went. The horse took the low fence easily, and
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 83 
 
 was led higher and higher until he had satis- 
 fied his rider's ambition. 
 
 "Oh ! you are fine, you beauty, you," she 
 cried, patting his neck with caressing touch. 
 
 "Isn't he a darling ?" she called to Mac, who 
 had watched the graceful manoeuvres divided 
 between admiration for her skill and fears for 
 her safety. "He's worthy of his namesake, I 
 assure you. 'Now we'll go home in sedate, re- 
 spectable fashion," she went on, arch and 
 demure, wheeling Don around beside Victor. 
 "I wonder how our worthy neighbor approves of 
 such doings on the highway. Can you see him ? 
 Yes ; there he is, and Mrs. Bolton, too, come out 
 to see the show. Do you know, Mac, Mrs. Bol- 
 ton is the only person in this whole place that 
 I'm afraid of." 
 
 "Afraid !" cried Mac, turning to look at her 
 in amazement. "You afraid of Aunt Di ! Well, 
 that is the funniest thing I've heard of this long 
 virile." 
 
 "It isn't funny at all. She simply takes all 
 my nerve out of me. I never could have put 
 Don through all those leaps if I had known she 
 was looking on. Ugh ! she is like a great spider, 
 with her big round spectacles and straight up 
 and down back. It isn't often I take an aver- 
 sion, but I can't bear that woman."
 
 84 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 Again her words jarred, but Mac noticed at 
 the moment that all her brilliant color was gone, 
 and, judging that she was fatigued by her un- 
 usual exercise, forgot them in his solicitude for 
 her comfort. 
 
 They had not much farther to go before they 
 reached the very pretty cottage where Garet 
 stood awaiting them. 
 
 "O mamma! I'm so glad you've come home. 
 I've done everything I could think of, and it 
 isn't twelve o'clock yet." 
 
 "Well well child. Run in now and tell 
 Marie we will have luncheon at once. Mr. Mac 
 will be here. Where is Martin ?" 
 
 "Let me take the horses around, Mrs. Van- 
 dyne," said Mac, as he lifted her down. "Come, 
 Garet, don't you want a ride?" 
 
 He put her on his own horse, Victor, and 
 walked beside her, leading Don. 
 
 "I wish mamma would get me a pony. Won't 
 you please ask her, Mr. Mac ? It would be nice 
 to have one, so I could ride, too. And I think 
 a pony knows how to love, don't you ?" 
 
 Mac's face was below hers, and he looked up 
 into the large, dark-lashed grey eyes bent so 
 seriously down to his. Garet's eyes and deli- 
 cately pencilled eye-brows, dark and straight, 
 were her chief beauty. Otherwise, her thin,
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 85 
 
 brown face was not lovely in feature. But she 
 carried herself with a dignity and grace rather 
 unusual in a child, and her disposition was 
 sweetness itself. 
 
 Mac thought her question a strange one. 
 
 "Why, yes, a pony can love ; Garet, I think it 
 would be a fine thing for you to have one of 
 your own, and to ride often with your mamma." 
 
 "I'd be willing to ride ever so far behind, you 
 know, Mr. Mac," she went on, in a quaint, eager 
 way, "so I couldn't hear one word. I could see 
 all the trees and sheep and flowers, and oh ! all 
 the beautiful things; and I wouldn't mind so 
 very much, not so very, if I didn't have any real 
 person to talk to." 
 
 Again Mac gave a curious glance at the 
 nervous little face. 
 
 "But why shouldn't you ride with your 
 mamma or whoever " he began. 
 
 "Oh! hush sh," she began, laying a soft 
 finger on his lips and looking swiftly behind 
 her. "Mamma never likes me to stay around 
 when she has company. She always says, 'Run 
 away with your dolly, sweetheart,' or 'Gay, 
 darling, there's something for you in my upper 
 drawer ; go find it and stay with Marie.' ' 
 
 Mac turned away to hide a smile at her exact 
 mimicry of her mother's voice and tone.
 
 86 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "But, you know," she went on, "I haven't any 
 dolly, and there never is anything in mamma's 
 drawer. I used to think there was, and hunt 
 and hunt but I know better now. I 'spose 
 mamma just says that because it's polite." 
 
 "But why haven't you a doll, Garet ?" asked 
 Mac, thinking her an odd little thing, but giv- 
 ing scant heed to her last words. "Hilda has 
 dozens of them. I thought dolls and little girls 
 belonged together." 
 
 "Oh ! I used to have dollies, but I found out 
 that they couldn't love, and it wasn't any fun 
 for me to keep on loving them when they didn't 
 care." 
 
 By this time they had met Martin, and Garet 
 was lifted down from Victor, but not before she 
 had dropped a loving kiss on his shining coat. 
 
 "Thank you, dear horse, for my ride," she 
 said, then held out her arms to Mac. "And 
 thank you, too, dear Mr. Mac, for saying you'll 
 ask mamma to get me a pony." 
 
 With her hand holding tight on to his, they 
 walked back to the house, her tongue running 
 from one thing to another almost faster than he 
 could follow. They sat on the porch for a few 
 minutes until Mrs. Vandyne came out, fresh 
 and lovely in a sweeping dress of some thin, 
 white stuff, and a crimson rose in her dark hair.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 87 
 
 "Come inside, Mac. It is much cooler." She 
 led the way to a large, luxurious, dimly-lighted 
 room, drew forward a great wicker chair, and 
 for the first time noticed the little girl beside 
 Mac. 
 
 "Now run away to your dolly, sweetheart," 
 she said. 
 
 Mac and Garet exchanged glances, his almost 
 unconsciously given at hearing the exact repro- 
 duction of her own quotation, hers so wise and 
 droll that his gravity was nearly upset. Her 
 slight fingers gave his a significant grip, and her 
 pleading look was a keen reminder of his prom- 
 ise. 
 
 "Let Garet have luncheon with us to-day, 
 won't you, Mrs. Vandyne ?" he begged. "We've 
 a great secret to lay before you." 
 
 Mrs. Vandyne showed her surprise, but said, 
 carelessly enough, "Oh! I don't mind. Only 
 you must go with Marie as soon as you are 
 through, Garet." 
 
 "Oh ! yes, mamma, thank you ; I will indeed, 
 the very minute," she promised, overjoyed at 
 the unexpected privilege. 
 
 Mac remembered, afterward, that Garet did 
 not kiss her mother when she thanked her as she 
 had kissed Victor. 
 
 Luncheon was served very soon on a thickly-
 
 88 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 shaded wide porch opening out from the room 
 into which Mrs. Vandyne first led him. There 
 were many cool, tempting dishes set before them. 
 His hostess had never been more vivacious, more 
 charming, more fascinating than now he thought 
 as he watched the play of expression on her 
 bright handsome face and listened, half lazily, 
 half eagerly, to her gay chatter. 
 
 Garet, airing her very best manners, was 
 scarcely conscious of what she ate ; her ears and 
 eyes were wide open to everything that went on. 
 So great a treat, so enchanting a contrast from 
 her lonely nursery meals was an event to be 
 treasured up in the store-house of her memory. 
 Long, long afterwards she could repeat every 
 word spoken by her two companions, reproduce 
 every gesture. 
 
 She looked on with intense interest when her 
 mamma took up a slender bottle of graceful de- 
 sign and poured from it into a tiny glass a very 
 little of a thick golden and greenish liquid. 
 
 "I want you to taste this cordial, Mac, a de- 
 lightful, refreshing drink, made from a recipe 
 used by the old Italian monks for the sick ages 
 ago. Sometimes it is called Angelica, and I'm 
 sure it is heavenly enough to deserve the name. 
 I made this with my own fair hands, so you 
 may be sure it is superfine."
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 89 
 
 She brought it around to his side and held it 
 out to him, smiling in the way he had found so 
 alluring. 
 
 "But," he protested, smiling in return, and 
 taking the little glass from her fingers, "I am 
 not sick." 
 
 "And you will not he if you take a drop of 
 this. It is a preventive for every malady as well 
 as a cure-all." 
 
 He put it to his lips and drank the smooth, 
 sweet contents. 
 
 "It is fine," he declared. "Reminds me of a 
 blackberry cordial my mother used to give me 
 when I had eaten too many green apples." 
 
 "Yes, it really is an invaluable remedy. Now, 
 to prove to you that I have made it well, you 
 shall taste this, which is the genuine article from 
 sunny Italy." 
 
 She raised another bottle and poured into a 
 glass something identical in color and consis- 
 tency with the cordial. This, too, she brought 
 around to Mac, saying lightly, "You can take 
 more of this." 
 
 Again Mac drank, and this time beneath the 
 velvet smoothness he detected a stronger ad- 
 mixture, For the first time a suspicion flashed 
 through his mind. Startled, dismayed, but look- 
 ing up only to meet the beautiful eyes fixed on 
 his, he set down the glass.
 
 90 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "You don't like it as well as mine!" she ex- 
 claimed at once, clapping her hands softly in de- 
 light and appearing to take no notice of his con- 
 fusion. "Thank you kindly, monsieur. Here- 
 after you shall have only the Vandyne brand. 
 But come now and let us get back into the house. 
 The mid-day sun burns too hotly out here, and 
 when we've rested a bit we'll finish the poem you 
 are reading to me." 
 
 Still silent, hardly knowing what he wished 
 to say or to do, he was about to rise when Garet 
 stood at his elbow, holding in her arms a huge 
 volume which she had lugged from the library 
 unobserved. 
 
 "Please, Mr. Mac, won't you find the place 
 where it tells about green wine ?" 
 
 "Green wine, Garet!" cried her mother, 
 sharply. "Who ever heard of such a thing ? 
 What book is that you have there ?" 
 
 "It is the Holy Bible, mamma," replied the 
 child. 
 
 Mac had lifted it from her and laid it on the 
 table. Then she climbed on his knee and began 
 turning the pages. 
 
 "Garet, run away directly," said Mrs. Van- 
 dyne. "I want to take Mr. Mac inside. I'll 
 find you the place by and by." 
 
 "But, mamma," objected Garet, her nimble
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 91 
 
 fingers busy with the leaves, "you know you 
 can't find places in the Bible. You didn't even 
 know about Daniel and the lions until I showed 
 you. The verse about red wine is in the book of 
 Proverbs xxiii. 31. It is on a little card that I 
 have, so I know," and she read slowly, pointing 
 with one slim brown finger, "Look not thou 
 upon the wine when it is red." 
 
 "Now, Mr. Mac, find where it tells about 
 green wine, please." 
 
 Mac could not meet the clear, inquiring look 
 of the frank, grey eyes as he had the seductive 
 appeal of the flashing brown ones. He turned a 
 page or two. 
 
 "I think there is nothing in the Bible about 
 green wine, Garet," he finally said. 
 
 The little girl drew a long breath. 
 
 "Oh !" she exclaimed, with an air of satisfac- 
 tion, "I'm so glad. Then I guess it isn't wicked 
 to drink green wine. I watched when mamma 
 poured it out, for I knew if it was red you would 
 not take any, because I know you don't do 
 wicked things." 
 
 "Margaret Yandyne, what do you mean by 
 talking in this way? It isn't wicked to drink 
 wine. Whoever put such an absurd notion in 
 your head ! Besides," Mrs. Yandyne added 
 quickly, softening her voice and giving a covert
 
 92 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 glance at Mac, "this isn't wine; it is only cor- 
 dial. Yon are a very, very naughty little girl, 
 Garet, and I shall never let you eat luncheon 
 with Mr. Mac and me again. What do you sup- 
 pose he thinks of you ?" 
 
 Slowly the long dark lashes were raised to his 
 face. Wistfully she searched for disapproval 
 there; but she did not find it, only a strange, 
 troubled expression as he held her close for an 
 instant, whispering in her ear, "You'd better 
 rim away now, Garet, dear. I don't think you're 
 a naughty girl at all, and I'll make it all right 
 with your mamma about the pony." 
 
 And then a kiss, loving mate to the one given 
 to Victor, fell on his cheek, and she had slipped 
 away. 
 
 "You will spoil the child, Mac," Mrs. Van- 
 dyne murmured, half chiding, half in jest. 
 They were passing across the hall. "She is one 
 that cannot bear being made much of. There is 
 a comfortable chair. Stretch yourself out and 
 listen to this chapter from 'The Furnace of 
 Fire.' " 
 
 Without giving him time to reply, she sat on 
 a divan quite near and began reading vivaciously 
 from a recent novel. She read admirably, and 
 knew well enough that the picture she made, in 
 the cool fragrant room, restful and soothing,
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 93 
 
 would soon win her listener's mind from any- 
 thing disquieting. And so it was. At first 
 Mac's thoughts were wholly occupied with the 
 incident of the luncheon table. He could hardly 
 realize what he had done. Then, in the midst of 
 uneasiness and dismay, he heard the palliating 
 words, "Besides, it is not wine; it is only cor- 
 dial," and it was not long until all his attention 
 was fixed on the charming outlines and beautiful 
 face of the woman beside him, just as she 
 meant it should be. 
 
 Breaking off without reason in the middle of 
 a sentence, she suddenly closed the book. Pull- 
 ing a couple of cushions behind her she half re- 
 clined against them, her fleecy draperies lying 
 in a mass beside her, her hands clasped above 
 her head. 
 
 "You are not like that stupid man, Mac," she 
 began, with an abruptness characteristic of her 
 caprices. "You always take a broad look at 
 things. That's one of the reasons why I like 
 you." Then, in a lower, softer tone, "You have 
 little idea what a comfort you are to me, Mac- 
 Donald." 
 
 She seldom spoke his full name. When she 
 did it always seemed to him like a caress. His 
 heart swelled, but he could think of nothing 
 to say. And then she went on, still speaking
 
 94: The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 softly, "No, a man like you, fresh from college 
 days, with no bitter memories, no hard expe- 
 riences, no struggles with a cruel world to re- 
 member, with the whole of life stretching out 
 before your eager ambitious gaze, can have little 
 idea what it means to have suffered" a mo- 
 ment's hesitation "as I have." 
 
 "You !" cried Mae, springing to his feet. 
 "Never ! I cannot think of it" 
 
 "Sit down again, you foolish boy," came in 
 gentle accents. "I was just going to say that 
 you can have but little idea what suffering 
 means, nor what a joy and comfort it is to one 
 like me to have the loyal friendship of one like 
 you." 
 
 Mac's eyes wandered over the faultless face, 
 brilliant with health, showing no sign of care or 
 sorrow, except perhaps just now a shade of sad- 
 ness about the drooping eyelids and curving 
 lips ; at the rich though simple dress she wore ; 
 at the jewels sparkling on her fingers; then 
 around the room at the costly nicknacks. None 
 of these seemed in keeping with the suffering 
 heart of which she had spoken. 
 
 As usual, she appeared to divine his thoughts. 
 
 "We women learn to conceal our griefs, dear 
 Mac. You cannot judge of us by what you see. 
 It is only at rare intervals, when we lift the
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 95 
 
 veil to our chosen, dearest friends, that our 
 wounds and scars are to be seen. You are to me 
 OLe of the dearest of these friends, Mac. I feel 
 sure of your regard, your confidence. The time 
 m&y come when I shall need to lean on you. You 
 will not fail me ?" 
 
 Extending her hand, smiling again as when 
 she handed him the cordial, she asked the ques- 
 tion in a confident tone which counted on no re- 
 fusal. 
 
 In a moment he had pressed her fingers to his 
 lips. 
 
 "ITever ! never ! never !" The thrice-repeated 
 word was uttered with all of his impetuous, 
 chivalrous heart. She smiled a smile not quite 
 pleasant to see, but he did not observe it. His 
 head was bent above her hand. Just as he re- 
 leased it steps were heard, and a tall, handsome 
 man came quickly into the room. 
 
 "Oh, Lucille! forgive me my unceremonious 
 entrance. I met Garet outside, and she did not 
 tell me you had a guest," he said, advancing 
 with easy grace and giving her hand the same 
 salute which Mac had done. It seemed almost a 
 desecration to the youth's fevered thought. 
 
 "It is my neighbor and dear friend, Mac- 
 Donald Caldwell. Have you not met him be- 
 fore? Mac, let me make you acquainted with
 
 96 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 my cousin, Fred Hermann. Mr. Caldwell, Mr. 
 Hermann." 
 
 "Ah! yes, I recognize you now, Mr. Cald- 
 well," said the elder man as they clasped hands. 
 "Lucille will keep her charming little home as 
 dark as Egypt. I think I met you at Howard's 
 one evening in Standish. I believe you were a 
 class-mate of his, were you not ?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Mac, standing uncomfort- 
 ably between the two, and angry at the interrup- 
 tion. 
 
 "I came over, Lucille, to talk with you in re- 
 gard to that little matter of business," Mr. Her- 
 mann went on, entirely too much at his ease 
 Mac thought gloomily. 
 
 "I will say good-bye now, Mrs. Vandyne," 
 spoke up Mac, with his usual grace- of manner, 
 "and thank you for a delightful hour." 
 
 The adieus were soon made, and Mac walked 
 hurriedly toward home, feeling as though he 
 had been through a whirlwind of emotion. He 
 had gone but a short distance before he saw an 
 erect little figure sitting on the grass by the 
 roadside. It was Garet, waiting to hear about 
 the pony. 
 
 "Good heavens !" he ejaculated below his 
 breath. "And I never thought one word about 
 it!" He looked swiftly around for some way of
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 97 
 
 escape, but there was none, so lie stepped on, 
 wishing that the ordeal was over. 
 
 Garet spied him and came running. 
 
 "What did she say, Mr. Mac?" she cried be- 
 fore she was near. Then, coming close enough 
 to see him distinctly, she stopped still and 
 clasped her hands together. 
 
 "Oh! you forgot!" 
 
 There was no reproof in the simple statement, 
 only a hopeless acceptance of the fact, more 
 touching by far than the wildest reproaches. 
 
 Mac could say nothing. He felt that he had 
 been a selfish brute to so hurt this tender little 
 love-hungry soul. Her quick instinct of sym- 
 pathy saw his chagrin. She slipped her hand in 
 his in the most friendly way. 
 
 "Kever mind, Mr. Mac, don't feel bad. I'm 
 used to being dis'pointed. I guess it was be- 
 cause Cousin Fred came in and in'rupted you 
 that you forgot." 
 
 He could not accept her simple, generous ex- 
 planation. 
 
 "ISTo, Garet, dear, that was not the reason at 
 all. I just forgot all about you because be- 
 cause Again he halted. Something made it 
 impossible for him to tell Mrs. Yandyne's 
 daughter why he had forgotten her. 
 
 "Oh ! well, never mind,," she said again. 
 7
 
 98 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "You know, Mr. Mac, it says in the Holy Bible, 
 in the book of Eccle'sticks, that there is a time 
 to speak and a time to keep silence. And I 
 guess that must have been the time to keep si- 
 lence." 
 
 "If you'll only trust me once more, Garet, I 
 won't disappoint you. Do you think you can ?" 
 
 He spoke with real anxiety, for he felt much 
 more keenly than he showed his breach of faith 
 with her. 
 
 "Why, of course, I will, Mr. Mac. I've got 
 to forgive you four hundred and eighty-nine 
 times more before I can stop," was her imme- 
 diate response. 
 
 "Four hundred and eighty-nine times, 
 Garet!" he repeated in astonishment, stopping 
 still to look down at her. "What in the world 
 do you mean?" 
 
 "Why, you know the Holy Bible says we must 
 forgive our brother seventy times seven times. 
 And I've only forgiven you once. And seventy 
 times seven is four hundred and ninety, and one 
 from four hundred and ninety leaves four 
 hundred and eighty-nine times, doesn't it?" 
 
 "Yes, Garet, it does, and it's a comfort to 
 think there is so much forgiveness in store for 
 me, from one person in the world at least," he 
 responded as serious as she. "But, Garet, it
 
 The Sylvester Quarry, 99 
 
 seems to me you know a lot about the Bible. 
 How is that?" 
 
 "You ought to say the Holy Bible, Mr. Mac. 
 That is the name on the back of it," she re- 
 minded him, gravely. "Oh ! I read in ours 
 every day. There are so many beautiful stories. 
 Haven't you ever read them ? Come over some 
 time and I'll show you the places and my 
 verse cards." 
 
 "Thank you. And now I think you had bet- 
 ter run back, dear," Mac said. "I don't like to 
 have you so far from home alone. Ah ! here 
 comes the doctor. He'll give you a ride. Dr. 
 Strong, here's a passenger for you." 
 
 "With all the pleasure in the world, Miss 
 Gay. And perhaps you'd like to drive my horse 
 for me. This is one of my lazy days !" 
 
 So saying, after Mac had lifted her into the 
 buggy, he handed her the lines, and they drove 
 off, Garet radiant and the doctor watching her 
 with amusement. 
 
 As for Mac, he walked rapidly on towards 
 home, his eyes on the ground. 
 
 When Mrs. Vandyne returned from accom- 
 panying Mac as far as the porch she found 
 Cousin Fred in the dining-room, helping him- 
 self to something from a bottle on the side- 
 board.
 
 100 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "How goes it with the pretty boy ?" he asked, 
 wiping his mustache as he walked by her side 
 into the sitting-room. "He doesn't love me 
 much just now." 
 
 "No, I dare say." She laughed carelessly. 
 "But he is tractable. Tho first step was taken 
 to-day with unexpected ease and success." 
 
 "How much longer time do you need ?" 
 
 "Two or three weeks. A month at the out- 
 side." 
 
 "So long?" He eyed her sharply. "Why 
 don't you get a crowd down and rush things ? 
 We've had a letter from Dennet asking for an 
 interview. They will be stiff, of course, and we 
 need to have ourselves well in hand." 
 
 "I know." Mrs. Vandyne's eyes sparkled. 
 "But Mac isn't that kind. You must let me 
 work my own way. I've never failed yet when 
 I set my heart on a thing." 
 
 "That's what I'm afraid of," retorted her 
 cousin, "that you'll set your heart on this 
 youngster and all our plans will fall 
 through'." 
 
 Mrs. Yandyne arose and walked the length of 
 the room. Her elegant height, the sweeping 
 draperies, the something indefinable of am- 
 bitious pride in every curve and movement com- 
 bined to form a picture which emphasized her
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 101 
 
 words. Coining close before him, she stood quite 
 still. 
 
 "Do I look like a woman who would waste 
 herself on a boy any boy ?" 
 
 The curt, proud tones rang clearly through 
 the room. 
 
 "By heavens ! no, Lucille. It was my jealous 
 fear that spoke." 
 
 She smiled graciously, continuing her 
 walk. 
 
 "You came to talk business to-day. Do you 
 know that I have sometimes wondered why you 
 and Frank are so determined to carry out this 
 scheme here at the Quarry ? It would seem to 
 me such a small concern at best." 
 
 Again the man gave her a swift, sharp glance 
 of suspicion. 
 
 "What has become of your business instinct, 
 Lucille ? Don't you know well enough that our 
 largest profits come from our smallest sales 
 sales in smallest quantities, I mean. Very likely 
 there are less than fifty regular customers for 
 us at Sylvester now. Not much of a clientele 
 surely, but once let us get our liquor counter 
 started, and how long do you suppose it will be 
 before we have one hundred and fifty customers ? 
 Less than six months. And in a year Dennet 
 will be welcome to his handful of teetotalers.
 
 102 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 Then, another thing, this Quarry is going to 
 grow. I went down to ISTew York last week and 
 saw the State geologist who was recently here 
 with a lot of prospectors. He told me that the 
 mineral resources of Ammonet Mountain 
 haven't begun to be touched yet. The veins of 
 granite grow richer as they are worked ; and he 
 hinted at still more valuable finds of marble. It 
 is an opportunity which we cannot afford to lose, 
 which we must not lose, by heaven! which we 
 shall not lose. So beware, madame, how you 
 play fast and loose with us. Your business is 
 to counteract the dominie's influence by win- 
 ning over his henchman. See that you do it 
 and right speedily, too." 
 
 An ugly smile gleamed upon the handsome 
 face, hard lines showed about the man's mouth. 
 
 For an instant a tiny spark of fire glowed be- 
 tween Mrs. Vandyne's half-closed eyelids. Then 
 she said, settling herself down against the pil- 
 lows, "Don't be cross to-day, Fred. Be a good 
 boy and bring me a glass of iced claret."
 
 CHAPTEK VIII. 
 
 THE SPICED CURRANTS. 
 
 MISS JAJSTET was up betimes the next 
 morning. She came down to open the 
 house before any one else was stirring, setting 
 wide doors and windows, through which swept 
 the cool, delicious air of early sunrise. A heavy 
 dew still lay on grass aoid bush, and dozens of 
 song-birds greeted her with their sweet rounde- 
 lays. Coming out on the broad portico towards 
 the garden last of all, she found Mac sitting 
 there, his hat off, his face upturned to catch the 
 breeze. 
 
 "Good-morning, Mac" and "Good morning, 
 Auntie Jean," came at the instant of his spring- 
 ing up to greet her. He clasped her hand and, 
 what was not usual, bent his head for a kiss. 
 
 "Are you busy, Auntie Jean ?" he asked,. 
 "Come, sit here on this chair and let's have a 
 talk. It is so quiet and lovely, don't you think 
 so?" 
 
 Now, Janet had intended to be very busy for 
 an hour or so, stemming currants, a piece of 
 work to be daintily done, and which she wished
 
 104 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 to have well under way before Violet appeared. 
 But something in Mac's tone or manner, she 
 could hardly tell which, made her willing to lay 
 everything else aside. She did not even com- 
 promise by bringing the currants to stem as they 
 talked. 
 
 "The most delightful time possible for a con- 
 fab," she assented at once, seating herself in the 
 low wicker chair he brought forward, while he 
 took his place on the upper step, leaning his 
 head against her knee, as he used to do when he 
 first knew her. Her land found its way to its 
 old habit of gently pushing back his soft, thick 
 hair. So they sat for some time, but the "talk" 
 did not begin. 
 
 Everything about them was beautifully still. 
 The jubilant morning thanksgiving of the birds 
 was over, the sounds of daily life had not yet 
 begun to stir. 
 
 The very peace of God seemed gently to en- 
 wrap them. Minute after minute passed. Some 
 subtle instinct of sympathy began to tell Janet 
 that a troubled heart had come to her for com- 
 fort or for help. But she wisely judged that it 
 should be left to make its own appeal. None 
 came. Much to her surprise, a clock struck six. 
 It had been nearly an hour since she came out 
 and found him awaiting her. Steps began to be
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 105 
 
 heard within, voices floated out to them, Hilda's 
 feet were flying down the stairs. 
 
 Then Mac lifted his head and looked up at 
 her. 
 
 "I am so glad you didn't speak one word, 
 Auntie Jean," he said. 
 
 "O Mac ! Mac ! how did you come here ?" 
 cried Hilda, rushing across the portico and 
 throwing her arms around his neck in a hug of 
 delight. "Have you had your breakfast?" 
 
 "]STot yet, Hilda. I wonder if you are going 
 to invite me, to have some of yours ?" 
 
 "Oh ! yes, indeed. He must stay, mustn't he, 
 Auntie ? I dess we will have some muffins and 
 honey. An' oh ! le's have some raspberries too. 
 I can show you where the nicess ones are out 
 in the garden." 
 
 "Is that a hint that I am to pick them ? All 
 right. Come along, then, and we'll find a 
 basket." 
 
 He held out his hand, into which she promptly 
 slipped hers, and they went off around the house. 
 
 Scarcely had they disappeared when Violet 
 came through the doorway. 
 
 "Good-morning, Auntie ! I thought I heard 
 Mac's voice," she said, looking this way and 
 that. 
 
 "He and Hilda have just gone out to the berry
 
 106 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 patch to gather a dishful for breakfast. She has 
 invited him to stay to eat some of them with 
 her." 
 
 "How lovely! And then I'll invite him to 
 help me stem currants. I have a little lecture 
 to deliver to him, too, and that will be a good 
 chance." 
 
 Janet glanced up. 
 
 "If I were you, dear," she said, "I'd not lec- 
 ture him, if by that you mean calling him to an 
 account for something he has or has not done." 
 
 "But I think he should be spoken to about 
 something, Jeanie. He 
 
 A restraining finger was laid on her lips. 
 
 "I'd rather not hear, please, dear. I I think 
 the dear boy is not quite happy this morning. 
 Suppose we both try to be very gentle with him 
 to-day." 
 
 Violet thought of what Louise had said about 
 "loving him out." 
 
 "Oh! then, of course, I will not say any- 
 thing to-day, that is but it will have to come 
 sometime." 
 
 Janet felt almost as much amused as Louise 
 had done at the thought of Violet's taking one 
 Mac, most of all to task, but she made no sign 
 of it 
 
 By the time breakfast was ready Mac and
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 107 
 
 Hilda had brought in a heaping basket of the 
 beautiful crimson berries. 
 
 "So long as we are to have one guest," ob- 
 served Janet, "why not have two ? I would like 
 to invite Louise to share these beauties with us. 
 Hilda, dear, will you run over and tell Cousin 
 Louise that we'd all like to have her come to 
 Little Acorns to breakfast, and that we are 
 ready to sit down ?" 
 
 "Yes, Auntie Jeanie," the little girl replied, 
 scampering away. She found Louise cutting 
 a spray of roses, which she brought with her and 
 offered, with her kiss of greeting, to Janet. At 
 the moment of her arrival, Keith appeared on 
 the portico, and they all went in to breakfast 
 together. 
 
 "Is it somebody's birthday or what ?" Keith 
 inquired, lifting Hilda to her chair beside 
 Janet's. 
 
 "Oh! no, just an impromptu sort of feast," 
 was Violet's reply. "Mac came over to pay 
 Jeanie an early morning call. I suspect they 
 have some secret or other on hand, but I wouldn't 
 be so rude as to ask any questions." 
 
 "Curiosity, thy name is not Violet Sylves- 
 ter," quoted Mac, sarcastically. 
 
 "And Louise," Violet went on, as though she 
 had not been interrupted, "had to be invited be-
 
 108 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 cause Mac was. Else she would not have been 
 able to eat any breakfast." 
 
 "Miss Lucinda appears to have thriven well 
 during the months of Mac's absence at college," 
 remarked Keith, after a grave and critical sur- 
 vey of Louise's glowing face. 
 
 "And now that we air understand so clearly 
 why we are all here, suppose you give us some 
 of the berries that Hilda and I gathered before 
 you were up," suggested Mac, in the midst of 
 opening an egg for his little helpmeet. 
 
 "Xot before I was up, MacDonald, but be- 
 fore I was down. Xo, not that either, for you 
 had just started for the garden when I came out. 
 Aren't these the finest berries you ever saw, 
 Keith ?" she asked, handing him a dish full of 
 them. 
 
 "It would be hard to find finer ones surely," 
 Keith conceded. "They remind me of those we 
 had at Sylvester Hall, Violet." 
 
 "So they do. Mrs. Barbara, good soul, al- 
 ways took such pride in her berries. By the 
 way, Mac, do you remember my promise to take 
 you back there when I come into my inheri- 
 tance ? You know this naughty cousin of mine 
 cheated us out of our visit to London. Let me 
 see, I was nineteen in June; two years more 
 will make me of age."
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 109 
 
 "But T thought girls were of age at eighteen-. 
 Aren't they, Mr. Keith ?" inquired Louise. 
 
 "In some places. Violet's father, however, 
 stipulated in his will that she should not come 
 into possession of the property until she should 
 be twenty-one." 
 
 "And so you see, Mac, two years from now 
 we shall very likely be eating raspberries of 
 Mrs. Barbara's picking. For I mean to take my 
 entire family home for one summer at least, 
 and show them how hospitable an English girl 
 can be. But you and I are to have one whole 
 beautiful week exploring London, with Cousin 
 Keith as chaperone. And we'll get our revenge 
 on him for his hard-heartedness to us four years 
 ago, won't we ?" 
 
 "You are not very much alarmed at the pros- 
 pect, are you, Mr. Keith ?" Mac asked, smiling. 
 
 "I don't see why it is," declared Violet, not 
 giving him a chance to answer the question, 
 "that no one thinks I can be severe." 
 
 A general shout of laughter rang out at this. 
 
 "Severe !" repeated Mac, passing his dish for 
 another helping of berries. "Violet, dear, when 
 did you see thorns growing on a violet stalk? 
 You couldn't be anything but gentle and sweet 
 if you tried ever so hard. So don't waste your 
 energy in trying."
 
 11.0 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "If you only knew, my dear sir, what is hang- 
 ing over your poor head, you might think dif- 
 ferently," was her quick response. 
 
 "That reminds me of the forfeits we used to 
 play when we were youngsters. 'Heavy, heavy 
 hangs over your head,' or something of the sort, 
 wasn't it, Louise?" 
 
 "Yes, but don'^ mind Violet's nonsense," said 
 Louise, uneasy at what might come next. "This 
 is spiced currant day, is it not, Violet ?" 
 
 "To be sure. And we'll have a bee a cur- 
 rant bee. We'll have bowls, and aprons, and sit 
 out on the west porch in the shade, and stem 
 currants, and have a beautiful time." 
 
 This pleasant program was very soon in pro- 
 gress, except that Violet and Miss Janet were 
 not among the stemmers. The latter, in the seat 
 of honor in a specially cool honeysuckle-vined 
 corner, was given the double duty of "being ad- 
 viser-in-chief and looking as sweet as a rose," as 
 Violet's order was. That busy young woman, 
 with the sleeves of her blue cambric frock rolled 
 high on her fair round arms, and a huge white 
 apron tied about her waist, was the presiding 
 genius in the large cool summer kitchen which 
 opened in from the porch, and which had been 
 given up to her service for the important occa- 
 sion.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. Ill 
 
 Wliile the glowing scarlet globes were being 
 deftly taken from their stems and heaped in 
 bowls, amid laughter and merry chatter, she 
 brought from box and chest in the nearby pantry 
 the various sorts of "sugar and spice and all 
 things nice" that were soon to meet in the big 
 kettle of syrup on the range. These were 
 weighed out with scrupulous exactness, and one 
 by one put to its proper use. 
 
 Occasionally she made a flying visit to her 
 industrious lieutenants. On one of these oc- 
 casions she bethought herself of two others who 
 might be assisting. 
 
 "Why, we've forgotten Mark and Marcia!" 
 she exclaimed. "That's too bad ! Mac, won't 
 you go over and bring them ? That's a good 
 boy! And tell them you are all to stay to 
 luncheon, please. Here, I'll untie your apron." 
 
 So Mac, being divested of his robe of office, 
 was soon scurrying across the lawn very much 
 as the "long-legged Mac" of olden days had 
 done. 
 
 "I haven't seen Mac so much like himself 
 since he came home from college," remarked 
 Keith as soon as he was out of hearing. "It does 
 me good." 
 
 "You don't like to have any of us grow up, do 
 you, Mr. Keith ?" asked Louise, with an arch.
 
 112 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 glance in his direction. "But we can't seem to 
 help it." 
 
 "No, I suppose you cannot," was Keith's 
 rather abstracted answer. His thoughts had 
 ilown hack to the eager, brown-haired little girl 
 who had brought her father over from Standish 
 Hall to see about the lessons he had promised to 
 give her. And this father's long-forgotten 
 words, "I have but one condition to make, don't 
 give her too much to do, for I won't have her 
 losing her rosy cheeks and growing up," seemed 
 like a far-off echo of Louise's remark. 
 
 Louise, the girl, had from the first been very 
 dear to the young man. He was fast finding 
 out that Louise, the woman, in her beautiful 
 unfolding of rare character and great personal 
 charm, was the dearest object the world held for 
 him. Scarcely to himself had he acknowledged 
 this, sternly he battled down every rising im- 
 pulse, for the face of the boy he loved almost as 
 well as he did Louise, always rose beside hers 
 as the one she would* choose. That the strong 
 affection always existing between them as boy 
 and girl, as youth and maiden, would not con- 
 tinue to develop until it should unite their lives 
 in the closest of all bonds had never occurred to 
 him. It seemed the fitting thing, in spite of the 
 distant kinship relating them.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 113 
 
 It was a subject not easy for Keith to con- 
 sider; but, with characteristic strength and un- 
 selfishness, he eliminated the personal equation, 
 so far as was possible. It was largely because 
 of his belief in Louise's attachment to Mac, and 
 of his to her up to a very recent time, that the 
 young man's infatuation for Mrs. Vandyne 
 gave him so much uneasiness. Even Janet, who 
 did not dream of the true state of things, could 
 not understand what she considered Keith's 
 over-anxiety. To her the children were yet 
 children. That they should suddenly turn into 
 lovers and pair off one way and another would 
 have appeared an event of the far future, had it 
 occurred to her at all. For the intercourse be- 
 tween Standish Hall and Little Acorns was just 
 as frank and affectionate and free from self- 
 consciousness as it had been for the last five 
 years. 
 
 The only change was Mac's defection since 
 his return from college a few weeks before. Mrs. 
 Vandyne had moved into the neighborhood 
 during the spring. They knew of her as Howard 
 St. John's sister and a friend of Aunt Kate 
 Norton, whose children, Alec and Helen and 
 Charlie, had always spent much time at Stand- 
 ish Hall. Calls were duly made and returned, 
 but no intimacy sprang up. Soon after Mac 
 8
 
 11-i The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 came home he met her at Howard's home in 
 Standish, when she immediately brought him 
 to her side and had kept him there a good part 
 of the time ever since. 
 
 Keith was roused from his reverie by feeling 
 a soft hand on his own. Violet was holding his 
 fingers fast. 
 
 "Please to wake up, you careless man. Don't 
 you know you've been putting currants in the 
 stem bowl this ever so long ? I've been watching 
 you and hoping you'd come back from wherever 
 you've been, because I didn't like to hurt your 
 feelings by speaking out before everybody. But 
 I can't, I really can't have my spiced currants 
 spoiled even by you, my dearest of cousins. 
 Why, girls, only see Cousin Keith blush ! Oh ! 
 oh ! oh ! He never did that before." 
 
 Her merry tirade, rattled off in a way she 
 sometimes had, did not attract any especial at- 
 tention until she spoke the word "blush." Then 
 every eye was fixed on Keith in astonishment, 
 for it was true. A quick, deep flush had crim- 
 soned his cheeks and forehead, and for a second 
 he looked the picture of embarrassment. But 
 before the general laughter had died away he 
 was himself again. 
 
 Glancing up, he happened to spy Dr. Strong 
 walking along the gravel path, and immediately 
 hallooed to him.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 115 
 
 "You're wanted up here, Doctor, badly 
 needed, indeed, to assist a helpless fellow- 
 creat ' Keith began, but Violet, stepping to 
 meet the doctor, interrupted him. 
 
 "I'll have to shake hands with you for us all, 
 Doctor. JSTot one oh ! yes, Auntie Jean is 
 one has hands fit to touch. They're all help- 
 ing stem my currants. And you'd like to help 
 too, wouldn't you ? Mark and Marcia have just 
 begun, but the rest must be tired. Keith, you 
 can be excused now, and come into the kitchen 
 to help me. I'll give the doctor an apron, and 
 he can take your place." 
 
 During all this cool appropriation of him Dr. 
 Strong stood viewing the pretty group and the 
 heaping dishes of beautiful fruit, but his gaze 
 began and ended with Violet. 
 
 "'Oh ! if I might be allowed to choose, let me 
 be the one to assist you. I assure you my big 
 fingers could do nothing with those tiny things," 
 he begged, spreading out his hands and glanc- 
 ing ruefully at the currants. 
 
 "And are you sure you can do things in a 
 kitchen ? You are rather big, I believe." 
 
 She looked up and down the stalwart figure 
 with approving eyes. 
 
 "Well, I'll try you," was the verdict, gravely 
 given. "The first thing is your apron."
 
 116 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 While she disappeared to get it he moved 
 across beside Janet. 
 
 "I have your permission for this domestic 
 service, Miss Janet ?" he inquired, half in jest, 
 half in earnest. 
 
 "Most heartily. We are all of us under Vio- 
 let's rule to-day. Even I don't dare stir from 
 this chair until my lady nods." 
 
 "I see," he replied, with a gravity equal to 
 her own. "Well, Miss Violet, I'll be your will- 
 ing slave for" consulting his watch "for ex- 
 actly forty minutes. So make the most of your 
 time, young lady." 
 
 "You shall see that I do. O Jeanie ! just look 
 at this apron band ! It won't begin to go around 
 such a giant. I'll have to get one with strings. 
 Come into the kitchen, Doctor. I'm afraid the 
 syrup will burn. Doesn't it begin to smell 
 good ?" 
 
 A delicious odor had been stealing abroad 
 from the big shining kettle for some minutes. 
 Xo\v the glistening contents of the bowls were 
 slipped into the bubbling syrup, which was soon 
 taken out to be poured into the waiting rows of 
 glass jars. 
 
 With a charming little frown of anxiety 
 wrinkling her forehead, giving now a word of 
 direction, now a smile of approval to her deft
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 117 
 
 helper, Violet went about the pretty work, and 
 never a thought entered her mind of the delight 
 it was to him to be near her and to watch her 
 graceful movements, her skilful manipulations 
 in her womanly occupation. 
 
 "Do you suppose your grandmother's cur- 
 rants looked any prettier than mine ?" she in- 
 quired, as jar after jar of the carefully sealed 
 confection was set on a wide shelf to cool. 
 
 "I don't see how that could have been pos- 
 sible,'' he replied, struggling with a refractory 
 cover. He would have liked to add, "And I 
 know my grandmother never looked half as 
 sweet as you do this very minute." 
 
 But the good doctor had not entirely lost his 
 head, although his forty minutes had long since 
 grown to an hour or more. He contented him- 
 self with simply drinking in, gratefully, all the 
 good the gods were providing, with no thought 
 of the future. 
 
 "Can't I come in, Violet?" Mac asked 
 through the window. "It isn't fair to let the 
 doctor carry off all the honors." 
 
 "Yes, do, please. I've been feeling conscience 
 smitten about the doctor ever since I heard the 
 clock strike eleven, . but he's such a splendid 
 worker I could not bear to tell him it was time 
 for him to go. And now that you have stayed
 
 118 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 so long, Doctor, won't you stay a little longer 
 and have luncheon with us ? Ellen is to have it 
 ready exactly at noon." 
 
 "Thank you very much, Miss Violet. If 
 you'll excuse me, I'll slip around home and give 
 Dell a surprise party before I go up the moun- 
 tain. I've nothing urgent on hand to-day, but 
 did not expect to be back for dinner with her. 
 So it will be unexpected pleasure for both of us." 
 
 "We can't insist on anything which will de- 
 prive Miss Berdel of a pleasure," said Violet, 
 "but we'd love to have you with us. I don't 
 know how I can ever thank you for your share 
 in my first work of this sort, I'm going to bring 
 you and dear Miss Berdel and Mrs. Bolton each 
 a jar. Yours as a partial reward for good con- 
 duct," she went on roguishly, "Mrs. Bolton's for 
 giving us the recipe, and Miss Berdel's just be- 
 cause she is a darling, and I love her." 
 
 "I've known other people to do things for the 
 same reason," slipped out almost before he knew 
 it. "Good-bye, Miss Violet, with congratula- 
 tions on your success!" 
 
 "Our success, Doctor. Don't be too modest," 
 laughed Violet. "Good-bye!" 
 
 She turned away to the steaming kettle, and 
 he made his adieux to the merry group outside 
 who had long ago finished their part of the
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 119 
 
 labors and were idling away the time until 
 luncheon should be served. 
 
 There was not much more to be done. Mac 
 helped fasten the remaining jars. As he did so 
 he pondered the doctor's last remark, wonder- 
 ing just what he meant, for Mac had been quick 
 to detect the ring of sincerity in the lightly- 
 spoken words, and to see their application to 
 Violet, as she had not. For the first time it 
 flashed upon MacDonald's consciousness that 
 men outside her own family might see and love 
 the sweetness of the English violet which he had 
 somehow, unconsciously, appropriated to him- 
 self ever since the first moment of their meet- 
 ing that summer day at Sylvester Hall. He 
 could see now, as plainly as then, the slender, 
 black-robed figure, standing in the midst of 
 roses tumbling from lap and hand, the soft 
 golden hair wind-tossed about the lovely face, 
 the shy, wistful appeal of the big blue eyes look- 
 ing up at the unknown cousin come from Amer- 
 ica to be her guardian, and, flashing a bright 
 glance of welcome at the tall lad who lingered 
 behind, regarding her as the most beautiful vis- 
 ion of his life. 
 
 Mac had given small heed to Violet of late 
 all his thoughts had been occupied with a far dif- 
 ferent type of woman, a type which still held
 
 120 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 him enthralled; and yet oh! marvelous com- 
 plexity of the human heart he felt a good 
 sharp tug somewhere within his breast as he 
 thought of Dr. Strong's inadvertent words in 
 connection with Violet. 
 
 "How dare he think her a darling and do 
 things for her because he loves her ?" he ques- 
 tioned, angrily. "Why, he's old enough to be 
 her father, and my father and Mr. Keith's 
 father, for all I know. The old idiot !" 
 
 His wrath waxed hotter and hotter, and finally 
 exploded, when the last jar was set away. 
 
 "Violet, come over into the library a minute. 
 I've something to say to you." 
 
 She turned swiftly about at this imperious 
 summons, so unlike Mac, so different from his 
 gay banter of the whole morning. 
 
 "Why can't you tell me here ?" she asked, 
 coolly, not at all relishing his lordliness. 
 
 "Because it is a private matter, and a very 
 important one. Come !" 
 
 Another keen survey of his unsmiling face 
 aroused both her apprehension and her curios- 
 ity. What could possibly be the matter ? She 
 recalled at that instant Miss Janet's injunction 
 that they must all be very gentle with him. 
 
 "Maybe he's going to unburden himself on 
 the subject of Mrs. Vandyne," she thought. 
 "And there'll be my chance."
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 121 
 
 "Yes, Mac, I'll come just as soon as I wash 
 my hands and call Jane to attend to all these 
 things." 
 
 They crossed the short hall leading from the 
 kitchen and then walked the length of a longer 
 one in silence. As they entered the library 
 he carefully closed the door behind them, and 
 then began at once, while Violet was still stand- 
 ing. 
 
 "Violet, I think yon do very wrong to en- 
 courage the attentions of Dr. Strong as you do. 
 I want it stopped at once!" 
 
 He was quite red in the face, and tugged 
 savagely at his thick brown mustache. 
 
 If a dynamite bomb had burst under Violet's 
 feet, she could not have been more amazed. For 
 a second she was actually stunned, and could 
 only gaze, open-eyed and open-mouthed, at the 
 young man glowering down upon her. Then, 
 with the instinctive pride of her race, she drew 
 her slight figure to its fullest height and had 
 herself well in hand. The first moment of in- 
 dignant astonishment, of swift resentment at 
 the absurdity of his charge, gave way to a keen 
 sense of the comicality, of the sudden turning 
 of the tables upon her. Instead of the lecture 
 she, in her righteous anger, was to give, eliciting 
 an humble confession from the penitent culprit,
 
 122 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 here was the offender bringing her in most high 
 and mighty fashion to the bar of justice ! 
 
 A moment more of silence and then a merry, 
 musical laugh rang out on the air, her only an- 
 swer to him. 
 
 He frowned, impatient and annoyed. 
 
 "It is no laughing matter, Violet," he began, 
 fiercely. "You must listen to me with serious 
 attention." 
 
 She made a pretty little grimace. 
 
 "Must?" she repeated, saucily. "Why 
 must ?" 
 
 "Why because because," he began, quite 
 disconcerted by this extremely sensible question. 
 
 She was quick to take advantage of his hesi- 
 tation. 
 
 " 'Because' is a woman's reason, Mac. Until 
 you can give me one of your own, I'll ask you 
 to excuse me." 
 
 Again she laughed, her eyes brimful of fun. 
 Making a deep curtesy, with her skirts daintily 
 held out in her finger-tips, saucy, tantalizing, 
 charming, she left him to his own interesting 
 reflections.
 
 CHAPTEK IX. 
 A QUIET HOUK. 
 
 "TRIOLET'S heightened color and Mac's 
 
 V nervousness were noticed at the luncheon 
 table, but no comments were made. Gradually 
 he regained his composure and became the life 
 of the little company. 
 
 "It is high time," he had sagely concluded, 
 "to let Violet see that she cannot wind me 
 around her little finger. I'm no longer a boy 
 to be trifled with by a girl of her age." 
 
 Just as they were about rising from the table 
 Ellen brought a note to him. As he opened it, 
 with a hasty word of apology, Louise spied 
 Mrs. Vandyne's monogram on the envelope. 
 
 "Oh ! dear," she sighed, "I do wish she would 
 let him alone one. day. It has been so lovely for 
 us to have him again." 
 
 Meanwhile Mac was reading : 
 
 "DEAR 
 
 "Before me on my desk lies the all-important 
 permit from your lordly Mr. Stockton, allow- 
 ing Mr. Fred S. Hermann, Miss Clara St. John,
 
 124 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 Mrs. Lucille Vandyne and Mr. MacDonald 
 Caldwell to enter the charmed precincts of Am- 
 monet Mountain and ride about at will. So 
 our muscular friend, Andrew, will find his occu- 
 pation gone. 
 
 "We are to start to-morrow morning at ten 
 o'clock, but if you'd like to, come an hour earlier 
 and tickle your palate with some of Marie's de- 
 licious muffins. There'll be a plate for you. 
 "Ever devotedly, 
 
 "LUCILLE VANDYNE. 
 "Wednesday, July twenty-seventh." 
 
 "You're not going away, are you, Mac?" 
 Louise could not help asking, as he replaced the 
 note in its envelope and put it in his pocket. 
 
 "'No, dear," he replied, "this is an invitation 
 for breakfast and a ride through the Quarry to- 
 morrow morning with Mrs. Vandyne." 
 
 He was in high spirits, and quite willing to 
 let Violet see that he was appreciated by a 
 woman vastly her superior in every way. 
 
 "To breakfast !" exclaimed Marcia, while 
 Keith added, more slowly, 
 
 "If I were you, Mac, I wouldn't take any 
 ladies up there. It is never easy to tell what 
 may be going on." 
 
 "She is going to take me," said Mac, smiling 
 slightly at bis remembrance of their attempted
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 125 
 
 visit. "And she has a permit from Mr. Stock- 
 ton obtained by Fred Hermann. They will see 
 to it that nothing dangerous is going on." 
 
 "Then it is Hermann's party, is it ?" inquired 
 Keith. 
 
 "I suppose so but Mrs. Vandyne invited 
 me. I say, Louise, this looks like old times 
 somehow, doesn't it ? All this crowd over here. 
 If only Marcus Aurelius and Helen and Charles 
 the Fat would show up, it would be complete. 
 Suppose we go out on the river ! The air is de- 
 licious to-day for rowing. I haven't handled an 
 oar this age. How is it, Mr. Keith, with you ?'' 
 
 "I'm at your service, Mac, with pleasure." 
 
 Very soon they were all strolling along the 
 familiar pathway. Mac walked beside Louise, 
 pointedly avoiding Violet, They were some 
 distance in advance of the others. 
 
 "Louise," he asked, presently, "why are you 
 and Mr. Keith so down on Mrs. Vandyne ? And 
 why don't Marcia and Auntie Jean call on her 
 any more?" 
 
 Louise felt, her heart leap to her throat at this 
 direct question. How to answer it truthfully 
 without offending her companion she could not 
 tell, but with characteristic frankness she spoke 
 her mind, after one swift little petition upward 
 for guidance.
 
 126 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "I think it is because we do not consider her 
 a desirable acquaintance." 
 
 "But why not ? At first you were all friendly 
 enough." 
 
 "Yes, for we knew she was a friend of Aunt 
 Kate, and we saw nothing out of the way with 
 her. But when she had the Hermanns and all 
 their crowd at her house so much, and did not 
 keep the Sabbath, and and O Mac ! when 
 she began to keep you away from the chapel and 
 make you so unlike yourself, how could we want 
 to have anything more to do with her ?" 
 
 Mac smiled in an indulgent way. 
 
 "Are you such a little goose, Louise, as to 
 suppose a man can always think and act as he 
 did when he was a boy ?" 
 
 "No," answered Louise, with unexpected 
 spirit, "I think a man ought to act with a great 
 deal more strength and wisdom than he did 
 when he was a boy, and not to retrograde." 
 
 "How have I retrograded ?" he asked, flush- 
 ing a little. Then, quite seriously, "I've known 
 for a good while, Louise, that you and Mr. 
 Keith have been thinking all sorts of things 
 about me. It is not very pleasant, I assure you, 
 to be watched all the time. And I've concluded 
 to have it plainly out with you. We have al- 
 ways been good friends until now, but "
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 127 
 
 He was interrupted by something which 
 sounded suspiciously like a sob. He gave a 
 quick glance downward. 
 
 "Now, don't go to feeling bad, Louise," he 
 went on, more gently, "and making me feel like 
 a brute. I don't wish to hurt your feelings, but 
 I do want to know just what it is that's the mat- 
 ter." 
 
 "I'm willing to tell you so far as I'm con- 
 cerned," she said at once, "but is this a good 
 time!" 
 
 "Well, to tell you the truth, I hadn't an idea 
 of opening up this subject when we started out, 
 but now that we have done so, we'd better keep 
 on. We'll take the little boat and go off alone 
 before the others get here." 
 
 They were but a short time in pushing off; 
 so r when Keith came in view of the river, their 
 small craft was already well down the quiet 
 stream. 
 
 "They're not selfish or anything, are they?" 
 commented Mark, "taking the best boat and 
 skipping off like two lovers." 
 
 "Now begin," Mac was saying at that mo- 
 ment. 
 
 "Well, Mac, in the first place, I think you are 
 quite mistaken in saying that Mr. Keith and I 
 watch you. We can't help seeing that you are
 
 128 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 not at chapel, either at the Sunday-school or 
 services, except once in a great while. We meet 
 you walking and riding with Mrs. Vandyne, 
 but we don't watch you or spy on you, Mac, if 
 that is what you mean. Why, we would bo 
 above that, dearly as we love you and as much as 
 we wish you would be your own self again. I 
 believe you don't realize how different you are." 
 
 Louise's sweet face was never more attrac- 
 tive than now in its earnestness. 
 
 "There's one thing sure, Louise, no one else 
 in the world could talk to me in this way, not 
 even Auntie Jean. I wouldn't stand it. But 
 you always were my dear little mentor and com- 
 forter. I don't mind confessing to you that 
 sometimes I do feel a bit conscience smitten ; I 
 suppose because I'd gotten so in the habit jf 
 helping Mr. Keith in all his work up the moun- 
 tain. But, you see, a man when he goes out into 
 the world can't be a milksop. To refuse a cigar 
 or an innocent game of cards looks so countrified 
 and churlish. It seems as though you were re- 
 proving people older and more experienced than 
 yourself." 
 
 "But if they are not doing right, Mac, why 
 shouldn't they be reproved ?" 
 
 "Exactly. But what is there wrong in smok- 
 ing a good cigar or playing a game of euchre or 
 whist ?"
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 129 
 
 "I think there is everything wrong in them 
 if they make you put Christ and his work 
 second." 
 
 Mac gave close attention to his oars for sev- 
 eral minutes. 
 
 "You certainly do strike a nail squarely on 
 the head, Louise," he said at length, with an 
 uneasy laugh. 
 
 "You used to think just as I do about these 
 things, Mac. Oh ! what has changed you so ! 
 Are you really happier now?" 
 
 "There's no use trying to make you under- 
 stand about it, Louise. You see, you and Auntie 
 Jean and Violet are so different. You think 
 your way is right. Other people have been 
 brought up to think their way is right, Now, 
 why shouldn't they have a chance as well as 
 you ? 
 
 "But, you know, Mac, there is a standard of 
 right and wrong higher than individual opin- 
 ion." 
 
 "I suppose you' mean the Golden Rule and 
 all that. I admit they are good for some people 
 who can't or won't, or, anyhow, don't think for 
 themselves. But why did the Creator give us 
 our reason and mental faculties if he didn't 
 mean that we should use them ?" 
 
 "'Oh! I think he did intend that we should 
 9
 
 130 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 use them, Mac/' replied Louise, speaking very 
 earnestly ; "and if we had no sin in our hearts, 
 very likely we could judge correctly always. 
 But, you see, after sin came in he gave us the 
 Bible to counteract that and to strengthen our 
 judgments, so we could always tell what is right 
 to do and what is wrong." 
 
 Mac regarded her closely. 
 
 "And can you always tell, Louise, just what 
 is right to do ?" 
 
 "Do you remember the day the chapel was 
 dedicated, Mac, and the words that Mr. Keith 
 suggested we should use as our watch-words ?"- 
 Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy 
 heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy 
 mind, and with all thy strength,' and 'Thou 
 shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.' Do you 
 think we can go very far wrong if we live by 
 these?" 
 
 "No, I dare say not. But you fail still to 
 convince me how I am doing wrong in my ac- 
 quaintance with Mrs. Vandyne. If you would 
 lay aside your prejudice, Louise, I am sure you 
 would have to acknowledge her a charming, cul- 
 tivated woman, always ready to do one a kind- 
 ness, and that you, too, would be fond of her." 
 
 Louise shook her head. 
 
 "I am not prejudiced, Mac. If she were only 
 a Christian, I could overlook a great many un-
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 131 
 
 congenial things. But that is something lack- 
 ing which nothing else can make up for. You 
 know the Bible says, 'Be ye not unequally yoked 
 together/ and I always think that means in 
 friendship as well as in marriage. To be real 
 true friends people must be one in their sym- 
 pathies and their aims ; and if she really is the 
 lovely character that you as a Christian be- 
 lieve her to be, then she should be helping you 
 in your Christian life. Is she doing this ?" 
 
 Again Mac looked across at her, this time with 
 some surprise in his survey. He had seen very 
 little of Louise since his return from college in 
 June. It struck him that she had changed 
 more than he knew of since the last vacation. 
 In reply to her searching question, memory 
 brought vividly before him a picture of the last 
 Sabbath morning. He remembered that while 
 he lay swinging in a hammock on Mrs. Van- 
 dyne's shady porch, reading a French novel 
 aloud to her, they had heard the chapel bell 
 ring, and she had made some laughing remark 
 about his being free from bondage. That was 
 the way she helped him in his Christian life. 
 Conscience, outraged so often of late that it had 
 become seared, leaped up and impelled him to 
 acknowledgment. 
 
 "No, Louise, she does not. She does not even 
 respect the Sabbath as we do."
 
 132 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "Then why, O Mac! dear Mac! why do yon 
 care so much for her ? Can't you see how she is 
 harming you ? Can't you realize how dread- 
 fully you will feel some day when you meet our 
 Master and tell him how you forgot him and his 
 work here ? You might be growing so strong 
 and helpful and lovely all these days. There 
 is so much to do. And we miss you so, and 
 want you, Mac." 
 
 The little boat shot forward under his vigor- 
 ous strokes. Louise, frightened lest the words 
 she could not keep back had done more harm 
 than good, sat quivering with emotion. Mac's 
 black brows were drawn together in a scowl. 
 Skillfully he changed their course and in silence 
 rowed back to the landing. The others were not 
 in sight. 
 
 "Tf they want to bo alone, we'll let them," 
 Mark had said, and headed the larger boat up- 
 stream. 
 
 "Do you remember the night we boys upset 
 you, Louise?" Mac said very gently, speaking 
 for the first time, as he walked beside her home- 
 ward. "We were stronger than you were then ; 
 but now you are the strong, true one." 
 
 "Oh ! no, Mac," she began, choking. 
 
 "Yes, you are, dear," he interrupted, still 
 speaking with great gentleness.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 SOME BITS OF TALK. 
 
 AUNT DIANA stood on the porch at Bird's 
 Xest the next forenoon, picking nastur- 
 tium blooms. When she had filled a glass bowl 
 with the brilliant blossoms she carried them in 
 tf Berdel. 
 
 "Thank YOU, Aunt Di; I'll have them close 
 by me here on this little table," said Berdel, who 
 was not to be off her couch at all that day. 
 
 Aunt Diana busied herself about the room for 
 a while and finally went out, returning with a 
 basket of peas to shell. For some time she 
 worked in silence, but Berdel, watching her 
 quick motions and the peculiar compression of 
 her lips, know that she had something on her 
 ri ind. 
 
 "Mary Berdel," she said at last, "what sort 
 o' sickness was it those folks hed whose legs 
 dropped off so's they lied to ride round on the 
 necks of other folks whose arms hed dropped 
 off?" 
 
 "Horrors! Aunt Diana," groaned Berdel,
 
 134 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "what on earth are you talking of ? There never 
 was any such disease." 
 
 Aunt Diana sniffed. 
 
 "Yes, there was," she declared, stoutly. 
 "That's what comes o' readin' so many novel 
 books as you'n John B. do. Your mem'ry ain't 
 wuth shucks. Why, you read me all I ever 
 knew 'bout them poor creeturs with your own 
 mouth when you wan't no more'n ten years old 
 out o' a leetle blue readin' book'n I recolleck 
 that I thought then sech things wasn't no fit 
 readin' for a child like you was. 'N" you don't 
 recolleck a thing about 'em ?" 
 
 Berdel's mind, freed from the shock of Aunt 
 Diana's abrupt dive into her ghastly subject, 
 outran her words. 
 
 "Oh ! yes, now I do. They were lepers, Aunt 
 Diana, way over on the other side of the world." 
 
 "Lepers yes lepr'sy, that's it. 'N they 
 had that sickness in Bible times too. I recolleck 
 about our Saviour's curin' some on 'em." 
 
 "Well," she continued, after a brief pause, 
 during which the pea-pods flew, "Mary Berdel, 
 that sickness hes broke out right here in our 
 reighborhood." 
 
 This brought Berdel bolt upright, big-eyed 
 with amazement. What could be the matter 
 with Aunt Diana this morning !
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 135 
 
 "Here! Mary Berdel Strong! you lie down 
 agin quicker'n scat. John B. give you strict 
 orders 'bout movin' round." 
 
 "Oh ! but, Aunt Di," gasped Berdel, sinking 
 back among the pillows. 
 
 "Never mind 'bout buttin' Aunt Di. You 
 lie still's a hull cheese full o' mice now, or I'll 
 go off'n leave you." 
 
 Berdel knew, from long experience, that 
 words were useless, so she allowed Aunt Diana 
 to arrange her comfortably, with the gentlest 
 of capable hands, and waited, with what patience 
 she was able to muster, for the next chapter. 
 
 It was some time coming, but, in due course, 
 the pea-pods started off again at a great rate of 
 speed. 
 
 "I've noticed simptims o' that sickness round 
 here fer quite a spell back. It's ketchin' fer 
 people, but I hope te the land the horses won't 
 take it, though mebbe 'twould be a marcy to the 
 poor creeters. They'd get a leetle time to them- 
 selves then like enough." 
 
 Another interim. 
 
 "Ef the Widder Vandyne'n that great tall 
 MacDonald feller'n a whole lot more o' the 
 strings to her bow has got good, well legs, why 
 don't they walk on 'em once in a while 'stead of 
 allus gyratin' round on the top o' horses' backs ?
 
 136 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 It stands to reason, to my mind, that ef people's 
 got legs they c'n use, they'll use 'em, 'n I don't 
 know o' any sickness that eats up the hull fabric 
 of a person's legs 'cept that lepr'sy, d' you, Mary 
 Berdel?" 
 
 But Mary Berdel was beyond answering. 
 She lay shaking with laughter. 
 
 Aunt Diana looked at her over the top of her 
 big round spectacles. 
 
 "So that seems funny to you, does it?" she 
 remarked, a grim little smile curving her thin 
 lips at sight of Berdel's merriment. "Wall, it 
 don't to me. I think there'll be a judgment o' 
 God on 'em, every one on 'em, fer neglectin' the 
 members he's given 'em. I just see a hull passel 
 on 'em a scallootiii' by like mad jes' as I see 
 'em almost every day. Ef they ain't got the 
 lepr'sy now, they'll have it, jes' like those fish 
 I heerd John B. readin' about last winter that 
 live in the rivers, in some cave or other, 'n thet 
 by 'n by didn't hev no eyes made in 'em because 
 they didn't need no eyes in that place o' Gyp- 
 shum darkness." 
 
 "But, Aunt Di," remonstrated Berdel, when 
 she could speak, "Violet and Louise and Mr. 
 Keith all ride horse-back; and you surely don't 
 think" 
 
 , Mary Berdel," interrupted Mrs. Bol-
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 137 
 
 ton, "you know well enough that 'cause one 
 man's a idjot it don't foller that all his neign- 
 bors hain't got good sense. The folks that lives 
 off south o' us is no more like those that lives to 
 the north than butter is like the meet in' -house, 
 exceptin' o' thet great tall geezicks of a Mac, 
 as you call him. His brains is all run down into 
 his socks since the Widder Vandyne began 
 crookin' her leetle finger at him. I reckon she 
 ain't a-gointer keep on crookin' it forever, 
 though, 'n then mebbe he'll think it'll rest him 
 to staii' on his head awhile 'n give 'em a chance 
 to run back. He's got enough of 'em, 'n it's a 
 pity he ever got kitched on to her line." 
 
 While all these remarks were being made 
 Mrs. Vandyne and her party galloped gaily up 
 the pleasant mountain road. Lucille was in a 
 brilliant mood. Several things had conspired 
 toward this end. First and foremost, she was 
 this time to carry out her ardent wish to visit 
 the Quarry. Safely tucked in the pocket of her 
 habit, a most stylish and becoming costume 
 showing her slight and extremely graceful figure 
 to the best advantage, was the coveted card of 
 admission, which she had begged Cousin Fred 
 to hand over to her. She wished to present it 
 herself to the obdurate Andy. 
 
 AnotheV cause for her radiant satisfaction
 
 138 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 was a bit of news confided to her by Mr. Her- 
 mann that morning, namely; that he had just 
 made arrangements for the purchase of enough 
 stock in the Sylvester Quarry Company to pre- 
 vent the "Temperance Cranks" from controlling 
 matters. 
 
 And last, but most of all, she was jubilant 
 over the opportunity about to be hers, of riding 
 through the quarry when the work was in full 
 progress with Mac as her escort. She had had a 
 private understanding with Cousin Fred that 
 he was to devote himself exclusively to pretty 
 Miss St. John, leaving her to Mac. She knew 
 well enough that every man and woman in the 
 Quarry village understood the whole matter of 
 the proposed new store, and that the sight of 
 MacDonald Caldwell, openly escorting her 
 party, would be worth hundreds of dollars to her 
 side of the question. 
 
 Mac had never found her more gracious, more 
 fascinating, more openly desirous of pleasing 
 him than on this ride. All his soreness of the 
 day before, his quick-born jealously of Dr. 
 Strong, his brief interview with Violet which 
 left him so mortifyingly worsted, his impulsive, 
 already half repented of, confidences to Louise, 
 were blotted out by the delightfully soothing , 
 and flattering camaraderie of the beautiful 
 woman beside him.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 139 
 
 The first shadow fell over the brightness of 
 her day when they arrived at the upper entrance 
 to which she had gone for the sake of meeting 
 Andy. He was not there. In his place stood a 
 burly son of Erin, who received her card and 
 bade her pass on in the most matter-of-fact fash- 
 ion. 
 
 Could Lucille, bitterly disappointed at the 
 loss of this petty victory, have known that Andy, 
 seated on a big boulder beside Mr. Keith, not 
 ten feet above her, was watching the whole pro- 
 cedure, she would have felt still less amiable. 
 
 It happened to be an "off morning" with 
 Andy, during which he was keeping a sort of 
 watch over the new man put in his place, sit- 
 ting within hail in case there was need of his 
 advice, but out of sight of any incomer not 
 familiar with the lay of the rocks at that par- 
 ticular point. 
 
 "Master Keith," asked Andy, when they had 
 watched the equestrians out of sight in silence, 
 "do you think th' serpent i' th' garden o' Eden 
 had a mate ?" 
 
 "Why, I never thought anything about that, 
 Andy, responded Keith, surprised at the odd 
 question. "Why do you ask ?" 
 
 "I tho't I'd lak to know your notion. It has 
 coom into my head mony times o' late that if he
 
 140 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 did have one, she looked as much lak her as one 
 apple seed looks lak anither." 
 
 This remark was accompanied by a twirl of 
 his big thumb towards the quarry. 
 
 A fleeting smile crossed Keith's face at the 
 queer conceit, followed closely by a deep drawn 
 sigh. 
 
 "Andy, my faith in my Master has never had 
 so severe a trial as this. I simply have no cour- 
 age or strength with which to go forward." 
 
 "No, Master Keith," said Andy, with loving 
 sympathy in his voice and a swift pressure of 
 his hand on Keith's. "O' coorse ye hae none o' 
 yoursel'. But yo' mind what Peter says, 'The 
 Lord knoweth how tae deliver the godly out o' 
 temptations an' tae reserve th' unjust unto th' 
 day o' judgment t' be punished.' Can ye no 
 leave the lad in th' Lord's hands ? There never 
 lived a more godly lad than Master Mac was 
 less than a year gone by, sae th' promise is for 
 him. Who o' us can tell what may coom oot o' 
 all this evil ? Ye ken Peter says i' anither 
 place, 'Though noo for a season, if need be, ye 
 are i' heaviness through manifold temptations, 
 that th' trial o' your faith, bein' much more pre- 
 cious than o' gold that perisheth, though it be 
 tried in fire, might be foun' unto praise an' 
 honor an' glory at th' appear in' o' Jesus Christ.'
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 141 
 
 "Th' Lord's ways are nae our ways, Master 
 Keith. I'd gie my puir life before th' sun 
 mounts an hour higher in th' sky to bring our 
 dear lad where he was six months back even, an' 
 glad an' proud tae do 't. For all I am I owe, 
 under God, tae his splendid stand agen a man 
 crazed wi' drink. But that is nae th' work 
 Andy Graham's got tae doo for his Master, noo. 
 He's got to stan' by 'n see th' wicked spring as 
 th' grass an' all the workers of iniquity nour- 
 ish just as David did but, praise be to th' 
 Lord, Master Keith, for lo! thine enemies shall 
 perish. All the workers o' iniquity shall per- 
 ish." 
 
 "But can you do this patiently, Andy ?" in- 
 quired Keith. "I feel bowed to the very dust in 
 shame at my impatience. I am continually im- 
 pelled to take hold of Mac bodily and carry him 
 out of their clutches and lock him away beyond 
 harm's reach." 
 
 "Would he be beyond the reach o' harm alone 
 wi' his own heart an' ye should lock him oop, do 
 ye think ? Ye ken that th' heart is deceitful 
 above all things an' desperately wicked," was 
 Andy's quiet question, to which there came no 
 answer. 
 
 "Have you been able tae hand him, Master 
 Keith ? Will he hear tae all your kind, lovin'
 
 142 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 words ? Doos he coom tae ye wi' all his joys an' 
 his plans as he used tae do ?" 
 
 Keith could not speak. He shook his head. 
 
 "Kay, he does nane o' these. Th' man in 'im 
 can no be held by you nor me nor any ither man 
 as th' boy was. We've lost him, Master Keith. 
 An' noo it becooms us, as gude sarvants o' our 
 blessed Master, when we've tried to do our part 
 faithful' an' true an' the wark's gotten too heavy 
 for our puir weak han's, tae stan' by an' let Him 
 tak hold. It's harder by mony a pound than 
 liftin' the heftiest eend, but we've got nae choice, 
 Master Keith, we've got nae choice. We c'n 
 pray for 'm an' love him 'n do what cooms i' 
 the way, but it's the Lord Almighty alone can 
 save MacDonald Caldwell frae this day out." 
 
 An instinctive defense of the boy he loved so 
 well leaped to Keith's lips. 
 
 "Oh! don't say that, Andy," he pleaded. 
 "Mac isn't hopelessly lost by any means. Only 
 yesterday he was with us all day, his own bright 
 merry self. And I'm sure he has not He 
 hesitated, fearing to wound Andy by any refer- 
 ence to liquor. 
 
 "Has nae begun tae drink," quietly finished 
 Andy. "Nae, not yet, mayhap, but he will. !N"o 
 lad o' his age can gi' oop th' sanctuary an' th' 
 Master's work an' begin to spend his days wi'
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 143 
 
 such as she, and stay lang awa' frae th' cup. 
 It's coomin', Master Keith ; it's coomin', an' I'm 
 prayin' wi' every breath I draw that th' dear 
 Lord'll let me be th' one tae dash it frae his lips 
 as he did frae mine. But th' time's not yet. 
 He's got tae gang th' whole bitter way before he 
 cooms tae his senses, in th' Father's own gude 
 time." 
 
 "I wish I had your strong faith and ability 
 to see the end from the beginning, Andy. My 
 own heart is so sore beset that I can only try to 
 keep a tight grip on the Father's hand, and 
 stumble on in the darkness." 
 
 " 'Tis nae your grip on him, Master Keith, 
 but his grip on you that counts. You ken that 
 by th' bonnie bairn haudin' tae its daddy's fist. 
 How could sae wee a thing keep tae bit feet 
 frae trippin' ? But when th' man's braw 
 muscles tak hold how easy the laddie mak's 
 his way. An' sometimes, Master Keith, ye've 
 lakly seen th' fayther let go his grip an' leave 
 th' toddler gae alone as he thought an' may- 
 hap he stumbled or even fell mony a time, but 
 th' big, lovin' han' was always near tae bring 
 th' wee bit legs safely o'er when they couldna 
 haud out nae langer, an' all the whiles they was 
 growin' stronger an' mair fit for all the walkin' 
 they was tae do day after day.
 
 144 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "Our Mac is th' dear Lord's ain laddie. He's 
 a stumblin' now, an' maylike will fall, an' fall 
 hard, but th' Father's everlastin' arms is under 
 him, an' he'll find it out some o' these days, an' 
 coom back t' bring th' sunlight to us all once 
 more." 
 
 "God grant it, Andy," said Keith, rising. 
 "Pray for him, and pray for me as well." 
 
 He rose abruptly and, climbing down the 
 rocks, turned his face homeward. 
 
 "Th' dear man's nigh daft wi' th' heaviness 
 o' all this," mused Andy, watching the retreat- 
 ing figure with loving gaze. "He's been sae 
 strong an' helpfu' for us all, an' now that his 
 ain trial's on him, he's sunken under it. Dear 
 Lord Jesus, an' it be thy will, gie me th' glad 
 work o' easin' him in ony way. Tak pity on 
 his achin' heart, an' gie him a portion o' thine 
 ain spirit. Point out tae him some word i' thy 
 ain blessed book to comfort him an' gie him 
 strength. An', dear Master, dinna let our bon- 
 nie lad gae very far frae thee, not sae far as 
 Peter did, not sae far as Andy Graham. They 
 were not sae young an' tender, dear Jesus. Be 
 more merciful tae him. For thy ain name's 
 sake. Amen." 
 
 Keith had not gone very far down the moun- 
 tain before he met Louise. How fair and sweet
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 145 
 
 she was he thought, all his sadness lightened for 
 the moment by her dear presence. 
 
 "O Mr. Keith! I'm so glad you are on your 
 way home. Auntie Jean told me you had gone 
 up to the chapel, and I came to find you, for I 
 want to speak to you about Mac." 
 
 "Very well. Suppose we walk over near the 
 chapel and find a pleasant seat there." 
 
 But Louise could not wait until then, to be- 
 gin on the subject of which her mind and heart 
 were so full. 
 
 "Mr. Keith," she asked at once, "couldn't you 
 take Mac away for a trip somewhere this sum- 
 mer, a long trip, across the ocean or to Cali- 
 fornia ?" 
 
 "Why?" asked Keith, slowly. 
 
 "Oh ! to get him away from from from 
 things that are not good for him. You know 
 what I mean, don't you, Mr. Keith ?" 
 
 "Yes, Louise, I know. I have thought of that 
 myself, but, do you know, that Mac will be 
 twenty-one in October? He is a man now, and 
 we cannot 'take him oft 7 ' as we could when he 
 was a boy. Not long ago I broached the sub- 
 ject to him, and he would not talk of it. He is 
 under a stronger influence now than ours." 
 
 . "But I think, Mr. Keith, from something he 
 said to me yesterday, that he doesn't want to be 
 10
 
 146 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 under Mrs. Vandyne's influence. I believe lie 
 is sorry sometimes and unhappy, but oh! I 
 don't understand very well, but I think he is 
 like those sailors who listened to the sirens in 
 the old Greek story and that somebody ought 
 to lash him to the rigging as they lashed Ulysses, 
 wasn't it? It seems to me as if we were just 
 all sitting still and letting him sail right on 
 away from us without doing a thing. Violet 
 wants to lecture him, but that will only make 
 things worse. Isn't there anything we can do, 
 Mr. Keith, besides praying for him and loving 
 him?" 
 
 Almost Andy's very words. Keith looked 
 into the dark, troubled eyes, and then a strange 
 thing happened. He who had been so weak and 
 downcast beside the rock of Andy's faith, now 
 that he was called to help another, felt his faint- 
 ing heart grow strong. 
 
 "We will try, Louise. Mac has not been much 
 with us since he came home, as you know, and 
 my efforts to interest him in our old work have 
 failed almost wholly. I think little can be done 
 here ; but suppose we plan to spend a month or 
 two cruising along the coast from New York to 
 Bar Harbor. I have a friend who will not be 
 using his yacht this fall, and I'm sure arrange-
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 147 
 
 ments can be made. Mac has always been in- 
 tensely interested in yachting ever since our 
 month's cruise with the Munroes on their trim 
 little craft, The Osprey. Janet and Hilda, you 
 and Violet, Mac and I shall be the party, and, if 
 there's room, we'll invite your sister and Mark 
 and Marcia." 
 
 "Oh! how delightful," cried Louise, over- 
 joyed. "But won't it cost a good deal, Mr. 
 Keith, to take so many of us ?" 
 
 "It will cost something, of course, but I have 
 a bit of money laid away, Louise, which I would 
 gladly use to make you I mean, to make Mac 
 his old self again." 
 
 The dark eyes were brilliant now, and a pretty 
 rose flush deepened in her cheeks as she said, 
 "Thank you more than I can ever say, Mr. 
 Keith. I felt sure that you would think of 
 something practicable. And I'm sure, too, that 
 if Mac could only be away from all that crowd 
 a while, he would think of them just as we do. 
 JSTow, when shall we tell the others about our 
 voyage and begin to get ready ?" 
 
 "Just as soon as I hear from Gregory. He's 
 tied at home by business this summer, so is in 
 New York, and it won't take long to hear. I'll 
 go home and write to him now, so the letter can 
 go down on the afternoon mail."
 
 148 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "And will you ask Mac, or shall I or, per- 
 haps, we'd better both talk with him together." 
 
 "I should think you would be the better one, 
 Miss Lucinda," he replied, with a droll glance. 
 "I've noticed that you usually get what you ask 
 for." 
 
 "What I ask you for yes," she quickly an- 
 swered. "But every one is not so good as you 
 are, Mr. Keith." 
 
 Again the vivid color stained her face from 
 throat to brow, and, turning from him, she be- 
 gan gathering a bunch of daisies along the road- 
 side.
 
 CHAPTEK XI. 
 ANDY'S WOEK. 
 
 MRS. VANDYNE could not immediately 
 forget her annoyance at not meeting 
 Andy, and she at first allowed Mac to do most of 
 the talking as they made the rounds of the 
 quarry. He was, in fact, kept busy pointing 
 out various features of the work in which she 
 gradually became so interested as to regain her 
 usual vivacity. Everywhere the men looked up 
 to see the visitors; some pulled off their caps, 
 with a hearty greeting to "Mr. Mac" and ad- 
 miring glances in her direction; some touched 
 their forelocks in half surly fashion; others 
 merely nodded without stopping their work, 
 while a few spoke to her by name and were eager 
 to talk of what they were doing. 
 
 One of these last, a stalwart Irishman, took 
 his pipe from his mouth and looked after the 
 two as they rode away. 
 
 "That's as swate a leddy as the sun often 
 shines on, eh, Jim ?" 
 
 "She's doin' a swate thing for us if she gits
 
 150 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 Mr. Mac under her thumb," replied his com- 
 panion, squinting along the top of a huge block 
 of granite. "He's the light o' Mr. Keith's eyes, 
 an' of the ole man's, too, an' they'd let this place 
 go to blazes sooner'n cross him. Ef he wants 
 the men to have a place where they can git the 
 stuff up here, the place will be here." 
 
 "You're a-talkin' out o' yore mouth now, ain't 
 ye, Jim Maloney ?" spoke up a red-headed little 
 man not far off. "If you'd lived here's long's T 
 hev, you'd know Mr. Keith better'n all that. 
 He wouldn't no sooner hev a saloon up in the 
 Quarry village than he'd stand in a blast, Mr. 
 Mac or no Mr. Mac." 
 
 "He'd better be mighty quick about keepiri' 
 it out then," called out a slim young fellow be- 
 low them. "The first load o' goods came up the 
 mountain this mornin', an' by this time is un- 
 packed in Hermann's store." 
 
 "Oh! he don't care nothin' about the store. 
 That's all right enough so long's no liquor's 
 sold." 
 
 "Wall," announced Jim, dexterously dis- 
 charging a slender brown line of tobacco juice, 
 "liquor's goin' to be sold there, or some of us 
 will know the reason why. This here's a free 
 country, an' 
 
 "Yes, Jim, to be sure it's a free country," in-
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 151 
 
 terrupted Bill, who dearly loved an argument 
 for the argument's sake, irrespective of the 
 merits of the question, "but, you know, the ma- 
 jority rules. Now, if you was to canvass the 
 Quarry village man by man 
 
 "Canvass nothing," burst out Jim, scornfully. 
 "I guess the minority's got some show. Ef you 
 ever read the papers, you'd find out thet there's 
 always a minority report down ter Congress in 
 Washington. Now, ef the minority ain't got no 
 show, what in thunder's the use of them makin' 
 a report ? The liquor men's in the minority up 
 here, but they're a-goin' to make a rousin' big 
 report all the same, you bet. An' that report, 
 backed by Hermann brothers an' Mac Caldwell, 
 is goin' to make things hum." 
 
 "But Mac Caldwell ain't no liquor man, Jim 
 Maloney," asserted Tommy Lowe, nodding his 
 red head. "I mind well how he knocked the 
 glass o' toddy Andy fixed up fer him in a fit o' 
 deviltry all ter smash on the door stone. I've 
 heard old Robert tell the story more than once. 
 And from that day Andy began to straighten 
 out. No,. Jim, you're way off there, Mac Cald- 
 well ain't no liquor man." 
 
 "He ain't, ain't he?" drawled Jim, winking 
 slyly at Bill. "Wall, with that ere spruce little 
 pardner o' his'n, how long 5 !! ye give him? I
 
 152 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 figure it'll take jest about six weeks or mebbe 
 not " 
 
 A quick, low whistle cut short his calcula- 
 tions. Each of the men giving instant heed to 
 the signal, saw Andy walking leisurely towards 
 them. 
 
 "Good-morning, men !" he said, pleasantly. 
 "You're gettin' on fine wi' that bit o' trouble- 
 some wark, Jim. I stopped by your house as 1 
 coom up. I thou't ye'd lak tae know how the 
 wee bit lassie is since the sunrise when ye left 
 her. Th' doctor was there an' says she's im- 
 provin' grand, an' that the fever's not lakly tae 
 coom back the nicht. It made my heart glad tae 
 see that she kenned me an' put out her bits o' 
 fists tae me. It's a great thing, Jim, tae have 
 a leetle child lak that tae call you fayther. It 
 keeps a mon frae mony a sinfu' deed." 
 
 Jim mumbled some inarticulate answer and 
 turned away, brushing his sleeve hastily across 
 his eyes. He had not spoken to his comrades of 
 the sick little one at home, w r hose serious condi- 
 tion was understood by them all. He had joked 
 and sworn and been his usual self through all 
 the anxious days of the past week, and many 
 had thought him unfeeling. Now the most care- 
 less realized something of the aching heart he 
 had carried. He disappeared around a big
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 153 
 
 boulder, and, creeping away to a quiet spot, he 
 fell on his knees, his huge frame all a-quiver 
 with thankfulness. 
 
 "O Lord ! I don't know how to say the words, 
 hut you understand, don't you ? I ain't a-goin' 
 to do nothin' more that'll hurt her. Amen." 
 
 The sharp echoing report of a blast in an- 
 other part of the quarry came rolling across to 
 the group of men with whom Andy still stood. 
 A moment later another more startling sound 
 fell on their ears, the quick ring of a horse's 
 hoofs over the rocky roadway. All knew whit 
 it meant and sprang forward. By this time 
 Don was in sight, tearing down .towards them, 
 wild with fright, entirely beyond control of the 
 firm rein with which his mistress, white as death 
 but self-possessed, was trying in vain to restrain 
 him. 
 
 A dozen hands reached out to grasp the bridle, 
 but it was Andy's which gripped it first. Lu- 
 cille had had her wish. She was again face to 
 face with the man who had prevented her on- 
 ward progress. Once more he had stopped her 
 horse in peremptory fashion without asking her 
 leave. For a second time the beautiful dark 
 eyes and the steadfast grey ones met, and now, 
 as then, the man was the master. 
 
 She did not faint when they lifted her down
 
 154 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 from the trembling creature, who could hardly 
 yet be reassured by the gentle words and touches 
 of the men about him. With a low-spoken 
 phrase of thanks to them all in general, she 
 walked to a stone near by and seated herself 
 quite complacently. Scarcely had she done so 
 when Mr. Hermann came riding up, and be- 
 hind him, some way off, Mac, on foot, running. 
 Andy gave him one swift, searching look as he 
 came near, and, satisfied that he was not hurt, 
 turned quietly and walked, unobserved, away 
 from the crowd which had gathered as if by 
 magic. 
 
 Without stopping or looking behind him he 
 kept steadily on up the mountain, then along 
 its ridge until he reached a secluded spot, scene 
 of many solitary communings with his Father 
 in heaven. Quite far from any travelled road, 
 it yet overlooked the whole Ammo-net Valley, 
 beautifully spread out below. Andy had often 
 thought it must have been on some such "ex- 
 ceeding high mountain" that the devil took the 
 Saviour when he "showed him all the kingdoms 
 of the world and the glory of them," but never 
 until to-day had he felt as if the tempter was 
 sharing with him personally the sanctity of his 
 retreat. 
 
 In utter bewilderment and dumb despair he
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 155 
 
 sat there, looking down over the peaceful scene 
 with eyes that saw not. What could it mean ? 
 
 ; He was willing to save MacDonald from 
 further marring of his bright young life with 
 his own existence. The words he had spoken -o 
 Keith were not idle ones. Since the hour that 
 the boy's resolute action had formed the turn- 
 ing point in his own career, Mac had been dear- 
 est of all living things to him, > and he would 
 have gladly, eagerly, as he said, died for him. 
 
 His big, loving, compassionate heart yearned 
 over Keith in the hour of his disappointment 
 and leaped forward with still more tender sym- 
 pathy for him during the darker hours which 
 were to come. He had prayed earnestly that 
 his might be the task of lightening in some way 
 the burden of that sorrowful heart. 
 
 And here, within an hour almost, was the 
 work which came to his hand : to save the life of 
 the woman who was luring Mac to destruc- 
 tion. 
 
 Poor Andy ! He could almost feel the tan- 
 gible presence of a sinister companion evil, 
 mocking, malicious tempting him to distrust 
 his Lord. Long he sat motionless, staring 
 straight before him. Closer and more sombre 
 the thick clouds closed around him, until no 
 ray pierced the gloom. For the first and only
 
 156 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 time in his Christian life he was parted from 
 his Master. 
 
 Strange questions thronged his mind. Could 
 it be that things just happened after all ? Was 
 there no guiding hand at the helm of this and 
 every other world ? If so, surely he, of all men, 
 would not have been chosen to stop the terrified 
 horse. It must, indeed, be a God who enjoyed 
 the torture of his creatures to so allot their ac- 
 tions. What could exceed the mockery of such 
 an answer to a sincere prayer! But was it an 
 answer? Was there really such a thing as an 
 answer to any prayer ? 
 
 Heavier still grew the darkness until it cov- 
 ered him as with a pall and bowed his head 
 upon his hands. Bitter and more bitter grew 
 the pain in his heart until he could endure it no 
 longer. Springing erect and throwing his arms 
 out, he cried aloud, "Get thee behind me, Satan. 
 Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him." 
 
 Then he fell on his knees. Motionless, word- 
 less, he waited for the help which had never 
 failed him. And soon, softly, sweetly, bless- 
 edly, like the clear chimes of silver bells : 
 
 "Let not your heart be troubled; ye believe 
 in God, believe also in me." 
 
 "If ye shall ask anything in my name, I will 
 do it."
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 157 
 
 "Love your enemies, bless them that curse 
 you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for 
 them that despitefully use you and persecute 
 you." 
 
 "For lo! I am with you alway, even to the 
 end of the world."
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 EOSE PETALS. 
 
 ME. KEITH despatched the letter to nis 
 friend Gregory without delay. A prompt 
 answer came back saying that the White Cap, 
 which was at present on its way to Boston, 
 would have returned to New York by Septem- 
 ber first, and would then be heartily at the ser- 
 vice of Keith and his friends. Mr. Gregory 
 also stated that she accommodated twelve passen- 
 gers besides the crew. 
 
 "I'm afraid that will be too late for the Maine 
 coast, Louise, but we can arrange some other 
 trip, to Norfolk or possibly Charleston," Mr. 
 Keith explained at the first opportunity. 
 
 "It really doesn't make much difference 
 where we go. Now, the next thing is to get 
 Mac to promise to join our party. Sometimes 
 I think we'd better have Violet ask him. You 
 know he is devoted to Violet." 
 
 Keith could not help a quick look at the quiet, 
 unruffled face of the girl. 
 
 "How beautifully unselfish she is," he 
 thought, wistfully. "There never was such an- 
 other lovely character as my darling."
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 159 
 
 "Here she comes now/' she added in a low 
 tone. "Suppose we tell her." 
 
 Her swiftly upraised eves met the answer in 
 his by the time Violet joined them. 
 
 "Secrets again !" that young lady exclaimed 
 gaily. "You two do have the most confabs. 
 What is it now ? Something for a poor needy 
 youngster, I know well enough." 
 
 But Louise could, not smile at her pleas- 
 antry. 
 
 "You've guessed nearer the truth than you 
 imagine, dear," she said, soberly. "We're ar- 
 ranging a little yacht excursion for Mac." 
 
 "Oh-h !" 
 
 The soft exclamation was prolonged. Then 
 Violet stood quite still, in a way she often had 
 when she wished to conceal her real feelings. 
 It seemed as though by sheer will she held her- 
 self in absolute quiet. She listened, without re- 
 mark, to the details of the plan. 
 
 "And I thought," concluded Louise, "that 
 you would be the best one to tell Mac of it. 
 Doesn't it seem strange," she continued, with a 
 sigh, "that we have to manage in such a schem- 
 ing sort of way ? Only a short while ago he 
 would have been the most eager and interested 
 of us all. And now we are so afraid that he 
 won't even be willing to talk of it. Sometimes
 
 160 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 I feel as though I were having a horrid dream, 
 as though it could not really be true that Mac 
 has changed so much. Mrs.- Vandyne doesn't 
 seem to be a wicked woman, do you think she 
 does, Mr. Keith ? She isn't like Auntie Jean or 
 sister, and I never exactly liked her ; but, at the 
 same time, she is so handsome and gracious and 
 friendly that one wouldn't suspect her of being 
 so so wrong." 
 
 "That is just where Mac is being deceived," 
 said Keith. "He sees only the attractive sur- 
 face. If he suspected the unscrupulous and sel- 
 fish, and, I fear, really unprincipled character 
 beneath all the polish and charm which so fasci- 
 nates him, I think he would very quickly be dis- 
 enchanted." 
 
 "But why doesn't he know it as we do, or, at 
 least, believe you when you tell him ?" asked 
 Louise, the clear-eyed, looking up at Keith. 
 
 "Because the time has come when he will no 
 longer take things second hand, Louise. He 
 must learn by experience, as we all have to do. 
 Some day he will find out that Mrs. Vandyne is 
 not the friend she appears to be." 
 
 "Yes, I know he will," said Louise, with such 
 a quaint air of absolute conviction that both her 
 companions looked at her in surprise. "I know 
 he will be all right again after awhile," she con-
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 161 
 
 tinned. "What troubles me is that nothing is 
 being done to keep him from doing all these 
 things which he will regret so keenly. It seems 
 to me that if friends are worth anything, they 
 ought to come forward at such a time as this 
 and hold people back from going on the wrong 
 road. Then the whole weary way will not have 
 to be walked over again coming back to the right 
 place. And so I'm delighted that you thought 
 of this yachting party, Mr. Keith. If we can 
 get him away for a time, I feel sure everything 
 will adjust itself. ISTow, Violet, will you see 
 Mac to-day ?" 
 
 Violet, during this conversation, had been 
 fighting a battle with her pride. The memory 
 of her last interview with the imperious young 
 man was still vividly fresh in her mind, and, 
 with all her sweetness and sinceritv, she could 
 not quite relish seeking an interview with him 
 just yet. But by the time the direct question 
 came she was ready with her answer: "If you 
 wish it, dear; but it is only fair to tell you 
 that Mac and I had a well, a sort of if I 
 were a boy, it would have been a scrap the other 
 day, and " 
 
 The rest of her sentence was drowned in the 
 irrepressible laughter of her hearers. 
 
 Violet and a scrap! Such a juxtaposition 
 11
 
 162 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 of ideas was hardly to be grasped. And a scrap 
 with Mac of all people ! 
 
 Violet waited, with pretty dignity, until they 
 were quiet. 
 
 "And so," she went on, her color slightly 
 heightened, "I'm afraid he may not listen to me 
 as willingly as to you." 
 
 "Do excuse me, Violet," began Louise. "I 
 really couldn't help laughing at the thought of 
 your falling out with Mac, or he with you. 
 You'll never be able to convince me that what- 
 ever the trouble was it has lasted all this 
 time; so you may consider yourself em- 
 powered to act as committee of invitation and 
 explanation and all the rest ; shall she not, Mr. 
 Keith ? There ! I hear him now whistling to 
 Haco." 
 
 Louise stepped to the end of the porch and 
 looked across towards Standish Hall. 
 
 "Shall I call him to come over, Violet ?" 
 
 For answer Violet herself made a trumpet of 
 her hands and uttered a peculiar, clear cry. It 
 was at once answered in similar fashion. 
 
 "He'll be here soon. That is a call Papa 
 taught me when I was a little girl." 
 
 "And now, Miss Lucinda, since we have not 
 been asked to stay, suppose we take our leave," 
 said Keith, gravely, offering his arm with much 
 ceremony.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 163 
 
 They had barely disappeared within the 
 house when Mac came striding across the lawn, 
 Haco at his heels. He found Violet, serene and 
 lovely, in a pretty white gown, seated on a low 
 chair, pulling the petals from a bunch of roses. 
 
 "An' what is your will, ladye faire?" he 
 asked, doffing his cap and sprawling down on 
 the veranda steps. 
 
 "That you make yourself useful a little while 
 by helping fill a rose-jar for Jeanie," she an- 
 swered, tossing him a branch. "There's a bowl 
 behind you on the shelf. Don't put in any but 
 perfect leaves." 
 
 Quite obediently he set to work, casting an 
 occasional side-glance towards his neighbor, for 
 he, too, had a distinct recollection of their last 
 meeting. 
 
 "Did you know, Mac," she said suddenly, 
 shaking a lot of the sweet-smelling crumples 
 down in the bowl on her lap, "that Cousin Keith 
 is going to take us all off for a cruise in Mr. 
 Gregory's yacht, The White Cap, before a great 
 while? He's just been telling Louise and me 
 about it. Won't it be fun, and won't you teach 
 me to steer, Mac? I remember watehing the 
 man at the wheel on the Osprey last summer, 
 and just longing to know how to use it." 
 
 Mac's eyes were fixed on his roses, and he did
 
 164 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 not reply at once. It was now Violet's turn for 
 covert glances. 
 
 "What makes you take it for granted that I 
 will go, Violet ?" he finally asked. 
 
 "Why, because you will have such a lovely 
 time, of course," said she. "Who wouldn't go 
 off on a yacht if they had the chance ?" 
 
 A tiny sigh of relief escaped Mac. He looked 
 up at her now, reassured by the frank candor of 
 her answer. 
 
 "When is he going?" 
 
 "About the first of September. He wanted to 
 start right away, but some other friends of Mr. 
 Gregory are using The White Cap now. If the 
 weather is good, we may be gone two or three 
 weeks. There'll be just our family, with Louise 
 and Marcia, Mark and little Marcia and you. 
 Won't we have a beautiful time, Mac ?" 
 
 Before he could reply steps were heard on 
 the gravel walk, and Dr. Strong made his ap- 
 pearance around the corner of the house. 
 
 At sight of the charming picture brought so 
 unexpectedly to his view, the stalwart doctor 
 stopped quite still, blushing with embarrass- 
 ment at having interrupted a lover-like tete-a- 
 tete, as he naturally supposed, and feeling at 
 the same time a jealous tug at his heart-strings. 
 
 Mac, too, was red at the thought that "the
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 165 
 
 old idiot" had come to call on Violet in so un- 
 conventional a way, and Violet's fair face was 
 crimson with the remembrance of the last time 
 Mac had spoken the doctor's name to her. 
 
 That gentleman was not quicker to see than 
 to interpret in his own fashion the mounting 
 floods of color and the scarcely concealed con- 
 fusion of the two young people. 
 
 Violet was the first to speak. 
 
 "Good-morning, Dr. Strong!" she said, ris- 
 ing, with the bowl in one hand and the other 
 extended to him in graceful greeting. "Come 
 up and have a chair and help us, won't you ? 
 I'm sure you can't refuse when you know it's for 
 Jeanie." 
 
 "That's a strong inducement, certainly, Miss 
 Violet," he responded, holding her hand for a 
 second. "But my errand is with Keith, and 
 must be a short one this time. Good-morning, 
 MacDonald ! Glad to see you at work." 
 
 He crossed over and shook hands with Mac, all 
 his momentary excitement subsided. 
 
 "If your cousin is within, I'll hunt him up, 
 by vour leave, Miss Violet," he went on in his 
 usual courteous, kindly manner. "Don't trouble 
 to call him." 
 
 But Violet had already gone in search of 
 Keith, whom she located in the library, and
 
 166 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 thither the doctor made his way, calling him- 
 self more hard names for his folly in hoping to 
 win Violet than Mac could have conjured up in 
 twice the time. 
 
 That youth meanwhile had resumed his place 
 on the veranda steps and his occupation of pick- 
 ing off rose petals with a lowering brow. 
 
 "Is he going?" was his abrupt, irrelevant 
 query. 
 
 "He? Who? Oh! Dr. Strong!" exclaimed 
 Violet, with wide-open innocent eyes. "Oh ! no, 
 I hope not. It will be so much nicer to have 
 just ourselves, don't you think so ?" 
 
 "I think it will be a great deal more com- 
 fortable if he doesn't go," was the rather evasive 
 rejoinder. 
 
 "Why, yes, of course," agreed Violet, cor- 
 dially. "These new friends in the neighbor- 
 hood are well enough for once in a while, but 
 when we want to have the very best of happy 
 times we don't care for anybody but Standishes 
 and Sylvesters, do we?" 
 
 "That lets me out," said Mac, quickly. 
 
 "By no means. You are just as truly a 
 Standish as though that were your name. Your 
 mother was a Standish, you know. And you 
 know well enough I meant you. So don't try 
 to be funny, sir, but promise me I shall have
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 167 
 
 the very best lesson in steering The White Cap 
 as soon as we get started." 
 
 "That's a bargain, if you'll give me a prom- 
 ise first." 
 
 "Let me hear it before I do anything rash." 
 
 "Don't have anything to do with old Saddle- 
 bags while I'm gone to Europe this winter." 
 
 Violet felt the blood rush in a torrent to her 
 cheeks, and only just in time checked the ex- 
 clamation on the tip of her tongue. 
 
 "Mac going to Europe for the whole winter !" 
 "Old Saddle-bags !" "Don't have anything to do 
 with him!" 
 
 Astonishment, dismay, indignation, resent- 
 ment, which was uppermost ? 
 
 "Mac, you ought not to speak of Dr. Strong 
 in such a flippant way," she said at length, try- 
 ing to speak calmly. "He is a gentleman, and 
 a dear friend to all of us." 
 
 "I know it, Violet, and I beg his pardon and 
 yours, but it does make me so wrathy when I see 
 him come purring around you that I can't stand 
 it." 
 
 In spite of herself a tiny smile crept around 
 Violet's lips. That word "purring" seemed so 
 irresistibly funny when applied to Dr. Strong's 
 handsome, manly self. Finally she laughed out- 
 right.
 
 168 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "Don't go to putting things into my head, 
 Mac. You may do mischief. Now tell me 
 about this European trip of yours. Isn't it 
 quite a sudden idea?" 
 
 "No and yes. Mrs. Vandyne has spoken in a 
 general way several times about my joining her 
 party next summer; but quite recently she has 
 decided to spend the winter abroad, and only 
 yesterday she invited me to go with her. Her 
 niece, Clara St. John, and another lady will be 
 in the party." 
 
 "And is Uncle Mark willing you should go, 
 Mac?" 
 
 "No, Violet, he is not," answered Mac, slowly. 
 "In fact, he told me that he should be very much 
 displeased and disappointed if I go with Mrs. 
 Vandyne. He's willing enough I should go with 
 any one else. But, you know, I shall be twenty- 
 one in October, and shall then have all the money 
 my father left for me. Uncle Mark Avill no 
 longer be my guardian. I can do as I please, 
 and I shall do as I please. And I please to join 
 Mrs. Yandyne's party," he concluded, deliber- 
 ately. 
 
 Violet's hands were folded across her bowl. 
 She was regarding Mac openly, and was struck, 
 as Louise had been, with the change in him. 
 She felt, too, for the first time, a strange new
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 169 
 
 pride of spirit, which made it impossible to 
 give him the "lecture" on the subject of his ac- 
 quaintance with Mrs. \ r andyne which only a 
 few days before she had been eager to admin- 
 ister. 
 
 "If he prefers to go with her, let him go!" 
 this proud little something whispered in her ear. 
 So her next words came as a surprise to Mac, 
 who had expected. and half unconsciously de- 
 sired remonstrances if not reproaches, which he 
 was ready to meet. 
 
 "I hope you will have a lovely trip, Mac, and 
 enjoy it just as much as you anticipate. And 
 you'll go with us on The White Cap first, won't 
 you ?" she said very gently, yet with a new note 
 in her voice that made him look quickly up at 
 her. 
 
 "Why, yes, I suppose so. There'd be no end 
 of a commotion if I didn't. And you shall have 
 all the lessons at the wheel you wish for," he 
 added, smiling genially, as if to make up for his 
 gruffness. 
 
 "Thank you, Mac, and thank you for doing all 
 this. Give me your bowl now or you take 
 mine and we'll go spread them in the old 
 school-room. I'm going to fill all Jeanie's jars 
 this summer." 
 
 She walked beside him down the hall. He
 
 170 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 thought he had never seen her more lovely, or 
 more winsome, nor, in some way he could 
 neither understand nor explain, more remote. 
 
 After he had gone home she sought for Keith 
 and Louise, whom she found still in the library, 
 talking over chapel matters. They both looked 
 up eagerly as she entered. 
 
 "He will go," said Violet, in her most quiet 
 way, "and later he is to go abroad for the winter 
 with Mrs. Vandyne. Please excuse me now; I 
 must find Jeanie." 
 
 So saying she passed with noiseless steps from 
 the room.
 
 CHAPTEK XIII. 
 
 A SOREY TIME. 
 
 AT the August meeting of the directors of 
 the Sylvester Quarry, Mr. Standish 
 found that it would be impossible to make pur- 
 chase of the shares of stock before several weeks, 
 as the heirs of Dana Brooks were travelling 
 abroad, and had instructed their agent to make 
 no sales during their absence, and those parties 
 owning the remaining shares could not be 
 reached without some delay. So this way of 
 settling the vexed question of liquor or no liquor, 
 in the Quarry village seemed to be blocked for 
 the present. 
 
 In the meantime the new store was being 
 stocked and made as attractive as energy and 
 money could accomplish. 
 
 Mr. Keith, with Andy and a few others, used 
 their influence in a quiet way. Miss Janet and 
 Mrs. Eliot gave the entertainment for the chil- 
 dren which they had planned, and which was 
 well attended both by the little ones and their 
 parents, who listened thoughtfully to Andy's 
 simple, clear words; and yet as the golden Au- 
 gust days slipped swiftly by, one by one, towards
 
 172 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 their end with no step taken, no real gain made 
 towards the ardently desired goal, a great sense 
 of discouragement settled down on Keith's 
 heart. The interview of the committee with the 
 Hermanns had been disappointing. They were 
 met with suave courtesy, and with the assurance 
 that the new store would be in no way harmful 
 to the best interests of Sylvester. All of which 
 meant nothing more than that every plan of the 
 Hermann brothers would be carried out. 
 
 It appeared to Keith sometimes as though 
 he was suffering from a species of moral or 
 spiritual paralysis. He often wondered if, by 
 viewing the matter so long at such short range 
 and with so intenselv sympathetic a vision, lie 
 had not lost the true focus, the normal relativity 
 of persons and circumstances and actions. More' 
 than once he was tempted to go off far off 
 alone to get away for a time from the sight 
 and sound of everything and everybody con- 
 nected with the Quarry in order that on his re- 
 turn a readjustment of ideas might bring him 
 light. But at this point he was never able to 
 decide whether he most needed to plunge into 
 the diverting excitement of a crowd or to with- 
 draw to the cloister-like repose of solitude. He 
 usually ended by spending a nuiet hour with 
 Janet talking over matters.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 173 
 
 In the light of her clear common sense, her 
 hopeful optimism, and especially her strong 
 faith in Mac, he usually found refreshment of 
 spirit as well as new courage for keeping on 
 with the good work. 
 
 His natural impulse was always to seek 
 Louise, about whom his strongest affections cen- 
 tered, but a twofold consideration kept his feet 
 from the path they would most gladly have trod- 
 den. First, he was afraid of showing his real 
 feelings for her, and, second, he could not speak 
 of Mac to her as freely as to Miss Janet. 
 
 One morning, a few days before they were to 
 start to New York, to establish themselves on 
 The White Cap, Mr. Standish walked across 
 from his home and joined Keith and Janet on 
 the veranda at Little Acorns. 
 
 His thin, dark face was troubled, and he be- 
 gan at once, after the greetings, to speak of that 
 which filled his heart. 
 
 "I've been in to Standish this morning to 
 bring Mac home," he said, then stopped as 
 though unable to proceed. 
 
 "Has he been hurt ?" asked Miss Janet, hur- 
 riedly. 
 
 "Ay ! hurt to the death, I'm thinking. I'd 
 almost rather have had him lying dead beside 
 me than in the state he was."
 
 174 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 A great lump filled Janet's throat, and her 
 heart beat furiously. Keith was as pale as she. 
 Both sat waiting impatiently and yet with dread 
 for what should come next. 
 
 "You must forgive me, Jeanie. This is not 
 fit tidings for your ears, but it is we three who 
 love him best who must try, as we never have 
 tried before, to save our dear boy. I have suf- 
 fered agonies this morning over my lukewarm- 
 ness in the past. I knew he was going wrong, 
 and I have talked with him from time to time, 
 but I could not believe in his danger. I trusted 
 too much to his strong Christian character, for- 
 getting how weak we are, and how continually 
 the adversary is on the watch to catch us trip- 
 ping. God forgive me for the poor way I have 
 kept the trust he laid on me when he gave Mac 
 into my care." 
 
 He bowed his head on his hands and sighed 
 deeply. 
 
 "Andy came to the house," he said after a 
 little, "at daybreak, and told me that Mac had 
 spent the night carousing with the younger Her- 
 mann crowd in Standish, and suggested that I 
 had better go for him with some of our own 
 people before the neighborhood was stirring. He 
 went with me. "We found Mac in a dead sleep, 
 and brought him home to his own room without
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 175 
 
 the knowledge of any one but ourselves and our 
 coachman James. He has not waked yet. I 
 have never dreamed that things had gone so far 
 with him, and must still think this is the first 
 time for anything so serious." 
 
 "How did Andy know ?" asked Keith, after a 
 painful silence of some minutes. 
 
 "Who can tell ? I sometimes believe he never 
 lets the boy out of his sight. And now oh! 
 what shall we do ? what can we do ?" 
 
 As if in answer to the question, a step was 
 heard coming near and Andy appeared. All 
 three turned towards him with silent appeal in 
 their eyes. Keith held out a hand, which Andy 
 gripped hard, and Janet tried to smile, but no 
 one spoke. 
 
 "Is t' lad awake yet?" he inquired without 
 preface. 
 
 "He was not ten minutes ago," replied Mr. 
 Standish. 
 
 "Will ye tell him when he does wake oop that 
 I'm waitin' t' carry him over t' mountain t' hunt 
 oot t' vein o' marble we heard was opened oop 
 about a week ago? He'll ken the one I mean, 
 an' he's promised t' be ready when I call him. 
 Tell him I'll be at t' south Quarry road by t' big 
 chestnut tree, an' I'll wait till he cooms." 
 
 He paused a moment, during which his look 
 passed slowly from one sad face to another.
 
 176 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "Dinna be sae cast doon, dear friends," he 
 said then, gently. "Onr dear Lord's wark is 
 not tae be destroyed by one, nor yet by two, nor 
 even by mony blows o' t' devil's fist. Show t' 
 lad that ye love him still, and try to trust him 
 all ye can. 'Twill do mair glide than all t' re- 
 proaches an' palaverin's. If you could love him 
 enough to hide awa' your sad faces an' tae mak' 
 merry wi' him, for all your heavy hearts, 'twill 
 do great things towards winnin' him awa' frae 
 evil. 'Tis nicht an easy matter, but love can do 
 mony a hard thing, ye ken. An' may th' dear 
 Lord help us a'. Gude-marnin' to you !" 
 
 He was stepping quietly away when Mr. 
 Standish laid a detaining hand on his arm. 
 
 "One moment, Andy, if you please. How 
 shall we meet the boy when he wakes ? He will 
 know that he did not get home of his own ac- 
 cord, and I'm sure he will be overcome with 
 shame. If it could be so managed that he need 
 not lose all his self-respect, would it not be 
 well?" 
 
 "By all means," assented Keith ; and then the 
 three turned to Andy as to one who could best 
 advise them. 
 
 "Plain dealin' an' truth-tellin' an' a square 
 straightforard road takes a body along safest," 
 he said, after a moment's thought, "but a bit o'
 
 The Sylvester Quarry, 177 
 
 godly concealin' o' some things doos nae harm 
 when you're fightin' wi' th' devil. Your James 
 is a sober, discreet mon, an' he understand how 
 matters hae been gangin' wi' Master Mac. I 
 ken him weel, an' I can answer for him. Let 
 him be the body t' first see th' lad the marnin' 
 an' t' tell him that he was over t' Standish las' 
 nicht an' foun' oot how things stood, an' jest 
 fetched him home to his own bed before th' 
 crack o' day. That's ev'ry word th' truth, an' 
 Master Mac need nae ken that it's nicht th' 
 whole truth. An' then th' whiles he's washed 
 an' had a gude meal an' a long breath o' th' 
 pure mountain air wi' me, he'll coom back an' 
 can meet you a' wi' his ain clear eye again, 
 which would tak' him lang tae do if he thocht 
 ye'd seen his shame or kenned o' it, for th' lad's 
 as proud in spirit as t' dear Lord can mak' a 
 mon. It's jist this pride o' his that's goin' tae 
 be th' sorest fightin' ground when he gits through 
 the valley o' sin he's travellin' over. An' now, 
 sir, would ye lak' me tae speak t' word to James 
 McGool?" 
 
 "If you please, Andy," said Mr. Standish, 
 rising and stepping towards him with out- 
 stretched hand. "And thank you from a full 
 heart for all your wise counsel." 
 
 12
 
 178 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 Andy took the hand in hearty clasp, flushing 
 with embarrassment 
 
 "Aye ! sir," he said, slowly, "but ye ken I 
 love t' lad mysel'." 
 
 After he had gone another silence fell upon 
 the little group. Janet was thinking of Andy's 
 remark: "If ye could love him weel enough to 
 hide awa' your sad faces an' mak' merry wi' 
 him, for all your heavy hearts, 'twill do great 
 things towards winnin' him awa' frae evil." 
 
 "How can I? How can I?" she questioned 
 with despairing eagerness. "O Mac! my beau- 
 tiful, bright, brave boy ! I cannot believe you 
 have gone so wrong. I will not. Mr. Stand ish 
 and Andy are just as likely to be mistaken as 
 any one else." 
 
 Quite excited with this new thought she arose 
 and went over to Keith. 
 
 "I'm going to see Mac myself, Keith," she 
 announced with decision. "There may be some 
 mistake. I cannot condemn him in this whole- 
 sale way unheard. He shall have a chance to 
 speak for himself. That is only fair." 
 
 "Oh ! I beg you, Janet," spoke up Mr. Stand- 
 ish, on his feet in a moment, "do not think of 
 going over. You CQuld not see him in his pres- 
 ent as he is," he went on, stumbling over his 
 words in confusion and distress. "I assure you
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 179 
 
 it will be far better to follow Andy's suggestion. 
 When he returns from the ride, if you like, I'll 
 send him over to you. But do not go now." 
 
 "Mr. Standish is undoubtedly right, Jeanie," 
 remarked Keith, taking her cold hand and lead- 
 ing her back to her chair. "Fresh air and Andy's 
 tactful comradeship will do more for Mac now 
 than even you, with all your loving zeal." 
 
 "Very well, Keith," she made answer, her 
 lips quivering. "I love him enough to wait." 
 
 Mr. Standish took his leave soon after, and 
 Keith withdrew into his study, but not before 
 he had spoken a few helpful, comforting words 
 to Janet. 
 
 She was quite alone with her thoughts now on 
 the quiet veranda. These were all of Mac. The 
 garden, into whose beautiful extent of shade and 
 blossom she could look, had been the scene of 
 many a happy hour with him. The house 
 scarcely less than the garden had been witness 
 of countless confidences when all the hopes and 
 aspirations of his boyish heart, and later the 
 dreams of early manhood, had been to her as 
 an open book. Could it be possible, she asked 
 herself for the thousandth time, that the friend 
 of a few weeks, beautiful and charming though 
 she be, could have so soon taken her place in his 
 affections ? A long time she lay there in her
 
 180 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 low wicker chair, retracing step by step her 
 whole acquaintance with MacDonald. In her 
 abstraction she did not hear a soft pattering 
 footstep nor see a loving little face gazing with 
 grave concern at her closed eyes. But she felt 
 a small hand on her cheek and heard a gentle 
 voice saying, "Is you sick this day, Auntie 
 Jean?" 
 
 "Ah Hilda!" cried Janet, clasping the little 
 one in her arms and pressing her hot cheek 
 against the fluffy curls. 
 
 Had Mac forgotten also his dear "name 
 lady'' ? Back through memory's pathway came 
 his words, "I should be so ashamed to get into 
 one of my tempers before her." 
 
 Would he now be ashamed to come before her 
 with the stain of wrong-doing on his heart, the 
 smell of liquor on his breath ? 
 
 A swift, silent prayer went up to heaven as 
 the wondering Hilda was still encircled in 
 Janet's arms. 
 
 "Dear Father, if I have failed to hold him, 
 grant that this little child may lead him back to 
 thee." 
 
 "I can't breeve very well, Auntie Jean," spoke 
 up a smothered voice; "I fink I'll get down, if 
 you please." 
 
 "You poor darling!" cried Janet, in contri-
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 181 
 
 tion. "Was Auntie hugging you to death like a 
 great, big bear ?" 
 
 "No, not like a great, big bear," was Hilda's 
 slow rejoinder, "but only like a middle-sized 
 bear, I fink. Oh! there conies Mac, my dear 
 own Mac. Let me run to meet him, Auntie 
 Jean." 
 
 She slipped down and ran off and away in a 
 twinkling. Janet's heart stood still. Here he 
 was coming to her, and here was her test. 
 
 "If you could love him enough to hide awa' 
 your sad faces an' tae mak' merry wi' him for 
 all your sad hearts." 
 
 "Oh ! I cannot," she murmured, dropping her 
 face in her hands. "Dear Father, help me. 
 Give me of thine own spirit. Take away my 
 weakness and fill me with thy strength." 
 
 Mac had taken Hilda in his arms, and for 
 the second time that morning the wee damsel 
 was clasped in a close wordless embrace, quite 
 perplexing to her small brain. But her wonder- 
 ment was quickly turned into a new chan- 
 nel. 
 
 "What makes your face all wet, Mac ? I dess 
 you didn't wipe it dry. Here is my hankfiss. 
 I'll wipe it for you." 
 
 The tiny square of linen was whisked rapidly 
 about to her entire satisfaction.
 
 182 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "Good-morning, Mac!" he heard Janet say- 
 ing, brightly. She was standing at the side of 
 the veranda, twining up some refractory honey- 
 suckle branches. "I have been expecting you 
 over to finish the translation of those poems of 
 Heine's with me." 
 
 He had come quite near by this time. 
 
 "I haven't come for that this time, Auntie 
 Jean," he said in a low tone. "Could I see you 
 for a little while alone, please ?" 
 
 "Why, certainly," she said cordially. Her 
 head was bent as she cut a stubborn stem, so she 
 did not look up at him. "Hilda, darling, run 
 away to Cousin Violet now, Auntie and Cousin 
 Mac are going to be busy." 
 
 With a good-bye kiss on Mac's mustache, the 
 obedient little girl departed, and Janet led the 
 way to her own special sitting-room, where she 
 was never disturbed. As she closed the door be- 
 hind Mac she turned the key noiselessly, for she 
 felt a sure instinct as to the nature of his errand. 
 Then she turned towards him squarely for the 
 first time. One glimpse of the haggard face, 
 the heavy sad eyes, the trembling lips, drove 
 from her thoughts all Andy's advice, all her own 
 resolves. 
 
 She stretched out her arms in a very passion 
 of love and pity.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 183 
 
 "Oh! my poor boy," she cried through her 
 tears. "Come here." 
 
 Just how Mac never knew, but he felt him- 
 self drawn down beside her on the lounge, while 
 soft hands pushed the hair back from his hot 
 face, arid gentle kisses were laid on his burning 
 eyes, and words of endearment and compassion 
 were murmured in his ear. 
 
 And then, a little later, the whole shameful 
 confession was made, from the very beginning 
 of the divergence of the two paths, where the 
 difference of direction was so slight as to be un- 
 noticeable, to the wretched ending in the wilder- 
 ness of sin. 
 
 Janet's tears were flowing as freely as his 
 long before he had finished. 
 
 "If you could only know how I hate and 
 loathe myself, Auntie Jean. I don't deserve 
 that you should feel so sorry for me. I'm every 
 bit to blame for it all." 
 
 "Oh ! no, Mac," remonstrated Janet, in quick 
 defense of him, "I cannot let you say that. You 
 have been deliberately led away by an enemy of 
 our dear Master, and she 
 
 A finger was laid upon her lips. 
 
 "But a true soldier has no business to be led 
 away by the enemy. I am a traitor, Auntie 
 Jean, and my punishment, bitter as it is, is no 
 more than I merit."
 
 184 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 He was walking up and down the length of 
 the room now, too full of nervous excitement to 
 sit still. 
 
 "It is the little beginnings that count the 
 most," he continued. "When Mrs. Vandyne 
 asked me to drive with her into Standish yester- 
 day, I had no idea of even seeing the Hermanns, 
 much less going to their house. But she had an 
 errand, then wine was passed. We were asked 
 to join in a game of billiards. Later cards were 
 brought out; then more liquor, and when the 
 time came for us to leave, I heard Fred Her- 
 mann say to her that I was not fit to drive her 
 home. I remember trying to collar him, and 
 then all was a blank until I awoke in my own 
 bed." 
 
 Janet, standing by the window, listened sor- 
 rowfully to this simply spoken recital with so 
 much more between the lines than she could 
 read. Her loving heart, jealous for the honor 
 of her boy, swelled higher and higher with 
 righteous indignation. 
 
 "Mac," she burst out, "it was a plot. The 
 wine was drugged, I know it." 
 
 The faint glimmer of a smile lighted the 
 heaviness of his eyes at her impetuous certainty 
 of statement. 
 
 "But what business had I to be taking wine at
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 185 
 
 all, or to bo in intimate companionship with 
 those who are given to such things ? No, Auntie 
 Jean, there can be no excuse for me. Don't try 
 to make any. From first to last I am wrong, 
 wholly, utterly. There is nothing left for me 
 but to begin again, far down. I've just had it 
 out with MacDonald Caldwell in a way he'll not 
 soon forget, Xow, when I've seen Uncle Mark 
 and Mr. Keith, I'm going over the mountain 
 with Andy. He and James, good soul, tried to 
 fix this thing all up so no one else need know 
 how low I have fallen. But I could not live so. 
 You must all three know me just as I am, and 
 try to forgive me as soon as you can." 
 
 "O Mac !" cried Janet, coming close and lay- 
 ing her cheek against his shoulder, "don't say 
 such a thing. We forgave you before you ever 
 did wrong, don't you know that ?" 
 
 "I know that the thought of your love and 
 patience was the thing which gave me the most 
 courage to begin living again," was his low an- 
 swer as he put his arm about her with lover-like 
 tenderness. "I felt sure of you and Louise." 
 
 How Janet's heart thrilled with joy on hear- 
 ing this. 
 
 "Little as I deserve it, I know you have al- 
 ways had, and always will have, a warm place 
 for your wayward boy."
 
 186 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "Why, of course, dear, and so will Louise, 
 Mac. She is as loyal and staunch a friend as 
 you could ask for." 
 
 "Yes but I could not talk to her of this, 
 Auntie Jean, as I can to you. I'd rather so 
 much rather that she," he hesitated a second, 
 "and and Violet do not know of it." 
 
 "Why, surely not. There is no need, and I 
 will try to see that there is no possibility of its 
 coming to their knowledge. But they will be 
 happy, indeed, as we all are, to have our boy 
 back with us once more, his own bright, light- 
 hearted self." 
 
 Mac looked down into her beaming face. He 
 shook his head. 
 
 "The boy hafe gone forever, Auntie Jean. 
 The man makes no promises. He has had his 
 lesson ; he knows his weakness ; he has turned 
 his face away from the wrong and towards the 
 right. The rest is as God wills." 
 
 As Janet heard the sadly-spoken words, her 
 eyes resting on the familiar yet somehow 
 strangely unfamiliar features, she, too, saw, as 
 Louise and Violet had done, that the old be- 
 loved Mac was, indeed, lost in the man, whose 
 youthful innocence had been defaced by sin, 
 and whose strength was now girded up for battle 
 against temptation.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 187 
 
 "God help you, dear," was all she said. 
 
 Andy arrived at the big chestnut tree by mid- 
 forenoon, and, after hitching his horse to the 
 fence, sat down in the shade to await Mac's com- 
 ing. His fingers busied themselves whittling out 
 a group of wooden soldiers for the particular 
 small boy of his acquaintance just then most in 
 need of consolation ; his thoughts were with Mac- 
 Doiiald. 
 
 He had just placed the sixth stiff musketeer 
 by the side of his comrades on a large flat stone 
 when a mellow voice called out, "An' it's to play 
 soldiers ye've took a day off, Andy Graham, to 
 be sure!" 
 
 "Haul oot your knife an' carve me a cannon 
 for th' bit boy Jamie Cairns, Jim Maloney," 
 said Andy, by way of reply, handing the new- 
 comer a smooth piece of pine. 
 
 "Faith ! an' I b'lieve ye'd give the devil him- 
 self something to do if he happened along your 
 way," was Jim's good-natured response, as he 
 seated himself on a grassy knoll quite near and 
 produced his jack knife in prompt obedience. 
 "You're a master hand at gettin' a man's best 
 out o' him, Andy Gra'm." 
 
 "If th' devil was as quick to do my biddin' as 
 you are, Jim, I'd like th' chance o' bein' his 
 boss once," said Andy, bringing a critical squint
 
 188 The Syluester Quarry. 
 
 to bear on the soldier's left leg and smiling 
 slightly. 
 
 "I reckon ye'd set him to hustlin' out o' the 
 Quarry village mighty spry for one thing," Jim 
 remarked, his eyes bent on his work. "An' that's 
 a job I'd like to have a hand or two in myself." 
 
 Andy gave a quick upward glance of surprise, 
 sacrificing the foot of the military man at the 
 same time. Could he have heard aright? Jim 
 Maloney, the leader of the liquor faction ? If 
 Jim felt the searching scrutiny of the keen grey 
 eyes fixed on him with incredulous amazement, 
 he gave no sign. The whittlings flew vigorously 
 in every direction. Over-head a clear sweet 
 bird-call pierced the air; about them blew a 
 fresh, spicy breeze laden with the smell of 
 apples. 
 
 "That means a great deal comin' frae you, 
 Jim," Andy said, quietly. 
 
 "You've good reason to doubt the hearin' of 
 your ears, Andy, but it's the truth. From the 
 hour when ye telled me that the fever had left 
 me little Nora I've not tasted liquor, an', please 
 God, not another drop o' strong drink will pass 
 Jim Maloney's lips agen. I promised him so 
 that very mornin' behind a big stone, an' I've 
 talked with him every day since. I reckon it 
 sounds to him like my little gal's babblin's did 
 to me when she were a toddler, but I knew what
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 189 
 
 she meant, an' so does he. An' I've ben a- 
 thinkin' that ef ther wan't no whiskey an' gin 
 an' the like to be had in the village, that ther 
 wouldn't be so many pore fools a lyin' around 
 an' drinkin' the food an' clo'es away from their 
 babies. An' I've been talkin' to some o' the 
 boys, Andy, an' we'd take it mighty kind ef you 
 could come up to the woods, above the Quarry, 
 to-night after supper an' give us a word. There's 
 hardly a man o' us, drinker or no, but what'll 
 listen respectful an' be glad ter do it. Tom 
 Dillon an.' Leo Sanzio says they'll be there an' 
 won't make no trouble." 
 
 As he spoke, in a quiet, almost shame-faced 
 way, a strange thing was happening to Andy. 
 For almost the first time in his life a* big lump 
 rose up in his throat and a mist dimmed his 
 eyes. Without replying to Jim, he spoke aloud 
 the thought of his heart: "Forgive me, dear 
 Master, for ever bavin' a single doubt o' thy 
 power to do thine own wark here in thine own 
 gude time. We thank thee wi' all our hearts for 
 a' thou hast gi'en this dear brother tae do for 
 thee. Mak' him a tower o' strength to us a'. 
 Gie us o' thine own holy Spirit, that we may a' 
 be wise tae do thy wark. Bring back close t' 
 thy lovin' heart all who hae wandered for even 
 a little time" here his voice trembled "an' 
 keep us a'. Amen."
 
 190 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 Mac, hurrying with light steps through the 
 woods behind them, came near in time to hear 
 this earnest prayer, only one petition of which 
 was clearly understood. lie know Jim well as 
 one of the hard-drinking men of the newer set 
 up at the. Quarry village, and was at a loss to 
 comprehend the meaning of the scene he had 
 just witnessed. lie hesitated as to what was 
 best to do, but finally stepped out into the road. 
 
 "Gude-marnin', Master Mac!" said Andy at 
 once, in hearty greeting; "I'm a' ready for ye, 
 ye see. I've been made michty glad by Jim 
 hero tellin' me that frae this on he's goin' tae 
 wark wi' us against this devil's own business o' 
 puttin' liquor into th' Sylvester store. Isn't 
 that th' best thing ye've heard this mony a day ?" 
 
 At the little pronoun "us" on Andy's lips, 
 Mac's remorseful heart gave a quick throb of 
 gratitude that he should so quickly and openly 
 be reinstated in his old place on the right side 
 of the question ; but Jim's look of surprise told 
 of his perplexity. Mac Caldwell had not of late 
 been recognized as of that way of thinking. 
 Andy saw his bewilderment. 
 
 "Yes, Jim," he said, his rugged face aglow. 
 "Master Mac is wi' us now. An' I'll be oop 
 tae t' woods by sundown, an' glad an' proud tae 
 speak wi' th' boys."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 DOWN TITE MOUNTAIN SIDE. 
 
 t M HE wind blew freshly in their faces as 
 -l_ Andy drove off along the shady mountain 
 road. A pleasant odor of pine greeted their 
 nostrils; they heard the chatter of squirrels, 
 seeing now and then the swift dart of some busy 
 tail or the glitter of a keen, alert eye. Already 
 a few trees were fluttering gay pennons of scar- 
 let, and crimson. Tall stalks of goldenrod swayed 
 gracefully like flaming torches against the som- 
 bre background made by hemlock boughs, and 
 everywhere tokens of coming autumn strewed 
 the pathway of late summer. 
 
 "How did you know, Andy ?" Mac asked, 
 after some minutes of silent passage through 
 the peace and beauty of the place. 
 
 "Would you hae coom to me at a' an' your 
 heart had nae longed for its ain once more ?" 
 
 "N-n-o, I suppose not," came Mac's slow re- 
 sponse. 
 
 "No, o' course you would na'. By that token 
 I kenned the minute I heard your foot coomin' 
 through th' wood. An' thin I saw th' licht i' 
 your eye."
 
 192 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "There's little enough light in my heart, 
 Andy," said Mae, sadly. "What a horrible mess 
 I've made of myself." 
 
 "You've made nae mair o' a mess than men 
 mostly do when they try tae manage wi'out 
 seekin' th' help an' th' lead in' o' ther Fayther i' 
 heaven. Some o' them mak's oot tae hide it frae 
 th' warld an' pass for fairly respectable an' pros- 
 perm' folk, but, puir souls, they ken weel enough 
 i' their meeserable hearts how lackin' they are 
 in th' true riches ; other men put th' warst foot 
 oot an' lie down i' th' gutter for every child tae 
 cast a stone at; mony grow tae be misers wi' 
 their siller, or scorchin' wi' their tongues oot o' 
 black hearts, or burstin' wi' ungodly pride, or 
 sleek as cats wi' smooth speakin', deceivin' mony 
 a simple, trustin' body; in one way or anither 
 every mon that forgets his Maker makes a 'hor- 
 rible moss' o' his life. We are nae strong, nor 
 far-sichted enough tae tak' things i' our own 
 hands. Some men live nearly a' their lives Ling 
 wi'out larnin' that, but every man has it tae 
 larn sooner or later. Thank the dear Lord a' 
 your days, Master Mac, that your schoolin' has 
 been sae short," 
 
 "Short as it may have been in point of time, 
 it seems to me that it will take longer than I 
 have to live to make up for what I have lost."
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 193 
 
 "How many years o' life do you reckon you 
 would need ?" asked Andy, with such a peculiar 
 quiet intonation that Mac looked quickly around. 
 He flushed a little. 
 
 "Oh ! why of course, I only meant to make 
 up for the work the 
 
 "An' dinna you ken, dear Master Mac, that a' 
 eternity would nae be lang enough tae mak' oop 
 for a single duty left undone ? Th' time tae do 
 each duty cooms but once. Th' next hour has 
 its own wark inovin' in on th' stroke o' th' clock. 
 What's left undone must stay undone or crowd 
 some ither duty cot." 
 
 The shadow on Mac's face grew heavier, and 
 he stirred uneasily a.s if to shift a burden. A 
 long sigh escaped him. 
 
 "Haven't you one comforting word for me, 
 Andy ?" he begged. "I know I don't deserve 
 pity, but I do need help." 
 
 Andy laid his hand on Mac's with quick, close 
 pressure. 
 
 "Dinna think me hard an' onfeelin', dear 
 laddie," he said as tenderly as Janet could have 
 done. "Had I nicht been through th' whole 
 sinfu' thing mysel' only a thousand times mair 
 than you I should nae ken so weel how a' th' 
 bad flesh must be cut awa' by th' surgeon's knife 
 before th' healin' oil can be poured in. You 
 13
 
 194 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 hae been down i' th' depths o' th' pit, Master 
 Mac, an' when a mon does that, it mak's small 
 matter whether he stays six week or six years, 
 when he cooms oot he's scarred an' stained an' 
 nae fit for even himsel' tae live wi'. Now will 
 he be wise tae sit doon in a' his misery an' filthy 
 rags an' think o' each o' his evil doin's an' wish 
 he hae not been sic a fool ? 
 
 "Dinna keep i' mind a single hour mair th' 
 deeds that fetched you tae this valley o' humil- 
 ity, Master Mac. Dinna look at your puir face 
 an' hands an' feet a' marred wi' th' cuffs o' th' 
 devil. Tak' a' your shame an' your sorrow an' 
 your repentin' tae th' dear Lord an' gie them 
 tae him tae keep for you. Then raise your eyes 
 tae him, an' you'll see sae much love an' com- 
 passion an' askin' for your service there that 
 ye'll forget you've ever been awa', you'll be sae 
 glad tae be at wark for him again. It isn't Mac- 
 Donald Caldwell you're tae have in mind frae 
 this on, ye ken, but your dear an' loving Master." 
 "Yes, Andy, I know I know it but 
 "Nae don't Peter had mony a sad hour," 
 Andy continued, as though Mac had not spoken, 
 "besides th' one when he wept those scaldin' 
 tears. But I hae a notion that they a' came i' 
 th' time before he set oot on his grand wark o' 
 preachin' th' gospel o' Christ. A bowl can be
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 195 
 
 nae mair than fu', an' I ken a'most sure that 
 some day I'll hear Peter sayin: 'You're richt, 
 Andy Graham ; never for a single minute did I 
 think o' that rascally Peter after I took oop th' 
 dear Master's wark o' tellin' th' people aboot 
 him.' So, Mac, dear laddie, fill your bowl sae 
 fu' o' th' Lord an' his wark that a' these black 
 thoughts will jest be spilled out an' never coom 
 back nae mair tae grieve you." 
 
 Mac made no answer. For a long while they 
 drove on in silence. The clear, radiant loveli- 
 ness of nature, the loving sympathy and convinc- 
 ing words of his companion, the silent, effective 
 working of the Holy Spirit in his heart, soothed 
 the unrest of Mac's soul, quieted the throbbing 
 in his head, eased the pain of an oppressed con- 
 science. Moment by moment he grew calmer, 
 stronger, more resolute. He knew that Andy 
 was praying for him. It was not long before he 
 began, almost unconsciously, to pray for him- 
 self. He was the first to break the long 
 silence. 
 
 "Thank you, Andy," he said. Then, "Is 
 there anything I can do to help you to-night ?" 
 
 The reins dropped from Andy's hands, and 
 both his arms came around Mac's shoulders in 
 an impulsive, loving embrace. For the first 
 time he showed the strong emotion he had so
 
 190 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 strenuously repressed. His grey eyes sparkled 
 with joy and his face fairly shone. 
 
 "Thank tli' dear Lord, Mac, my own laddie, 
 that he's sae quickly brought your feet oop oot 
 o' th' miry clay on th' rock o' his love. It's 
 mony a lang month we've a' been hungerin' for 
 such words as these frae your lips. Blessed be 
 his holy name. 'Tis th' gladdest day for me 
 since I coom tae my own richt mind. 
 
 "Ay! to be sure, lad, there's work in plenty 
 fur your dear self. It'll no' be easy at th' start, 
 yet ken, but there's always help for everybody 
 that knows where tae look for it. 
 
 "Ah Mac! my lad, you've taken a load this 
 day frae th' hearts o' mony who love ye." 
 
 Just as he said this a carriage was seen ap- 
 proaching. Its occupants were Mrs. \^andyne 
 and Fred Hermann. If Andy had been a swear- 
 ing man, he would surely have let fly some very 
 emphatic words ; as it was, he set his teeth hard 
 and did some very emphatic thinking, at the 
 same time giving the lady a flashing glance from 
 the steady grey eyes she had looked into twice 
 before. They seemed to have a strong fascina- 
 tion for her, for she returned his gaze with a 
 lingering, curious scrutiny, as though he were 
 a sort of man new to her experience, as indeed 
 he was. She scarcely noticed Mac's crimson
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 197 
 
 face as he raised his hat and bowed with grave 
 courtesy. 
 
 "The pretty boy is doing penance for his 
 naughtiness last night," observed Mr. Hermann, 
 lazily, flecking a fly from the cream-colored mare 
 he was driving. 
 
 "Sans cloutc. What immensely fine eyes that 
 Scotchman has. Tell me something about him, 
 Fred." 
 
 Mr. Hermann did not show the surprise he 
 felt at this unexpected question. 
 
 "It will be a great deal more to the purpose," 
 he said, coolly, "to tell you that your fine-eyed 
 Scotchman and all the rest of the tribe are plan- 
 ning to carry the pretty boy off out of your de- 
 praved clutches for a month or so. I have known 
 of this for some time, but didn't think it worth 
 while to mention it, as I supposed you had him 
 too well in hand to admit of even a temporary 
 separation. I judge, however, by what we have 
 just seen that some more effective measures 
 must be taken. He showed an ugly bit of temper 
 last night, and more of the spirit of old Adam 
 than I gave him credit for. It won't do now to 
 let him indulge in a fit of conscience, as he is 
 pretty sure to do, especially if he is carried off 
 on a yacht for a month with the parson and his 
 crowd."
 
 198 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "A yacht !" exclaimed Mrs. Van dyne, aroused 
 at last to some show of interest, "whose yacht ?" 
 
 "lingo Gregory's," was the brief reply. 
 
 "Hugo Gregory !" cried the lady, sitting erect 
 and looking around in surprise. "Are you 
 sure ?" 
 
 "Perfectly so. Joe Barnes' brother goes as 
 mate. Hugo has loaned The White Cap to the 
 parson from the fifteenth. So look well to your 
 laurels, fair maid, or all your plans will gang 
 agloy. Once your hold is gone you'll find it 
 hard to regain it." 
 
 "Are you trying to frighten me, or what ?" 
 she asked, leaning back now and laughing care- 
 lessly. "Will you never learn that I do not fail 
 in what I undertake? Now, tell me about the 
 Scotchman." 
 
 "If my pocket were not so deeply interested 
 in this Quarry scheme, I would make it my 
 business to see that you do fail in at least this 
 one undertaking of sending the pretty boy to 
 the devil, just for the satisfaction of seeing your 
 proud will brought, to naught," was the quick, 
 angry retort, uttered with low-toned vehemence. 
 
 Her sleepy dark eyes opened very wide for an 
 instant, then she smiled indulgently as on a 
 petted child. 
 
 "No crossness, please, nor any airs. And now
 
 The Fyh-cster Quarry. 199 
 
 about the Scotchman ?" she murmured, her voice 
 smooth as velvet, her manner serene. 
 
 Another wrathful flash from her companion's 
 eyes and a muttered word below his breath. 
 
 "His name is Andrew Graham. He's fore- 
 man under Stockton, a man as sturdy and strong 
 as the blocks of granite themselves. Not so 
 many years ago he was a drunkard of drunk- 
 ards, but he took a sudden turn, and now he 
 can't be tempted or bought. I know, because 
 I've tried him." 
 
 "But I have not," said Mrs. Vandyne. "Thank 
 you, Fred. That was a very long communica- 
 tion for you, and you shall be duly rewarded."
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 A LETTER. 
 
 THE next ten days were very happy ones 
 for MacDonald and all his friends at Lit- 
 tle Acorns and Standish Hall, as well as those 
 at the Chapel who had deplored his recent lack 
 of interest in things there. He was again the 
 bright, cheery friend, the ready helper, the af- 
 fectionate comrade, the right-hand man of Keith 
 in all his work. Xo allusion was made by any 
 one to his absences or his lapses. He took his 
 old place, resuming his accustomed duties and 
 pleasures as though there had been no break. 
 
 "Mac seems nicer and dearer than ever, doesn't 
 he, Violet ?" Louise said one morning when they 
 were packing the steamer trunk they had agreed 
 to share during the "voyage." 
 
 "I did not suppose you would think that pos- 
 sible, Louise," was the reply, accompanied by a 
 roguish glance. 
 
 "Didn't you ? Well, people are surprised 
 sometimes. Let me fold those dresses for you, 
 Violet. Wasn't Mac just fine in his talk at the 
 chapel last night ? I never felt half so proud of 
 him before. I think there are very few who
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 201 
 
 would have had the courage to allude to their 
 shortcomings in so simple and manly a way. 
 That has always been one lovely thing about 
 Mac. He hasn't the least bit of false pride, and 
 is always so ready to take even more than his 
 share of the blame. For my part, I consider 
 that Mrs. Vandyne a great deal more to blame 
 than he is. She is so much older she ought to 
 know that it isn't right to play cards and drink 
 wine and do all sorts of things on the Sabbath 
 day. I suppose she does know better, but she 
 took a fancy to Mac and wanted him with her. 
 There ! we have everything in, haven't we ?" 
 
 "I think so," Violet responded in a rather ab- 
 stracted way. "Louise, did you ever think that 
 Cousin Keith was in love with Miss Berdel ?" 
 
 Louise bent a little lower over the trunk at, 
 which she was still kneeling. She did not reply 
 at once to this very sudden change of subject. 
 
 "No, Violet, I never have thought about that 
 at all." 
 
 "Well, I have. Perhaps I ought not to speak 
 of it, even to you, but he goes there very often, 
 and is always so tender and gentle with her. It 
 popped into my head the last time I saw them 
 together what a sweet wife she would make for 
 him, even though she cannot get about much. 
 Don't you think so, Louise ?"
 
 202 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 Violet had unbound her long golden hair for 
 a thorough brushing, and her face was half hid- 
 den behind the silky veil, so she did not see the 
 quickly-suppressed quiver of Louise's lips. 
 
 "I think you should not have mentioned this 
 even to me, Violet. Your first impulse was the 
 true one. It is not for us to be surmising about 
 about Mr. Keith's wife." 
 
 " 'Speak for yourself, John,' " quoted Violet, 
 laughing. "Cousin Keith's wife is a person of 
 the very greatest interest to me ; and, you know, 
 I never did set him up on a pinnacle and wor- 
 ship his as you do, dearly as I love him. So I 
 feel perfectly free to surmise and speculate and 
 wonder and wish, and do everything but pry as 
 to who she will be. Of course, I want her to be 
 the very dearest little body in the whole world, 
 and Miss Berdel is just that from the crown of 
 her lovely brown hair to the tip of her poor 
 lame feet. You can agree to that, without any 
 scruples, can't you, Miss Prim ?" 
 
 Violet kept chattering away without waiting 
 for an answer, her thoughts all the while busy 
 with a wonderful new idea that had found sud- 
 den entrance into her lively brain. What was it 
 in the tone of Louise's voice, or the manner of 
 her speech, which made Violet so swiftly and 
 surely certain of something entirely undreamed
 
 Sylvester Quarry. 203 
 
 of until that moment ? She could not tell. With 
 an instinctive delicacy, which respected the 
 secret thus unwittingly revealed, she hurried 
 away from the dangerous, but fascinating topic 
 of Keith's wife. The thought, however, did not 
 leave her, nor did an ardent wish for a beautiful, 
 not impossible consummation. Neither did this 
 quite new and unexpected personality of Mr. 
 Keith's wife depart from Louise, There was a 
 difference, however, for in her heart there lodged 
 beside the thought a pain. 
 
 Preparations for the sea trip went rapidly on 
 until one crisp morning when the good-byes were 
 said and the happy party set off. 
 
 It was but little after sunrise when they went 
 aboard The White Cap. She lay dancing on 
 waves ruffled by a fresh west wind, spick and 
 span from bow to stern. The spotless crew were 
 in readiness for the start; last things of various 
 sorts were being put away. 
 
 Louise, intent on the proper bestowal of a 
 basket of fine peaches, was the first of the passen- 
 gers to go below. Having attended to her er- 
 rand, she stepped into the tiny but exceedingly 
 attractive saloon. The first object which met her 
 eye was a square blue envelope lying on the 
 table. It was addressed to Mac. 
 
 For an instant Louise stood gazing at it with
 
 204 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 a sort of horror. A swift presentiment of dis- 
 aster came upon her. She recognized the grace- 
 ful, flowing hand. How many times other sim- 
 ilar letters had been received by Mac ! How in- 
 stantly he had always flown to do< their bidding ! 
 But to think that now, of all times, this messen- 
 ger of ill should overtake them ! It, somehow, 
 did not occur to her that Mac might not, in the 
 light of his recent resolves, pay the same heed 
 to Mrs. Vandyne's summons which he hitherto 
 had done. In a way she could not understand, 
 nor have been able to explain, so instinctive was 
 it, she felt sure that the arrival of the innocent- 
 looking missive boded no good to any one. Sup- 
 pose she was to slip it in her pocket and say 
 nothing ? Or, at least, to say nothing until they 
 were well out of the harbor ? Some one had 
 evidently been negligent in its delivery to Mac. 
 A little longer delav would do no harm, and 
 perhaps much good. The temptation was as 
 strong as it was sudden. Would it be dishon- 
 orable, she queried, to do a little wrong thing 
 that great good might come? Would Mac not 
 really thank her for keeping a possible tempta- 
 tion from him ? Was it not her duty to do this ? 
 These and other similar questions flew through 
 her excited brain. Some decision must be 
 quickly reached. Slowly she put out her hand
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 205 
 
 until her fingers almost reached the thin blue 
 square. She shrank from actually touching it, 
 but, with a final plucking up of nerve, was just 
 about to do so, when, with a gay song on his lips, 
 Mac came running down the stairs. 
 
 "Oh ! here you are, Louise. Come up and 
 see the start. We're just off. Why, what in 
 the oh !" 
 
 His questioning glance had followed hers un- 
 til it rested on the letter. In an instant he had 
 torn it open and devoured its contents. Louise 
 watched his changing countenance with riveted 
 gaze. She saw surprise, dismay, irresolution, 
 decision following each other swiftly as he read 
 the lines : 
 
 "DEAR MAC : 
 
 "I am alone here and in serious trouble. It 
 has just occurred to me that this is the morning 
 of your setting off on the yachting trip, and I 
 am sending this to The White Cap by special 
 messenger in the hope of catching you. For I 
 feel s-ure that you stand ready to redeem your 
 oft-repeated pledge to be my loyal knight and 
 to serve me when need should come. It is a 
 shame to interfere with your pleasure, but I 
 shall only require your presence for an hour or 
 two, and, surely, your friends can wait for you
 
 206 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 so short a time as that, or you can overtake them 
 by rail at some convenient port. 
 
 "I came to town yesterday to attend to an im- 
 portant business matter which cannot be post- 
 poned after to-day without large loss to me. Go- 
 ing down to breakfast this morning I slipped on 
 the marble stairs and fell, severely spraining 
 my ankle. The pain is frightful, and I am flat 
 on my back for no one knows how long. Can 
 you imagine anything more horrible? I have 
 telegraphed for Marie. Fred is on his way to 
 New Orleans, so I cannot reach him in time for 
 this business, and must beg you to be my proxy 
 and to help me in this dire strait. 
 "Ever fondly your suffering 
 
 "LUCILLE. 
 "Hotel Runnymede, September i^th." 
 
 Having finished, he turned, without a word, 
 and dashed up the stairway. With a throbbing 
 heart Louise followed more slowly to find him 
 the centre of the little group. He was speaking 
 in rapid, excited tones, explaining the cause for 
 his unexpected leave-taking, and finally reading 
 the letter aloud. 
 
 "You see," he said, "it would be the height 
 of unkindness to refuse to assist her. Even 
 common civility would demand that I do what
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 207 
 
 I can for her, or for any one in such unforeseen 
 helplessness. Of course, I'm awfully sorry to 
 go just at this time, but I'll meet you wherever 
 you say to-night or to-morrow." 
 
 ~No one spoke. He glanced quickly around 
 from face to face and the color flashed over his 
 own. 
 
 "You think I can't be trusted," he exclaimed, 
 with the first note of bitterness in his tones. 
 "I'll show you that I can be. Where can I come 
 aboard, Mr. Keith ?" 
 
 "Let us consult the captain," said Keith. So 
 the three walked off, while the others watched 
 them in silence, too much shocked and upset by 
 this unlocked for turn in affairs to speak of it 
 yet even to each other. Presently they heard 
 Mac say, "Well, let it be Norwalk then, at ten 
 o'clock to-morrow. You'll hardly miss me by 
 then, so don't look so sorrowful." 
 
 He hastily packed his grip, and, bidding each 
 one a special good-bye, was away and out of 
 sight up the dock. 
 
 Keith gave the captain a signal to cast off the 
 ropes. Very soon after The White Cap began 
 to make her slow way out into the harbor. A 
 clear blue sky spread itself above the sparkling 
 blue waves below and golden sunshine filled the 
 air with glory. A beautiful, busy scene lay be-
 
 208 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 fore them ; but all, except Mark and Marcia, 
 viewed it with unseeing eyes. Disappointment, 
 indignation, doubts, and, most of all, fear for 
 Mac, filled the hearts of one and another of his 
 friends. 
 
 Louise was the first to give voice to her dis- 
 turbing thongths. 
 
 "Shouldn't yon think, Mr. Keith, that when 
 Mrs. Vandyne has lived all her life in New York 
 before she came to Standish, she could have 
 asked some other friend to help her now? She 
 surely must have many in the city." 
 
 "Suppose, dear," said Janet, before Keith 
 could answer, "that we just trust Mac now, and 
 don't entertain any suspicions nor make any ef- 
 fort to explain motives. It seems to me that this 
 will be the most loyal course to take. Mac has 
 come back to us and to his Master with every 
 profession of penitence and sincerity. Let us 
 believe him and believe in him, and show that 
 we do so by being as happy as possible during 
 the few hours of this absence of his which is not 
 of his seeking. It will surely not make him 
 happy to know that we sat around in so glum a 
 fashion all the way down this lovely bay." 
 
 These sensible words effectually dispelled the 
 heaviness which was settling over them all. 
 
 "You are a wise woman, Jeanie," said Keith,
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 209 
 
 rising and laying his hand for a moment on her 
 shoulder. "Come now, who will be the first to 
 sight Miss Liberty's torch?" 
 
 Ten o'clock the next day found them at Nor- 
 walk, but no Mac met them there. Noon came 
 and passed, the afternoon waned slowly on. At 
 sunset came a telegram. It had been sent from 
 New York, but gave no address. 
 
 "Do not wait. Must take Mrs. Vandyne home 
 to-morrow. Send my trunk to Standish. 
 
 "Does that mean that he will not join us at 
 all ?" asked Louise in dismay, when Keith had 
 read the message to them. 
 
 "I fear so," was his grave response. 
 
 "I believe she did not sprain her ankle at 
 all; it's just a trick to get Mac away from us. 
 She knows she can wind him around her little 
 finger, and she's going to make everything worse 
 than it was before," cried Louise, with an out- 
 burst of her old passionate anger, such as no 
 one had witnessed for a long, long time. "Let 
 us go straight back to New York, Mr. Keith, 
 and take him away from her. Oh ! how can she 
 be so wicked ?" 
 
 "How can Mac care to go near her again I 
 14
 
 210 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 should like to ask ? I should suppose he would 
 as soon walk into the fire," said outspoken Mark. 
 "But if he's satisfied, I don't see why you need 
 all break your hearts. He isn't worth it. I'm 
 disgusted with him." 
 
 "O Mark ! don't say such a thing," reproved 
 Marcia, seeing the tears spring to Louise's eyes. 
 "Of course, we all care a great deal for Mac, and 
 can't help being unhappy when he does wrong. 
 And it is a shame that our pleasant trip is all 
 spoiled." 
 
 "Perhaps it isn't spoiled, Marcia," said Janet. 
 "I think it would be a good plan for Keith to 
 write Mac a letter asking if he cannot join us at 
 Saybrook. Very likely he can when Mrs. \^an- 
 dyne is once at home, only he may not have cared 
 to make too many changes in our plans. What 
 do you think, Keith ?" 
 
 "It's a good suggestion, Jeanie. I will write 
 at once, and then we'll set sail again." 
 
 It was a very quiet little company who sat 
 about in comfortable wicker chairs under the 
 awning on The White Cap's deck that after- 
 noon. The weather was fine, so the yacht made 
 good progress. Mark and Marcia played game 
 after game of back-gammon, while Janet and 
 the elder Marcia carried on a low-toned con- 
 versation, turning now and then with a question
 
 The tfi/lrcxlcr Qnarri/. 211 
 
 to Keith, who sat near, an open book on his 
 knee. Louise lay in a steamer chair with closed 
 eyes. Violet,, lovely in a sailor snit of white, 
 walked slowly np and down the length of the 
 deck, her slender figure swaying gracefully to 
 each dip of the boat, her eyes gazing far otf 
 across the water. She alone had made no com- 
 ment on Mac's departure. That she was more 
 than usually quiet no one seemed to notice. 
 
 "What seest thou, Sister Ann?" asked Mark 
 as one of her turns brought her quite neai him. 
 
 "No horseman yet in sight. Nothing more 
 helpful than a flock of birds," she answered, 
 smiling and stopping to see how the game stood. 
 "There, Marcia, your last man is off. Come, 
 Louise dear, wake up and everybody pull their 
 chairs around in a circle. That's right now." 
 
 No one knew how much of an effort it was for 
 her to assume this mood of vivacious gaiety. 
 Violet's sweet unselfishness of disposition was 
 so taken for granted that it seldom occurred to 
 any one that it might not always be spontaneous. 
 
 She had her reward now in seeing the thoughts 
 of the little circle diverted for a time at least 
 from the disquieting events of the day. An 
 hour passed quickly playing "Why am I like?" 
 this or that visible part of The White Cap, 
 Twenty Questions, and other games calling for
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 nimble wits and quick repartee. Then came 
 supper, and a fine sunset, after which Keith re- 
 peated, in the starlit twilight, the one hundred 
 and third psalm, and comforted all hearts by a 
 short talk on the tender mercies and loving kind- 
 ness of their heavenly Father. 
 
 Violet was the last to close her eyes when they 
 had said good-night and gone to their tidy state- 
 rooms. She pulled down the blind and lay a 
 long time looking out. The moon, full and lus- 
 trous, shone down on the smooth water, making 
 a broad golden pathway. Many thoughts passed 
 through the girl's mind in the stillness of the 
 night, which was broken only by the lapping of 
 the water against The White Cap's sides and by 
 the throb of its engines. 
 
 Gradually the unrest faded from her eyes, the 
 sad curves of her lips relaxed, a sweet peace filled 
 her heart. 
 
 "Dear Father, take care of him," she mur- 
 mured as she fell asleep. 
 
 The longed-for letter came from Mae next 
 day. 
 
 "It is an awful shame," he wrote, "to so up- 
 set you all, but there seems no way for me to 
 rejoin you. I beg that you wait no longer, but 
 go on and have just the good time you planned- 
 for.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 213 
 
 "Mrs. Vandyne's ankle is much, better. It 
 proved to be not so serious as she feared, but 
 she is very unwell and, as soon as she can be 
 taken, wishes to get back to her home. Her 
 cousin is in the South, and there seems to be no 
 one she can call on but myself. I simply cannot 
 leave her alone with Marie, who is an excellent 
 housemaid, but entirely inexperienced in travel- 
 ing. It may be two days or three before we get 
 away, so you see how impracticable it will be 
 for you to hang around. Don't do it. Start off 
 on your cruise. Make the most of this fine 
 weather. 
 
 "Love to all, MAC." 
 
 "What do you think of it, Keith?" asked 
 Janet, as they sat alone in the bow of The White 
 Cap rereading the letter. 
 
 "Trouble ahead," was his concise reply. Then 
 he added : "She is playing a deep game, Jeanie. 
 She means to get complete control of Mac, work- 
 ing on his inexperience, his chivalrous devotion, 
 his open admiration and fondness for her. At 
 first I thought her only vain and pleasure-lov- 
 ing, but I have about concluded that some well- 
 planned scheme underlies all her manoeuvers, 
 and it looks as though it were connected with 
 the Hermann enterprise at the Quarry village.
 
 214: The tiylccster Quarry. 
 
 She knows that if she can get and keep Mac in 
 her toils, it will bo small use for us to oppose 
 the liquor trade in Sylvester, for if we could not 
 keep our own boy from falling, how could we 
 expect to influence others ?" 
 
 "That doesn't seem to me to be at all a good 
 argument," answered Janet, after a little 
 thought. ''If our own boy has fallen, we have- 
 so much the more reason to try and keep other 
 boys from harm's reach." 
 
 "Yes, Jeanie, so say I. But she evidently 
 would not look at the matter in that light. At 
 least, so it begins to look to me. I know some 
 tiling of Mrs. Vandyne which you do not, and 
 which give me good reason for believing her to 
 be thoroughly unprincipled. I do not think she 
 will hesitate to falsify or do any other deliber- 
 ately dishonest thing, if need be, to accomplish 
 the end she has in vie\v. Tnlcss 1 am greatly 
 mistaken, Mac will find himself more pmverlc>s 
 than before to resist her influence. He has been 
 so near slipping through her fingers that she will 
 now leave no stone unturned." 
 
 Janet looked at her cousin for some minutes 
 in a sort of puzzled wonder. 
 
 "Keith, I cannot understand you. Why do 
 you always use this tone of settled hopelessness 
 when talking of Mac ? You used not to do so
 
 The ^ijh- ester Quarry. 215 
 
 when any one needed help. You were so full 
 of resources, so optimistic, so abounding in ex- 
 pectation that all would come right, that only to 
 speak with you about any trouble took half the 
 load from my heart. But now every word you 
 say sinks it down heavier and heavier. What 
 has changed you so?" 
 
 "I wish I could tell you, Jeanie. I feel it 
 myself. I sometimes think it is because I never 
 before have had such a grief as this, and because 
 all my efforts many more than you know of 
 and my most earnest, agonizing prayers in Mac's 
 In-half have all been unavailing. Steadily, from 
 the first, he has been slipping from my hold un- 
 til, I almost fear, the fault is wholly mine. And 
 yet I cannot see how I have failed. I am ready 
 to say, with David, "All rhy waves and thy bil- 
 lows have gone over me.' ' 
 
 " 'Why art thoii east down, oh! my soul, and 
 why art thou disquieted in me? Hope thou in 
 (Jnd, for I shall yet praise him for the help of 
 his countenance,' " quoted Janet, softly. "Look 
 on the other side of the picture, Keith, dear. 
 Mac has too much good sterling sense, aside 
 from his Christian character, and is the child of 
 too many prayers, ever to make shipwreck of 
 himself. I can but believe this, and believe it 
 with all my heart, in the face of everything he
 
 216 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 has done. He may make mistakes; who of us 
 does not ? and his just now are particularly griev- 
 ous, but he is coming through them all right." 
 
 "You and Andy would almost convince one 
 that such mistakes make a man stronger," said 
 Keith, smiling a little. 
 
 "I'm not sure but they do. They can but 
 make one humble, and humility of the right sort 
 is strength. I cannot feel but that Mac will 
 some day be better able to help others from these 
 mistakes he has made. At the same time, I 
 don't want him to make any more." 
 
 "A true womanly speech, Jeanie," remarked 
 Keith, smiling broadly this time. "Let me tell 
 you what I have thought of doing. I believe I 
 shall go to ISTew York at once, and use every ef- 
 fort to buy up all the stock in the Quarry Com- 
 pany not already owned by you and Mr. Stand- 
 ish. You know I have quite a little sum from 
 Hubert's estate, and, if necessary, I will with- 
 draw some of Violet's investments from Eng- 
 land and put them in here. As her guardian I 
 have a perfect right to do this, even without her 
 consent, which I am sure of. I am determined 
 to get the Hermann influence, root and branch, 
 out of Sylvester to begin with. 
 
 "Then I shall see Mrs. Vandyne and Mac, 
 if they are still at the Kunnymede, and, after a
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 217 
 
 talk with him, offer myself as her escort back 
 to Staiidish and send him to meet the yacht at 
 Newport. You won't mind going from here 
 there with Mark and Captain Stevens with 
 you 3" 
 
 "Oh ! by no means," declared Janet, her face 
 brightening. "I will do anything to help, and 
 I am so glad you are really going to take this 
 strong stand at the- Quarry. But don't use Vio- 
 let's money. I will furnish whatever may be 
 needed." 
 
 "That can be arranged later. Now let us con- 
 sult the time tables, for I will take the first 
 train." 
 
 An hour later saw him speeding towards the 
 city .and The White Cap making her graceful 
 way towards Newport.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 GARET. 
 
 WHAT are yon going to do to-day, Aunt 
 Diana ?" Berdel Strong inquired the 
 morning after their neighbors on the north had 
 bidden them good-bye. She had been feeling 
 unusually well for two or three weeks. Just 
 now she and Mrs. Bolton were sitting on the 
 shady front porch and, for a wonder of wonders, 
 the last-named lady was idle, 
 
 "I dunno's there appears to be any special 
 work on hand jus' now, without it's beginnin' 
 on that bed-quilt I'm goiri' to piece up this fall, 
 'n somehow I don't seem to feel drove to that 
 this mornin'. For the land's sake ! Mary Berdel, 
 what's that com in' in the gate?" 
 
 "That" was a small figure toiling along under 
 a load of numerous packages. A large square 
 hat-box, a good-sized valise and a two-quart tin 
 pail were carried in a pair of slim little hands ; 
 over the shoulders was slung a gay bunch of 
 sunflowers ; dangling from the waist a silver cup 
 shone brightly in the sun ; tied to one ankle by 
 a long string was a tiny black-and-tan puppy,
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 219 
 
 yelping and dancing vigorously on coming with 
 unexpected frequency to the end of his tether. 
 A big hat hung limply back by its ribbons, leav- 
 ing exposed to the burning sunshine an eager 
 little brown face, whose wistful grey eyes were 
 big with expectation and appeal. 
 
 "Why, it's Garet Vandyne!" exclaimed Ber- 
 del. "Good-morning, dear! Corne up and sit 
 here and get cooled off. You look so warm." 
 
 "Oh ! I don't mind being warm," said Garet, 
 cheerfully, standing quite still at the end of the 
 porch. "I've come to see about getting board 
 with you, His' Dinah." 
 
 She turned towards Aunt Diana with a busi- 
 ness-like air, while Berdel coughed behind her 
 handkerchief and listened for "Mis' Dinah's" 
 reply. 
 
 But Mrs. Bolton was so overcome by surprise 
 and wrath that she couldn't speak a word. She 
 only stared blankly at her would-be boarder. 
 
 Keeeiving no answer, Garet continued, in 
 polite tones : "I wish to engage a comf 'ble room 
 for my little dog and myself for a week or so. 
 I must have a clean bed, and I hope you set a 
 good table and are particular about about 
 things. We will not give you any trouble, and 
 Darling's been washed all over this morning 
 with ker'sene oil and carbolic soap. I did it my-
 
 220 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 self, so I know he hasn't a single flea, 
 Dinah." 
 
 Mrs. Bolton fidgetted about in as nervous a 
 way as she would have done had all Darling's 
 possible fleas been hopping around on her. 
 
 Garet waited again, but the silence was un- 
 broken. A bit of anxiety crept into the grey 
 eyes. 
 
 "I can pay you a good price, only there must 
 be no extras. I've the money right here in my 
 pocket, a half dollar, two quarters and three 
 nickels. That'll be enough, won't it? I don't 
 eat much, aaid I can get along without my glass 
 of milk when I go to bed if you couldn't afford 
 to give me that, Mis' Dinah." 
 
 By this time Aunt Diana had found her 
 voice. 
 
 "The great horn spoon, Mary Berdel !" she 
 exclaimed. "You talk to her." 
 
 "Come here, dear," said Berdel, gently. Put 
 all these heavy tilings on the porch; take off 
 your hat and sit here by me." 
 
 There was no resisting Berdel's winning in- 
 vitation. Drawing a long breath of mingled 
 fatigue and relief, Garet set down the valise 
 and pail, also the hat-box. But before she be- 
 gan to untie the string about her waist she cast 
 3. doubtful glance towards Aunt Diana,
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 221 
 
 big' round spectacles were turned fixedly in her 
 direction. 
 
 ''Perhaps she would rather not have me," she 
 said, softly. 
 
 "Oh ! yon can settle that with her by and by. 
 I'm going to invite yon to spend the day, the 
 whole day, until bed-time with me, as my own 
 special and particular guest. Would you like 
 that?" 
 
 "And Darling, too?" apprehensively. 
 
 "Of course, Darling too. And I wonder if he 
 wouldn't like to have a drink of milk. Suppose 
 you take him around to the kitchen and ask the 
 cook to give him some. Let me untie his string." 
 
 Garet's face was radiant. 
 
 "I except your kind invitation with pleas- 
 ure, Miss Bird L.," she said, in her most digni- 
 fied, company way, giving Berdel's name her 
 own rendering. Then a moment later her natu- 
 ral gratitude and delight swept away conven- 
 tionality. "Oh ! you are per'fly lovely to ask 
 me. Do you care if I give you one little hug? 
 I'll be careful not to muss you." 
 
 Berdel's arms were wide open to receive the 
 loving little creature who flew to them, with the 
 bewildered Darling jerked along recklessly be- 
 hind, quite forgotten in the joy of the moment. 
 The sight of her "darling" apparently enveloped
 
 :^2 Tin- Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 in a whirl of arms, legs, sunflowers and d<>gs 
 effectually aroused Aunt Diana from her daze. 
 She sprang up and, rushing forward, was about 
 to seize Garet by the arm with energetic grasp. 
 
 "Here, you " she began, but Berdel's hand, 
 raised in warning, stayed her protest, and she 
 stood looking on with an indescribable mixture 
 of motions while the "little hug" was in pro- 
 gress. It came to an end in due course of time, 
 and Garet disappeared around the corner of the 
 house, leading Darling to his delectation. 
 
 "Whatever in the country shall we do with 
 them, Mary Berdel ?" asked Aunt Diana, breath- 
 lessly, as soon as they wore fairly out of sight, 
 
 "Why, I've asked Garet to spend the day 
 with me. After that you must decide/' replied 
 Berdel, demurely, enjoying Aunt Di's dismay 
 and trying to hide the mischief in her eyes. 
 
 " '_\[ph ! What do yon 'spose has become of 
 the Widder Van?" 
 
 "We'll ask Garet," said Berdel. 
 
 "She don't know no more about that skittish 
 mother o' hers than a pigeon dove does about 
 the swoopin's of a turkey buzzard," was Aunt 
 Di's vigorous comment. 
 
 "Well, we'll see. Here she comes." 
 
 "I've left Darling to take a nap in a box by 
 the kitchen door/' announced the little girl, sit-
 
 The Sylvester Qinirry. 223 
 
 ting clown near Bcrdel. "He always sleeps a 
 long time after he drinks his milk." 
 
 "Is he your doggie, Garet ?" asked Bcrdel. 
 
 "Xo, he is Mamma's. I don't, care for him 
 very much, because he won't keep still in my 
 arms when I want to hold him and love him. 
 He's too wiggly to love real hard. But I couldn't 
 leave him behind, because our cook isn't very 
 kind to him. And, you know, a merciful man 
 is merciful to his beast," she said, gravely. 
 
 "Yes, dear," repressing a smile. "How is 
 your Mamma to-day, Garet?" 
 
 "I can't tell you 'sactly, because she went 
 away day before yesterday to Xew York, and 
 yesterday a tel'gram came for Marie. She left 
 me with cook, but I but. I I don't cook is 
 a nice lady sometimes ; but I thought it would be 
 more 'visable to come over to board with Mis' 
 Dinah. I didn't want to wait long enough to 
 write and make 'rangements, as Mamma does, 
 so I just packed up a few little things and 
 moved over. Do you ihink she will take us, 
 Miss Bird L?" 
 
 Another furtive look across the porch towards 
 Aunt Diana, who, seated bolt upright, appeared 
 to be hypnotized by the new-comer. 
 
 "I am sure she never could turn away two 
 such desirable boarders as you and Darling,"
 
 224 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 answered Berdel, smiling. "She has the kind- 
 est heart in the world." 
 
 "Yes, I know she has," assented Garet, with 
 such nn affected heartiness as to surprise both 
 her hearers. "I've always wished she would let 
 me love her. She looks just like a gram'thur, 
 don't you think so, with her spectacles and cute 
 little curls each side of her face and her nice 
 wrinkly checks. I think gram'thurs are the 
 beau'fullest things, but I never saw a real one, 
 only their pictures, and I've read about them." 
 
 Aunt Diana took off her spectacles and rubbed 
 them on one corner of her apron. She sniffed 
 violently. 
 
 "Come here," she commandied, looking to- 
 wards Garet, who walked obediently to her 
 side. 
 
 "You've called me a darkey, 'n I never 'sposed 
 I'd be fool enough to stan' that from any livin' 
 body, but. but Berdel Strong, you stop laugh- 
 in' you can love me jest as hard as you want 
 to, you poor little forsaken thing." 
 
 This time Garet received rather than gave 
 the hugging, a.nd felt a dozen warm kisses on 
 her cheeks, while Berdel was now the amazed 
 and amused and glad looker-on. 
 
 Dr. Strong opened the gate and walked up 
 the pathway in the midst of this scene. He 

 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 225 
 
 lifted his brows inquiringly at sight of the bag- 
 gage on the porch, but gave a long whistle when 
 his eyes fell upon Garet and Aunt Diana. He 
 turned to Berdel for explanation and detected 
 the tremulousness of her smiling lips. 
 
 "What's all this?" he asked softly, sitting 
 close beside her, a comical twinkle in his eyes. 
 k A love feast?" 
 
 "That's just the exact word, Jackadel. A 
 love feast in the best sense. That poor child 
 has been left alone with the cook, and the love- 
 hungry little thing decided to move over here 
 and board with Mis' Dinah that's her name 
 for Aunt Di just think of it! And she says 
 Aunt Di makes her think of a grandmother. 
 Darling, Mrs. Vandyne's dog, has come too. I 
 judge that Garet has just made entire conquest 
 of Aunt Diana's heart, and so the boarding 
 question, which has not yet been settled, will 
 soon adjust itself. Listen !" 
 
 "You jest come up-stairs with me. Never 
 mind about the things I'll have Thomas fetch 
 them and I'll show you your room," Mrs. 
 Bolton was saying. "I 'spose," to Berdel, as 
 she rose holding Garet by the hand, "she can 
 have the east room for's long's she wants to 
 stay?" 
 
 "Why, certainly, Aunt Di." 
 15
 
 226 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 " 'X, John B., as long's you're here, you 
 might as well fetch her things up-stairs." 
 
 "Oh! please, Mis' Dinah," remonstrated 
 Garet, trying to disengage her hand, "I can 
 take them. Let me, Dr. Strong." 
 
 But a resolute hold was on her now, and she 
 could not stir. 
 
 "You let him alone; John B. needs to ex- 
 ercise his muscles once in a while, 'n you've car- 
 ried those great things fur enough in the hot 
 sun for one day." 
 
 So "John B." gathered up the hat-box, the 
 valise and the tin pail, and trudged meekly up 
 the stairs behind "Mis' Dinah" and her new 
 boarder. 
 
 "l^ow, the next thing will bo to unpack," 
 said Garet, after her exclamations of delight 
 over the pleasant appearance of the room. " 'N 
 then I'll go down to stay with Miss Bird L., for, 
 you. know, Mis' Dinah, I'm her comp'ny to-day. 
 But, first, if you please, what are your terms 
 for little girls and dogs ?" 
 
 Garet's funny intermixture of remarks, in 
 exact imitation of her mother's tones and words, 
 were particularly upsetting to Aunt Diana. 
 
 "The land !" she ejaculated, sitting down 
 quite suddenly. Dr. Strong, whoi had been 
 standing near unnoticed, burst into a hearty.
 
 The Sylvester (Jiun-ry. 227 
 
 irrepressible laugh. At this Garet bethought 
 herself of her manners. 
 
 "Thank yon, Dr. Strong," she said to him, 
 graciously. "That is all now." Then she turned 
 in some perplexity to Mrs. Bolton. 
 "I did not quite understand yon, Mis' Dinah." 
 "John B., you go down stairs," remarked that 
 lady, with considerable asperity. "What be you 
 standin' around here for like a great coot?" 
 
 The doctor, somewhat taken aback by this 
 pointed question for which he had no very good 
 answer, beat a hasty retreat. His descent of 
 the stairs was marked by a series of explosions 
 culminating in a prolonged shout by the time 
 he had rejoined his sister. 
 
 "I'd like to order that child as a prescription 
 for about half my patients," he declared, wiping 
 his eyes. "But I think Aunt Di would have to 
 be included. The combination of the two is 
 certainly irresistible." 
 
 "The poor little soul is starving to death for 
 affection," said Berdel. "Isn't it a shame?" 
 
 "She is a sweet little thing. Her mother does 
 not deserve to have her." The doctor's tone 
 conveyed much more than his words. 
 
 "Oh! don't say that, Jackadel. When God 
 sends a dear child to any one, there is always a 
 good reason for the gift. It may be- that Garet
 
 228 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 will prove the greatest of blessings to her frivol- 
 ous mother. She has great latent strength of 
 character, I feel sure." 
 
 "It is not all latent. Do you see how partic- 
 ular she is about getting the matter of her board 
 settled promptly and how unselfish she is about 
 Darling ? By the way, Berdel, how are you 
 going to stand that small beast ? You know, his 
 sort is generally nine- tenths yelp." 
 
 "Oh ! I think I can keep him within bounds. 
 At all events, he cannot be sent off. I want this 
 week to be the very happiest one in every way of 
 Garet's life. I wish I could get up-stairs to see 
 what she is doing this minute." 
 
 "I'll tip-toe and peek," volunteered her 
 brother. 
 
 "You ! O Jackadel ! you don't know how, and 
 you're too big," answered Berdel, highly 
 amused. 
 
 "You see!" 
 
 So off he went, first putting on a pair of car- 
 pet slippers. lie found the door of the east 
 room ajar, thus affording an excellent oppor- 
 tunity for the novel business of "peeking." The 
 contents of the valise, which stood open on a 
 chair, had evidently been put away. The hat- 
 box, with cover off, allowed him the view of a 
 white hat' covered with soft white plume*,
 
 Tic Sylvester Quarry. 220 
 
 Garet's very best head-gear. She, seated flat 
 on the floor in front of Aunt Pi, was busily en- 
 gaged unpacking the contents of the tin pail. A 
 small bottle of olives, a candle and candle-stick, 
 a hox of animal crackers, a silver-topped jar of 
 vaseline, a package of sweet chocolate, a bottle 
 of shoe-dressing, were some of the articles 
 enumerated and explained as she set them on 
 the carpet. 
 
 "I thought I might need some of these things, 
 or Darling might, and yon can't always find 
 them away from home, yon know, Mis' Dinah. 
 Oh ! I forgot I brought yon some sunflowers." 
 She was untying the forgotten bloom's from 
 around her shoulders. 
 
 "I'm 'fraid they want a drink. I'll put them 
 in this pitcher." Suiting the action to the word, 
 she plunged the long, limp stems into the empty 
 pitcher before she noticed that there was no 
 water in it. 
 
 "Oh !" she cried, disappointed. 
 
 "Give them to me," said Aunt Di, rising. 
 "There's water enough in my pitcher." 
 
 "Oh ! thank you. Is this your room ?" asked 
 Garet, who had followed on as far as the door. 
 ""Right next, to mine ! I do hope you'll be sosh- 
 iblo. Your room is beau'ful just like you, Mis' 
 Dinah."
 
 230 The Sylrrxlrr Quarry. 
 
 "'Mph!" ejaculated Aunt Pi, involuntarily 
 st( aling a glance at the mirror opposite. 
 
 ''Where do yon think I'd better put these 
 things?" Garet inquired, taking the last parcel 
 from the crowded pail. "The eat'bles might 
 draw mice, 'n that would be a pity in this nice 
 room."' 
 
 "If she isn't a real born housekeeper!" ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Bolton, fairly beaming with satis- 
 faction. 
 
 "You jes' let 'em be 'n I'll tend to 'em for 
 you. 'N, Garet, don't say another word 'bout 
 your payin' me any board. You're welcome to 
 share all I hev as long's you want to." 
 
 " 'Welcome to share'," repeated Garet, draw- 
 ing near and speaking in some doubt. "Does 
 that mean that I'm invited to stay with you 
 when I get through visitin' Miss Bird L. ?" 
 
 "Yes, Garet, that's just, what I do mean." 
 
 X<'arer still moved Garet, One small brown 
 hand was laid against Aunt Di's "nice wrinkly 
 chock," gently she patted the soft skin, then a 
 shy kiss fell there, and once more there was a 
 "little hug." 
 
 "I declare for't, child, T b'lieve you've clean 
 bewitched me," said Aunt Di, straightening her 
 spectacles. "There, now, go down 'n talk to 
 Mary Berdel till T c'n git my wits to workin'. 
 ? TsT it's time to be seem' about dinner, too."
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 231 
 
 So she bustled away, but not before the doc- 
 tor had fled, and Garet started in on what really 
 proved to be the "happiest week o>f her life." 
 Hour after hour passed in pure delight with one 
 or another of these " 'gree'ble people," as she 
 declared them to be. When night came she was 
 fairly worn out with joy. Almost too sleepy 
 to talk when put to bed in the lovely east room, 
 she did not forget to "return thanks" for all her 
 pleasures. 
 
 "I must say a long prayer to-night, Mis' 
 Dinah," she said. "There's so much to tell God 
 about, and the best of all is you." 
 
 So she knelt at Aunt Diana's knee and poured 
 out her full heart. 
 
 "There's just one more thing," she whispered 
 as the clothes were tucked in and she lay looking 
 up into the kind face bending near hers. 
 Miiyn't I may I oh! do, please, dear Mis' 
 Dinah, let me call you gram'thur."
 
 CHAPTER XVTT. 
 
 TEMPTATION. 
 
 MAC found Mrs. Van dyne lying on a 
 lounge in a pretty parlor at the Hotel 
 Runnymede, a small but exquisitely kept house. 
 Her brilliant color was somewhat paled, but her 
 large dark eyes seemed to have lost none of their 
 brightness as they smiled a welcome. 
 
 "Yon blessed boy, I knew yon would not fail 
 me," were the words he heard as he went eagerly 
 forward to clasp the hand she held out. 
 
 "How are you ?" he asked, seating himself 
 quite near, full of sympathy. "I do hope you 
 are not still suffering." 
 
 "'Not so much as yesterday, but I passed a 
 wretched night. Such a horrible headache I 
 scarcely closed my eyes." 
 
 Mac's glance strayed from the mass of soft 
 dark hair lying against the silken pillows, over 
 the dainty pink gown all lace and frills, to the 
 tiny bandaged foot, then back to the beautiful 
 face forming the central charm of the whole at- 
 tractive picture. 
 
 "I suppose," he said, smiling a little, "that I 
 must take vour word for it."
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 233 
 
 An expression of gratified vanity flashed out 
 for an instant before she chicled him. 
 
 "Oh! don't yon begin to be a flatterer, Mac- 
 Donald, for then you will be like all the rest of 
 the men, and I'm not going to have you spoiled. 
 I wish I could bring you a drop of wine for 
 your refreshment. Go there to the cabinet and 
 help yourself. You look weary. I know you 
 just rushed up here like the obliging soul you 
 are." 
 
 For a space Mac hesitated, then, his heart 
 beating quickly, he said, "Thank you, Mrs. Van- 
 dyne ; I must ask you to excuse me in the future 
 from taking liquor." 
 
 In saying the words, which had beforehand 
 appeared so difficult, he felt an elation, a sense 
 of virtuous self-commendation which both sur- 
 prised and pleased him. He wondered why he 
 had not been strong enough to take this stand, 
 which, after all, was so easily done, at the very 
 first. His satisfaction was still further in- 
 creased when Mrs. Vandyne said at once, rather 
 indifferently: "It- does not agree with you, per- 
 haps ? I've known persons who could not touch 
 it. You are wise to let it alone. And now, let 
 me tell you about this troublesome business mat- 
 ter which you are going to be good enough to 
 attend to for me."
 
 234 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 It did not appear, even to Mac's comparative 
 inexperience, such an important, imperative 
 errand, yet he reminded himself, ashe went about 
 it with punctilious exactness, that there were 
 very likely complications of which he did not 
 know whose successful outcome depended on the 
 prompt despatch of the day's business. He was 
 back at the hotel an hour or two after luncheon. 
 
 During his absence Airs. Vandyne had had a 
 severe attack of pain. She lay, faintly moaning, 
 the picture of misery. 
 
 In the midst of Mac's sympathy for her, he 
 found himself wondering how he could now get. 
 away to rejoin Keith at Saybrook. For one 
 swift instant a thorough distaste for his present 
 surroundings, companions and duties swept over 
 him. He felt stifled in the heavily perfumed 
 atmosphere of the luxuriously appointed room 
 with its subtle suggestion of insincerity and un- 
 wholesomeness, and longed for a deep breath of 
 old ocean's fresh, salt air, its invigorating 
 purity, and for the dear, true friends on board 
 of The White Cap. 
 
 But a slight movement of the graceful figure 
 before him, the low sound of a weak but musical 
 voice, brought him at once to Mrs. Vandviio's 
 side. 
 
 "Where are you, Mac?" she murmured, reach-
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 235 
 
 ing her hand out as though feeling for him. "I 
 can scarcely open my eyes. It's too l>a<l yon 
 have to stay with me instead of joining your 
 friends. I was going to send you away after 
 a while but you won't leave me now, will 
 you ?" 
 
 Her small, jewelled fingers closed convul- 
 sively about his, and the white lids lifted slowly 
 to reveal the most appealing of glances. 
 
 "Of course not," was his hearty response; 
 "don't think of such a thing! I'll see you 
 safely back home again before 
 
 "Mario! Marie!" she suddenly screamed, 
 "quick, give me a powder. Oh ! such a sharp 
 pain !" 
 
 She pressed her hands to her side, every 
 feature convulsed. 
 
 Marie flew to the cabinet, poured a small glass 
 of wine, into which she dropped a powder, and 
 hastened to her side. Mac deftly lifted Mrs. 
 Vandyne's head, and was about to place the 
 glass to her lips when an unexpected movement 
 of her hand overturned it and its contents were 
 s] tilled over his sleeve. 
 
 "Bring another, quick, Marie," he said in a 
 low tone. 
 
 Mrs. Vandyne, apparently half fainting, paid 
 no heed. When the second 2:! ass was brought
 
 236 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 she was able to swallow a little. Sitting sud- 
 denly upright, the remaining liquor was upset 
 again, drenching his hand. She gasped and 
 looked wildly about for an instant, then sank 
 back in the pillows. After a few minutes she 
 drew a long sigh of relief. 
 
 "Oh ! how lovely. That maddening pain has 
 gone as suddenly as it came. This respite is 
 heavenly ! But yonr coat sleeve is all drip- 
 ping, Mac Donald. What has happened ?" 
 
 "Nothing at all, I assure yon," he declared, 
 wiping off the drops with a napkin Marie 
 brought. 
 
 "But T must know. There's snch a strong 
 smell of wine. Oh ! was the wine spilled ? Did 
 I do it? I'm so " 
 
 "I beg yon not to excite yourself, dear Mrs. 
 Vandyne," interrupted Mac, distressed at her 
 evident concern; "yon will be ill again. This 
 is nothing. Do lie down and try to be quiet." 
 
 "But I'm afraid that" 
 
 She was lying back with closed eyes and her 
 voice trailed off into silence. In a few minutes 
 she seemed to be sleeping. Marie had disap- 
 peared, and Mac was left alone to battle with 
 the first real temptation of his life. For the 
 fnmes of the liqnor were stealing to his brain, 
 and he was discovering, to his horror, that an
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 237 
 
 appetite created by them was demanding satis- 
 faction. Hitherto he had taken wine, egg-nog, 
 toddy, and even plain whiskey, as occasion of- 
 fered and, as he thought, civility required, with- 
 out any special liking for them or any ill-effects, 
 with the exception of that last time when he had 
 lK.ru unexpectedly and unconsciously led 6n 
 into a night's carouse. The humiliating, dis- 
 graceful memory of that experience had brought 
 him to a realizing sense of his wrong-doing as 
 well as of the degradation such a course, pur- 
 sued further, would bring; but, until this mo- 
 ment, he had never dreamed of any possible 
 danger. lie had believed himself fully capable 
 of taking liquor or letting it alone as he chose. 
 But now came the disquieting thought, "I 
 must have it," not only disquieting but im- 
 perious. 
 
 "What nonsense!" he cried, mentally. "No- 
 body could acquire a taste for alcohol in these 
 few weeks. It cannot be. As soon as I get this 
 coat off I'll be all right." 
 
 His impulse was to pull it off then and there 
 and to rush away from the sweet, penetrating, 
 insistent odor which filled his nostrils. But he 
 feared that any movement would break the re- 
 freshing slumber into which Mrs. Vandyne had 
 fallen, for her hand still rested on his arm, So
 
 238 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 he sat there, how long he could not tell, looking 
 down at the beautiful face of the woman whose 
 least word was fast becoming his law. Moment 
 by moment all the good of the past two weeks 
 was being undone; silently but surely his newly- 
 made and sincere resolutions were being under- 
 mined; as subtle as the effect of the smell of the 
 wine on his senses was the influence of the 
 temptress over his will, leading him whither she 
 would. 
 
 What would be have done had he known that 
 during that long hour she was not asleep, but 
 quietly waiting the working out of her iniqui- 
 tous scheme? Would his righteous indignation 
 have scorned her openly and fled with abhor- 
 rence from such unholy presence ? Who can 
 tell? 
 
 By and by she stirred slightly, opening her 
 eyes in apparent surprise at seeing Mac still 
 sitting beside her. 
 
 "Have you been here all this time? You 
 must be stiff, you poor boy ! What time is it ? 
 I feel almost well again." 
 
 "That is good. But do be careful not to ex- 
 ert yourself in any way. It is nearly five 
 o'clock." 
 
 "Will you call Marie, please ? And then do 
 go out for a little change of air. We shall be
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 239 
 
 having' yon ill next, and that would be a calam- 
 ity indeed, my loyal knight." 
 
 She looked so bright in her pretty solicitude 
 for his welfare that his fears of a prolonged ill- 
 ness began to grow less. 
 
 His tirst visit was to the telegraph office to 
 send a message to Keith, saying that he could 
 not meet them as he had hoped to do, as he was 
 to return to Stand ish with Mrs. Vandyne. On 
 his way back to the hotel he passed several of the 
 glittering, beautifully decorated, attractive "gin 
 palaces" with which large cities abound. If 
 their exteriors were alluring to passers-by, 
 within every comfort and beauty which can 
 charm the senses gilded the black pathway lead- 
 ing straight down from each one to the pit. At 
 first Mac regarded them curiously, feeling a 
 sort of contempt for men who did not avoid 
 them ; then, as through an open door a strong 
 smell of liquor was wafted out to him, he sud- 
 denly felt again that horrible thirst, that strong, 
 enuer craving which would not down at his bid- 
 ding. He now began to think that there might 
 be men in the world who would not resist 
 temptation. Farther and farther on he walked. 
 Once he opened a door and stood irresolute on 
 the threshold. Handsome pictures met his eyes ; 
 strains of sweet music fell on his ear; elegant
 
 2-iO The Sylccslcr Quarry. 
 
 cabinets held tall bottles and graceful glasses ; 
 glimpses of interior apartments gave hint of 
 still more charming attractions; everywhere was 
 light, luxury, beauty, but over all the trail of 
 the serpent. lie lingered until inquiring looks 
 turned in his direction reminded him to pass 
 on. Summoning all his resolution, he moved 
 outward, and as he walked rapidly to the Ilun- 
 nymede he found himself wondering whether 
 there might not be men who could not resist 
 temptation. 
 
 Mrs. Vandyne was resting comfortably when 
 he entered her parlor. 
 
 "It is absurd to stay mewed up on this 
 lounge," she declared, with a charming pout. 
 "I might just as well go down to dinner with 
 you. It will be so stupid for you (lining 1 alone." 
 
 "Oh ! no, I'll not mind. We must think of 
 the journey to-morrow. You are so much bet- 
 ter now you must not do anything to bring on 
 another attack." 
 
 "I suppose not. Well, I'll be good. Is your 
 sleeve dry yet?" 
 
 Mac could not help a guilty start. He had 
 quite forgotten to stop at a cleaners or to buy 
 another coat, as he had fully intended. An old 
 couplet about first pitying, then enduring, and 
 then embracing, flashed across his mind. The
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 241 
 
 odor of the wine, which had been so distasteful 
 to begin with, had not only become endurable, 
 but really pleasant. He made some evasive, 
 careless reply and went down to the dining- 
 room. Here again temptation met him, for on 
 all sides he saw tall glasses and heard the pop- 
 ping of corks. Even stronger than before was 
 his craving for some sort of liquor. 
 
 "Pshaw ! what's the harm !" he argued with 
 himself as he ate his solitary meal. "These 
 people are not drunkards. They are fine, vigor- 
 ous men and lovely women, and, I dare say, 
 they take some sort of wine every day of their 
 lives. It is excess that harms one, not modera- 
 tion. A man who cannot control his appetite 
 is a fool. The way to test one's strength is not 
 by shutting oneself away from the world, but 
 by mingling freely with its people and still keep- 
 ing oneself clean. If I can't take a glass of 
 wine with my dinner without going overboard, 
 it's a pity." 
 
 Just then a man at a table opposite raised a 
 glass of clear, red wine to see the light shine 
 through it. Something in the action brought 
 vividly before Mac his never-to-be-forgotten in- 
 terview with Andy. The swollen, distorted evil 
 face of the brawny Scotchman as he held out 
 the glass of toddy he had prepared for the boy 
 16
 
 242 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 and the blazing anger of his eyes when he heard 
 it crash against the door-stone were plainly be- 
 fore his eyes. Beside these rose Garet's grave 
 little countenance. He saw her again standing 
 beside him, turning the leaves of her great Bible 
 and reading, "Look not thou upon the wine 
 when it is red." 
 
 The bottle which he had ordered stood beside 
 his plate. But, uttering an exclamation of im- 
 patience, he threw down his napkin and left the 
 table so abruptly as to draw the attention of his 
 neighbors. 
 
 The head waiter followed him, solicitously, 
 to the hall. 
 
 "I hope you are not ill, sir," he said. 
 
 "Oh! no; it is only a passing indisposition, 
 thank you. A breath of fresh air will do me 
 good." 
 
 He ran up-stairs for his hat. Entering his 
 room, he was greeted anew with the odor of 
 wine. 
 
 "Am I to be forever haunted in this fiendish 
 way?" he cried, aloud, vexed and annoyed. 
 Looking about, half unconsciously, his eye fell 
 on a bottle and some glasses standing on a pretty 
 tray on the table. They surely had not been 
 there earlier in the day. He stepped near and 
 saw that one of the glasses was half full. With-
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 243 
 
 out a moment's hesitation he put it to his lips 
 and drained every drop. Then poured another 
 glass. 
 
 "There !" he exclaimed ; "now there'll be no 
 more of this babyish shilly-shallying. I feel 
 better already, more like a man. And that mis- 
 erable craving has gone. I'll go down now and 
 finish my dinner like other people." 
 
 Mac was of such a temperament that a very 
 little alcohol, an amount which would not affect 
 ninety-nine men out of a hundred, mounted 
 quickly to his brain, showing itself in his dark- 
 ened and shining eyes, and especially in a ner- 
 vous excitement of manner. 
 
 Lucille Vandyne, well versed in all the ways 
 as well as the weaknesses of mankind, gave him 
 one keen, comprehensive glance when he came 
 up from dinner. 
 
 "Bravo!" she cried under her breath. "The 
 stool of repentance and the ten days of goody- 
 goody-ness has done him no harm." 
 
 During his absence she had made an evening 
 toilet of black lace, and had never seemed to 
 him more beautiful nor more charming. 
 
 "But I fear you have been very imprudent," 
 he reproached, bending to adjust her pillows. 
 
 "Not at all. Marie knows just how to he 1 }) 
 me. And see what else I've done !"
 
 244 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 Laughing coquettishly, she held up a couple 
 of theatre tickets. 
 
 At first he did not comprehend, but when her 
 real intention did dawn upon him he was eager 
 in remonstrance. 
 
 "I can never let you in the world !" he cried 
 aghast. "Oh ! I beg you, dear Mrs. Vandyne, 
 do give up the thought of such a thing." 
 
 "But you don't know how much, I've im- 
 proved by this time," she said, rather dryly. 
 "I am really a great deal better, MacDonald ; I 
 can tell. I would run no risk, I assure you. The 
 theatre is only two blocks off, and I've ordered a 
 carriage. So don't say one word, my dear boy. 
 We are going." 
 
 "But my clothes !" he exclaimed, as a last ar- 
 gument, looking ruefully down at his yachting 
 suit and then at the beautiful cloak Marie was 
 carefully folding over the dainty lace gown. 
 
 "Oh ! we'll have to offset them against my 
 clumsy foot," she responded, holding up a much 
 smaller bundle of bandages than he had seen in 
 the morning. "Now, Marie, my fan, and, Mac- 
 Donald, your arm. I can manage very well by 
 walking slowly." 
 
 She did so; surprisingly so it appeared to 
 Mac, who thought her slight limp most graceful. 
 During the slow ride and all through the first
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 245 
 
 hour of the play he watched, with not a little 
 anxiety, for the anticipated return of an attack 
 of pain. But instead of fatigue a greater de- 
 gree of gaiety showed itself, until he forgot his 
 apprehensions and gave himself up to a hearty 
 enjoyment of what was going on on the stage. 
 
 Late as it was when they returned, a delicious 
 little supper awaited them. 
 
 "You folks don't half know how to live," she 
 laughed, noting his look of surprise. "What is 
 the use of all the good things of life if they're 
 not to be used ? It is high time a big fellow like 
 you was emancipated from leading strings. 
 Why, you're going to be twenty-one pretty soon, 
 aren't you ?" 
 
 "On the tenth of October," replied Mac, seat- 
 ing himself opposite her. 
 
 "That comes just in good time before I close 
 the house. You must let me give you a birth- 
 day supper. We'll have only a few, the St. 
 John's and, of course, the Hermanns, and pretty 
 little Fanny Markham, whom I long ago picked 
 out as your sweetheart. She's been abroad for 
 a year and only came home last week. She is a 
 regular little beauty, and an heiress besides, so 
 promise me that I may do this and I'll send out 
 the invitations." 
 
 Marie, all this time, was stepping noiselessly
 
 246 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 about the table, serving them in deft perfect 
 fashion. She noticed a peculiar expression on 
 Mac's face as he hesitated before replying, but 
 Mrs. Vandyne was oblivious to this apparently. 
 She chatted on vivaciously, while he vainly en- 
 deavored to muster up the courage to refuse her. 
 He knew that his coming of age should be cele- 
 brated at home. Even in the midst of his 
 whirling thoughts, for he was drinking more 
 wine now, without pretense of excuse, he re- 
 membered that. He thought he had made it 
 plain to her, but, somehow, she could not have 
 understood him, for was she not saying, "Then 
 it's all settled, and we'll have a real good time 
 before we sail away across the blue ocean, Mac- 
 Donald mine."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 A DECISION. 
 
 \7 EITH reached the Hotel Runnymede 
 _J1\- somewhat past mid-afternoon the next 
 day. He sent his card up to Mac. 
 
 "Sorry, sir, but Mr. CaldwelFs not in his 
 room, explained tine many-buttoned bell boy, 
 bringing back the bit of pasteboard. 
 
 "Is Mrs. Vandyne still here? He may be 
 with her." 
 
 "I'll see, sir." 
 
 After a brief absence he reported that the 
 gentleman was not there. 
 
 "Then please take my card to Mrs. Vandyne," 
 said Keith. 
 
 Very soon thereafter he was ushered into the 
 small parlor to be received cordially by Mrs. 
 Vandyne. 
 
 "This is a charming surprise, Mr. Dennet," 
 she said, smiling and extending her hand. "Per- 
 haps MacDonald has told you of my unfortu- 
 nate slip on the stairway here the other evening. 
 Do pray be seated. I don't know what I should 
 have done had I not happened to remember your
 
 248 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 yachting trip. He, dear boy, has been kindness 
 itself to me in my helplessness. I can but be 
 selfishly glad he is here, even though he is losing 
 a great deal of pleasure I know. 
 
 But how happens it you are not far away on 
 The White Cap ? I surely am not delaying the 
 whole party?" 
 
 Her pretty air of anxious inquiry was charm- 
 ing. 
 
 "Not precisely that, Mrs. Vandyne," Keith 
 replied, giving her the benefit of a clear, direct 
 look. "We set off as we had planned, but when, 
 on receiving Mac's telegram at Saybrook, I 
 found how bitterly disappointed every one was, 
 I decided to come and offer my services as your 
 escort back to Standish, as well as in any other 
 way you may need, asking you to release Mac, 
 thus allowing him to overtake The White Cap at 
 Newport to-morrow." 
 
 Her soft dark eyes did not droop under his 
 searching, almost stern gaze. She smiled 
 slightly as she seemed to be considering the mat- 
 ter for a moment. 
 
 "Why, by all means, Mr. Dennet," she said 
 then, and never was manner more frankly cor- 
 dial. "I am only waiting now until my foot is 
 a bit stronger. Your duties will not be burden- 
 some, I assure you. It will give me great pleas-
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 249 
 
 ure to have your escort home, and also to know 
 that MacDonald is with those he loves best." 
 Her smile broadened here and a nicker of 
 amusement sparkled in her eyes. "Would you 
 like to go to his room and speak to him about 
 this, or shall I send for him to come here?" 
 
 "I was told below that he is out," said Keith. 
 
 "Oh ! nonsense ; they never know. He was 
 here not ten minutes ago and told me he was go- 
 ing up for a little nap. Just rouse him. He's 
 at 86 on the next floor, quite near the elevator. 
 When you have had your chat, come down, both 
 of you. And, Mr. Dennet, you will, of course, 
 dine with us ?" 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 Keith felt that he was both awkward and un- 
 gracious as he bowed himself out. But the con- 
 ventional "with pleasure" would not slip from 
 his lips. All his previous distrust of the woman 
 before him had been intensified during each 
 moment of the interview, and his heart was 
 heavy with foreboding as he made his way to 
 86. His tap on the door meeting with no re>- 
 sponse, he softly turned the knob, at the same 
 time speaking Mac's name. Still no one an- 
 swered. He opened the door and stepped inside. 
 Mac lay on the bed sound asleep. Keith dis- 
 liked to wake him, so sat down to wait awhile,
 
 250 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 hoping his nap might be short. Presently he 
 looked around for something to read and his 
 eye fell on the liquor tray. 
 
 "God help my poor boy," he murmured, "and 
 give me strength and wisdom for this dark hour. 
 How I wish Andy was here !" 
 
 With the wish came the question, why can 
 he not be ? Standish is only three hours from 
 New York. Noiselessly he left the room, and, 
 going to the office, despatched a message: 
 
 "NEW YORK, Sept. llth. 
 "Come at once to Hotel Runnymede. Mac 
 needs you. 
 
 "KEITH DENNET." 
 
 Returning to No. 86, he waited patiently an 
 hour or more before Mac opened his eyes. 
 
 "Halloo ! where did you come from ?" he 
 cried, amazed, springing from the bed, half 
 asleep, and striding towards Keith. "What's 
 gone wrong?" 
 
 In spite of himself, Keith's eyes strayed to- 
 wards the table. Quickly as he withdrew them, 
 Mac had seen and understood the glance. He 
 flushed crimson. 
 
 "Nothing has gone wrong with us," responded 
 Keith, trying in A'ain not to emphasize the pro- 
 noun, "but the girls and we all miss you so
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 251 
 
 greatly that I told Jeanie I would come on and 
 offer myself as escort for Mrs. Vandyne, leav- 
 ing you free to join the yacht at Newport to- 
 morrow." 
 
 "Why don't you say right out, fair and 
 square, that while nothing has gone wrong with 
 you, everything has gone wrong with me; that 
 I'm going to the dogs in a hurry, and that you've 
 come to snatch the brand from the burning," 
 burst out Mac, angrily. "I should think it 
 would be much more honorable than the sort of 
 underhand dealing you're treating me to." 
 
 Astonishment at such words from Mac's lips 
 kept Keith from any reply. He could hardly 
 believe his ears. Natural indignation, too, was 
 stirring within him when a closer look at Mac- 
 Donald's blood-shot eyes and surly expression, 
 so unlike his true self, brought a realizing sense 
 of his rudeness. 
 
 "This is not Mac ; it is a man under the irri- 
 tating, degrading effect of liquor," he thought. 
 
 He went quite near and laid his hand affec- 
 tionately on Mac's shoulder, as he had done hun- 
 dreds of times before. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "I have come to ask you to 
 do now what you will some day be glad of, to go 
 away from this so-called friend who is harming 
 you. I'm not going to argue, Mac, but I do en-
 
 252 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 treat you, as you love your God and respect your- 
 self, that you leave this place and this person, 
 once and for all, forever." 
 
 Mac shook off Keith's hand roughly and 
 folded his arms. "No," he said, facing him, 
 and now a fiery spark showed in his eye, "I shall 
 not leave this place and this person, as you so 
 politely call the lady I came here to assist. I 
 am not in the habit of delegating such duties to 
 other men. Neither am I coming at any time 
 to rejoin you on The Whit Cap. Henceforth 
 I intend living where I can be free to do as I 
 please, without being tied to the apron-strings 
 of any one." 
 
 Again Keith was silent from sheer amaze- 
 ment. Could it be Mac who was speaking so to 
 him ? Why, only yesterday morning the lad 
 had been his own bright, cheery self, clear-eyed, 
 light-hearted, apparently emancipated from the 
 evil influences of the summer. And here, in so 
 brief a time, he appeared in such new, such 
 hateful guise, discourteous, rough, out of tem- 
 per, combative, smelling of liquor. It seemed 
 incredible. 
 
 Keith did not then know, what he afterwards 
 learned from Mr. Standish, that while Uncle 
 Ben, Mac's father, had been a sober man, old 
 Grandfather Caldwell drank himself to death,
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 253 
 
 and that the awful curse of an inherited thirst 
 for liquor had fallen upon the third generation 
 in the person of MacDonald. And so it was 
 that to tissues, already poisoned, these last in- 
 dulgences of his came like a torch to tow, and, 
 in his case, it would take but very little com- 
 paratively of the vile stuff to change the man to 
 the beast. Difficult as it was for Keith to leave 
 him, his common sense advised that words would 
 only be wasted in his present condition. 
 
 "Good-bye, Mac," he said, speaking as cheer- 
 fully as possible. He dared not add another 
 word for fear his voice should fail him. 
 
 An expression of surprise crossed MacDon- 
 ald's face for an instant. He had evidently ex- 
 pected further remonstrances. 
 
 "Good-bye, Mr. Keith, a pleasant voyage and 
 safe return." He shook Keith's outstretched 
 hand, speaking much as he might have done to 
 a stranger. The door was hardly closed before 
 he had stretched himself on the bed with a yawn 
 of relief and dropped asleep. 
 
 Keith stopped in the office long enough to send 
 a note to Mrs. Vandyne, excusing himself from 
 dining with her. 
 
 On reading his hastily written words she 
 smiled. 
 
 "You managed that well, Lucille," she said to
 
 254 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 herself. "What he saw and probably heard up- 
 stairs has cured him of his haste to be of use to 
 other people. That business is settled and, let 
 us hope, the last cord cut which holds Mac- 
 Donald back. He is a dear boy. I'm not sure 
 but Fred is right about my becoming fond of 
 him. lie shall have the prettiest birthday sup- 
 per money and I can contrive, bless his heart !" 
 
 While she sat thus, congratulating herself on 
 her success and planning for the future; while 
 Mac slept on, a heavy, dreamless sleep which 
 should bring small refreshment to his fuddled 
 brain; while Keith walked the streets sick in 
 spirit, distraught, eagerly impatient for Andy's 
 coming, yet wondering whether or not it had 
 been a foolish thing to send for him, that big 
 loving heart was hastening to the three as fast 
 as steam could bring him. He had by good for- 
 tune received Keith's message in time to catch 
 a late afternoon train ; so the bells were just, 
 ringing for nine when the two friends met at the 
 station in New York. A few words put Andy in 
 possession of all the facts. 
 
 " 'Tis a time for us to seek t' dear Lord's 
 guidance wi' humble hearts," said he. "Let us 
 find a quiet room ; 'tis no fitting hour th' nicht 
 tae see th' twa of them. Nae, Master Keith, 
 I'm thinkin' if it be nae better for you tae gae
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 255 
 
 on noo an' get tae th' White Cap by mornin'. 
 You're bein' missed sair there, nae don't, an' 
 you've said th' last word tae Master Mac. Th' 
 dear Lord may gi' me speech wi' him, but I've 
 a bit tae say to her on my own account." 
 
 Keith, burdened as he was, could not repress 
 a smile at this unexpected flash of very human 
 nature. Andy's quick eye caught the smile. He 
 understood its meaning. 
 
 "Ay !" he said, grimly, "you're smilin' an' 
 thinkin' wi' reason that that doesn't sound verra 
 Christ-like. Weel, I've never set cop for a 
 saint, Master Keith, an' there cooms times when 
 a mon's got to let off some o' the old Adam in 
 him. I've stood all that can be stood o' her 
 wi'out givin' her some o' my mind. An' I'd 
 just as leaves, Master Keith, that you are not 
 listenin'. You might fin' out, ye ken, what a 
 tongue Andy Graham has in his head. But it's 
 nae laughin' matter; in truth, I'm larnin' noo 
 as I never kenned before th' heavy heart my 
 old father carried a' th' years o' my evil 
 doin'." 
 
 The next hour was spent in prayer and earnest 
 conversation; then Keith took a midnight train 
 for Newport, leaving Andy to get what rest he 
 could. 
 
 In the morning, as early as he thought wise,
 
 256 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 he presented himself at the Runnymede, and in- 
 quired for Mrs. Vandyne. 
 
 "Your card, sir, please," said the bell-boy. 
 
 "I've nae card, my lad ; I'll just walk oop tae 
 her room. I dinna wish to have her ken that 
 I've coom." 
 
 Quite bewildered at this strange announce- 
 ment, the wide-eyed boy, standing in wholesome 
 awe of Andy's masterful air, silently led the 
 way up-stairs and threw the door of her parlor 
 wide open. 
 
 "Thank you, my lad," said Andy, slipping a 
 coin into his hand, and thereby causing the big 
 eyes to open still wider. 
 
 Mrs. Vandyne, seated by the window reading 
 the morning paper, looked quickly around at 
 Andy's unceremonious entrance. 
 
 "Oh !" she cried, springing to her feet, fairly 
 pale with surprise and, one would have said, 
 alarm. "How did you come here?" 
 
 "By your own summons, ma'am," said Andy, 
 hat in hand, but as stiffly upright as his backbone 
 would allow. 
 
 "My own summons!" repeated she, quailing 
 under his scrutiny. "What do you mean ? I've 
 never sent for you. There must be some mis- 
 take." 
 
 "Whose hand ga'ed him his first drink o'
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 257 
 
 liquor ?" was his unexpected question, accom- 
 panied by lightning-like glances and a finger 
 pointing straight towards Mac, who sat at an- 
 other window petrified with astonishment, 
 speechless. 
 
 Vainly did Mrs. Yandyne summon her self- 
 control, her pretty airs and graces, her tact, her 
 knowledge of human nature. They one and all 
 deserted her in the presence of this fearless, ac- 
 cusing spirit, before whose strength and whose 
 purity she felt surely that her little self lay bare 
 and despised. Even physically she was unable 
 to endure the indictment of the steady grey eyes 
 fixed upon her in scorn. 
 
 She cowered and shrank back, half sobbing, 
 wholly unnerved, into her chair, hiding her face 
 in her trembling hands. She did not even ap- 
 peal to Mac for protection, nor order Andy from 
 the room. Neither did MacDonald come to her 
 relief. 
 
 Convicted by his conscience, stunned by the 
 sudden appearing of the friend to whom he had 
 so recently made every good resolution, he, too, 
 was voiceless and helpless before him. 
 
 A silence that could be felt filled the hand- 
 some room. 
 
 "You hae nae answer tae that question," said 
 Andy at last, "but you ken well enough who it 
 17
 
 258 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 is that has turned th' lad frae ways o' righteous- 
 ness. On your head be a' th' consequences o' 
 your act, an' may th' dear Lord hae mercy on 
 you." 
 
 He stopped and looked slowly about the richly 
 furnished apartment, at the bowed figure of 
 Mrs. Vandyne, motionless as a statute in its 
 trailing scarlet gown, at Mac, whose face, too, 
 was now concealed from view. 
 
 "I coom here," he went on, "tae tell you my 
 opeenion o' such doin's as yours; tae hae some 
 plain speech wi' you oot o' a sore an' wrathfu' 
 heart; but I feel that th' God you've both dis- 
 honored is a'ready here an' is speakin' tae you 
 noo mair tender an' mair convincin' than any 
 words o' mine could ever be. Dinna, I beg you 
 turn him awa' as you would fain turn me. For 
 he loves you, an' he grieves sair o'er th' evil way 
 you're gangin' in, you puir, weak;, mistaken 
 souls." 
 
 He fell on his knees and looked upward with 
 clasped hands. 
 
 "Oh! dear Father i' heaven, wi' you look 
 doon o' us noo an' pity an' bless us a'. Remem- 
 ber, dear Lord, that we are a' but dust; do not 
 visit our iniquities upon us but forgeeve, for th' 
 Master's sake. Gie to us a' who need it, bounti- 
 fully o' thy own gracious spirit. We canna
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 259 
 
 mak' our own way i' such an evil world. We 
 fa' by the way an' sin against thy lovin' heart. 
 Oh ! help us a'. Mak' us strong an' lead us back 
 tae thee. 
 
 "Especially, dear Father, tak' care noo o' th' 
 precious lad who's strayin' far frae his Fath- 
 er's hoose. Win him back frae th' things which 
 look sae fair tae his young eyes, but which will 
 turn tae husks i' his hands. He is thine, dear 
 Lord. Spare him longer, walkin' i' th' ways o' 
 tli' devil. 
 
 "An' hae mercy on this puir woman. Gie her 
 true knowledge o' th' Father she is greevin.' 
 She has forgotten thee; show thyself anew tae 
 her foolish heart. An' forgivin' a' her sin an' 
 naughtiness, mak' her thine own agen. 
 
 "For th' dear Savior's sake. Amen." 
 
 Heavy sobs were now heard, but no one spoke. 
 Andy walked over to Mac and laid a gentle hand 
 on his head. 
 
 "Will't coom wi' me, Master Mac ?" he asked, 
 his voice quivering. "There's naught but lovin' 
 hearts to meet ye." 
 
 ~No response. Andy waited some minutes, 
 but Mac did not stir. 
 
 "Withhold not thy tender mercies frae him, 
 O Lord !" he said, still with his hand on Mac's 
 head. "'Let thy lovin' kindness an' thy truth
 
 260 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 continually preserve him. For innumerable 
 evils hae compassed him aboot; his iniquities 
 hae taken hand on him sae that he is nicht able 
 tae look oop. Be pleased, O Lord ! tae deliver 
 him. O Lord! mak' haste tae help him. Let 
 them be ashamed an' confounded that seek after 
 his soul tae destroy it ; an' help us a', dear Lord, 
 tae forgi' our enemies. Amen." 
 
 Quietly then he passed from the room and 
 went his way homeward. 
 
 It was many minutes before Mrs. Vandyiie 
 slipped noiselessly out and shut herself in her 
 own room for the rest of the morning, leaving 
 Mac alone with his thoughts. 
 
 They met at the luncheon table; she, beauti- 
 fully dressed, as gay and even more vivacious 
 than ever. Mac, at first rather distrait, followed 
 her cue, and they were soon chatting merrily 
 over the matinee they were to attend that after- 
 noon. They both felt, without the saying, that 
 Mac was now indeed fully emancipated from his 
 "leading strings," and that his decision to fol- 
 low a worldly life was irrevocable.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 VARIOUS THINGS. 
 
 KEITH reached Newport the following 
 morning. His account of the meeting 
 with Mac and Mrs. Vandyne was brief, for he 
 gave no particulars, saying only that Mac would 
 not be with them at any time during their trip, 
 lie put the case to them in as cheerful a way as 
 possible, concealing his own anxiety. 
 
 "Mac prefers to remain in New York with 
 his friends there," he said. "We are sorry, of 
 course, but that is no reason why we should 
 lose all the pleasure we have anticipated. Since 
 the weather is so fine, suppose we change our 
 plans and go around to Boston instead of South. 
 What do you say, Jeanie ?" 
 
 "I think that, will be pleasant, I always en- 
 joy going up Boston harbor." 
 
 "And can we not stop at Provincetown, Mr. 
 Keith ?" asked Marcia. "I was reading, only 
 the other day, such an interesting description 
 of the. place where the pilgrims first landed and 
 where the May Flower compact was signed." 
 
 "By all means," replied Keith. "The harbor
 
 262 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 there is one of our finest, and the quaint old- 
 town well worth a visit. How do you vote, Miss 
 Lucinda ?" 
 
 "Oh ! I'm with the majority/' said Louise. 
 
 "And you, Violet?" 
 
 But Violet had slipped away. 
 
 "She will not object, Mr. Keith," declared 
 Marcia. "Neither will Mark. So let's call it 
 decided." 
 
 "Very good. Now, a consultation with the 
 captain comes next. Then, after spending the 
 rest of the day driving about here, we'll set 
 sail." 
 
 This was accordingly done. For two days 
 The White Cap lay at anchor in beautiful 
 Provincetown Harbor; another two were passed 
 in Boston, after which a leisurely return voyage 
 to New York occupied the remainder of the 
 week. On arriving at home, the party had been 
 absent just fourteen days, during which time a 
 number of things had happened. 
 
 In the first place, The Hustler, as the Her- 
 manns called their new store, had been opened 
 with a great flourish of trumpets, and was al- 
 ready doing a brisk business. Innocent-looking 
 soda water, soft drinks, ale and beer were the 
 only liquors ostensibly offered for sale, but it 
 was generally understood that in a certain room
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 263 
 
 in the rear, a room that could be entered both 
 from within and without, whiskey, brandy, gin 
 and rum were obtainable in small or large quan- 
 tities. 
 
 In the next place, Mrs. Vandyne had sud- 
 denly changed her plans, and was preparing to 
 close her house and go abroad early in October 
 instead of waiting until winter. 
 
 "We will have your birthday supper on the 
 other side, MacDonald," she had said to him, 
 as they followed Andy home on the evening 
 train. "We shall be less likely to interrup- 
 tions." 
 
 "Yes," answered Mac, with so singular an ex- 
 pression on his face that she did not venture to 
 allude again to the extraordinary occurrence of 
 the morning. 
 
 The third bit of news which surprised every 
 one was nothing less than that Margaret Van- 
 dyne, during her mother's absence abroad, was to 
 stay with the Strongs. It had been brought 
 about in this wise : 
 
 One morning, the fourth of Garet's happy 
 visit, she was startled to see her mama's cook 
 hurrying up the road. Dr. Strong had informed 
 that person of her charge's whereabouts within 
 an hour of the "moving over," and the "very 
 nice lady sometimes" had been perfectly agree-
 
 264 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 able to the migration. She appeared now to be 
 in great haste. 
 
 Garet ran to open the gate. 
 
 "Here, Miss Gay, is a telegram from your 
 maw sayin' she's comin,' home to-night. Hurry 
 up an' git your things together an' I'll carry 'em 
 back for ya" 
 
 Garet shut the gate and retreated several 
 steps. 
 
 "Indeed, cook, it's imposs'ble. I've been in- 
 vited for a whole week, and I've excepted, and 
 and I don't want to come home yet, either." 
 
 "But ye've got to come, right now," declared 
 cook, with emphatic nods of her red head. "It'll 
 be as much as me place is worth if the missus 
 comes home an' finds ye stayin' wid the neigh- 
 bors. The last words she says to me was, 'Be 
 sure you don't let Miss Garet stir out o' the 
 yard.' " 
 
 She advanced towards the little girl, but Garet 
 darted away like a bird and flew to Aunt Diana, 
 who was sitting on the back porch paring apples 
 and thinking how she should hate to part with 
 her guest on Mrs. Vandyne's return. Without 
 warning a small whirlwind rushed upon her. 
 
 "O gram'thur ! gram'thur ! I don't have to go 
 till the week's up, do I ?" 
 
 Apples, spectacles, dishes and knives mingled
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 2G5 
 
 in a heap on the floor, but Aunt Diana paid no 
 heed to them. Her first thought was for the 
 trembling child. 
 
 "To be sure you don't. Who's been saying 
 anything to you 'bout goin' away? There! 
 don't shake so! Sit up and tell me." 
 
 Just at that moment cook's portly figure came 
 in sight, and Garet clung again to Aunt Diana 
 in a panic of fear. 
 
 "You jes' set down there an' wait a minit," 
 said Mrs. Bolton, pointing to the step. "Come 
 with me, Garet, and don't you be a mite afraid 
 that anybody'll carry you off till your mother 
 gits here. Now, you take the scissors 'n rip out 
 this tuck, 'n I'll 'tend to Miss Biddy." 
 
 "Miss Biddy!" repeated Garet, all her ex- 
 citement calmed by her confidence in Aunt Di's 
 ability to manage things. "That isn't cook's 
 name. She is Mrs. Nora Me something. 
 Hens are biddies." 
 
 'N so be old cats sometimes," said Aunt Di, 
 with a queer little pucker of her lips. "Now you 
 set there 'n don't stir a step till I come back." 
 
 "Miss Biddy" was soon disposed of, and the 
 happy Garet again flitting about the place as 
 light-hearted as a butterfly; but Aunt Diana 
 was ill at ease. 
 
 "That hoppety little Widder Van ain't no
 
 266 The Sylvester Quarry, 
 
 more fit ter have the care of a child like Garet 
 than nothin' in this world. But I 'spose likely 
 she's got some mother love in her ef she ain't 
 got no sense, 'n there' d be feathers a-flyin' ef 
 I was to ask her to give me the poor little starvin' 
 soul. But I ain't a-goin' ter set still an' see her 
 carried off afore her visit, as she calls it's out, 
 not s' long's my name's Diana Bolton ! I'll have 
 a talk with John B. 'bout it soon's ever he comes 
 home." 
 
 There was no chance for that talk during the 
 afternoon, so one was had with Berdel instead, 
 resulting in Mrs. Vandyne's finding a note 
 awaiting her. 
 
 "DEAR MRS. VANDYKE : 
 
 "We have taken the liberty of inviting your 
 little girl to spend a few days with us during 
 your absence. She tells us that you are coming 
 home this evening, so>, as we have various things 
 planned for the remaining days of the week, we 
 beg that you will allow us the pleasure of her 
 company until Saturday afternoon next, when 
 my brother will bring her home. 
 
 "Sincerely, MARY BERDEL STRONG." 
 BIRD'S NEST, Thursday. 
 
 "There!" Aunt Di had exclaimed when she
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 267 
 
 read this over, "there's the first blow struck for 
 liberty!" 
 
 "Liberty, Aunt Di," laughed Berdel, sealing 
 the envelope. "Who could be freer to go or to 
 stay than Garet ? She had a true disdain for 
 bolts and bars and cooks, too, when she moved 
 over here." 
 
 "You know what I mean, Mary Berdel, 's 
 well's I do, 'n you're every bit's fierce for havin' 
 that child comc's I be, for all your protendin' 
 it's all my notion, you know you be." 
 
 "ISTo, Aunt Di, I truly never supposed before 
 that I was fierce," was Berdel's amused re- 
 sponse. 
 
 When it camo Mrs. Vandyne's turn to read 
 the note she first frowned, then smiled, and then 
 sat down to reply. 
 
 "DEAR Miss STRONG: 
 
 "Of course, Garet may stay with you as you 
 wish. I am under many obligations for your 
 kindness to her during my enforced absence, 
 and shall give myself the pleasure of calling on 
 you to-morrow morning to express my thanks in 
 person. Cordially, 
 
 "LUCILLE VANDYKE." 
 
 Thursday.
 
 268 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "And I do hope/' she said, as she wrote the 
 last word, "that I may be spared meeting that 
 dreadful old woman." 
 
 But as it happened, that dreadful old woman 
 was the very first person she saw as she stepped 
 from her carriage at Dr. Strong's door the next 
 afternoon. Aunt Diana was weeding a flower- 
 bed and Garet stooped close beside her; both 
 arose as they heard the carriage wheels. 
 
 "Oh! there's mamma. Isn't she pretty! 
 You've met her, haven't you, gram'thur?" and 
 the eager little face had on its "society" ex- 
 pression. Without waiting for an answer she 
 flew away to greet Mrs. Vandyne, who by that 
 time was walking along the path directly to- 
 wards Aunt Di, standing as straight and stiff as 
 the Irish juniper tree beside her. 
 
 Garet, holding her mother's hand, made in- 
 troductions in her politest way. 
 
 "Mamma, this is my dear gram'thur. Her 
 true name is Mis' Dinah, but she lets me call 
 her gram'thur, and she is just as good as a truly 
 one. I didn't ever have a truly gram'thur, did 
 I, mamma ?" 
 
 For an instant Mrs. Vandyne lost all sense 
 of her present surroundings. The face and 
 figure of a mother, loving and devoted, but for 
 long years utterly neglected, rose before her vis-
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 269 
 
 ion. With swift impatience she thrust the up- 
 braiding memory aside. 
 
 "Hush, darling! you are chattering too fast. 
 I'm delighted to meet you, Miss Dinah, and hope 
 you- 
 
 She paused, amazed at the flood of angry 
 color which swept over Aunt Dinah's face. 
 
 "My name's Di-an-na Bolton," said that in- 
 dignant lady, her eyes ablaze behind her spec- 
 tacles. 
 
 "Oh-h ! I beg your pardon ; I must have mis- 
 understood my little girl. I do hope, Miss Bol- 
 ton, that you have not " 
 
 Again she was interrupted. 
 
 "I was married to Zenas Bolton before you 
 was born, long enough," was now Aunt Di's 
 succinct announcement. 
 
 Mrs. Vandyne smiled graciously. 
 
 "How unfortunate I am! I do hope, dear 
 Mrs. Bolton, that you have not had any trouble 
 with my little Gay." 
 
 "Trouble!" repeated Aunt Diana, her grim 
 features undergoing a marvelous transformation 
 as she turned to look down at Garet. Her very 
 voice was changed by the love overflowing her 
 heart. Again to the worldling came remem- 
 brance of her own mother's face bending above 
 her childish one, lighted with just such tender, 
 undying affection.
 
 270 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "Garet couldn't be no trouble ef she trie!! 
 She's the dearest little creature in the hull 
 world, 'n she needs the best of mothers, too." 
 
 Just at this moment Berdel, who, from her 
 couch behind the closed blinds, had heard all 
 this conversation with much amusement, called 
 out, "Aunt Di, won't you bring Mrs. Vandyne 
 in to see me ?" 
 
 She feared that Aunt Diana would not be 
 able to restrain herself further from "saying 
 things" to the visitor, a fear she herself had 
 that morning expressed. 
 
 "Miss Bird L. can't walk much, you know, 
 mamma," whispered Garet, "but she's lovelier 
 than anything." 
 
 During the next few minutes the fact of Mrs. 
 \ r andyne's approaching trip abroad was made 
 known. Aunt Di's heart gave a great leap, but 
 she made no sign. 
 
 About an hour after dinner that same day, 
 while Garet w r as taking a nap, she changed her 
 dress, put on her best bonnet, and went in for a 
 word with Berdel. 
 
 "Mary Berdel," she said, drawing on her 
 mitts energetically, "I'm a-goin' to call on the 
 Widder Van. You ring the bell for Ellen if 
 you want anything. I shan't be gone long. Xo, 
 I'm not going to tell you nor anybody else what
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 271 
 
 I'm goin' for, so you needn't bo askin' me with 
 those great eyes o' yourn. I'm not like John B., 
 who can't keep a thing to himself five minutes 
 after he gits in the house. Zenas was jes' so. 
 Told me everything he knew 'n lots more, too, 
 sometimes. Garet's asleep up-stairs." 
 
 So saying she walked off. 
 
 If Berdel had been amazed at Aunt Di's des- 
 tination, Mrs. Vandyne was no less astonished, 
 to say nothing of being dismayed, on her ar- 
 rival. For the second time recently her com- 
 posure seemed on the point of deserting her ; 
 she felt herself growing nervous under the un- 
 swerving regard of a pair of grey eyes near kin 
 to Andy's own. 
 
 Luckily, Mrs. Bolton was fully as uncom- 
 fortable as her hostess, and came directly to the 
 object of her visit in characteristic fashion. 
 
 "What be you goin' to do with Garet when 
 you're skylarkin' about in forren parts this win- 
 ter ?" 
 
 The "Widder Van" drew an inward breath 
 of relief. If it was only Garet who was to be 
 dealt with, she could rest easy. She had feared 
 she hardly knew what. 
 
 "Oh ! I've not fully decided. I shall probably 
 put her in some good boarding-school," was her 
 ready reply.
 
 272 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "We've got full's good schools here in Stand- 
 ish's anywhere else, 'n I do want Garet. Won't 
 you let her stay with me ? I'll take jes' as good 
 care o' her 's I know how, '11 you needn't be a 
 mite afraid but what she'll be happy. 'T won't 
 cost you a cent for her keepin' neither, though I 
 don't 'spose savin' money's any object to you," 
 with a comprehensive sweep of her spectacles 
 around the lavishly furnished room and over 
 the silken gown and flashing jewels before her. 
 "But I want to do by Garet jes' 's if she b'longed 
 to me, 'n in case anything happens to you, Wid- 
 der Van, I want you should give her to me for 
 my own." 
 
 In her excitement, as well as her fear, at 
 broaching this last topic Aunt Di let slip, all 
 unconsciously, the name, half humorous, half 
 disdainful, by which she usually designated her 
 neighbor. But Mrs. Vandyne, if she noticed, 
 gave no heed. Her thoughts were busy con- 
 sidering from more points than one this propo- 
 sition so unexpected, so opportune. For the dis- 
 posal of Garet was as yet one of the unsolved 
 problems of her proposed sojourn abroad. 
 
 All arguments were favorable to Aunt Diana's 
 wishes. The schools of Standish were good, 
 and only a half mile away; it would put the 
 stamp of good standing in the neighborhood on
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 273 
 
 the Vandync name to have it known that one of 
 its possessors was an inmate of Dr. Strong's 
 family; and, somehow, beneath all her inde- 
 pendence and bravado, Lucille Vandyne felt 
 that the Vandyne name was not shining with its 
 former lustre ; she herself would be relieved of 
 all responsibility concerning Garet ; and last, 
 strongest reason of all, the recollection of Aunt 
 Di's love-suffused countenance told her that the 
 child would receive in overflowing measure the 
 mother-love, sheltering, cherishing, brooding 
 which she had never from the very first be- 
 stowed upon her. Gay, pleasure-loving, self- 
 indulgent, the tiny daughter given her by God 
 had been to her a burden, a hindrance, which a 
 certain regard for the speech of people would 
 not permit her openly to abandon ; a picturesque 
 attachment, beautifully dressed, sometimes 
 petted and made much of in a graceful, charm- 
 ing way in public ; but lately, as the bright 
 young mind developed, the keen observant eyes 
 took note, and the sharp little tongue gave ut- 
 terance to unexpected speech, an embarrassing 
 comrade, one whom she was, at heart, glad to be 
 rid of. 
 
 Aunt Diana did not disturb the quiet con- 
 sideration Mrs. Vandyne was giving to the sub- 
 ject. She sat bolt upright, her mitted hands 
 18
 
 274 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 folded on her knee, her thrifty brain taking ac- 
 count of stock as her eyes once more roved 
 about; she commented mentally with more or 
 less disapproval, generally more, on all the signs 
 of luxurious and, to her mind, lazy living. But 
 her thoughts were not so far afield that they did 
 not instantly return at the first word spoken by 
 Mrs. Vandyne, 
 
 "Are Dr. Strong and his sister aware of your 
 wishes, Mrs. Bolton, and do they agree to 
 them ?" she asked, gravely. 
 
 "They've both lived with me, 'n agreed to 
 everything I've wanted ever sence Mary Berdel 
 was born 'n her mother died. 'Tain't likely 
 they'll begin now to disagree. Zenas left me 
 so's I'm not beholden to no one for money, 'n 
 never will be, for I don't trust to no one bank 
 nor inves'ment, 'n besides all that, they both o' 
 'em thinks the world o' Garet, jes' 's I do 'n jes' 
 's everybody else always will that ain't all took 
 up with flummy-diddles." 
 
 Aunt Di's mouth closed with a snap. She 
 quaked in her shoes. Why couldn't she have 
 held her tongue better than that? But again 
 the astute "Widder Van" was unmindful of any- 
 thing invidious. 
 
 "I think, dear Mrs. Bolton," she said, after 
 another long silence, "that I will accept your
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. ' 275 
 
 very kind offer with this condition : You must 
 allow me to place in the Standish bank a sum 
 ajnple to cover all Garet's probable and even pos- 
 sible expenses during the six months of my ab- 
 sence. She has her own income from her fath- 
 er's estate, and I know I ani only carrying out 
 his wishes in insisting upon this arrangement. 
 Let her spend the few remaining days of my 
 stay here with me ; then you may have her until 
 I come again and thank you." 
 
 Very sweet and winning Lucille Vandyne 
 looked as she said this last word, standing close 
 in front of Aunt Diana with outstretched hands 
 and swimming eyes. Something of the girl 
 Lucille and of the woman she, with less of sel- 
 fishness, might have become shone out from her 
 beautiful face. 
 
 ''You poor child !" cried Aunt Di, her own 
 features all aquiver in her delight and excite- 
 ment as she too arose and looked down on the 
 fair upturned countenance. "I b'lieve in my 
 soul you need motherin' every bit's much 's 
 Garet does if not a little more." 
 
 In one drawer of Mrs. Vandyne's desk there 
 were a number of articles at which she seldom 
 looked, of which she seldom thought. But on 
 Mrs. Bolton's departure she took out the con- 
 tents of this drawer and spread them before her
 
 276 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 on the desk. One by one she carefully regarded 
 them ; first of all a faded photograph of a 
 thoughtful, care-worn woman, the mother who, 
 in straightened circumstances and amid increas- 
 ing daily labors, had never failed in .love or de- 
 votion to the beautiful young daughter who was 
 her idol, the one bright object in her dull, mo- 
 notonous life. Side by side with this she laid a 
 picture of herself at sixteen, lovely as an apple 
 blossom, as dainty and winsome ; a third picture 
 was taken at twenty, in her bridal dress, when 
 she was about to become the wife of the rich 
 man of the world who had been captivated by 
 her innocent beauty, and who, during the ten 
 years of their married life, had denied her noth- 
 ing that love and money could buy. Last was a 
 baby face, her first born, the little son she had 
 never mourned, for even so soon as that the at- 
 tractions of a gay life of pleasure had stifled 
 her better nature. 
 
 A long while she sat looking at the four pic- 
 tured faces. Many long forgotten scenes were 
 remembered, days full of such delight among 
 the flowers and birds and charms of a country 
 home as the whole world could not bring her 
 now; nights of dreamless sleep, when, before 
 laying her tired head on its pillow, she knelt at 
 her mother's knee and said her childish prayers.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 277 
 
 Her eyes wandered to Garet's picture, life 
 size, hanging on the wall. Out from under the 
 big hat, heavy with nodding plumes, looked a 
 little thoughtful face with the same broad brow 
 and steadfast clear eyes that had long ago bent 
 to give her good-night kisses. 
 
 "She is rightly named Margaret," murmured 
 the mother. "She is like Margaret Chellis, 
 thank heaven ! and not like Lucille Vandyne." 
 
 A package of letters lay beside the pictures 
 written in a small, irregular hand. They were 
 all signed, "Your loving mother, Margaret 
 Chellis." 
 
 Mrs. Vandyne read each one, stopping now 
 and then to wipe her fast-falling tears. Then 
 she carefully made pictures and letters into one 
 package, wrapped and tied it securely, and ad- 
 dressed it in a plain hand to "Margaret Chellis 
 Vandyne Pictures of her grandmother, her 
 mother and her brother. Letters written by 
 her grandmother to her mother during her early 
 married life." 
 
 Scarcely had this work been finished when 
 some one pushed aside the portiers and stepped, 
 unannounced, into the room. A quick move- 
 ment of her head brought Mr. Fred Hermann 
 within her vision. 
 
 "Good-morning, ma belle !" he said, coming
 
 278 The Sylrcsfer Quarry. 
 
 to her side. "What ! tears ! Wherefore ? Has 
 the rose-leaf one crumple too many to-day ? 
 That will never, never do! Come, tell me the 
 dismal tale, and we'll find a remedy." 
 
 "What is the rhyme that says there is no med- 
 icine for a hurt soul, no balm for a mind dis- 
 eased ?" she asked, closing the desk and turning 
 the key. Her smile was tremulous, though she 
 tried to speak lightly. 
 
 Mr. Hermann shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "Don't seek me for information on any such 
 harrowing themes, I beg. What's come over 
 you, Lucille?' 
 
 He looked with some anxiety at her troubled 
 face and reddened eyes. 
 
 "Oh ! I've been making a little trip into the 
 past, and half wishing I could be the girl Lucille 
 once more." Again her lips quivered. 
 
 "Stuff and nonsense ! I don't wish you were 
 the girl Lucille again by a long chalk. She was 
 a rare little beauty, I'll warrant, but no more to 
 be compared to the Lucille of to-day than an 
 apple is to a glass of brandy. By the way, how 
 is young Caldwell coming on ? Is he up to the 
 mark yet?" 
 
 "Up," she repeated, much amused. "All his 
 devotees up the road would consider 'down' a 
 more truly fitting word to use in describing his
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 279 
 
 progress, which is all even you could wish. It 
 takes less liquor to affect him than any man 
 I've ever seen." 
 
 " That's strange, with his magnificent phy- 
 sique. I guess he's only finishing up what was 
 well begun by some old ancestor or other and, 
 likely enough, carried on from stage to stage by 
 several others. It's tough on the pretty boy, 
 though. He's got money enough to give him a 
 life of it for years. They say he's coming in 
 next week for all old Ben Caldwell's property, 
 besides a lot from his mother's folks. He's a 
 plum, Lucille." 
 
 "And yet you are silly enough to be jealous 
 of him and horridly disagreeable to me," she 
 said, giving him a full, significant look far more 
 expressive than words. When will you learn to 
 trust me, Fred ? There ! there ! be a good boy 
 and tell me how things are getting on. Have 
 you received the stock you were buying from the 
 Brooks' ?" 
 
 "No, I haven't got those shares," he replied, 
 his handsome dark face assuming a business- 
 like look, "and I don't know when I shall. 
 What's more, the Brooks' seem to have gone 
 abroad for a thousand years, and that agent of 
 theirs is as stiff as a rock. He simply can't or 
 won't act without their orders."
 
 280 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "Suppose you commission mo to act for you 
 directly with them," she suggested demurely, 
 yet with a laughing flash of the eye. 
 
 "By Jove, Lucille ! you're a trump ! That's 
 the very thing. I used to know Tom Brooks, 
 and if vou can't get him in tow in less than 
 twenty-four hours, I'm mistaken." 
 
 "Then that's settled," she said. "Matter 
 number one. Now, how is the store coming on ?" 
 
 "Like a house afire; but we've run against an 
 unexpected snag. Jim Malonoy, a tough cus- 
 tomer on whom we depended to lead our crowd 
 and to draw up recuits, has sworn off for good 
 and is working, tooth and nail, against us. He's 
 thick as hops with that Scotchman of yours." 
 
 lie stopped, struck by the sudden change in 
 Mrs. Vandyne's face. An undescribable min- 
 gling of expressions left him in doubt as to 
 which one predominated. 
 
 "What's the matter now?" he asked, looking 
 at her curiously. 
 
 A slow flush was dying from her forehead, 
 and the peculiar set of her lips relaxed. 
 
 "Nothing, nothing at all," she murmured, 
 "except perhaps the heat." 
 
 She fanned vigorously. 
 
 "Perhaps you've met the Graham and my 
 prophecy came true," pursued Mr. Hermann.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 281 
 
 "Did he get the better of you really, Lucille?" 
 he continued, this time with open curiosity. 
 "Let's hear about it. Come now, 'fess up." 
 
 In vain she tried to maintain an air of uncon- 
 cern. The more effort she made the more vividly 
 did every circumstance of her last meeting with 
 Andy rise before her. She turned crimson and 
 pale by turns, and showed so plainly her dis- 
 comfiture that her companion finally said, "See 
 here, Lucille, if the scoundrel has been annoy- 
 ing you, he'll pay for it richly." 
 
 "Oh ! no, Fred, not at all," she managed to 
 say. "Nothing at all has happened ; don't think 
 of it again. Go on now and tell me about Jim 
 Malcney." < 
 
 "Well, he's working against us with all his 
 might, and he's one of those fellows that's a 
 power with his mates for either good or bad. 
 He and Graham together are a team. Then the 
 ladies have set to work. Miss Sylvester and 
 Mrs. Eliot, with a lot of foolishness for the chil- 
 dren, pledges and badges and meetings, and no 
 one knows what all. They think they're going 
 to head us off, and I suppose some fools will 
 think it smart to drink nothing stronger than 
 milk tea; but when the facts are all known it's 
 going to take more than a parcel of men and 
 women to get around Mac Caldwell's being
 
 282 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 ruined by liquor right here in the midst of the 
 tee-totalers." 
 
 Lucille arose, a low, irrespressible exclama- 
 tion on her lips. 
 
 "You can't guess who's been to call on me to- 
 day, Fred," she said, with a swift assumption 
 of the confidential, almost caressing tone, she 
 often used when making a complete change of 
 subject. 
 
 "There you go again, off like thistledown!" 
 Mr. Hermann grumbled. "I thought we were 
 talking business." 
 
 "You were, and I was listening," she retorted 
 sweetly. "Now I am asking you a questton." 
 
 "Oh ! how can I tell ?" He was still cross. 
 "Andy Graham." 
 
 For an instant her eyes dilated as though he 
 really were before her. 
 
 "jSTo, guess again," she cried, after the slight- 
 est possible hesitation. "Well, I'll tell you. Mrs. 
 Bolton." 
 
 "Who in the world is she ?" 
 
 "Dr. Strong's aunt and housekeeper. Garet 
 is to become an inmate of their family during 
 my absence abroad, and will attend the Stand- 
 ish school." 
 
 Mr. Hermann eyed her in silence, then broke 
 into a ringing laugh.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 283 
 
 "You'll be the senior member of the firm be- 
 fore you're in it a week !" he exclaimed. "I'm 
 proud of you, Lucille, upon my word. What a 
 stroke of policy and diplomacy and tact and 
 everything else ! How on earth did you manage 
 this?" 
 
 "I didn't manage it at all. Garet did it. 
 Garet and gram'thur, and it is one of the secrets 
 you are not to inquire into now or ever. But 
 I wanted you to know the fact." 
 
 "Mystery on mystery !" he ejaculated. "An- 
 drew and Diana seem to be a capable pair. I 
 begin to fear that they will spirit you away from 
 me one of these days." 
 
 "It would be a queer thing, wouldn't it ?" she 
 answered with an odd smile. "There's the tea 
 bell. Come out and have something to eat."
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A CREEPING SHADOW. 
 
 WHAT shall we do for Mac's birthday 
 day after to-morrow, Keith?" !M iss 
 Janet asked a few evenings after their return 
 home. They had been at the chapel and were 
 walking slowly homeward in the moonlight. 
 
 "What can we do, Jeanie? It is not likely 
 that he will spend any part of it at home or with 
 us." 
 
 "Well, he ought to," said she with an un- 
 wonted show of spirit, "If his whole family 
 and ours together can't outweigh in attraction, 
 for an hour or two, at least, that that woman, 
 I think it's a pity. Sometimes I feel as though 
 I never can forgive her, never ever, Keith." 
 
 "Don't judge her too harshly, Jeanie," Keith 
 cautioned. "She is but one factor in the dark 
 problem. If she had not been here, the tempta- 
 tion before which our dear boy falls so easily 
 would have come to him in some other form. 
 The marvel to me is that he ever got through 
 college unscathed. But Mr. Standish has been 
 telling me the history of his grandfather, a
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 285 
 
 splendid man, a noble character, ruined by hard 
 drinking. It is another case of the sins of the 
 father being visited on the children to the third 
 and fourth generations. Mac's nature is re- 
 fined, and has not been attracted by the coarser 
 forms of evil, but the charms of a woman whom 
 he believed to be as good as she is beautful have 
 ensnared him. Now he finds himself unexpect- 
 edly and, I doubt not, to his grief and dismay, 
 in the clutches of heredity." 
 
 "And~tnust he be left there ?" Janet asked in 
 some heat. "If he had fallen into the fire, you 
 would snatch him out instantly." 
 
 Keith sighed. 
 
 "True enough. But from this calamity he 
 cannot be dragged bodily. I have seen Mac 
 once since our return, and made the effort on 
 several other occasions. He simply refuses to 
 discuss the matter in any light whatever. Since 
 the evening in New York, when I found him 
 under the influence of liquor, he treats me like 
 a stranger. I think he is cut to the heart with 
 shame, but too deeply under evil influences to 
 free himself. Naturally, any meeting with us 
 is so painful that he avoids it." 
 
 "Well, I am going to send for him to come 
 over to-morrow to see me. And if he declines, 
 I shall go to see him. It's all nonsense about his
 
 286 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 not wishing any of us to come near him with 
 due respect to you at the same time, my good 
 cousin !" 
 
 "I hope you will try to do nothing of the 
 kind, Jeanie. You will only suffer for it. Mac 
 is not himself ; the man he has become cannot be 
 reckoned on or judged of as our Mac has 
 been." 
 
 She made no answer to this. Soon, in an- 
 other tone, he said, "Jeanie>, how is Louise 
 bearing all this ?" 
 
 "Much more bravely than I expected, ^ ;r iolet 
 is the one who droops." 
 
 "I have feared much for Louise," he went 
 on, apparently unheeding her last remark. "Her 
 life has been so bound up in Mac's for the last 
 five years that a blow to one is sure to wound 
 the other. I can be patient with him except 
 when I think of the pain his conduct is caus- 
 ing her. That unmans me." 
 
 Something in the way he spoke the last three 
 words was like a flash of vivid lightning over a 
 storm-beaten landscape. In an instant's space 
 a thousand little details of Keith's life during 
 the last five years emerged from the shadows of 
 forgetfulness into the brilliant light of compre- 
 hension. She saw what she had not hitherto 
 even suspected.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 287 
 
 "O Keith!" was all she said, but he under- 
 stood. 
 
 "Yes, Jeanie; Louise is my whole earthly 
 world and life." 
 
 "Does she know ?" was her question, spoken 
 almost before she knew it. "Forgive me, dear, 
 I should not have asked you that." 
 
 "I don't mind. It is a relief to speak freely 
 with you. No, she does not know and never will, 
 for her heart belongs to Mac." 
 
 Xow the lightning flash which revealed so 
 much of Keith to Miss Janet had also made 
 clear to her a number of things concerning 
 Louise, and she did not fully share his opinion. 
 But she was discreet as well as wise. 
 
 "That may be or may not be. Louise, with 
 all her frankness, does not wear her heart on 
 her sleeve. I have sometimes thought the very 
 openness of her affection for Mac a sign of its 
 sisterly nature." 
 
 "Don't try to comfort me with false hopes, 
 Jeanie. I have been over the whole matter 
 thousands of times, I suppose, and never been 
 able to find the smallest ground of belief that 
 she cares for any one besides Mac. So I've 
 tried to do the right thing, and, setting myself 
 entirely aside, to take a subordinate place. But 
 I think sometimes the only way will be for me
 
 288 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 to go away. It is too much to expect of mortal 
 man to see the one woman of the whole world 
 always before him and belonging to another. 
 You will doubtless say that when I knew she 
 belonged to Mac, I shouldn't have allowed my- 
 self to love her. The truth is, the mischief was 
 done before I dreamed of it." 
 
 "It seems so strange to me, Keith. Our little 
 Louise ! Why, it is but a day since she ran over 
 here that morning and went off in one of her 
 jealous furors because she found you here and 
 feared I would love you better than I did her. 
 Do you remember ?" 
 
 "Do I remember ? Ivather ask do I forget 
 one word or act of her dear lovely self from the 
 days of her charming girlhood all the way to 
 the beautiful years of her perfect womanhood." 
 
 Janet smiled to herself. Keith as a lover was 
 indeed a revelation. 
 
 The next morning, true to her resolution, she 
 wrote her note to Mac. It brought this answer : 
 
 "Your kind invitation is just read, Auntie 
 Jean. You know, doubtless, that I am going 
 abroad for the winter with Mrs. Vandyne's 
 party, five besides myself. We are starting 
 several days earlier than we expected. In fact, 
 we leave Standish to-morrow immediately after
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 289 
 
 the necessary business formalities with my uncle 
 in the morning. I shall run over for a good-bye 
 at both homes before going to the lawyer's office. 
 I know you all are disappointed at not having a 
 big blow out on my twenty-first birthday. You 
 are disappointed in other ways, too. But re- 
 member one thing, dear Auntie Jean, never so 
 long as life lasts will your love and heavenly 
 goodness be forgotten by your 
 "Wayward 
 
 Janet cried herself nearly sick over this brief 
 letter. Keith was right, after all. She tried to 
 be natural and bright when the real farewell 
 came next morning. Keith, with Violet, Hilda 
 and herself, was on the porch. They saw Mac 
 coming across the lawn and rose to greet him. 
 Keith noticed at once his unnaturally brilliant 
 eyes and the exaggerated gaiety of manner with 
 which he was evidently trying to conceal his 
 embarrassment. 
 
 "Good-bye, Mr. Keith," he cried, grasping 
 Keith's outstretched hand and scarcely noticing 
 his low-spoken "God keep you, Mac." 
 
 He allowed Janet to throw her arms about his 
 
 neck and pull his head down for a good-bye kiss 
 
 without a word. Hilda, he tossed high in the 
 
 air with a kiss on each rosy cheek. Violet's 
 
 19
 
 290 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 hands were held close in his own for an instant. 
 ''Good-bye, dear," he murmured. 
 
 A long wistful look was her only farewell. 
 
 The next few weeks passed heavily enough at 
 both homes where Mac had been so loved an in- 
 mate. He was thought of and spoken of con- 
 tinually by every one but ^' r iolet, who never men- 
 tioned his name. They followed his ship in its 
 course eastward and, when sufficient time had 
 passed, began watching the mails for a letter. 
 At, least, Mr. Standish, Louise and Janet did 
 so. It appeared incredible to them, in spite of 
 all that had occurred, that Mac could be wholly 
 indifferent to his home. But days and weeks 
 passed, bringing no message from the wanderer. 
 
 As winter approached further plans for in- 
 creased work at the Chapel and in Sylvester 
 were made. Miss Janet and Mrs. Eliot, Keith 
 and Louise were thoroughly absorbed in these. 
 Much of their time was spent away from home, 
 and so it happened, naturally enough, that Vio- 
 let was left alone. She, too, was interested in 
 the temperance work, deeply so; but there were 
 many days when she felt physically unequal to 
 the walk up the mountain side or to the activity 
 required of her after reaching the village. She 
 made one excuse or another, and finally seldom 
 accompanied the others. Instead, when the
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 291 
 
 days were fine, she walked along the level road 
 towards Standish, stopping in to see Berdel for 
 an hour or so. These visits became more and 
 more frequent, until it happened that when Dr. 
 Strong came in at midday, as occasionally oc- 
 curred, his first glance was towards a low reclin- 
 ing chair near Berdel's couch, where he was 
 pretty sure to see a slight figure whose every 
 graceful line he loved. Often his sister's raised 
 finger warned him that Violet was sleeping. At 
 such times he stole long, hungry looks at the 
 sweet face, and his heart ached to see its lovely 
 outlines growing sharper as the weeks went on. 
 On other days the large blue eyes would look 
 wearily up at him and a faint smile gave him 
 welcome. Rare it was to meet the bright, win- 
 some Violet, whose girlish gaiety, mingled with 
 womanly dignity, had so charmed him from his 
 first sight of her. She never complained, never 
 spoke of herself in any way, was always gentle, 
 thougthful, unselfish, and it was long before her 
 friends noticed the frailness which had so soon 
 given her lover keen anxiety. 
 
 One day she arrived at the Strong cottage 
 much later than usual, coming in softly in the 
 midst of the customary after supper violin play- 
 ing. 
 
 "I hoped I shouldn't miss it," she said, slip-
 
 292 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 ping off her jacket and stepping across to the 
 low chair. "Please go on." 
 
 "Do yon mean the music ?" asked Berdel. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then why have you never asked me to 
 play for you ?" asked the doctor, somewhat 
 brusquely. 
 
 "Oh ! I thought you might be busy or it might 
 disturb Miss Berdel; but I knew you always 
 play to her at this time, and I asked James to 
 stop for me on his way home from Standish in 
 an hour or so. Xow, please, don't let me inter- 
 rupt you longer." 
 
 She lay back in her chair. Soon the clear, 
 beautiful tones of Dr. Strong's fine instrument 
 filled the room, and all the love and longing of 
 his heart throbbed in the exquisite strains. He 
 played on and on until the ringing of the door- 
 bell and the sound of James' voice broke the 
 spell. 
 
 "Don't go yet, Miss Violet, if you care to stay 
 longer. I'm going up the mountain in half an 
 hour. Let me send a message home." 
 
 "Yes, if you please. I would rather go with 
 you," she assented. 
 
 But the charm of the evening was gone. After 
 a few minutes the violin was put away, and the 
 doctor went off to prepare some medicine.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 203 
 
 "How's Garct getting on, Miss Berdel ?" Vio- 
 let asked, being reminded of her by the hum of 
 her voice in the next room. 
 
 "As happily as possible. She had a long let- 
 ter from her mother to-day, with promise of a 
 Christmas box next week." 
 
 Violet turned her head away to hide the rush 
 of color she felt in her cheeks, but she made no 
 comment. 
 
 "Mrs. Vandvne writes a delightful letter," 
 Berdel went on. "Come to-morrow, and I'll ask 
 Garet to let you read it." 
 
 "Thank you, dear Miss Berdel; I'll come to 
 see you, but I'd rather not read the letter." 
 
 On the homeward drive, a little later, Dr. 
 Strong asked, "Where is Keith to-night, Miss 
 Violet?" 
 
 "At the chapel ; it is Thursday, you know." 
 
 "Ah! yes. And you did not care to attend 
 prayer-meeting ?" 
 
 "I don't go often now. I get so tired sitting 
 still all the evening after the walk up there. So 
 I thought I'd come over to-night and have a little 
 prayer-meeting of my own with you for the 
 choir. You don't mind my lying down in that 
 lovely chair, you see!" 
 
 It was some minutes before he replied. 
 
 "How would you like to come over and pay us
 
 204 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 a visit of two or three weeks ?" was his unex- 
 pected and surprising question. "Then you 
 could enjoy the chair and the music, and if 
 you're very good, I'll take you off with me on 
 all sorts of pleasant drives." 
 
 He heard her catch her breath with a little 
 sob, instantly stilled. 
 
 "I'd like to very, very much, Dr. Strong, 
 thank you, but I'm afraid I'd be in Miss Ber- 
 del's way. Garet is there, you know." 
 
 "Now, Miss Violet," he began, with alarm- 
 ing gruffness, "from this minute you are my 
 patient and bound to obey your 'doctor. And 
 my very first order is this : Be good enough, for 
 once in your life, to think first of Violet Sylves- 
 ter, and last of everybody else. If you wish to 
 come, that settles it, and I'll vouch for a warm 
 welcome from everybody under my roof. Don't 
 you know, child, that we all love you" his 
 voice broke for a second "and that it will 
 make us very happy to have a visit from you ? 
 Only say the word, and I'll turn my horse 
 around and it shall begin to-night. I'm going 
 to let you have your own sweet way. Maybe 
 you've heard of the man who said that his wife 
 always did as she pleased, and when she didn't 
 he made her. You may consider yourself in a 
 similar position now, and, mind you, madamoi-
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 295 
 
 selle, I'm a masterful man ; even Aunt Di will 
 testify to that." 
 
 "Are you through ?" asked Violet, laughing 
 softly as he had not heard her for weeks. "Be- 
 cause if you are, I think perhaps you'd like to 
 know that we passed our gate some time ago. 
 I didn't dare to interrupt such a masterful 
 man." 
 
 The doctor blushed in the darkness, but he 
 was too glad to have aroused her from her in- 
 difference to what was going on around her to 
 care for her chaffing. 
 
 The next day the neighbor on the north 
 "moved over" to the Strong's pleasant home. 
 Garet was in a high state of excitement and de- 
 light, 
 
 "It's per'fly lovely of you to come, Miss Vio- 
 let," she chatted away, helping Violet arrange 
 her things about the room. "You don't know 
 yet how comf'ble everything is in this house. 
 All the chairs are as soft as anything, and 
 there's lots of sofas. Gram'thur's room opens 
 right out of mine, and it's only 'cross the hall 
 from yours. So 'f you have bad dreams in the 
 night, all you've got to do when you wake up 
 afraid is to call out, 'Gram'thur !' and she's 
 there all comforty and nice." 
 
 "Does 'gram'thur' lie awake the whole night,
 
 296 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 Garet, waiting to hear you call ?" asked Violet, 
 teasingly. 
 
 "Oh ! no," was the child's serious response. 
 "But gram'thurs can hear quick as anything in 
 their sleep. Did you ever have one, Miss Vio- 
 let ?" 
 
 "A grandmother ? Oh ! yes, dear two of 
 them. One I hardly remember, the other lived 
 until I was a large girl. She was as dear as she 
 could be." 
 
 "I'm so glad you know all about them," de- 
 clared Garet, snuggling up beside Violet with a 
 long, happy sigh. " 'Cause I never in the world 
 could 'splain to you all 'bout them, and it's so 
 much nicer if you understand. I love my gram'- 
 thur so much sometimes my heart gets as tight 
 as oh ! as anything." 
 
 Violet gave her a gentle hug. 
 
 "That's a pity, dear. Your little heart 
 shouldn't ache. Suppose you let some of the 
 love run over to me; and, Garet, I'd like it so 
 much better if you'd call me just Violet and 
 only miss me when I go away." 
 
 For a moment Garet considered this gravely. 
 Then a flash of comprehension illumined her 
 her face, and she laughed in high glee. 
 
 "Only miss you when you go away. Isn't 
 that funny ? But mamma told me it isn't polite
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 207 
 
 to call ladies by their names." She began to 
 look anxious. 
 
 "Your mamma is quite right, Garet, unless 
 you and the lady happen to love each other 
 dearly. Then it's different. Don't you see ?" 
 
 "Oh! yes," cried Garet. "Now, I've got an- 
 other lover! Gram'thur's one, Miss Bird L. is 
 two, Dr. John B.'s three, and you're four. 
 Isn't that beau'ful ?" 
 
 "I think you are the lover, you funny child," 
 said Violet, laughing. 
 
 Dr. Strong was right when he said that every 
 member of his family would welcome Violet. 
 Each in their different way did her good. 
 
 There were pleasant mornings- with Aunt Di, 
 whose blunt speech and pungent remarks were 
 always amusing to the girl who helped her in 
 the sweet-smelling pantry, followed her to the 
 capacious, delightful garret, sat beside her while 
 mending was in progress, and listened, with 
 never-ending enjoyment, to her ceaseless flow of 
 reminiscence. 
 
 There were beautiful hours with Berdel when 
 the two talked of things heavenly or read aloud 
 to each other the best of books earthly. 
 
 There were all sorts of odd times when, with 
 Garet for a chatty, quaint, adoring companion, 
 the time fairly flew.
 
 298 The Sylvester Quarri/. 
 
 There were the promised rides with Dr. 
 Strong when all the treasures of his well-stored 
 mind were drawn upon for her entertainment, 
 and when his genial, humorous, sympathetic 
 comaraderie brought out the old light-hearted 
 Violet as nothing else now did. 
 
 There were daily visits from all the dear home 
 people, full of bright chatter and loving interest. 
 
 "Don't tell her a single dismal thing," Dr. 
 Strong had warned Janet when he explained to 
 her that he thought a change of scene would be 
 desirable for Violet. "Don't let her see that 
 you are anxious about her or sorry for her. Her 
 tender heart has been hurt cruelly, and she 
 hides it away with true womanly pride. The 
 wound is a deep one, but, please God, not to the 
 death." 
 
 The doctor's face was white and set when he 
 spoke these few words, whose meaning Janet 
 understood, without any suspicion of his own 
 suffering. 
 
 So they came often, one and another, or all 
 of them, to see Violet. She always was glad to 
 have them with her. In the quiet way which 
 had grown habitual she entertained them when 
 she felt strong enough ; at other times she lay 
 on her couch and listened to their bits of news, 
 especially in regard to the work at the chapel.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 299 
 
 But best and sweetest of all to her were the 
 after-supper hours, when Aunt Di and Garet 
 were busy over her lessons, leaving Berdel and 
 herself to listen to the doctor's music. Formerly 
 it had frequently happened that this time was 
 broken into by calls. But now the maid had 
 orders never to disturb him unless an emer- 
 gency of life and death required his presence. 
 So there was seldom an evening when Violet did 
 not lie among her pillows and find her aching 
 heart soothed inexplicably. For all her grief 
 and hopeless longing, her love and her despair 
 found expression in the melodies poured forth 
 from a soul suffering even as she did. In a 
 way of which she little dreamed her very inmost 
 self was being interpreted by the spirit speaking 
 through the violin. 
 
 This passionate outpouring in music of his 
 love for her was the doctor's only indulgence. 
 At all other times his secret was sternly locked 
 within his breast. 
 
 "Some day, if it be God's will," he had told 
 himself, "when time has wrought its blessed 
 healing, I will speak. Until then it shall be the 
 first duty of my life, God helping me, to bring 
 her up, body and spirit, from the valley of the 
 shadow of death into which she has been cast."
 
 300 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 How well he kept his resolution, how beauti- 
 ful and true a friend he showed himself, how 
 constant and unswerving was the devotion which 
 cared for Violet as a mother cares for her suffer- 
 ing child, only the history of those weeks could 
 tell ; at what cost to himself God alone knew.
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 IN THE CHAPEL,. 
 
 /CHRISTMAS passed very quietly both at 
 V_y Little Acorns and Standish Hall, Hilda's 
 Christmas tree, to which Garet was invited, be- 
 ing the only festivity. A large entertainment 
 for the Quarry children was given at the chapel, 
 and into this every member of both families put 
 all their energies, as though striving to bring 
 forgetfulness of the empty places at home and 
 the reason for them. 
 
 Caret's box arrived in good season, and never 
 was happier child than she as she distributed 
 the pretty gifts it contained. 
 
 "There isn't anything for you, my sweet Vio- 
 let," she said, stealing into Violet's room very 
 early in the morning, "because, you see, Mamma 
 didn't know that you'd be invited to come; but 
 I'm going to give you this bottle of perfumery 
 because it has your name on it. See, 'Sweet 
 Violet,' and that's the name I call you by. 
 You'll use some on your hank'chi'f every day, 
 won't you ?" 
 
 "To be sure I will, and I'll give you a loving
 
 302 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 thought every time, too. It's very nice of yon 
 to share your pretty things with me, Garet." 
 
 "Well, you know, the holy Bible says it is 
 more blessed to give than to receive. There's a 
 lot of blesseds, don't you think so, my sweet Vio- 
 let?" 
 
 "I do, indeed, you blessed child; and I think 
 we'd all be happier and better if we lived by our 
 Bibles as literally as you do." 
 
 Garet did not understand this, but she asked 
 no questions. In some strange way her loving 
 little heart divined that Violet was unhappy, 
 and she went quietly to her bureau drawer to 
 look over her box of text cards. 
 
 "Maybe I'll find a real beautiful one," she 
 thought. Before long her search came to an end, 
 and she went back to Violet. 
 
 "Do you know this blessed, my sweet Violet : 
 'Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be 
 comf'rted' ? I 'spose that means the way gram'- 
 thur comf'rts me in the night when I'm all alone 
 in the dark, don't you ?" 
 
 Violet could not answer. The tears, which so 
 rarely came to her eyes, had overflowed, and 
 she lay sobbing bitterly. Garet, awed and dis- 
 tressed by the sight, tipped over to Aunt Di's 
 room. 
 
 "O gram'thur!" she whispered, "my dear
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 303 
 
 sweet Violet feels dref'fly. Won't you please go 
 in and cornf'rt her, same's you do me ?" 
 
 A natural instinct of delicacy kept her from 
 following Aunt Di into the room, but she sat 
 down on the top step outside, feeling "dref'fly" 
 herself. 
 
 Violet did not hear Aunt Diana's approach, 
 but she felt herself drawn close in a motherly 
 embrace, and hushed and soothed as though she 
 were again a very little child. 
 
 "Cry all you want to, you poor lamb! 'twill 
 do you lots o' good. Don't you try to keep one 
 single tear back, bless your dear heart! Tears 
 were made to take the ache away out o' a 
 woman's breast. Aunt Diana knows if she is a 
 grumpy old thing now. She knows jes' how 
 hard it is to keep up chirk 'n lively afore folks. 
 So you jes' let them tears come 'n you'll feel all 
 the better for't. There's some things can't be 
 spoke about, 'n it's best not to, too; but when 
 your poor heart gets too full, jes' you come 'n 
 lay your head down here 'n you needn't say a 
 word. Aunt Diana knows 'n understands, you 
 poor little greevin' lamb !" 
 
 After a little she shook up and turned the 
 pillows, straightened the covering and, dropping 
 a kiss on Violet's forehead, stole softly away, 
 closing the door behind her.
 
 804 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "You settin' here all this time?" she de- 
 manded, in surprise, of the motionless Garet. 
 "Well, run away now and get ready for break- 
 fast, 'n be still 's a mouse, for your sweet Vio- 
 let's goin' to have another nap, 'n she'll feel bet- 
 ter when she wakes up." 
 
 She set her lips hard as she re-entered her own 
 room. 
 
 "Diana Bolton," she stated oracularly to that 
 worthy lady, "ef you ain't a-gettin' to be a mug- 
 wump, or whatever them politicians is called 
 that straddles a fence, I'll give it up. Here you 
 be a feelin' sorry for that little witchin' thing of 
 a Widder Van an' want-in' to take her under 
 your wing when she looks up at you so sorrow- 
 ful an' then agen, when you see this poor, 
 lovin' girl breakin' her heart all on account o' 
 that beguilin' woman's ensnarin' of MacDonald 
 Caldwell, you're jes' achin' 'n squirmin' to get 
 hold o' her 'n give her the all mightiest shakin', 
 by her two shoulders, a deservin' sinner ever had 
 in this world or the next. Ef that ain't bein' on 
 both sides o' the fence at once, I'd like to have 
 you tell me what is. 'N I always did despise a 
 straddler wuss 'n pussley !" 
 
 Aunt Diana was right. Violet came down to 
 breakfast looking brighter than at any time 
 since Mac went away. The strain of a repressed
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 305 
 
 grief had been broken by the sympathy of a 
 wise, loving heart From Aunt Diana the girl 
 had taken what she could have endured from no 
 our else, and the sleep into which she had fallen 
 almost before she was alone was the first for a 
 long time which had really refreshed her; so 
 she looked quite like herself as she wished Ber- 
 del a merry Christmas. 
 
 At her plate she found a beautiful little bunch 
 of holly. 
 
 "That conies straight to you, Miss Violet, 
 from the prettiest tree on the whole mountain 
 side," said Dr. Strong, entering the room at the 
 moment, fresh and rosy from an early ride. 
 "I'm going to take you and Berdel both up to 
 see it after breakfast. Yes, and you, too, Puss- 
 in-boots, so you can eat your breakfast in peace 
 instead of looking as though you'd like to eat 
 me." 
 
 "Sho, Dr. John B. !" exclaimed Garet, so pre- 
 cisely like Aunt Diana that even she had to 
 laugh. 
 
 The doctor was in high spirits. His practiced 
 eye had been swift to see the change in Violet, 
 and his heart bounded with joy. 
 
 "Have you been away up there already this 
 morning,. Doctor ? What a shame that you must 
 be routed out so ruthlessly," sympathized Violet, 
 30
 
 306 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "It is almost a hardship to get started some- 
 times, I'll admit, but this morning's ride was a 
 delight I would not have missed. I was con- 
 tinually reminded of the beautiful words of the 
 one hundred and forty-seventh Psalm. Bring 
 me the Bible, Gay, and I'll read it for our morn- 
 ing lesson." 
 
 " 'Praise ye the Lord, for it is good to sing 
 praises unto our God; for it is pleasant; and 
 praise is comely. 
 
 " 'The Lord doth build up Jerusalem ; he 
 gathereth together the outcasts of Israel.' ' 
 
 Here Aunt Diana looked fondly down at 
 Garet, who was drinking in every word. 
 
 "Poor little outcast; the Lord has surely 
 gathered her in," she said to herself. 
 
 " 'He healeth the broken in heart and bind- 
 eth up their wounds.' ' 
 
 Violet was startled to hear again, in different 
 phrase, the "blessed" Garet had brought for her 
 consolation. It seemed like a message sent 
 straight to her need, for which she uplifted a 
 silent thanksgiving. The next words she heeded 
 were these, "He giveth snow like wool ; he scat- 
 tereth the hoarfrost like ashes. He casteth forth 
 his ice like morsels; who can stand before his 
 cold ? He sendeth out his word and melteth 
 them ; he causeth his wind to blow and the waters
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 307 
 
 flow. He sheweth his word unto Jacob; his 
 statutes and his judgments unto Israel. He 
 hath not dealt so with any nation ; and as for his 
 judgments, they have not known them. Praise 
 ye the Lord." 
 
 While they were still eating breakfast a 
 sleigh dashed up to the door, bringing Keith, 
 Janet and Louise laden with parcels. 
 
 "Merry Christmas, everybody !" cried Louise, 
 coming in first. "Oh! you darling; how well 
 you look. Doesn't she, Auntie Jean ? What- 
 ever have you been doing to her, Dr. Strong?" 
 
 "Oh ! they are all so good to me I'm simply 
 ashamed to lie around and be so lazy," answered 
 Violet, gaily. "Cousin Keith, you haven't given 
 me my Christmas gift yet," she said. "Stoop 
 down and get the kiss I've been saving up for 
 you." 
 
 As she did. so he threw about her shoulders a 
 beautiful cape of silver fox fur. It reached far 
 below her waist, and the high storm collar 
 formed a pretty frame for her face, flushed with 
 surprise and pleasure. 
 
 "If this bossy doctor of yours i going to take 
 you about the mountain with him in all sorts of 
 weather, I'll have to see that you're properly 
 bundled up. Where's the muff, Jeanie ? and I 
 believe Louise has the cap. There, my lady,
 
 308 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 nothing can possibly freeze but the tip of your 
 ambitious little nose!" 
 
 "Oh ! how can I ever thank all you dear, ex- 
 travagant people ?" cried Violet, turning round 
 and round to display her new possessions. 
 "These are just as lovely as they can be! Dr. 
 Strong, you'll have to take me every time now, 
 so I can enjoy them." 
 
 "The pleasure will not be all your own, little 
 Russian princess," he said, smiling upon her 
 and, for once, forgetting to veil his eyes. Vio- 
 let was too excited to notice this, but Janet saw 
 and was again astonished. Yet as she looked 
 on Violet's lovely face, her shining golden hair, 
 her charming mingling of child-like and 
 womanly ways, how could she wonder that men 
 should love her ? 
 
 From Violet she glanced up, more critically 
 than ever before, at the stalwart doctor beside 
 her. What a handsome pair they were ! How 
 his strength would supplement her gentleness ! 
 She forgot the disparity of years. At this mo- 
 ment they seemed each exactly suited to the 
 other. And then, like a stab in her heart, came 
 the memory of the far-distant Mac, the bright, 
 whole-souled boy Avhose youth had been of such 
 rich promise, the tall, vigorous young man, am- 
 bitious, upright, wjiom they had all loved so
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 309 
 
 dearly. Far clown in her own secret thoughts 
 Janet had always looked forward far forward 
 to the union of his life and Violet's. But 
 now who could tell ? All their hopes for him 
 had been dashed to the ground. Might it be 
 that for her a beautiful new love should blossom 
 from the ashes of the old ? Violet was very 
 young, and perhaps 
 
 "Now we must hurry home and get the things 
 ready for the chapel," said Louise, rubbing the 
 new muff against her rosy cheek. "The tree will 
 be lighted at six o'clock, and you must be sure to 
 be there, Violet," 
 
 "I can't promise you that, Miss Louise," the 
 doctor answered for her. "Violets don't thrive 
 out-of-doors after the sunshine has gone this 
 cold weather. But she shall come up this after- 
 noon to see all the pretty work." 
 
 Louise made a wry face. 
 
 "Oh ! dear me, Violet, do come back home as 
 soon as ever you can, so you won't have to mind 
 this crotchety person. Don't you feel rebellious 
 sometimes ?" 
 
 Violet stole a shy, laughing glance at the 
 crotchety person. 
 
 "No, not vet," she answered, demurely. 
 
 "That 'yet' is well added," affirmed Louise, 
 fastening her own fur about her throat. "Good-
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 bye, dear, I'm coming soon to borrow you for a 
 whole day. We shall not be so busy after this. 
 I suppose, Dr. Strong, you can lend her to us, 
 just once, can't you ?" 
 
 Some little time after they had left, the doc- 
 tor's big double sleigh was brought around to 
 the door. Berdel, wrapped to the eyes, was 
 carefully lifted in to the back seat, with Aunt 
 Diana beside her; Violet shared the front seat 
 with Dr. Strong, who drove the fine span him- 
 self, and Garet was snugly stowed on a little 
 stool at their feet, with her own special rug of fur. 
 
 A fresh snow had fallen during the night, 
 covering with beautiful purity that already on 
 the ground and reflecting the bright sunshine 
 from millions of glittering points. 
 
 Violet's cheeks were soon glowing in the clear, 
 cold air ; her eyes sparkled, and she gave merry 
 answers to the doctor's jocose remarks. He fre- 
 quently glanced back to see how Berdel was get- 
 ting on, and was pleased to find that she, too, 
 found exhilaration in the lovely morning sun- 
 shine. Once or twice he bent to peep at Garet's 
 happy little face as she sat in silent enjoyment 
 of the beautiful scene spread out before her. 
 
 Up the mountain side they went, far up and 
 farther along the ridge than Violet had ever 
 been, until they came to the holly tree. It was,
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 311 
 
 in truth, a fine specimen, tall and symmetrical, 
 and just now covered with a mantle of snow, 
 from which the scarlet berries shone out like 
 jewels. Dr. Strong gave the reins to Violet, 
 while he sprang out and broke off several great 
 branches. 
 
 As they turned homeward Violet noticed a 
 small hut in the forest, at some little distance 
 from the road. It was half buried in snow. 
 
 "What is that?" she asked. "Could any one 
 live way up here ?" 
 
 "It is not likely. This is only a wood road. 
 You noticed, perhaps, that we left the main 
 highway some distance back when the snow grow 
 deeper. I dare say that is one of the wood- 
 chopper's huts used occasionally before Mr. 
 Standish forbade the cutting of any more trees 
 in this part of the mountain. 
 
 "Then this belongs to him, does it ? All this 
 big forest?" 
 
 "This particular section of the mountain, 
 from the place at which we turned in and for 
 some distance belongs to to the Caldwell es- 
 tate; on the other side to the Standish. Look, 
 Miss Violet, was there ever a lovelier view than 
 this ?" 
 
 They had reached the point at which the whole 
 Ammonet Valley lay like a map before them.
 
 312 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 " My heart is awed within me when I think 
 Of the great miracle that still goes on 
 In silence round me the perpetual work 
 Of thy creation, finished, yet renewed 
 Forever. Written on thy works I read 
 The lesson of thy own eternity," 
 
 softly quoted Berdel. 
 
 The doctor turned to her, smiling. As he did 
 so, he saw that all Violet's roses had paled. 
 
 "Shall we stop a moment at the chapel ?" he 
 asked softly. "Would you like to see the tree 
 and the decorations there?" 
 
 She looked up at him almost as though in 
 appeal for an instant, but spoke with an attempt 
 at cheerfulness. 
 
 "I promised Louise. She would be so disap- 
 pointed." 
 
 The doctor set his teeth hard. What he 
 feared had happened. The memory of Mac and 
 the associations of the day with him had clouded 
 its brightness. This was no more than he might 
 naturally have expected. None the less it hurt 
 him. 
 
 Arriving at the chapel, Violet laid her hand 
 on his arm. 
 
 "Let me go alone, please." Then, as she 
 caught Garet's eager look, "You are coming to- 
 night, dear." 
 
 So he let her have her way and watched her, 
 as one regards a precious treasure, as she walked
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 313 
 
 up the snowy path, a pretty bit of color, with 
 the dark bine of her dress and the warm sheen 
 >f her furs, the lustre of her golden hair, waving 
 softly about her face. 
 
 She opened the heavy outer door and slipped 
 noiselessly through the vestibule. As she 
 pushed ajar the door leading to the chapel she 
 heard a low murmur of voices, and saw Keith 
 and Louise standing near a window. He was 
 bending his head towards hers and had both her 
 hands held closely. Her face could not be seen, 
 but the radiance on his told a story which 
 thrilled Violet's heart with thankfulness, while 
 if, brought tears to her eyes. 
 
 As silently as possible she closed the door and 
 made her way back to the sleigh. The doctor's 
 keen glance detected the trace of tears, but also 
 noted a look of deep joy, for which he could not 
 account. 
 
 "Is it beautiful, my sweet Violet?" spoke up 
 Garet, 
 
 "Perf'lv lovely darling !" Violet exclaimed, 
 stooping and kissing her several times, much to 
 the small maiden's surprise, for Violet was 
 chary of her kisses to any one. 
 
 "Have they finished trimming the tree al- 
 ready ?" was Berdel's inquiry. 
 
 "The tree ! Oh, I didn't see the tree !" said 
 Violet, rather blankly.
 
 314 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 Again the doctor turned a critical gaze in her 
 direction. She had been gone but the briefest 
 time, returning in tears, in smiles, and without 
 apparently having been in the chapel at all ! 
 
 By this time Garet had squared herself 
 around and was looking up into Violet's face, 
 her eyes full of reproach. 
 
 "But you said, my sweet Violet, that it was 
 perf'ly lovely." 
 
 "And so it is, you dear little puzzled head. 
 "You'll all know some day," she added, speak- 
 ing to her mystified companions. "I expect it 
 sounds and seems foolish enough, but I can't I 
 really can't tell you a word more. You'll just 
 have to wait." 
 
 "And you, mademoiselle, will just have to lie 
 in your chair without speaking to a soul until 
 dinner, to pay for exasperating and aggravating 
 and tantalizing us in this mean way." 
 
 Her eyes were brilliant again ; her cheeks 
 flushing with excitement. She seemed scarcely 
 to hear him. When they reached home, he car- 
 ried his decree out to the letter, and she had 
 plenty of time in which to think over the glad 
 news and all the delightful happenings it would 
 bring in its train. 
 
 On their return from the Strong's it had been 
 decided that Keith and Louise should go on to
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 315 
 
 the chapel, while JanU, who had some house- 
 hold matters to look after, would not come for 
 an hour or two. 
 
 "A few girls will be there to finish the gar- 
 lands, and the tree will hardly be readv for the 
 gifts before noon. You two go right on up and 
 I'll send the hampers before I come." 
 
 So they left her at Little Acorns. Just before 
 they reached the chapel, they met a boy sent by 
 Andy, who told them that there had been some 
 delay about getting the last greens, so they would 
 not be delivered for an hour or more. 
 
 "What shall we do, Louise ? Go back home, 
 or wait here ?" 
 
 "O ! I think we would better wait here. I've 
 been wishing to ask you about the program. 
 And we can have a quiet time now." 
 
 "Very well. James, you may drive down and 
 wait for Miss Janet. Pick up your pretty n-d 
 frock, Miss Lucinda ; this path is narrow." 
 
 The chapel seemed delightfully warm and 
 cosy after the keen cold outside. It was fra- 
 grant, too, with pine and spruce. Louise pro- 
 duced her program, and they sat down at a 
 small table to rearrange it. This done to their 
 satisfaction, some of the music was gone over, 
 Louise playing the organ and Keith humming 
 the airs. After this she hunted up a feather-
 
 316 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 duster and busied herself. A spirit of restless- 
 ness, quite unusual, appeared to possess her. 
 
 "She is thinking; of Mac, poor darling!" 
 Keith said to himself. Finally, after wander- 
 ing about all over the room and doing every- 
 thing possible in preparation for the evening, 
 she came to one of the windows and stood, gaz- 
 ing out over the snowy landscape. 
 
 "Isn't it delightful to see Violet looking so 
 much better ?" she asked Keith, who had joined 
 her. "We couldn't have had a dearer Christmas 
 gift, could we ?" 
 
 "Hardly." 
 
 "Mr. Keith, do you think Mac will ever come 
 back and be be a true Christian again ?" 
 
 She -looked at him without blush or tremor, 
 as frankly as the child Louise might have done. 
 He was the one who stammered and trembled, 
 so afraid was he of wounding her. 
 
 "I hope so surely. I am sure that in 
 time he will see his error," he said, struggling 
 with a wild impulse to put his arms around her 
 and tell her how gladly he would bear all this 
 sorrow for her. 
 
 She showed a little surprise at his odd 
 manner. 
 
 "Well, I hope so with all my heart," she de- 
 clared. "And I can't help believing that he
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 317 
 
 will, for his own sake and for Violet's. If I 
 only knew where to address him I would write 
 and tell him how she is breaking her heart for 
 him. I am sure it would bring him to his 
 senses, for he truly loves her, when he isn't 
 blinded by Why, Mr. Keith, what's the 
 matter ?" 
 
 For Keith had retreated a step and was re- 
 garding her with the utmost astonishment. 
 
 "Violet!" he repeated, paling and flushing. 
 "Violet ! Why, I thought I always thought 
 that it was you whom Mac loved and you who 
 cared for him." 
 
 It was her turn now to blush. The color flew 
 richly over cheek and brow. There was a 
 strange new light in the face bending nearer to 
 hers. Vainly she endeavored to speak com- 
 posedly : 
 
 "I! Oh, no. I do not " 
 
 Her voice faltered ; she looked down, unable 
 to meet the gaze of this Keith whom she had 
 never known before. She felt her hands taken 
 in close, loving clasp ; she heard a few words of 
 deep affection, tenderly spoken ; she heard, too, 
 with an overstrained ear, Violet's light step in 
 the vestibule. 
 
 "O, please ! some one is coming !" she cried 
 in soft alarm, moving away.
 
 318 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "Let them come," was Keith's reassuring 
 answer, as he held her the tighter. "See, there 
 was no one, dear child. Don't he afraid of me, 
 Louise; look up and tell me that all I have 
 longed for so hopelessly is really, wonderfully
 
 CHAPTEK XXII. 
 HOPES AND FEARS. 
 
 r I "1HE rest of the day passed like a dream to 
 J- Louise. But a very few minutes after 
 Keith had won from her the promise he so 
 ardently coveted, a troop of young people from 
 the quarry village had rushed in, laden with 
 trailing vines of ground pine and great boughs 
 of holly. From this time on until the last child 
 had departed at sundown, tired and happy, 
 there was no chance for even a word. An occa- 
 sional glance from Keith's eloquent eyes, reveal- 
 ing what he found it simply impossible to con- 
 ceal, was all the outward sign Louise had of the 
 marvellous change which those few words so 
 unexpected, so thrilling had made in her life. 
 She could not realize it in the least, except bv 
 the unreality of all that was going on around 
 her. Once or twice Mark chided her for her 
 absent-mindedness ; and Janet, at last noticing 
 that there was something unusual in her appear- 
 ance, looked with anxiety at her crimson cheeks 
 and shining eyes. 
 
 "Aren't you getting too tired, dear?" she 
 asked, solicitously. "Let me attend to this, and
 
 320 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 you go back there by the organ, where it is more 
 quiet. You've been working too hard all day. 
 I don't see what Keith was thinking of. Here 
 he comes now. I'll 
 
 But Louise drew her hands quickly from 
 Janet's and slipped away without a word. 
 
 "Have you and Louise been quarreling ?" ex- 
 claimed Janet. "She's fairly running away 
 from you, and the dear child is tired to death 
 with all this " 
 
 "Tired!" interrupted Keith, looking around 
 anxiously, and disappearing in the greatest pos- 
 sible hurry in the direction of a comely dark 
 head. 
 
 "Well !" said Miss Janet to herself, "if I were 
 Aunt Diana I would exclaim, 'What on earth !' 
 These certainly are peculiar actions." 
 
 But before she had a chance to ponder further 
 over them she was called away, and kept so busy 
 for the rest of the afternoon that she could only 
 occasionally wonder what the trouble had been. 
 No inkling of the truth dawned upon her until 
 the next morning, when they came to her 
 together in her sitting-room at Little Acorns, 
 and then no words w r ere needed. One look and 
 she sprang to her feet. 
 
 "O ! O ! This was it !" she cried, incohe- 
 rently, "You blessed darlings !"
 
 Tke Sylvester Quarry. 321 
 
 A little while afterward Louise said : 
 
 "Now, Mr. Keith, please go and get Violet. 
 I shall not be perfectly happy until she knows, 
 and Dr. Strong said he would lend her to me 
 some day soon." 
 
 "Yes, Miss Standish, I will go at once, with 
 pleasure," Keith answered, in most dignified 
 and formal fashion, thereby making both Janet 
 and Louise look up in surprise. But Janet 
 began to smile and Louise blushed charmingly. 
 
 "I foresee that I'll have to get used by degrees 
 to having a pair of lovers about. I suppose the 
 proper thing now is for me to leave you to de- 
 cide what you'll call each other hereafter, so I'll 
 take myself off like the obliging third party I 
 mean to be," laughed Janet, dropping the por- 
 tieres behind her. 
 
 It was quite still in the pretty room for at 
 least a minute after her exit. 
 
 That Keith stood gravely waiting for some- 
 thing was as evident as that Louise was strug- 
 gling with mingled embarrassment and resolve. 
 
 "Come up closer and I'll say it Keith!" 
 She spoke with pretty shyness. "O ! I didn't 
 mean quite this way," came more faintly. "You 
 are altogether too obedient," she finally declared 
 when she was free, smoothing down her rumpled 
 frills. 
 
 21
 
 322 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "There's such a lot of waste time to make up 
 for, you know, my darling," he answered, put- 
 ting his hand under her round chin and turning 
 her face up to his. "What do you suppose made 
 me such a blind bat, Miss Lucinda ?" 
 
 "O ! I guess you must be made that way !" 
 was her smiling response. 
 
 "And would you never, never in all the world, 
 have given me just the weest bit of a sign, you 
 hard-hearted little person ?" he demanded, still 
 looking down on the beloved features and think- 
 ing them the dearest ever made. 
 
 A flood of crimson swept up to her hair ; her 
 eyes fell ; she stirred uneasily. 
 
 "Don't be asking saucy questions, Mr. Curi- 
 osity, but go bring Violet home." 
 
 "Ah ! but I want an answer," he persisted, 
 tenderly, again raising her face. 
 
 With a quick movement she turned and hid 
 it on his shoulder. 
 
 "O ! that's just what I'm afraid I must have 
 done," she whispered. "How else could you 
 have known so quickly ?" 
 
 "And is that what makes you so shy of mo, 
 my darling child ? No, Louise, you wore true 
 womanly; never fear for that. It was just a 
 blessed inspiration that came to me when I 
 heard you confess that you did not love Mac.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 323 
 
 Indeed, I like to believe that the kind Heavenly 
 Father himself has given us to each other as 
 helpmeets and dear comrades, while we arc 
 doing his will here on earth. He knows we each 
 have need of the other, and I can but feel that 
 he has shown us the lovely truth at just the best 
 time. I have been so disheartened and almost 
 despairing these last few months. I seemed 
 sometimes as though my work here were ended, 
 and ended miserably, too. But now that I know 
 your happiness has not been sacrificed, and can 
 look forward to your dear presence at my side, 
 I am ready for anything." 
 
 Louise pushed her fingers through his hair, 
 with timid, caressing touch. 
 
 "So many times when I've seen Auntie Jean 
 do this, I've wished that I, too, might show you 
 how my heart ached for all your sorrow and per- 
 plexity. It semed as though you must know 
 how dear you were to me. You were always so 
 clever at reading all my other thoughts and 
 wishes." 
 
 "But you were more clever at concealment, 
 you see, Miss Lucinda ! Ah ! thank God, 
 Louise, all those days are behind us. ]STow, we 
 may take only comfort and joy in our lives 
 together." 
 
 An hour later he went for Violet, whom he
 
 324 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 found dressed ready for the ride, and in a state 
 of subdued excitement. 
 
 "She's been on the lookout for you all the 
 morning, Keith," the doctor declared. "I be- 
 lieve there's a conspiracy on foot. Something 
 very mysterious certainly happened at the 
 chapel yesterday. Halloo ! what are you looking 
 all sorts of ways for ? I believe you are in the 
 secret, too. Out with it now, old fellow !" 
 
 But Keith only blushed the more, and Violet 
 came to the rescue. 
 
 "Let Keith alone, Dr. Strong. You are too 
 curious by half. Miss Berdel, how did Aunt Di 
 ever let him grow up such a prying man ? 
 Good-bye, dear; I'll be back again in a couple 
 of days. Good-bye, Doctor; I know you'll be 
 glad to have one patient off your hands for a 
 little while." 
 
 She stood, tall and straight in her rich furs, 
 a charming picture for any man to look on, a 
 treasure for some man to win. 
 
 "Don't flatter yourself, mademoiselle ; I shall 
 call on you professionally about four o'clock 
 this afternoon." 
 
 "Ah, me ! Berdel, do you hear that ? I 
 thought I'd get one day's respite at least. 
 Come, Keith, let's hurry off." 
 
 As they drove away, the doctor, bareheaded
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 325 
 
 in the winter sunshine, waved them a last good- 
 bye. Keith had noticed his almost lover-like 
 care of Violet, and for the first time a suspicion 
 of what might be entered his mind. 
 
 "What a fine fellow Doctor Strong is," he 
 said. 
 
 "Yes, he is lovely," Violet assented warmly. 
 "I never dreamed how lovely until since I have 
 seen him with Miss Berdel. He is devotion and 
 tenderness itself." 
 
 "She'll miss him some of these days when he 
 marries." 
 
 "O ! but he'll never marry so long as she 
 lives ! I cannot imagine any other woman tak- 
 ing her place, or his being fond of any other. 
 He has eyes and thoughts only for her." 
 
 Keith, from the riches of his new-born expe- 
 rience, smiled. 
 
 "I see that other people can be blind bats, 
 too," he thought. "But I'm in no hurry to give 
 my little Violet away to any man, now that Mac 
 has failed us. Dear boy, how I wish he knew 
 of our happiness." 
 
 In true lover fashion, his thoughts were wholly 
 occupied with Louise, and he scarcely spoke 
 again to Violet, who watched him from one cor- 
 ner of eyes brimming over with amusement. 
 
 "What can you be thinking of, Cousin
 
 326 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 Keith ?" she inquired demurely, after trying 
 vainly to resist a desire to tease him a bit. 
 "You're smiling to yourself in the most selfish 
 way." 
 
 "I? O! You" 
 
 "Do you really ? Well, I never knew an 
 I O TJ was a source of such pleasure to any one. 
 How much do you owe me, Cousin Keith ?" 
 
 Keith could not help laughing heartily. 
 
 "I will confess to being absent-minded this 
 morning, Miss Violet, Do pray excuse me. 
 There's a good reason, the very dearest and 
 sweetest of reasons for it." 
 
 Violet nodded her pretty head. 
 
 "O ! I dare say you think so, but wait till I 
 ask Louise." 
 
 Keith looked quickly around, but Violet's face 
 was innocence itself. 
 
 They were just entering the Little Acorns 
 gate, so no more was said. Janet and Louise 
 both came out to meet her and carry her off to 
 her own cosy room, the same whieh Louise had 
 so lovingly helped Miss Janet prepare for the 
 little English Violet Keith brought home to 
 them. She lay down now on a wide couch near 
 the south window, through which warm sunlight 
 poured in. 
 
 "Are you tired, dear ?" asked Louise, kneeling
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 327 
 
 beside her and arranging the heaps of cush- 
 ions. 
 
 "No, only the least trifle. But Dr. Strong 
 made nie promise always to lie down for half an 
 hour after coming in from a ride or a walk. 
 There's no need to ask how you are, Louise. 
 Hebe herself could not be more blooming." 
 
 "That's because I'm so happy. Violet O ! 
 you never can guess what a beautiful, won- 
 derful thing has happened," Louise confided 
 breathlessly. 
 
 Violet's hand passed over the soft dark head 
 lying on her breast. 
 
 "I think I can, Louise," she said gently. "The 
 problem of Cousin Keith's wife has been settled, 
 has it not ? And in a way to make us all very 
 happy?" 
 
 Louise was sitting erect now, startled and 
 wide-eyed. 
 
 "Then it was you I heard !" she cried, irrele- 
 vantly. "I was sure, but Keith declared there 
 was no one." 
 
 "Yes, dear. I came on you at the most inop- 
 portune moment, to my deep distress; but I 
 tried to be so very quiet that you would not 
 know. I was entirely innocent of any wrong 
 intentions." 
 
 "Why, of course you were. Indeed, I didn't
 
 328 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 dream myself of anything until all in a 
 second we knew, and everything was settled. 
 It seems like a beautiful dream, Violet. O ! how 
 can he care so much for me !" 
 
 "Well, I've always ?iven Cousin Keith credit 
 for possessing a fair share of the family brains," 
 was Violet's whimsical reply. "A man would 
 have to be a perfect idiot, Louise, to live here 
 with you all these years, as he has, and not love 
 you with his whole heart." 
 
 "O Violet," protested Louise, blushing, "don't 
 say such things. I can't understand it and never 
 shall, but I'm so glad !" 
 
 "So are we all. What a little gcosie I was to 
 ever think he might marry Miss Berdel. But 
 now, Louise, when is it going to happen ? Are 
 you going to move over here, or will he move to 
 Standish Hall, or will you build a nest all your 
 own somewhere ? Only see her blush ! and look 
 as embarrassed as though she hadn't known 
 Cousin Keith these ever so many years. But, 
 come, I'm in a hurry to have my question 
 answered. Begin, please. O ! here comes 
 Cousin Keith now I'll ask him." 
 
 "O ! Violet, please," begged Louise, in such 
 confusion that Violet hadn't the heart to 
 persist. 
 
 But it was not long before Louise was asked
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 329 
 
 these same questions by one from whom she 
 could not beg off. 
 
 On the first day of January orders were given 
 at the Quarry for the getting out of a quantity 
 of the finest grey stone. Plans were selected, 
 and, as soon as the weather would permit it, the 
 foundations of a handsome house, a little more 
 than midway between Little Acorns and the 
 chapel, were to be dug. Some day in early June 
 the wedding would be, and the flitting was to be 
 made from the old homes to the new as soon as 
 the house should be ready. 
 
 At first all this had appeared to Mr. Standish 
 as rather too great ha&te, but he had eventually 
 been won over. 
 
 "There is no man," he said to Keith one day, 
 "to whom I could so willingly give my treasure. 
 And it ill becomes me to defer your happiness 
 and hers, especially as you are not to take her 
 from my daily sight and meeting." 
 
 So it was all se f tled, and the busy, happy days 
 began to slip swiftly by, with but two clouds in 
 the clear sky. ISFo word came from Mac, and 
 Violet was fading away as silently but surely as 
 her sweet name flower fades when plucked from 
 the root which gives it life. 
 
 As the new year opened and grew, week by 
 week, it was evident to them all that her appa-
 
 330 The Sylvester Qiturry. 
 
 rent visror through the winter had been but a 
 temporary improvement. Now, on the approach 
 of spring, her strength grew less. She had 
 stayed contentedly at the doctor's all the winter, 
 seeming to prefer surroundings which did not 
 remind her of the absent one to whom her heart 
 clung with mute fidelity, for Mac's name had 
 never once passed her lips since he left home in 
 October. 
 
 One day in late February she said to Doctor 
 Strong : 
 
 "Can't you see yet, Doctor, that it isn't of any 
 use?" 
 
 They were alone in the little sitting-room, 
 Berdel having gone to the kitchen with Aunt Di, 
 a most unusual absence, of which Violet took 
 advantage. 
 
 Doctor Strong was sitting by the low reclining 
 chair, of which she was so fond. He had been 
 reading aloud to them both, but when Berdel left 
 the room to have a "good confab with Aunt 
 Diana" on the subiect of a new maid, Violet had 
 begged him to put the book aside. His heart 
 stood still as he heard her question, but he 
 feigned ignorance of her real meaning. 
 
 "If you could be a little more explicit, Miss 
 Violet," he began, but stopped short as she raised 
 her arm, pushing back the lace ruffles and reveal-
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 331 
 
 ing a fragile, blue-veined wrist and almost trans- 
 parent hand. 
 
 "I can see how it grows thinner and weaker 
 day to day. There is no need to try to conceal 
 the truth from me, Doctor. I know and my 
 only regret is that those who love me will miss 
 me for a little while. I've been wishing to have 
 a talk with you for some time, for, you see, you 
 are the only one to whom I can speak of this. 
 Dear Miss Berdel must not be worried, and all 
 of the dear home people love me so much that it 
 would hurt them but you, my kind friend, you, 
 I know, will attend to a few things for me after 
 I am gone." 
 
 The Doctor had turned his face from the 
 light and shaded his eyes with his hand. He 
 was praying for strength. 
 
 "Yes, Violet," he said, "I will do anything for 
 you." 
 
 "I was sure of it. Thank you." She lay quite 
 still for a few minutes. "I'd like to live until 
 Cousin Keith and Louise are married I'm 
 going to try to, but what I meant at first was that 
 you and I should understand that there's no use 
 to pretend any longer that I'm going to get well. 
 And I'd rather go home for the rest of the time. 
 It was so good of vou to let me come here ; you 
 knew, didn't vou, just how hard it was then for
 
 332 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 me to stay there ? And your music has been 
 more of a comfort than I can ever tell you. It 
 seems as though it said all that I could not say 
 and eased the ache in my heart. You see, I am 
 speaking very plainly to you, for, I think 
 I've thought lately, dear friend that maybe 
 some time you, too, have have suffered, and so 
 can understand." Again she lay silent with 
 closed eyes. 
 
 "I'm going to leave with you this letter," she 
 said then, drawing a sealed envelope from a box 
 beside her. "If Mac ever comes home, his real, 
 dear self, give it to him, please. And, then, I've 
 written out here a sort of will. I suppose it isn't 
 in legal form, and I'll not be twenty-one for over 
 a year; but I'm sure Cousin Keith will carry 
 out my wishes. I'd like you to read it over to 
 me now aloud, so I mav be sure I've made my 
 meaning clear." 
 
 She handed him a folded paper. lie took it, 
 without speaking, and walked to the window. 
 After a moment he began reading. The first 
 paragraphs distributed a number of valuable 
 jewels and other personal belongings among her 
 friends and gave a special wedding present to 
 Keith and Louise. Then came the bulk of the 
 bequest. 
 
 "And last of all, I want to give Mac, with my
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 333 
 
 true love, my home in England. It was there 
 that I first saw him. Keep it for him, in trust, 
 Cousin Keith, until he comes back to yon, his 
 own right, noble self. In the meantime use the 
 income from the place for your work against 
 intemperance in the Quarry village. If he never 
 comes, or on his death, sell our old home and de- 
 vote the money to the temperance work which 
 you think best." 
 
 "Thank you. That is just what I mean. And 
 will you try, Doctor, not to let Mac know how I 
 missed him ? Tell him I was never strong; that 
 this failing health would have befallen me in any 
 case. Yon can do this as no one else can. I don't 
 want him ever to have a moment's sorrow 
 for me. 
 
 "That is all now, Doctor, my dear, good friend. 
 Put the letter and the paper securely away. I'm 
 glad^I need not think of them again. To-night 
 I'm going to ask you to play to me once 
 more. Then to-morrow I'll go home. I'm tired 
 now." 
 
 He enclosed the papers in a stout envelope and 
 showed her where he locked them away in his 
 desk. She smiled, as if contented, and, turning 
 on her pillow, fell asleep almost at once. For a 
 moment he looked down at her, his face whiter 
 than hers and drawn with pain.
 
 334 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "God helping me, she shall not die," he mur- 
 mured, as he left the room for a long, hard ride 
 over the mountain. 
 
 The next day he went to Keith. 
 
 "Tell me what is right, Keith," he begged. 
 "Violet is dearer to me than life. MacDonald 
 has left her like a flower thrown carelessly by 
 the roadside. Her sweet nature, her loving 
 heart, are crushed by his cruel neglect. Can I 
 sit by to see her slowly fade and perish when 
 my own heart is overflowing with the love for 
 lack of which she is dying? Medicine cannot 
 help her; love and tender care may woo her 
 back. Will you let me try, Keith ? Will you give 
 her to me if I win her ? Or must we wait and 
 hope against hope that the misguided boy will 
 come to his senses, and, in the meantime, see her 
 slowly but surely slip away from us ?" 
 
 Keith listened in astonishment. 
 
 "I never dreamed of this. I would have said 
 that Violet was to you only a dear child. But 
 love, true love, such as I believe yours to be, 
 counts not on years or degree. Mac has for- 
 feited all claims to Violet's love or respect. As he 
 is now I would never give her to him. That he 
 will ever be his old self seems doubtful. At all 
 events, we cannot w y ait for what may be. If you 
 can woo our darling back to health and win her
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 335 
 
 sweet heart, I will gladly give her to your keep- 
 ing, John, and thank God for you both." 
 
 Doctor Strong could not speak, but a close 
 hand-clasp was all the answer needed. 
 
 About the first of March Keith went to New 
 York to meet the Brookses, who were returning 
 from Europe. He wished to lose no time in 
 beginning negotiations for the purchase of the 
 Quarry stock. He expected to be gone several 
 days, and Louise came over to spend the time of 
 his absence with Violet, by her special desire. 
 
 The pretty room in which Violet passed nearly 
 all her time now was as bright as sunshine and 
 flowers could make it. Since coming home she 
 Avns always daintily dressed, always cheerful, 
 nearly always busy with some bit of needle-work 
 for the new home in which she took so deep an 
 interest. Except that she seldom went down 
 stairs, and took longer "rests" week by week, 
 there was little change. Her room was the cen- 
 tre, of the life of the house during her waking 
 hours. She loved especially the morning visit 
 of Marcia Eliot, of whom she had always been 
 very fond, and of Mr. Standish, who seldom let 
 a day pass without coming over for a little chat. 
 Her favorite chair, from Doctor Strong's, fol- 
 lowed her soon after her own coming. He had 
 once heard her say that no other was ever so com-
 
 336 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 fortable. And every evening, after the hour 
 with Berdel, he drove over with his violin and 
 played for her. The first time, it happened that 
 she was sleeping, and was awakened by the soft, 
 lovely strains. Opening her eyes. and seeing him 
 there, the tears, she so rarely shed, filled her 
 eyes. She stretched out her hand to him. 
 
 "O !" she said, "how good you arc ! How I 
 wish I could do something for you !" 
 
 "You can, Violet. Oh, you can do everything 
 for me! Get well," was on his tongue's end, 
 with mighty impulse for utterance; but he kept 
 the tell-tale words back, and only smiled an 
 answer as he drew his bow across the strings in 
 a merry measure. He seldom, now, played the 
 old passionate outpourings, with their sobbing 
 undertone, but instead melodies stirring with 
 hope and suggestive of gladness and of joy to 
 come, Quite often he came in during the day 
 to bring her a beautiful rose, a bouquet, a hand- 
 ful of early spring wild flowers, a basket of fruit, 
 a picture from his home he had heard her ad- 
 mire, or one he thought she might like to look at. 
 Sometimes he sat for half an hour, telling her 
 bits of neighborhood news, asking her advice 
 about some patient in whom she was interested, 
 reading a chapter from whatever book she had 
 on hand, or from some new one. Occasionally
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 337 
 
 he screwed up his courage and stayed away for 
 a day, hoping she might miss him and be the 
 more glad to see him, as, indeed, was true. 
 
 "It's a great pity that. Doctor Strong hasn't a 
 sweetheart," Louise remarked one morning, as 
 she put fresh water in a bowl of American Beau- 
 ties standing on what she called the "Doctor's 
 table," near Violet's chair. "There hasn't been 
 a day since you came home that something from 
 him has not been laid on this table. If he is so 
 devoted as a physician, only think what a lover 
 ho would make !" 
 
 "You are so well qualified to judge of lovers 
 now-a-days that I suppose I must take your word 
 for it," Violet answered brightly. To herself 
 she was thinking : 
 
 "He knows it will be but for a little while, and 
 he is sorry for me." 
 
 And this thought put her wholly off her guard, 
 hindering what the Doctor was so anxious to 
 secure. But while it kept her from suspecting 
 his real feeling for her, his constant care, his 
 daily presence, his unfailing voiceless sympathy 
 which she could read in tone and glance, were 
 fast becoming necessary to her happiness. Half 
 unconsciously she looked forward to what Louise 
 styled the "daily offering," and missed sorely the 
 daily visit when it was not made. 
 22
 
 338 The Sylvester Quxrry. 
 
 One afternoon, when she and Louise were' 
 alone, she looked for a long time at the picture 
 of her Aunt Violet, which had never been moved 
 from the nlace where Keith had hung it on her 
 arrival at Little Acorns. 
 
 "Louise," she said, "I'm going to ffive you this 
 picture of the other Violet when you are 
 married." 
 
 Louise glanced up at the lovely portrait. 
 
 "O ! no, dear. You must not part with that." 
 
 "Yes, Louise, I wish you to have it in your 
 own room. There is no good picture of me, and 
 they say I am much like this." 
 
 Louise looked from the picture to the face on 
 the cushions. 
 
 "Yes, you are just like it, Violet, only a little 
 bit thinner this spring; but when fine weather 
 comes you will grow plump again." 
 
 "We will hope so, although I never did aspire 
 to be very sizable. Louise, did I ever tell yon 
 about the time Mac and I saw 7 Cousin Keith at 
 her grave in our little burial place at Sylvester 
 Hall ?" 
 
 Louise tried to conceal her surprise at this 
 mention of Mac. 
 
 "No. But Keith has told me of her ; how 
 dearly he loved her and how cruelly her brother 
 separated them. He was your father, was he 
 not, Violet?"
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 339 
 
 "Yes. I never knew the whole story, but I 
 always suspected that she died because because 
 she was not allowed to marry Cousin Keith." 
 
 Violet watched Louise closely through her 
 half-closed lids. But her fair face, bent above 
 some needle-work, showed no consciousness of 
 any possible repetition of the far-away Violet's 
 experience. 
 
 "One morning," Violet went on, "I took Mac 
 to see papa's grave, and we were going over to 
 Aunt Violet's when we saw Cousin Keith step- 
 ping carefully across the grass. He knelt beside 
 the little ivy-covered mound for a long time, and 
 we crouched behind a tall monument, hardly 
 daring to breathe for fear he should find that we 
 were there. It all seemed very strange and mys- 
 terious to me then. I could not understand how 
 a young girl could die of a broken heart." 
 
 "It does seem dreadful," Louise replied, 
 thoughtfully. "I know Keith will like to have 
 the picture, but I really feel that you should 
 keep it." 
 
 "I don't give it to him, dear. I want you to 
 have it for your very own, to remind you of me 
 when when 
 
 She hesitated. Somehow, she felt that morn- 
 ing a very natural, human longing for sympathy, 
 but she resolutely resisted the temptation.
 
 340 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "When I'm not over there for, you know, 
 Louise dear, Cousin Keith is not marrying me, 
 too, and there will be at least a few hours every 
 day when I am not under your roof-tree. By 
 the way, have you decided on a name for the 
 pretty new home? I heard you all discussing 
 several not long ago." 
 
 "Not yet. And we are ready to receive sug- 
 gestions. Have vou heard those already offered ? 
 'The Oaks/ 'Oak Crest,' 'Acorn Cups,' 'Grey 
 Stone,' 'Keloden.' This was evolved from 
 Keith, Louise and Dennet by Mark's fertile 
 brain. 'Unserheim,' from Marcia, whose tastes 
 are Teutonic, you know. I like that, the moan- 
 ing of it, pretty well myself. But I prefer an 
 American name for an American home, and 
 'Our Home' sounds too much like a sewing-ma- 
 chine. I think, 'Salem, House of Peace,' a beau- 
 tiful name for a home, but Keith says it is too 
 suggestive of witches. Isn't he naughty ? So 
 we appear to be as far as ever from a decision." 
 
 "May I come in, my sweet Violet ?" asked a 
 soft voice just then. 
 
 "Oh, here's Garet ! Good-morning, dear ! I'd 
 forgotten this was Saturday. Take off your 
 things and Miss Louise will let you sit in her 
 chair close beside mine." 
 
 "Yes, Garet," said Louise, "I'm glad you've
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 341 
 
 come to take care of Miss Violet. I was just 
 thinking I must run home for awhile." 
 
 She left the room soon after, and then began 
 Caret's happy hour, when she could be "nurse" 
 for her beloved sweet Violet. As noiselessly as 
 a sunbeam she stepped about the room, putting 
 in order whatever her quick eye judged to be 
 amiss, deftly smoothing the cushions, adjusting 
 the shades, and, finally, settling down on an otto- 
 man beside the low chair in perfect content. 
 
 On this particular morning she kept looking 
 at Violet in a half-questioning, half-doubtful 
 way, which brought to remembrance a promise 
 made the week before. 
 
 "Yes, dear, I've not forgotten," said Violet, 
 smiling. "You may begin as soon as you 
 please." 
 
 A flash of satisfaction illumined the little 
 girl's face. 
 
 "O!" she cried, clasping her hands, "I was 
 afraid you wouldn't rec'lect, and I didn't think 
 'twould be p'lite to ask you. Now, you be sure 
 to tell me if I pull, won't you ?" 
 
 "I surely will," laughed Violet, as very gentle 
 fingers began unbraiding the long shining plaits 
 in which she now often wore her hair. To brush 
 the long, soft tresses and coil them up again was 
 one of Garet's chief delights, and one in which
 
 342 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 Violet usually indulged her when feeling strong 
 enough. 
 
 As the small hand patiently and lovingly 
 wielded the brush the nimble tongue kept up a 
 chatter, highly amusing to Violet. 
 
 "Doctor John B.'s going to bring you some 
 blood-root and some room'tism this afternoon, 
 my sweet Violet. He went up the mountain 
 ever'n ever so earlv this morning and brought 
 home the dearest little bunch of white flowers, 
 'n' gram'thur made that funny little noise in her 
 nose she makes sometimes, 'n' says : 'You got 
 some blood-root, ain't you, John B. ? Yes, 'n' 
 room'tism too, I'll warrant, flummoxin' round 
 up to your knees in the wet afore sun-up. Jes 
 look at them boots. '!N" J what do you 'spose 
 Violet Sylvester wants o' all the posies you're 
 forever fetchin' her ? Like's not she throws 'em 
 all away the minute your back's turned. I know 
 girls.' 
 
 "'1ST' then Doctor John B. turned red and pink 
 all over his neck, 'n' I said : 
 
 " 'No, gram'thur, my sweet Violet don't throw 
 away a single one o' her flowers, nor any 
 room'tism either, I guess ;' 'n' then they all 
 laughed 'n' now you're laughing, too I" 
 
 Violet drew her down and hugged her close. 
 
 "We just laugh because you're a dear little 
 girl and we love you, dear."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 ANDY'S GUEST. 
 
 ONE storinv evening about the middle of 
 March, Andy Graham came home from 
 his day's work at the Quarry in a state of 
 unusual depression of mind and fatigue of body. 
 Snow had been falling heavily since sunrise, and 
 was now blown into great drifts by a steady, 
 strong wind, which swept in gusts down the 
 mountain. Work for the men shut down early 
 in the day; but Andy had been busy in the 
 superintendent's office until late. The unaccus- 
 tomed confinement had wearied him, and his 
 heart was sick at Mac's continued silence. He 
 had written many letters, sending them in care 
 (if Mrs. Vandyne, but no answer had come back 
 across the waters. The Quarry company was, as 
 yet, unable to secure control of the stock and 
 close down on the sale of liquor or the employ- 
 ment of drinking men, as was proposed in the 
 summer ; and, notwithstanding his unexpected 
 success in individual efforts, aided by Jim 
 Maloney and the chapel workers, Andy felt cast 
 down in spirit, and heavy of heart. Buffeted
 
 3M- The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 by the driving icy wind, he trudged wearily 
 through the deep drifts to the tidy little home 
 which his widowed sister kept so comfortable for 
 his father and himself. It was the last house 
 going from the Quarry over the mountain, high 
 up and a half-mile beyond its nearest neighbor. 
 
 "I lak to get oop where I can breathe the air 
 as it cooms straight from heaven," old Kobert 
 had said, "an' nae be crowded by men folk." 
 
 As Andy, breathless from his hard climb, 
 opened the outer door, a delicious odor of frying 
 ham and eggs greeted his nostrils and began its 
 preliminary work of comfort. 
 
 "Ah, lad ! here ye coom at last. We've been 
 lookin' this hour back. Here, Maggie, lass, gi' 
 me th' knife an' I'll tend th' skillet while you 
 fetch oot th' lad some dry things. Pull off your 
 boots, Andy man, an' we'll soon gi' ye a cup o' 
 coffee hot as herrin'. This is an ugly nicht to be 
 out in. Thank God we're a' safe V snug." 
 
 "And' may He keep a' those puir souls that's 
 wanderin' aboot i' th' storm o' wind an' snow, 
 an' those that wander i' th' storm o' sin 'n' con- 
 tention. My heart has been sair for th' dear lad 
 a' th' weary day lang." 
 
 "Is aught noo amiss, lad ?" asked old Robert, 
 his hand on Andy's bowed head as he sat by the 
 fire drying his feet.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 345 
 
 "Naught that I ken, father ; but oh ! I'd gi' 
 th' world tae hae him out o' harm's way." 
 
 "We're a' i' th' hollow o' His hand, Andy 
 man. Dinna forget that." 
 
 "I'd nae be dishonorin' Him," said Andy, de- 
 voutly ; "it's only my own weak faith." 
 
 "Dinna say that, lad. 'Tis not your faith 
 that's weak, but your stomach that's empty. 
 Coom awa' now an' taste o' Maggie's bonnie sup- 
 per, an' then we'll hae a chapter from th' Book 
 wi' a word o' thanksgivin' to th' glide Father, 
 an' th' darkest cloud will be liftin' after that. 
 'Twas nae for nicht th' dear Lord put a man's 
 heart next neighbor to his stomach." 
 
 Andy exchanged smiles with his sister as she 
 set the last steaming dish on the table and they 
 all drew up their chairs. Abundant justice was 
 done the generous meal, after which Robert took 
 the "Book" from its place and turned its well- 
 worn pages. 
 
 "I'll read a few verses frae th' thirty-seventh 
 Psalm o' David : 
 
 "'Fret nicht thyself because o' evil-doers, 
 neither be thou envious against th' workers 
 o' iniquity. 
 
 " Tor they shall soon be cut doon lak th' 
 grass, and wither as th' green herb. 
 
 " 'Trust i' th' Lord, an' do good ; so shalt thou 
 dwell i' th' land an' verily thou shalt be fed.
 
 346 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 " 'Delight thyself also i' th' Lord ; an' He 
 shall gi' thee th' desires o' thine heart, 
 
 " 'Commit thy way unto th' Lord ; trust also 
 i' Him, an' He shall bring it to pass. 
 
 " 'An' He shall bring forth thy righteousness 
 as th' licht, an' thy judgment as th' noonday. 
 
 " 'Rest i' th' Lord, an' wait patiently for 
 Him ; fret nicht thyself because o' him that 
 prospereth i' th' way, because o' th' man who 
 bringeth wicked devices to pass.' ' 
 
 The beautiful words, so full of promise and 
 comfort, fell on Andy's sore heart with heavenly 
 healing. Robert read no more. As he closed 
 the Bible Maggie started up. 
 
 "What's that, Andy ? I've heard it once be- 
 fore, lak some one callin'." 
 
 They all listened. ~No sound came to their 
 ears but the howling of the storm, now grown 
 furious. Andy hurried to the door and tried to 
 open it, 
 
 "Try the back door, lad. There's less blast 
 there. Maybe ye heard th' creakin' o' a blind, 
 Maggie." 
 
 "It sounded lak some livin' thing, a lamb or a 
 dog, strayed avva'. It couldna be a man awa' 
 oop here." 
 
 "God forbid that any soul is oot i' this storm. 
 Did ye hear aught, lad ?"
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 347 
 
 "Ay, father," called Andy from the shed. 
 "Fetch th' lantern, an', Maggie, have a kettle o' 
 hot water an' gude strong coffee. There's some 
 poor creature not far frae our door." 
 
 Robert pulled 011 his boots while Maggie 
 brought his great coat and big fur cap. 
 
 "Tie th' ear-flaps doon, father, an' here's your 
 comforter. I hate to see you start out i' such a 
 bitin' storm." 
 
 "Nay, lass, think rather what you may be 
 doin' for th' comfort o' this 
 
 Here he was interrupted by Andy's entrance. 
 He came staggering in, half-blinded, breathless, 
 covered with snow, carrying in his arms what 
 Deemed to be the lifeless figure of a man. 
 
 "He had fallen just beyond our gate an' I 
 could na wait, father. Help me lay him on th' 
 bed i' my own room. I think he's still alive, an' 
 only fainting frae th' merciless wind. Maggie 
 lass, bring a cup o' coffee hot as you can mak' it." 
 
 They got the stranger's wet clothes off and 
 wrapped him in warm blankets with the hot 
 irons, which chanced to be on the stove, at his 
 feet. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man, but 
 light of weight for his unusual size. It was not 
 until Maggie brought the coffee and they tried to 
 force some between his lips that they clearly saw 
 his features.
 
 348 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "Th' Lord above be praised !" cried Andy, 
 then bending to look closer. "It's th' dear lad 
 himself ! O father, father, it's Master Mac !" 
 
 Old Robert, scarcely less excited and joyful 
 than Andy, assured himself by the sight of his 
 own eyes that the good news was true, and then 
 they all set to work with a will to resuscitate the 
 "dear lad." It was a long time before he re- 
 warded their efforts by slowly opening his eyes. 
 Andy was the one to receive this first look of 
 recognition. 
 
 "Thank God, Master Mac, you're safe. Drink 
 this cup o' hot milk now an' then go to sleep. 
 You're weary frae your climb oop here i' th' 
 storrn. I'll nae leave you, so hae nae fear for 
 anything." 
 
 Mac smiled languidly ; he drank the milk 
 and, too weak for speech, almost immediately 
 dropped asleep. 
 
 It would be difficult to describe Andy's emo- 
 tions as he sat by the bedside during the hours 
 when Mac slept. His searching eye as well as 
 his loving instinct had at once told him that the 
 boy had come back "clothed in his right mind." 
 But the deep lines about brow and mouth, the 
 wasted frame, the nervous twitchings and mut- 
 terings, gave evidence of physical wreck no less 
 than of mental suffering.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 349 
 
 Waking but once or twice for a moment or 
 two, Mac slept heavily until morning. About 
 midnight Robert begged Andy to let him take 
 his tnrn at watching. 
 
 "Get you tae bed, lad. Ye'll hae need o' your 
 rest to be bright o' th' morrow." 
 
 "Nae, father ; every bit o' weariness has gone 
 frae my bones. I could na sleep for joy an' 
 thankfu'ness. I canna go frae sicht o' him. Lie 
 doon yoursel'. I'll keep th' fire an' watch for 
 his first word." 
 
 So Robert sought his couch, and Andy, in the 
 stillness of the wee sma' hours, lifted up his 
 heart in thanksgiving and praise. Just before 
 daylight it stopped snowing and a restful calm 
 succeeded to the roaring of the night. Mac 
 awoke at sunrise and looked dreamily out of the 
 window, over as pure and peaceful a scene as 
 though storms were things unknown. 
 
 Andy was close at hand with another cup of 
 refreshment. Having drunk this, Mac said : 
 
 "I'm all right, thank you, Andy, and will get 
 up, for I must speak with your father and your- 
 self before you go to work." 
 
 "You may speak all you lak, laddie; but 
 dinna think o' gettin' oot o' your bed. Your 
 muscles must still be sore an' achin'. 'Twas no 
 sma' thing you went through, fightin' against th'
 
 350 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 drivin' snow. Bo content to rest awhile yet. My 
 father and I will listen to yon here." 
 
 Mac smiled again, but tried to rise, only to 
 fall back against the pillows. 
 
 "I believe I am rather done np, after all. 
 O ! Andy, it's good to be here with you !" he 
 murmured faintly. 
 
 His clasp of Andy's hand was convulsive, and 
 he bit his lips to still their quivering. 
 
 "An' it's mair than earthly joy to hae you 
 here, dear lad," said Andy. "Will you hae my 
 father in before he has his breakfast ?" 
 
 "Oh, no; before you both go down to the 
 Quarry." 
 
 "I doubt if any work be done there to-day. 
 An' I'll not go. I'll send word that I'm kept at 
 home. I wouldna leave you, Master Mac." 
 
 A troubled look at once crossed Mac's face. 
 
 "Oh, yes ! you must not stay, Andy," he said, 
 trying, in his earnestness, to raise himself on one 
 elbow. "That's just what I'm so anxious about. 
 No one no one but you three must know that 
 I've come that I'm here." 
 
 He was getting quite flushed. 
 
 "ISTae, now, laddie," came Andy's soothing 
 tones, "dinna fret. Everything shall be just as 
 you like. Only lie doon again an' rest easy. I 
 promise yon sure that nae one o' us three will
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 351 
 
 speak a word o' your bein' here until yon gi' us 
 leave. Now, turn again an' go to sleep. You're 
 sair worn oot, Master Mac. Gi' your puir body 
 a chance o' gettin' back some o' its wasted 
 strength, an' then your mind'll see things clear. 
 Can you no trust Andy Graham ?" 
 
 Mac looked up into the rugged, loving face 
 bending over him. Hot tears rushed to his eyes, 
 blinding him. He tried to speak, but sobs choked 
 the words back. 
 
 ''Nay, now, laddie," said Andy, soothing him 
 tenderly as a mother might have done and in 
 much the same way, "Andy knows and Andy 
 loves you. Forget all that is gone by, Master 
 Mac. Th' dear Lord's ready wi' comfort an' 
 healin'. liaise vour heart tae Him an' sleep 
 awa' a' aches o' body an' o' mind while Andy 
 keeps watch by your side." 
 
 With Andy's hand tightly clasped in his, Mac 
 again fell asleep. ' When he awoke long shadows 
 lay across the room another day was closing. 
 He was anxious now to get up, but was finally 
 persuaded to take another night's rest first, on 
 condition that Andy, too, should sleep. 
 
 Next morning Mac joined the family at break- 
 fast, thoroughly rested from his battle with the 
 storm, but showing signs of general ill-health. 
 When the meal was ended and prayers were over
 
 352 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 Maggie withdrew, by previous direction of her 
 brother. 
 
 "Now, Master Mac," said Andy, "my father 
 and I will hear whatever you wish tae say." 
 
 A flush of embarrassment rose to Mac's fore- 
 head, but his voice was firm, and he looked his 
 companions squarely in the eye. 
 
 "I only wish to beg that you, and Maggie, too, 
 should keep my being here a secret. I came up 
 the mountain from the other side, walking from 
 Lindenderry. This house is so remote that there 
 is small chance, at least during this heavy snow, 
 of my being seen by the neighbors. Just as soon 
 as possible I shall carry out plans I've already 
 made. Until then, may I count on your 
 silence ?" 
 
 Old Robert arose and held out his hand, which 
 Mac grasped heartily. 
 
 "You can count on me, Master Mac, an' I'll 
 vouch for Maggie. As for Andy here, nae doubt 
 you'll be speakin' tae him i' private." 
 
 "Thank you, Robert," 
 
 "I'll go doon as usual an' mak' excuse for 
 Andy. I ken weel enough he'll nae be leavin' 
 you. Indeed, I doubt much if th' men get tae 
 their work at a'." 
 
 When he had gone and Maggie had made the 
 sunny room tidy, Andy pulled a wide, comforta- 
 ble lounge before the open stove.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 353 
 
 "Lie there, Master Mac, an' stretch yoursel' 
 oot to your likin'." 
 
 "Thank you, Andy; but I've some things to 
 talk over with you and I'd rather be on my feet. 
 You won't mind if I push this back and walk 
 about, will you ?" 
 
 "Tak' your own pleasure, laddie." 
 
 Mac strode restlessly up and down for some 
 lime, his hands in his pockets. Andy, seated in 
 the chimney corner, pretended to be busy at his 
 favorite occupation of whittling out wooden 
 toys. 
 
 "If it hadn't been for you, Andy, I'd never 
 have come home this winter," Mac began 
 abruptly, as he walked. "I have been sunk so 
 deep in the mire that I'm not fit for any one's 
 company, especially that of all those dear people 
 who have loved me so well and trusted me so 
 wholly. I cannot !>;o to them for a long while 
 yet. But, ever since the night, six weeks ago, 
 when I when I found out when I made up 
 my mind to begin once more, Andy, my heart 
 has longed for you. Every word you spoke and 
 prayed that night in Xe\v York has been ringing 
 in my ears ever since. In all the terrible days 
 and weeks I spent so horribly, I never forgot 
 them ; and when, at last, I turned my back on 
 all that was dragging me down, I longed for the 
 23
 
 354 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 shelter and the help you could give. For the 
 battle is not over yet ; the demon is not cast out, 
 and I need you. ~No," he said, putting out his 
 hand as Andy would have spoken impetuously, 
 "don't say one word yet. Hear me out first. I 
 knew that you could understand as no one else 
 can, not even Mr. Keith, with all his great, 
 loving heart. And so I've come, Andy, to have 
 the fight out. For, God helping me, I will 
 neither live a drunkard's life nor die his death." 
 
 j^ot even Andy's love, great as it was, could 
 restrain him as these words rang out, clear and 
 decided. Ho sprang up and threw his arms 
 about Mac, crying : 
 
 "Thank th' dear Lord, an' never hae a fear, 
 laddie. He'll nae leave you i' th' toils of th' 
 adversary. Th' same lovin' father that brought 
 Andy Graham through wi' save MacDonald 
 Caldwell. Ah, dear Master Mac, my prayer is 
 answered now, an' my hand wi' be th' one tae 
 dash th' cup frae your lips. Praise th' Lord, 
 O my soul !" 
 
 "Now," continued Mac, when they had both 
 grown more calm, "I will tell you my plan. You 
 know the wood lot up on the mountain, which 
 has been called the west lot, is mine, and I 
 remember that there is a wood-chopper's hut 
 there, far in from the road. I want your help in
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 355 
 
 making it habitable, for I am going to live there 
 until until O Andy ! until I get some of the 
 evil out of me. I feel as though I were polluting 
 your sweet, pure home by stepping inside the 
 door. And until this other matter is settled. 
 I'm not running away from temptation, for I 
 shall have some of the vile stuff right there in 
 sight, and I shall stay beside it until I'm its mas- 
 ter, or until I die. For God is my witness that 
 not another drop shall ever pass my lips. It is 
 six weeks now since I drank the last glass. Since 
 then every hour has been a fight such as no one 
 can know who has not been through it. I've lost 
 half my weight nearly, and all my nerve. See !" 
 He held out a trembling hand. ''How I ever 
 managed to get up here, ten miles through the 
 storm, I cannot think. I only knew one thing 
 that I must get here and that I would not touch 
 this." 
 
 He drew from his pocket a small flask of whis- 
 key and set it on the table. 
 
 "I've carried it there all these weeks. Once, 
 the other night, I took it out, but threw it from 
 me in horror, then groped about on my hands 
 and knees till I found it it was in that hollow 
 by Miller's Pond, where I'd stopped to rest for 
 I am determined to conquer this foe face to face. 
 
 "Xow, Andy, the storm is over. Will you
 
 356 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 come with me to the wood lot, for I am anxious 
 to get away from here as soon as possible." 
 
 Andy's eyes wandered from the little flask to 
 the glowing' face of the young man, who, drawn 
 to his full height, pale and wasted, looked every 
 inch the hero that he was. 
 
 "I'm wonderin', laddie, how th' time could 
 ever a been when th' burnin' poison i' that bottle 
 con Id a' held any charm for me. But th' prince 
 o' the powers o' darkness canna stand before th' 
 Lord o' light an' glory, 'n the time's nae laug 
 awa', dear .Master Mac, when th' appetite, strong 
 an' coinpellin' as it now may be, will leave you, 
 once for a'." 
 
 "You've spoken just the truth, Andy," said 
 Mac, sadly. "When I left the Lord of light and 
 glory to make companions of those who served 
 the prince of the power of darkness, rny feet 
 began to slip. But, thank God, He sent you, 
 with your splendid courage, your loving earnest- 
 ness, to say the words that have, at least, turned 
 my face heavenward ao'ain. I feel like the pub- 
 lican, unworthy even so much as to lift my eyes 
 to heaven, or to pray. You'll do that for me, 
 Andy?" 
 
 His wistful smile, sadder than tears, pierced 
 Andy's gentle heart like a sword thrust, 
 
 "Nay, nay, laddie, dinna say that, I'll pray
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 357 
 
 for you wi' my whole heart, but nae in your 
 stead. Dinna ye ken how th' father ran with 
 lovin' haste to meet th' penitent, son far off 
 when he saw him coomin' ? How would that 
 father hae felt had th' lad sent some one o' his 
 comrades to see if he'd be welcome ? It's your 
 own Father's house, laddie, into which you're 
 returning and your own Father's lovin' hand 
 held oot to hand oop your shrinkin' steps as you 
 draw nigh. Speak to Him wi' your own lips, 
 often an' free ; that's what He's been waiting 
 and longing for a' this weary time." 
 
 These last words revealed to Mac, all uncon- 
 sciously on Andy's part, something of the pain 
 his absence had caused those who loved him. 
 
 He continued his walk in silence for several 
 minutes. 
 
 "Tell me something of them all, Andy," he 
 begged. 
 
 Andy understood. 
 
 "They're a' well at Standish Hall, an' workin' 
 hard wi' th' Quarry people against th' liquor 
 trade at th' store. Mrs. Eliot an' Miss Janet 
 hae been a power oop there a' th' winter lang wi' 
 th' children more especial. A braw new house 
 wi' be built nigh to th' chapel this spring, an' 
 there'll be a bonnie bride when Miss Louise be- 
 cooms th' dominie's wife. A' through th' winter
 
 358 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 Miss Violet was doon at th' Doctor's, for she was 
 a Lit ailin', ye ken, V a change is glide for young 
 folks sometimes. She's back at Little Acorns 
 now, 'n' she spoke to me i' her own s\veet, kind 
 way when 1 was doon there a week since, send in' 
 for me to coom oop to her tidy bit room an' givin' 
 me her hand so friendly." 
 
 Mac had stood still as a statue. Now he turned 
 sharply. 
 
 "To come up to her room ? Is is she too ill 
 to He could not finish. 
 
 Andy stirred uneasily under pretence of 
 throwing down some whittlings. 
 
 "I heard nae one say she was ill that day," he 
 said with perfect truth. "She was sittin' by th' 
 window sewin' on some pretty thing for th' new 
 home. She showed it to me, askin' if it was nae 
 gude that Mr. Keith would have sae bonnie a 
 wife. You should a seen th' red stealin' oop into 
 Mis' Louise's cheeks." 
 
 Mac looked at Andv with fixed gaze, while the 
 latter turned his head and reached out for an- 
 other bit of wood. He sank into a chair, bowed 
 his head on his hands and groaned aloud. 
 
 "It is of no use to keep the truth from me, out 
 of the kindness of your heart, Andy. I must 
 know. Is Violet ill ?" he said, after a moment. 
 
 "She is nae sae ill that th' Great Physician
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 359 
 
 canna heal her, laddie," was the gently-spoken 
 answer. 
 
 Mac asked no more questions. Very soon he 
 arose and spoke in very different tone : 
 
 "Come, Andy, let us go up the mountain. I 
 must get to work." 
 
 "I've been thinking Master Mac, aboot this 
 scheme o' yours. 'Twill be lonesome an' fear- 
 some awa' oop there wi' no soul to speak wi' a' 
 th' day lang. Stay here wi' us. You'll hae th' 
 house to yoursel'. for Maggie wi' understand an' 
 nae intrude. We've a room to spare an' 
 
 But Mac interrupted him hastily : 
 
 "It's no use talking of that, Andy. I thank 
 you heartily, but I must get away further away 
 than even this from from any chance of being 
 seen." lie spoke almost vehemently with a 
 return of the excitement of the night before. 
 
 Without a word further Andy dropped his 
 toys and prepared for the walk. 
 
 "Forgive me, Andy," Mac said, quite humbly, 
 as he returned the flask to his pocket and put on 
 his. overcoat. "I didn't mean to be rude to you, 
 of all men. But my heart is so sore. I hardly 
 know what I'm saying." 
 
 Andy noticed his shaking hands and unsteady 
 gait. He knew he was not fit for the long walk, 
 but he made no more objections.
 
 360 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "It's his remorseful mind as much as his puir 
 weakened body that's i' such sair need o' help. 
 An' a bit o' God's sunlight an' fresh, pure air wi' 
 gi' strength to both o' them." 
 
 So they stepped out into the brilliant sun- 
 shine, which had in it a hint of spring's warm 
 breath and was fast melting the snow-drifts.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 A WOOD-CHOPPER. 
 
 IT was a short mile from Andy's home to the 
 hut in the woods. Although the road was 
 unbroken, the snow had blown in such drifts that 
 Kong spaces were left nearly bare, enabling the 
 two men to make their way with comparative 
 ease. 
 
 "Yon see, this is stoutly built," Mac said, as 
 they surveyed the small structure. "We'll put 
 in another window and mend the roof a bit. 
 Then, with a few pieces of furniture, I'll be snug 
 enough. My clothes are at the Lindenderry 
 station in a trunk marked with your name, 
 Andy. I'll give you the check. Then, the sooner 
 you can get over to Standish for the necessury 
 things. I need here, the more grateful I shall be." 
 
 Andy frowned. 
 
 "Dinna use or even think that word, laddie. 
 If you could but understand th' joy it gi'es me 
 only to see you here, you'd ken that it's nicht 
 but pleasure to do for you everything an' any- 
 thing i' my power. I'm th' one to be feelin' 
 thankfu'.
 
 362 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "An' now I'm thinkin' that it mebbe would 
 be a better plan to fetch a' your things frae Lin- 
 denderry. Then they'll be brought oop frae th' 
 other side o' th' mountain an' nae one o' this side 
 wi' be th' wiser." 
 
 Mac looked relieved. 
 
 "I'd thought of that, but it'll be such a pull 
 for the horses." 
 
 "I'll risk th' horses. I'm going' to take th' 
 stoutest o' th' Quarry teams," said Andy, smil- 
 ing. "Now, let's get on home an' make out th' 
 list" 
 
 "The sunshine's bright and warm, Andy, on 
 this door-step. I feel so much safer here. Come, 
 sit down." 
 
 So they sat together there and Mac wrote 
 clown the items of his simple purchasing. Andy 
 looked them over without comment, and put 
 them, with the trunk check, carefully away in 
 an inner pocket. 
 
 A day or two later they were again at the hut, 
 unpacking the load of goods from Lindenderry. 
 All of Mac's commission had been faithfully 
 executed. In addition, there was a large square 
 rug, a big easy chair and an iron bedstead. 
 
 "Here, Andy, there's been a mistake," called 
 out Mac. "They've sent two beds and 
 
 "Yes, Master Mac," answered Andy, planting
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 363 
 
 his feet wide apart and squaring himself around 
 with his hands on his hips. "They've sent two 
 beds, an' one of them is mine, for I'm comin' oop 
 to sleep here i' this fine new house o' yours every 
 night. I've brought th' rug along so's I shan't 
 have cold feet, an' th' chair is for me to rest in 
 i' th' evenin's when I'm sair weary. If you've 
 any objections to this arrangement, jes' coom on 
 an' we'll settle th' question here an' now." 
 
 Ilis attitude and tone were so defiant, his eyes 
 twinkling with such fun, that the combination 
 was irresistible. Mac felt like crying and laugh- 
 ing at the same time, but laughter finally won 
 the day, and thereby rejoiced Andy's heart; for, 
 truth to tell, he had been extremely anxious as 
 to the result of his bold venture. 
 
 With the little ten-foot room scrubbed as clean 
 as soap and water could make it ; with two of 
 Maggie's spotless curtains at the windows, the 
 iron bedsteads, a table, a tiny stove, the gay rug, 
 the easy chair besides a couple of others, a thick 
 steamer rug over the flat-topped trunk, and a 
 cupboard containing an outfit for cooking as 
 simple as a soldier's, Mac's housekeeping was 
 ready to begin. 
 
 He and Andy looked around with satisfaction 
 when the last article had been put in place. This 
 was a shining new axe, resting on two stout nails
 
 .304 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 beside a shelf on which lay a Bible and the flask 
 of liquor. 
 
 "I begin to feel like a new man already," said 
 Mac, stretching himself on one of the beds. 
 "Oh, Andy, if yon could know the heavenly 
 sweetness to me of this little place in contrast 
 to" 
 
 "Nay, now, laddie, dinna think o' them. Put 
 th' old serpent an' all his trailin' slime far be- 
 hind your back. Look oop an' out an' on an' 
 never behind. You've had th' lesson, bitter an' 
 hard. Now's th' time to be pressin' forrard to 
 th' mark o' th' high callin' in Christ Jesus. 
 
 I've been thinkin', laddie, how ye'll do if Doc- 
 tor Strong should sight th' smoke o' your chim- 
 ney. He's th' kindest-hearted soul i' th' world, 
 an' once he gets a notion o' some one livin' here, 
 he'll be ridin' in for a friendly word, fearin' 
 there might be a body needin' him an' too poor 
 or ill to fetch him." 
 
 "I'll have but little fire, and that little after 
 dark. The days '11 soon be getting warmer, and 
 I shall be busy swinging my good axe as soon as 
 I cultivate my flabby muscles a bit. I'm going 
 to let my beard grow till even you won't know 
 me, and I've not shown you yet my big blue gog- 
 gles. They'll be handv in case of need. And, 
 Andy, I'm not to be called MacDonald Caldwell
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 365 
 
 again until that enemy is beaten," nodding to- 
 wards the llask. "Of course it isn't likely that 
 I can live here entirely unknown. We must be 
 prepared for any emergency." 
 
 He was silent for some time. 
 
 "I've thought it all over, Andy," he said ; 
 then, in a lower tone, "and have concluded that 
 there is no name so well suited to me .as Peter. 
 And, as I'm to be a woodman, I'll take that 
 name too. So, we'll understand that Peter 
 Woodman is the lonelv wood-chopper of Ammo- 
 net Mountain, an odd Dick, who shuns his fellow 
 mortals and wishes to be let alone by them." 
 
 Andy was the silent one now. His heart was 
 full. Any allusion to Peter always touched a 
 sympathetic chord. And the thought that Mac, 
 his well-beloved, of whom he had been so proud, 
 of whom he still was so fond, should in his peni- 
 tence and humility liken himself to the often- 
 erring disciple, filled hio heart with grief and 
 admiration unspeakable. 
 
 "There's one thing more to ask of you, dear 
 Andy, and this is a fitting time. Just before I 
 resolved to break away from my sinful life I 
 discovered that Mrs. Vandyne was on the point 
 of going from Paris to Brussels to buy from the 
 Brooks, their stock in the Sylvester Quarry. It 
 seems that the Hermanns had appointed her
 
 366 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 their special secret agent in the matter. My con- 
 fidence in her had been growing less; my con- 
 science, always uneasy and upbraiding, gave me 
 no rest; and something else which happened 
 just then, broke the last tie which had made me 
 her willing tool, her dupe. A large part of the 
 money I received from my father's estate had 
 been squandered, but enough remained to buy 
 this stock and to bring me home. I hurried off 
 to Brussels, and had the good fortune to arrive 
 ahead of her and to secure the stock. I had to 
 pay a high premium, but was glad enough to get 
 it on any terms. I think Tom Brooks, who is a 
 shrewd fellow, was suspicious of me, and well he 
 might be, for I was in a sad plight from a long 
 spree. But I had the cash. I met his terms 
 without demur, and and, Andy, I bought the 
 stock in your name, with which he seemed 
 familiar." 
 
 "In my name, Master Mac!" cried Andy, 
 springing to his feet in amazement. 
 
 "Listen, Andy. Sit down and listen. I had 
 thought all this out," glancing around the room, 
 "and knew, you see, that I could not hold the 
 stock and keep my incognito; so I bought for 
 you. When is the next directors' meeting ?" 
 
 "On the last Thursday in tjiis month, the 
 twenty-foiirtli, I think,"
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 367 
 
 "That's next week. Good enough. Now, 
 Andy, you must present the stock at that meet- 
 ing. Very likely Stockton may have heard from 
 Brooks, and he'll make the transfer, giving you 
 your own certificates. You are to say that you've 
 raised the money there are to be no buts about 
 it so, don't interrupt. When you knelt there 
 in the Ivunnymede parlor and prayed for me, 
 you raised that money as surely as though I'd 
 taken it from my pocket and given it to you 
 there. That the devil stepped in and kept it 
 back until six weeks ago doesn't affect the reality 
 nor the legality of the transaction in the least. 
 So let your conscienc.e rest easy, Andy, and do 
 as I bid you." 
 
 But Andy could not be induced to see the mat- 
 (er in this light. Mac argued eloquently until 
 he was tired. 
 
 "Well," he said at last, in despair of winning 
 the obdurate Scotchman over, "how will you ex- 
 plain to the directors the fact of your owning the 
 stock?" 
 
 "I'd rather tell them that th' dear Lord had* 
 put it into my hands i' trust for some one else 
 who didna care to hae his name mentioned for 
 th' present," was the quiet answer. 
 
 "Your way is the best, Andy." Mac spoke 
 very humbly. "Oh ! how wonderfully beautiful
 
 368 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 and easy a life becomes when every step is taken 
 close beside the Master. I realize more and 
 more and more every hour how far I've strayed 
 ii \viiy from Him, and I envy you, Andy, with all 
 my heart. I'd give the world for your strength 
 and your loving confidence." 
 
 "You can hae a' mine an' far. far mair, lad- 
 die, jes' for th' askin'. Th' Master is aye at 
 your side, lovin', yearnin', hopin' you'll look to 
 Him for ev'ry need an' love Him so well that 
 you'll nae be content away frae Him. Only 
 make surrender o' your whole heart to His <lr;ir 
 keepin' an' th' joy an' comfort '11 begin to gri\v 
 like sproutin' seeds an' you'll find' your hands 
 running over wi' work to do for Him." 
 
 "That's what I mean to do," answered M;ir, 
 "for I've learned that of myself I never can 
 withstand temptation. I cannot understand, 
 Andy, how this fearful craving for liquor has 
 gotten such a hold on me in these few months. 
 Why, it isn't a year yet since I first tasted it." 
 
 "It may be well," said Andy, thoughtfully ; 
 *"it may be well, dear laddie, that you should 
 hear the truth as, I judge, ye've nae done yet. 
 Were you ever told that old Sterling Caldwell, 
 your father's father, killed himself wi' hard 
 drinkin' ?" 
 
 "JsTever. My father was a strict temperance
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 360 
 
 man, so far as I ever knew, but I it seems that 
 I, then., am in the clutches of heredity ; that the 
 sins of the fathers are visited on the children's 
 children was never more true than with me. I'm 
 glad you told me, Andy. I understand better 
 now just what I have to do." 
 
 A few evenings after this, when Andy came 
 up to Sky-high, as he railed the tiny home, laden, 
 as usual, with a basket of his sister's toothsome 
 cookery, he found Mac busy writing. The floor 
 was strewn with sheets of manuscript. Their 
 author arose and stretched his muscles, as though 
 weary. 
 
 "I've been busy all the afternoon, Andy, and 
 I'm going to ask you to see about having some 
 printing done in Standish." 
 
 Andy was quietly moving abont, emptying his 
 basket, setting some of its contents away in the 
 cupboard, arranging other on the table, as deftly 
 as Maggie herself could have done. 
 
 "Now, laddie," he said, as finally he poured 
 two glasses of milk from a big bottle, "draw oop 
 your chair, an' while we eat you'll tell me what 
 new scheme's been filling your head an' keepin' 
 you sae busy." 
 
 But Mac was too deeply interested to eat be- 
 fore he had talked. 
 
 "I've been thinking over what you told me 
 24
 
 370 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 about iny grandfather," he began at once, "and 
 I believe if I had been told of it when I was a 
 very small boy, and if some one had explained to 
 me the horrible effects of liquor-drinking on 
 body and mind and soul, that T would have been 
 on my guard and shunned it as I would shun 
 poison. Little chap as I was when my mother 
 died, I can remember almost every word she ever 
 spoke to me about God and heaven, and trying 
 to control my hot temper and learning to act un- 
 selfishly. If she had said anything on this other 
 subject, had ever called my attention to the rea- 
 son of a drunken man's queer behavior, which I 
 had, of course, frequently noticed, but only 
 understood in a vague way as the result of his 
 drinking, I would have been, in some measure 
 at least, forewarned, and so forearmed, against 
 the wily foe lying in wait for me as his all too 
 easy prey. 
 
 "I'm not reproaching my dear mother, mind 
 you, Andy. She was as sweet and true a woman 
 as ever breathed. It probably never occurred to 
 her wildest fancies that her darling, her innocent 
 little son, could ever go so far astray. Mothers 
 are like that, you know, Andy. Their love 
 weaves a sort of charmed veil about their chil- 
 dren, which shall fend off all evil from them. 
 But, alas ! we do not grow to be the beautiful,
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 371 
 
 noble creatures our mothers dream of as we lie 
 in our cradles. 
 
 "I've been prayins: that some line of active, 
 practical work might be shown me work that I 
 might do up here ; for I do not feel ready by far 
 to to go down the mountain. And this morn- 
 ing, while laying low that big chestnut tree I 
 showed you yesterday, it flashed over me that I 
 would write a series of articles for the Quarry 
 children, and get you to distribute them. 
 
 "Some of them are to be instructive, explain- 
 ing, in a simple, attractive way, the evil proper- 
 ties of liquors and their effects on the human 
 system ; others will be short stories, showing the 
 evil consequences of the use of liquor in the home 
 and in social life generally ; still others will be 
 little sermons from Scripture texts; quotations 
 from the Bible on intemperance; poems that 
 may be easily learned by heart ; bits of biogra- 
 phy bearing on this subject, and, last of all, per- 
 sonal appeals for the surrender of heart and life 
 to the only One who can enable us to resist 
 temptation and overcome evil tendencies and ac- 
 tions. What do you think, Andy ? Is it prac- 
 ticable ?" he incraired anxiously. 
 
 "I think," said Andy, his face aglow, "that 
 th' thought came straight down frae th' dear 
 Lord i' answer to your prayer, an' like a' else
 
 372 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 He's done frae th' creation onward, it is glide. 
 O ! laddie, is it nae grand an' marvellous that we 
 liae a Father i' heaven who doesna keep us 
 waitin' an' hopin' an' fearin' when we once open 
 onr hearts to Him an' ask Him i' sincerity to 
 work his all-wise will in them? There's nae 
 more doubt, or haltin' or specnlatin' then, hut a 
 broad, bright, heavenly light shines doon an' 
 shows ns the way, clear, sure, step after step. 
 This is to be th' dear Lord's own work, Master 
 Mac, an' you'll be blessed i' th' doin' o' it, as 
 God's workmen always are blessed. Hae you 
 thought out any in air regardin' it?" 
 
 "Yes," Mac's answer came promptly, "I'd like 
 to call the little leaflets, which will have but two 
 or three pages at most, 
 
 Chips from the Lord's Quarry 
 
 for 
 Sylvester Quarry Children. 
 
 It's rather a long name, I know, but it expresses 
 just their origin and object." 
 
 "It's a gude name never mind its length ! 
 An' they'll be numbered, likely enough ?" 
 
 "Yes, I had thought of that. I'll call them 
 The Sylvester Series, "No. 1, !No. 2, and so on, 
 and have them tastefully gotten out by John 
 Pixon. You can attend to that part."
 
 Tlie Sylvester Quarry. 373 
 
 "What name is to be signed to them ?" 
 
 Mac hesitated. 
 
 "I hoped you'd be willing to let me use yours, 
 Andy," he said slowly. 
 
 Andy raised a pair of incredulous eyes. 
 
 "And I not liftin' my finger to write a stroke 
 o' the pen!" he exclaimed in a tone as nearly 
 reproachful as MacDonald had ever heard. 
 
 Mac smiled. 
 
 "When will you ever begin to understand, 
 Andy, that you have been the 'power behind the 
 throne/ the muscle behind the pen, to change the 
 old saying a bit." 
 
 But Andy shook his head. 
 
 "Well, 1 won't argue with you again as I did 
 about the stock, for it would bo a waste of breath 
 and time. You are such a dear old bundle of stub- 
 bornness, there's no budging you. But you know 
 that it would never do to sign them Peter Wood- 
 man. People are such terribly curious animals ; 
 I'd have the whole Quarry up here in less than 
 twenty-four hours. Now, it seems to me, that as 
 you are my agent in the printing and distribu- 
 tion of these leaflets that you might be willing 
 to sign them 'Andrew Graham, Trustee.' Then 
 people would be satisfied as they might not be 
 were the slips published anonymously." 
 
 Andy pondered over this for some time, and
 
 374 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 then, as much to Mac's surprise as delight, he 
 said: 
 
 "You've a long head on your shoulders, lad- 
 die; that last's a clever thought. Signin' my 
 name will ward off th' pryin an' inquisitive folk. 
 An' I've no objection to actin' as trustee for 
 either th' dear Lord or MacDonald Caldwell, or 
 both o' them to-gether." 
 
 So it was settled. From that day on, Peter 
 Woodman divided his labors between brawn and 
 brain, and could sometimes hardly tell which 
 brought to him the keener satisfaction. 
 
 As the spring days followed each other in 
 beautiful procession sunny, showery, rich in 
 promise and full of budding beauty Mac dis- 
 covered more and more of the nature of his foe. 
 There were long nights of horror spent by both 
 Andy and himself on their knees in prayer ; dark 
 hours, when it seemed as though a physical 
 demon was with actual touch pushing him 
 towards the flask of poison ; hours when ho 
 caught by chair or table to hold himself back; 
 whole days when he could cnly lie cowering and 
 nerveless on his bed, his eyes covered that he 
 should not see the silent tempter on the shelf. 
 But through all these seasons of awful craving, 
 when his body almost sank under the strain, his 
 spirit never for one moment yielded.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 375 
 
 "I will not I will not O Father in heaven, 
 help me ! I will not !" was his constant cry and 
 prayer. 
 
 And help came. Often for days together he 
 was free. Gradually, as the pure mountain air 
 cleared his brain and stole the poison from his 
 blood, his muscles grew harder, a splendid vigor 
 pervaded his frame; the old restlessness, the 
 nervous exhaustion, the mental depression, gave 
 place to abounding health. Little by little he 
 dared to think that his hold on himself was 
 firmer ; then, suddenly, without warning, like a 
 bolt from a. clear sky, all the sunshine was 
 clouded in and his "dark time" was on. 
 
 In this way, with Andy for staunch, loving 
 comrade, with his Bible for constantly-studied 
 guide, with continual uplifting of thought and 
 prayer to the compassionate Elder Brother, each 
 day, like a wave of inflowing tide, brought him 
 nearer to the victory he had determined should 
 be absolute.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 VISITORS AT SKY-HIGH. 
 
 rri HE March meeting of the Quarry directors 
 J- was put off for ten days on account of Mr. 
 Standish's unavoidable absence on a matter of 
 personal business. 
 
 Keith's trip to New York had been one of 
 grievous disappointment. He found that the 
 Brookses had left New York immediately on the 
 arrival of the steamer, so that he had missed 
 them by only a few minutes. Their agent told 
 him of the sale of all their stock, at. Brussels, to 
 some party whose name he could not recall, and 
 of which he should not be able to inform him- 
 self until Mr. Tom Brooks' return, ten days or 
 so later. 
 
 The directors were all present at the post- 
 poned meeting, at which time the regular busi- 
 ness was transacted with more than ordinary 
 dispatch. An indescribable atmosphere of de- 
 pression pervaded the chapel where they sat. 
 Not even the radiant April sunshine, pouring in 
 through the windows, could find an answering 
 gleam on any countenance but one. Andy's 
 kindly face was beaming. When at last ho got
 
 (Jnttrry. 377 
 
 upon his feet, holding in his hand a small bundle 
 of papers, there was something in his manner 
 and looks before lie opened his lips, which drew 
 jvery eye to his. 
 
 "Brethren," he said earnestly, "th' dear Lord 
 L heaven has worked wi' us frae th' beginning. 
 Sometimes we've a'most doubted Him an' felt 
 ready to gi' up th' work. But, praise to His 
 name, I've to tell you to-day o' His mighty power 
 to bring light out o' darkness an' to turn upside 
 down th' schemin' o' th' adversary. I've here i' 
 my hands, holdin' them i' trust for th' dear 
 Lord's servant who bought them i' my name, a' 
 th' stock i' th' Quarry company that's hitherto 
 been owned by th' heirs o' Dana Brooks. It's 
 been paid for i' full, brethren, an' gi'es us th' 
 majority we've been sae longin' for. If I under- 
 stand it rightly, there's naught now to hinder the 
 Quarry Company from takin' a strong stand 
 against employin' any man who mak's use o' 
 liquor in any form." 
 
 A dead silence followed. Andy still stood 
 looking into the dazed faces upturned to his. It 
 was as though his words had been heard, but 
 their meaning had not yet reached the under- 
 standing of the hearers. Gradually belief suc- 
 ceeded incredulity; then, of a sudden, smiles 
 and words broke forth together :
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "Bless the Lord !" 
 
 "It can't be, Andy!" 
 
 "Let's see the certificate !" 
 
 "Who was the purchaser ?" 
 
 "Don't stop there go on!" 
 were some of the exclamations made as, discard- 
 ing formality in the excitement and joy of the 
 unexpected occurrence, they all crowded about 
 the jubilant Andy. 
 
 He showed them the stock and patiently 
 answered all their questions but one. At that he 
 stood firm as the Quarry itself. 
 
 "'No, brethren ; I cannot tell you the name o' 
 the person who really owns this stock. I've 
 given my word. Some day you'll know, an' then 
 you'll say that I'm doin' right. But I can toll 
 you this : "Pis the dear Lord's own doin's as 
 straight from heaven as when He sent th' manna 
 down i' the wilderness. An' don't let's be too 
 long i' thankin' Him for a' His wonderfu' good- 
 ness to th' children o' men." 
 
 Out of a full heart, Keith voiced the prayer 
 end praise of each one present. Then they sat 
 down again to wonder and rejoice and plan. 
 After a while the meeting was called to order, 
 and, amid a hush of intense feeling, the motion 
 was made and carried which provided that after 
 the first day of June no person using liquor in
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. :;7'.> 
 
 any way, form or manner should remain in the 
 employ of the Sylvester Quarry Company, or be 
 thereafter employed by them. 
 
 Notice of this decision was made public at 
 once, and little else was talked of in the whole 
 neighborhood. 
 
 As spring advanced, Violet lived out of doors 
 many hours of each day. 
 
 "The world was never so lovely before," she 
 said one morning to Doctor Strong. "I want to 
 enjoy every moment of it." 
 
 So she went with him on his drives about the 
 country much more than heretofore. Often they 
 stopped to gather wild flowers ; sometimes a rug 
 was spread under the pines, and they sat for an 
 hour, drinkin"' in the spicy fragrance and read- 
 ing aloud ; frequently Berdel made a third con- 
 genial comrade. As Violet's vitality waned, 
 Berdel's increased, until sometimes for days 
 together she was free from pain. 
 
 "It seems too good to be true," she said one 
 day to Violet, while they were sitting in the com- 
 fortable low open carriage before the home of 
 one of the Doctor's patients, waiting for him to 
 come out. "I'm so glad for Jackadel's sake. It 
 has been hard for him to carry such a burden 
 all these years."
 
 380 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "O! dear Berdel," protested Violet, "don't 
 think of it in that way. If you could only know 
 how often, how almost daily, he tells me what a 
 comfort and blessing you have always been to 
 him. Any one who sees you together can never 
 doubt that you are the very light of his eyes. 
 We've all noticed how happy he is this 
 spring." 
 
 Berdel's clear eyes were bent searchingl y upon 
 the beautiful, animated face of her companion. 
 She would have welcomed a less frank expres- 
 sion of interest in her brother's happiness, a 
 flush of self -consciousness ; for she knew only 
 too well that the secret of his bouyant light- 
 heartedness was the hope that time was bringing 
 him his own intense desire. Blinded by his love, 
 he read in Violet's growing dependence upon 
 him a deepening, if unconscious, affection, 
 rather than an instinctive leaning on a strong 
 arm. For she had turned to him almost un- 
 awares since Keith's natural preoccupation with 
 Louise and the many engrossing thoughts con- 
 cerning their new life together. 
 
 But no faintest shadow of a knowledge of the 
 true state of things on Violet's part rewarded 
 Berdel's keen glance. Should she venture to 
 probe ever so delicately beneath the surface ? 
 
 "I have often wished that Jackadel would fall
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 381 
 
 genuinely in love with some dear girl and win 
 lier. lie would be the most devoted of husbands 
 and much happier than I can make him," she 
 said softly, never taking her eyes from Violet's 
 face. 
 
 "Maybe he will when he finds one dearer and 
 sweeter than his sister/' laughed Violet. "Here 
 he comes now. I've a mind to tell him how you 
 want to put him off on some one else." 
 
 "O ! no ! please !" begged Berdel hastily, 
 dreading lest Violet's very openness might 
 wound him. 
 
 "Very well, I'll let you off this time," said 
 Violet, "but don't let me hear any such cruel sug- 
 gestions again. We want our blessed Doctor all 
 to ourselves for well, ever so long yet." 
 
 "Until summer anyway," she finished in her 
 thoughts. And for the first time it occurred to 
 her to wonder what she should do if his dear, 
 kind, continual presence should be taken from 
 her life. She lay back against her cushions quite 
 silent as they made their way along the moun- 
 tain ridge, trying to put this new and disquieting 
 thought out of her mind. She looked at the 
 springing verdure by the roadside, the graceful 
 greenery bursting out everywhere ; at old 
 friends, blue-bell, anemone, bloodroot, nodding 
 their pretty heads in welcome; but her glance
 
 382 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 strayed back to the stalwart outlines of head and 
 shoulders just in front of her. 
 
 "How strong and fine he is," she thought. 
 Then other outlines, dear and longed-for, rose 
 beside his, while memories crowded thick and 
 fast. 
 
 Her continued silence attracted Doctor 
 Strong's attention. He turned around to speak 
 a laughing word. 
 
 "You should have told me that you were feel- 
 ing ill," he cried, startled by her pallor. "Ber- 
 del, why didn't you 
 
 "O ! it is nothing, Doctor. I'm not ill at all," 
 interrupted Violet, the color rushing to her face 
 now in a flood. "Please don't make a fuss about 
 nothing." 
 
 "Xo, I will not," he replied, surveying her 
 gravely. "It is a good deal of a something that 
 you should be all tired out. And there isn't a 
 house nearer than Andy Graham's, three miles 
 away. O ! yes, there is. We'll pay a visit to 
 Peter Woodman's solitary cabin and get a glass 
 of the fine spring water not far from there." 
 
 He touched the horses lightly with his whip, 
 and the carriage rolled swiftly over the grass- 
 grown road. 
 
 "I've been wishing I could see him," said 
 Violet. "Keith told me of him one day when
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 383 
 
 \ve were up here. We drove in to the wood lot, 
 but the little house was closed. He's an odd fel- 
 low to care to live way off here all alone, isn't 
 he ? Is he an old man ?" 
 
 "It's hard to tell his age. His beard is not 
 grey and he seems vigorous, but one can hardly 
 imagine a young man choosing such a life. He 
 seldom is seen in the village, they tell me, and 
 then says no more than is absolutely necessary 
 to make a purchase or two. I've met him once 
 or twice far over on the Lindenderry side of the 
 mountain. Perhaps he's from the other valley. 
 I've wondered sometimes if he were not the 
 author of these leaflets Andy distributes, and 
 which are doing so much good among the young 
 people of the Quarry village. I asked Andy 
 once, but I didn't know any more after I heard 
 his perfectly civil, truthful answer than I did 
 before. That man is a wonder." 
 
 "But why should Peter Woodman be so inter- 
 ested in the Quarry when he keeps so aloof from 
 it?" asked Violet. 
 
 "I can't tell you, and I may be entirely wrong 
 in my surmise. But there surely is no one else 
 in the village or neighborhood who could write 
 them that I know of. They are scholarly and 
 yet beautifully adapted to their purpose." 
 
 "Perhaps we can introduce the subject in
 
 384 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 some way to-day," remarked Berdel. "My curi- 
 osity is quite on the qui vive. I think I see him 
 now, swinging his axe like a Hercules. He is 
 not an old man, Jackadel, that's sure." 
 
 They had driven quite near the cabin before 
 the wood-chopper, at some little distance, heard 
 or saw them. His rap was off: also his big blue 
 goggles. He turned instantly and put both on, 
 but not before Violet's quick eye had seen and 
 recognized a peculiar swift tossing back of the 
 hair from his forehead always indicative of 
 strong emotion on Mac's part. 
 
 She stifled the exclamation of joyful wonder 
 which sprang from her heart before it escaped 
 her lips and sat breathlessly still, every nerve 
 alert, controlled. For she knew, in the midst of 
 her whirling thoughts, that Mac had some good 
 reason for this strange incognito, and she was 
 determined not to betray him by look or sign. 
 She was quite white with excitement, thereby 
 arousing the Doctor's keenest apprehensions. 
 
 He tied the horses to a tree, at the same time 
 hallooing to Peter to come nearer. But the 
 wood-chopper, after his one instant recognition 
 of his visitors, was hard at work again, making 
 the chips fly about in showers. He, too, seemed 
 to be at the center of a storm of emotion ; but he 
 was not, like Violet, affected to absolute stillness.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 The need of action, violent action, was impera- 
 tive to counteract his longing to rush forward 
 and seize his dear, drooping Violet in his arms, 
 bearing her forever far away from the "old 
 idiot's" devoted ministrations. It was almost as 
 hot a battle as those he fought with his dread 
 foe, and only the stinging thought of his un- 
 worthiness to even come into her pure presence 
 kept his body at its vigorous task, while his 
 whole eager, insistent heart was with Violet. 
 Even from so far away he had clearly seen her 
 pale, wasted features. He dared not take an- 
 other look, but resolutely turned his back, wield- 
 ing his axe like a giant. 
 
 "Hey, there, Peter Woodman !" shouted Doc- 
 tor Strong, striding rapidly towards him. "Hal- 
 loo, there, I say !" 
 
 There was no use pretending not to hear the 
 trumpet-like voice. He half-turned, leaning on 
 his axe handle. 
 
 "Will you lend us a cup, please, and allow us 
 to get some water from your spring ?" 
 
 "You'll find one hanging on a nail just inside 
 the door. The spring's under the big oak tree 
 yonder," he called back, pointing off to the east. 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 "By the time the Doctor had turned to come 
 back. Violet, who had heard every word, was out 
 35
 
 386 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 of the carriage. A few quick steps and she had 
 opened the door of the cabin and stood within. 
 Every detail of the tiny, spotless room was 
 stamped immediately upon her memory in a 
 twinkling. The two iron bedsteads, the cup- 
 board, the steamer trunk with its tell-tale rug, 
 the shelf, with Bible and flask in strange com- 
 radeship ; and, dearest sight of all, a little glass 
 of wild violets standing beside a pile of books on 
 the table. Their sweet faces told their own 
 silent story to the girl's throbbing heart and 
 made assurance of the precious truth doubly cer- 
 tain. She did not linger in the charmed place, 
 where she would have been glad to stay and feast 
 her eyes, but met the Doctor on the threshold, 
 cup in hand. 
 
 "Naughty child !" he said, taking it from her. 
 "Get back in the carriage at once. This ground 
 is too cold and damp for you to walk on." 
 
 Quite demurely she obeyed. Chatting mer- 
 rily with Berdel, she kept her eyes fixed on Peter 
 Woodman, who, all of a sudden, threw down his 
 axe and disappeared behind the trees. 
 
 "Peter evidently doesn't like lady visitors," 
 commented Berdel, as the Doctor brought to 
 them the dripping cup of clear, delicious wjitor. 
 "I see that I shall not have any chance to inquire 
 about the leaflets. But we must come again and 
 hope for better luck."
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 387 
 
 "O yes ! let's come to-morrow morning early," 
 said Violet, so eagerly that both her companions 
 turned to look at her in surprise. A pretty rose 
 color flushed her cheeks and her eyes were 
 radiant. It was simply impossible for her to 
 keep back the happy light with which they were 
 t] ooi led or the impetuous wish she had so rashly 
 uttered. 
 
 "We certainly will do so, if every draught 
 from Peter Woodman's spring is to have such a 
 transforming effect upon my patient," assented 
 1 )octor Strong, smiling down upon her. "Some 
 sort of magic is surely at work." 
 
 "O ! if you only guessed how exactly right 
 yon are, YOU dear, unsuspecting Doctor !" whis- 
 pered Violet to herself. "It is the swertot 
 magic in all the world. Oh! Mac! Mac! How 
 can I keep this dear secret? Only to think that 
 you are here and safe is joy enough for a whole 
 lifetime. What will it be when you are with us 
 once more !" 
 
 For Violet knew, by a sure instinct, that the 
 very fact of his return in such a guise proved 
 the severance of all ties which bound him to his 
 life of dissipation. 
 
 She strained her eyes for another glimpse of 
 the wood-chopper as they drove off, but none was 
 to be seen.
 
 388 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 The next morning Andy received a note. 
 
 "Dear Andy," it ran, "can you come down to 
 see me for a few minutes some time to-day ? It 
 is important. Sincerely, 
 
 "VIOLET SYLVESTER. 
 
 "Little Acorns, Wednesday morning." 
 
 He arrived just after supper, and was show r n 
 up to Violet's sitting-room. 
 
 "How well you're lookin', Miss Violet," was 
 his almost involuntary greeting, so struck was he 
 with her bright, glad expression. 
 
 She laughed cheerily. 
 
 "Yes, Andy, I am well, now. We were up at 
 Peter Woodman's place yesterday; Doctor 
 Strong gave me a drink of his spring water, 
 and it must have wonderful properties, for I 
 feel like another creature since drinking it." 
 
 This was said with the most innocent air in 
 the world ; but all the while her eager blue eyes 
 were trying to read her companion's imperturba- 
 ble countenance. 
 
 "There's a good mony wonderfu' things oop 
 on that mountain, Miss Violet. Only folks don't 
 often climb high enough t' find 'em out." 
 
 "I think Peter must be very lonelv there. Do 
 you suppose he would like this little pot of sweet
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 389 
 
 violets ? They are all in bloom now, and will fill 
 his liny house with their fragrance." 
 
 Again the soft blue eyes looked frankly up- 
 ward. This time an answering twinkle sprang 
 into the grey ones, and Andy's whole face lighted 
 up. He came close to Violet and took both her 
 hands in his own big, gentle clasp. He held 
 them for a long minute without speaking ; then, 
 as he released them, said : 
 
 "'Twill be th' very breath o' life tae him, Miss 
 Violet. I'll tak them gladly." 
 
 That was all, but it was enough, and their two 
 hearts were lightened. Andy left the house, 
 bearing his precious gift, knowing that Mac's 
 presence had been discovered by the one dearest 
 of all to him. Violet rejoiced in the confirma- 
 tion of her already certain knowledge. She went 
 about with deep happiness in her heart, glad 
 songs on her lips, and a general overflowing ex- 
 uberance of life and spirits amazing to those who 
 loved her. ~No one could understand or account 
 for the sudden change in her. 
 
 "I do hope it will not be long before they all 
 know," she said to herself, "for I feel like the 
 slyest of hypocrites, and oh ! I long to have them 
 all as happy as I am ! I wonder why he doesn't 
 come down and reveal himself ? It's no use to 
 nsk Andy anything. I shall have to pay Peter
 
 300 The Silvester Quarry. 
 
 himself a visit, I guess, for I never in the world 
 can wait much longer." 
 
 At the same time she felt a natural reluctance 
 to making advances in the face of Mac's evident 
 desire for concealment. Day after day passed 
 with no sign. Although buoyed up with the con- 
 sciousness of his presence, not far away, she be- 
 came concerned over his strange, solitary life 
 and his persistent seclusion. The burden of her 
 secret weighed upon her until she began to sink 
 under it. She grow pale again and distrait. 
 
 "Something is worrying her," Doctor Strong 
 said to Berdel one evening, "just as something 
 happened to exhilarate her a week ago. I won- 
 der/' he cried, springing up from his chair and 
 walking hurriedly up and down the little room, 
 "if she can be hearing from from Mac ?" 
 
 "It W 7 ould not be strange, Jackadel," replied 
 his sister, <rentlv. 
 
 "No, it would not. The strange thing is that 
 he could ever leave her. And I ought I 
 will I do welcome anything which will make 
 her happy. If I could only be sure that his love 
 would make her so, but oh ! Berdel !" 
 
 And with the cry lie knelt beside her, hungry 
 for the comfort of her true heart.
 
 CHAPTEE XXVI. 
 
 SUNIMSE ON AMMONET MOUNTAIN. 
 
 WHENAndy and the potof violets reached 
 Sky-High, Mac was sitting at the table 
 \vriting busily, trying by hard work to shut out 
 memories and longings which distracted him. 
 But from every page a sweet, wistful face looked 
 up and presently a delicious fragrance stole upon 
 his senses. He turned about with keen, inquir- 
 ing glance. Andy, mute but radiant, stepped 
 within and set his eloquent burden on the table. 
 He gave one swift glance into Mac's flushing, 
 paling face, then, with instinctive delicacy, he 
 started to leave the cabin. 
 
 But Mac sprang forward, laying a detaining 
 hand on his arm. 
 
 "O ! don't go, Andy. Tell me are they from 
 her ? How could she know ?" 
 
 "How do th' w r ild flowers know when th' sun 
 shines out warm 'n lovin' after th' winter's cold ? 
 How does th' cooin' dove know when her mate 
 cooms near ? Dinna expect a rough man lak me 
 tae tell you th' secret ways o' a young maid's 
 heart. She does know 'n th' knowin' has brought
 
 392 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 th' life n' tli' liclit again to her bonny blue eyes. 
 An', Master Mac, dinna ye be aye longer givin' 
 her th' coomfort o' your presence. It's only by 
 th' tender mercies o' your Heavenly Father that 
 she's been spared through a' these weary weeks. 
 An' these flowers, sac modest 'n sae sweet, jes' 
 lak her sonsy self, are His own message sent to 
 you to tell you that your time o' hidin' away 
 has coom t' an end. Gao back noo J o her an' a' 
 th' rest who love you sae dearly, an' tak th' wark 
 a' ready to your han'. Peter's wark has been 
 well done, an' I don't deny th' lad's made him- 
 self very dear to my heart; but MacDonald is 
 dearer still an' I'm sair longin' to see him coom 
 into his own once mair." 
 
 Mac bent over the mass of fragrant bloom 
 with hovering, outstretched hands, as though he 
 would press the sweet blue blossoms to his lips. 
 He turned a beseeching face towards Andy. 
 
 "Don't tempt me, Andy," he cried piteously. 
 "Don't try to make me believe that I am ready 
 yet; that I am strong enough." 
 
 "Nay, lad, I'll nae do that. I've said what I 
 believe with all my heart; but I'll nae try to 
 mak you see this wi' my eyes. Tak a' the coom- 
 fort she meant you to frae th' pot o' violets an' 
 you'll be seein' th' next step clear as sunshine 
 afore th' pretty blooms are withered up."
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 393 
 
 The "next step" was seen and taken sooner 
 than either anticipated. 
 
 That very evening, when the mail bag for Lit- 
 tle Acorns was brought in and opened at the 
 supper table, Keith received a letter from the 
 agent of the Brooks' heirs. He read it through 
 twice, with growing excitement, and finally 
 startled his companions by exclaiming;: 
 
 ''Thank God ! Only listen to this, Jeanie : 
 
 YORK, April 20, 18. 
 " 'Rev. Keith Dennet: 
 
 " 'Dear Sir, Mr. Tom Brooks having re- 
 turned to the city, I am able to give you the 
 name of the man who bought the Sylvester 
 Quarry stock belonging to the heirs of the late 
 Dana Brooks. It is MacDonald Caldwell, and 
 he made the purchase in the name of Andrew 
 Graham, of Sylvester. 
 
 " 'Very truly yours, 
 
 " 'JAMES ALDEN, Agent.' '' 
 
 "Why, Keith !" exclaimed Janet, rising from 
 her chair and coming around to look over his 
 shoulder, "what does it mean ? How could Mac 
 do this ? Where is he ?" 
 
 "I cannot tell you that, dear ; but it is blessed
 
 394 The Sylvester Quany. 
 
 enough to know that our dear boy has come to 
 himself and has been led to do this wonderful 
 thing for the Quarry people. Thank God ! 
 Thank God !" 
 
 Janet saw the tears standing in Keith's eyes 
 and heard his voice choking with sobs. She could 
 hardly comprehend the truth even yet, but her 
 heart was beating fast in sympathy for his glad- 
 ness. A glimpse of Violet's glowing face across 
 thG table but added to her bewilderment. 
 
 "Did you, too, know?" she asked eagerly. 
 "And where is Mac now ? Why doesn't he come 
 home ?" 
 
 It was Keith's turn to show surprise, as he 
 also looked over at Violet. She heard his first 
 reproachful word as he sprang up and came 
 quickly to her side: 
 
 "How could you keep it from us, Violet 
 dear?" 
 
 "I didn't know of this. I found out something 
 else several days ago which I must tell you of. 
 But, dear Keith, let us first send over for Louise. 
 The others can wait a little longer ; I want her 
 to hear this with us." 
 
 "I'll go myself," and he was off before the 
 words were scarcely uttered. 
 
 "What has happened ?" Louise inquired curi- 
 ously, on entering the room a few minutes later,
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 395 
 
 "that I am whisked off so unceremoniously and 
 not told one word on the way over ?" 
 
 Violet gave Keith a grateful glance. 
 
 "That was nice of you, Keith, to let me be the 
 one to tell her every bit. Well, Louise dear, the 
 very best thing in the world has happened. Mac 
 lias come home, and we've just found out that it 
 is he who bought the stock from the Brooks'. 
 So, it is really he who has made it possible for 
 the use and sale of liquor to be prohibited in 
 Sylvester forever. Isn't that glorious ?" 
 
 Like Janet, Louise was quite dazed. She 
 looked from one beaming face to another, hardly 
 able to take in the good news. 
 
 "Come, sit here close beside me and I'll tell 
 you all about it. Keith and Jeanie haven't heard 
 my part of the story yet. And I won't wait an- 
 other second before saying that Mac and Peter 
 Woodman are one.and the same!" 
 
 "Peter Woodman !" ejaculated Keith. "Vio- 
 let, it can never be!" 
 
 "Oh-h !" came in a prolonged note of amaze- 
 ment from Janet, while Louise sat as if spell- 
 bound, gazing at Violet with wide eyes. 
 
 "Yes, Peter Woodman," repeated Violet, en- 
 joying their incredulous amazement and de- 
 lighted to be telling them the wonderful fact. 
 "Doctor Strong took Berdel and me in there
 
 396 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 about a week ago to get some water from the 
 spring near the cabin. We saw Peter off at a 
 little distance, chopping down a tree. His cap 
 and a pair of great blue goggles were lying on a 
 log. You should have seen the speed with which 
 he clapped them on when he caught sight of us. 
 But he wasn't quite quick enough. I'd know 
 Mac's high head anywhere, and when he gave 
 his hair that swift little toss backward, as he 
 always did when surprised or greatly excited 
 you remember, don't you, Louise? I knew in 
 an instant who it was. All this was while Doctor 
 Strong was calling out to him about the dipper, 
 and Mac, in a great gruff voice, hallooed back 
 that it was hanging on a nail behind the door. 
 It didn't take me long to slip out of the carriage 
 and open the door. Once inside, I made good 
 use of my eyes. Things were all as neat as a 
 pin. There were two iron bedsteads you may 
 be sure Andy doesn't let him stay up there alone 
 all the time a steamer trunk with a rug over it ; 
 a lot of books, and and a few other things," 
 concluded Violet, rather lamely, blushing like a 
 rose. Somehow, she couldn't speak, even to 
 them, of the handful of her name-flowers. 
 
 "And is that all ?" asked Keith, noticing her 
 embarrassment. 
 
 a Yes. We got the water and I tried to see
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 397 
 
 Peter again, but lie dropped his axe and went off 
 into the forest. The the next time Andy came 
 down here, I I asked him if Peter were not 
 very lonely up there, and from the way he an- 
 swered me, but more than all from his looks, I 
 feel sure that I am right." 
 
 "Does Mac know that you recognized him ?" 
 asked Keith, still quite skeptical as to his iden- 
 tity with Peter Woodman. That Mac should 
 come back in disguise and live in such solitary 
 fashion on the heights of Ammonet Mountain 
 seemed such a preposterous idea. 
 
 Again the crimson flush flooded Violet's cheek 
 and brow. 
 
 "I don't know," she murmured, suddenly feel- 
 ing very weary. "I sent him a a sort of mes- 
 sage, but he has not replied to it. I wish you 
 would go up in the morning. Won't you, Cousin 
 Keith ?" 
 
 "I surely will, dear. And now you must finish 
 your supper and then lie down to rest. All this 
 excitement is not good for you." 
 
 She smiled a little, nestling down among the 
 pillows on the lounge. 
 
 "I'm not hungry. I'll be good and lie here 
 while you tell Louise about the letter that came 
 to-night. Then she will understand." 
 
 "But I can't understand," said Janet, who
 
 398 The Srlvester Quarry. 
 
 had been silently thinking it all over, "why Mac 
 should come back in such a strange way." 
 
 a lt isn't altogether clear to me," answered 
 Keith. "But we shall soon know, for I shall 
 start up the mountain at daylight. If it \vriv 
 not for our preparatory service I would go to- 
 night." 
 
 Ammonet Valley was flushed with the rosy 
 light of approaching sunrise as Keith rode 
 quickly up the familiar roadside the next morn- 
 ing. His thoughts were busy with all the won- 
 derful news of the evening before; his heart 
 throbbed high with anticipation, even while his 
 judgment warned him to be prepared for disap- 
 pointment. He had nearly reached the wond- 
 road, when a sharp turn brought him face to face 
 with Andy and Mac. The latter, secure in the 
 early morning hour, w T as without disguise. 
 
 In the instant of meeting everything was for- 
 gotten except the joy of each other's presence. 
 A swift spring from the horse, a close, thrilling 
 hand-clasp, and a silence saying more than many 
 words could have done, bridged the past, with its 
 hateful memories, and brought Mac fully and 
 forever "to his own again." 
 
 It was Andy who spoke first, in his tactful, 
 considerate way : 
 
 "Master Mac was just consultin' wi' me aboot
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 399 
 
 th' leaflets he's workin' on ; but I'm nae sae good 
 an adviser as you'll be. Perhaps ye'll hae th' 
 time tae walk oop tae th' cabin an' gi' him your 
 mind i' th' matter." 
 
 He said this as simply as though Keith were 
 well acquainted with the whole situation. The 
 cue was taken as quickly as it had been given. 
 
 ''With all the pleasure in the world, if you 
 wish it, Mac," came with prompt heartiness in 
 response. 
 
 "Yes, do come," said Mac, simply. 
 
 Keith threw an arm around the young man's 
 shoulder, as in the old days, and with a farewell 
 word to Andy, the two walked slowly along the 
 grassy road. Once they stopped by mutual im- 
 pulse, turning toward the sun, now risen in 
 splendor and flooding the whole beautiful world 
 below them with glory. At the sight, Keith's 
 thankful heart burst forth in the words of the 
 Psalmist : 
 
 "The heavens declare the glory of God ; and 
 the firmament shewcth his handiwork. 
 
 "Day unto dav uttereth speech, and night unto 
 night sheweth knowledge. 
 
 "There is no speech nor language where their 
 voice is not heard. 
 
 "Their line is gone through all the earth, and 
 their words to the end of the world. In them 
 1 in tli He set a tabernacle for the sun,
 
 400 The 8 r Ivester Quarry. 
 
 ''Which is as a bridegroom coming out of his 
 chamber, and rejoiceth as a strong man to run a 
 race 
 
 "Bless the Lord, O my soul: and all that is 
 within me, bless His holy name. 
 
 "Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all 
 his benefits." 
 
 Then, after an instant's pause, he went on 
 very gently : 
 
 "Who fcrgiveth all thine iniquities; who 
 healeth all thy diseases ; who redeemetli thy life 
 from destruction ; who crowneth thee with lov- 
 ing kindness and tender mercies ; who satisfied: 
 thy mouth with good things ; so that thy youth 
 
 is renewed like the eagle's 
 
 . . "Unto you that fear my name shall 
 the Sun of righteousness arise .with healing in 
 His wings 
 
 . . . "Bless the Lord, O my soul : and all 
 that is within me, bless His holy name." 
 
 Mac made no reply, except to clasp Keith's 
 hand with a close grip. 
 
 "I had a letter from the Brooks' agent last 
 night, Mac, telling me who bought the stock in 
 Andy's name, and Violet could not longer keep 
 to herself the happy secret her loving heart dis- 
 covered when she was up here last week. And 
 so, dear boy, I've come to take you home."
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 401 
 
 He felt the tremor which shook Mac from 
 head to foot. 
 
 "Not, yet, Mr. Keith, not yet," he murmured. 
 "I've a lone: story to tell you. Can you hear it 
 now ?" 
 
 "Why should I hear it at all?" asked Keith. 
 "It is enough for me, for us all, to know that 
 you are here, your old self. There can 
 
 "But I am not my old self, Mr. Keith," Mac 
 burst out with a groan. "I am a shameful wreck 
 of the man I might have been. I deserve nothing 
 but contempt from you all. I feel like a very 
 Judas coming back to the eleven. Don't ask me 
 to come to come home, Mr. Keith. Don't 
 tempt me I cannot do it now. Sometimes I 
 think I never can. In my desperation and hun- 
 ger for help I crawled back to Andy, who has 
 been an angel of strength and loving sympathy. 
 I have not yet been strong enough to stand alone, 
 nor to tear myself awav from the sight of all that 
 is dear to me in the world ; but I shall be soon ; 
 I must be. There is work hard, inspiring 
 work for me out in the world's dark places. 
 There I shall go and give my life for the 
 helping of some other lad such as I was. I 
 feel especially drawn to those in whose innocent 
 hearts the seeds of this awful curse was planted 
 before their birth. It is to them in particular 
 26
 
 402 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 that I am praying to be sent. And I beg you, 
 Mr. Keith, to keep my name from being known 
 in connection with the Brooks' stock. Andy 
 really, in the sight of God, is the one who owns 
 it. Some day I'll tell you of his heaven-given 
 courage and divine tenderness that morning at 
 the Kunnymede. The memory of it never left 
 me until it cut the last tie which bound me to my 
 evil life and brought me back to him." 
 
 "You ask too much, dear Mac," Keith an- 
 swered gravely. "I can appreciate something of 
 your feeling in regard to the matter of the stock, 
 and also in regard to coming back to your old 
 place. But do you not know, my boy, that for- 
 giving is forgetting ? The Heavenly Father for- 
 gives by blotting out every memory or trace of 
 the sin. We, who love you, have done as He 
 would have us in this. We hate the sin ; we put 
 it far from us, even in thought ; but we love the 
 dear lad who was once the sinner, now the repen- 
 tant, noble man we are proud of ; and we long for 
 him, Mac, with longings which cannot be ut- 
 tered. Are you doing right to turn your back on 
 such love and confidence as we gladly offer you ?" 
 
 "Come," Mac said, turning towards the cabin. 
 Once inside, he showed Keith the flask. 
 
 "This fight is not fought to the death yet. 
 When it is I will come back ; not before."
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 403 
 
 lie folded his arms, his face white, his reso- 
 lute look straight into Keith's eye. 
 
 "O ! Mac ! Come back and let us help you 
 when the tempter must bo met," begged Keith. 
 "It surely cannot be that he will assail you much 
 longer." 
 
 "So much the more reason why I must wait 
 until he is under mv feet. Sometimes I think 
 I shall never be freed from this bitter curse ; or 
 not for many years. I've no fear of falling 
 again., with God's help; but it may be I'm to 
 grow strong only with constant battling. It may 
 be that so I can be kept in closer sympathy with 
 other wretched souls whose feet are not yet 
 planted on the everlasting rock. It is hard to see 
 clearly my way out yet; but this one thing I 
 have determined. Not until I can part company 
 with that black comrade, feeling sure that he is 
 forever out of my life, shall I come back to my 
 home." 
 
 Keith could not conceal his keen disappoint- 
 ment. But he felt that Mac was thoroughly in 
 earnest. His decision was not the sentiment of 
 a boy, but the conscientious, fixed resolve of a 
 brave, dauntless man. He could but respect it, 
 even while deploring its necessity. And then a 
 new thought struck him. How could he go home 
 with such a message to those who were eagerly
 
 404 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 waiting for sight of Mac, especially to Violet, 
 whose frail life could ill stand an added strain ? 
 His instant impulse was to speak of her to Mac, 
 as a last resource. But he shrank from this. 
 
 "Well, Mac, I can say no more now. You 
 have given me many things to think over. You 
 will let me come up here, will you not \ And let 
 me say to the friends below what you have said 
 to me? You surely cannot deny them the com- 
 fort of knowing just how you feel in this 
 matter." 
 
 At these words, spoken so affectionately, Mac 
 broke down and sobbed brokenly. Keith walked 
 to the window, noticing for the first time the pot 
 of fragrant violets, which told its own sweet 
 story. 
 
 "You make rue feel like a brute, Mr. Keith," 
 said Mac, at last, when he could trust his voice. 
 "It is like pushing food from a starving man, but 
 I can see no other way not yet. Give them all 
 my dear love and tell them I appreciate their 
 heavenly kindness with all my heart. It helps 
 me more than they can ever know." 
 
 When Keith reached home, he found both 
 households assembled at Little Acorns, waiting 
 in eager impatience for Mac's arrival. For they 
 had never even so much as thought that he would 
 not come. So it was to a greatly disappointed
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 405 
 
 little group tluit Keith told every word, so nearly 
 as lie could remember, that Mac had spoken to 
 him. 
 
 "Xoble fellow!" cried Mr. Standish, wiping 
 his spectacles. ''I declare I almost wish he 
 wasn't quite so noble, though. lie's set us all a 
 harder task than he has undertaken himself. I 
 ieel as though a team of wild horses wen 1 already 
 pulling me towards Ainuioiiet Mountain. How 
 I'm ever going to keep away, I can't tell." 
 
 "I'm not going to try to keep away," an- 
 nounced Mark. "I'm going right up there as 
 fast as I can and tell him what I think of such 
 air-; !" and off he went like a shot. 
 
 This matter-of-fact cutting of the Gordian 
 knot acted as a signal for a general expression of 
 opinion, and every one was apparently talking at 
 once about the marvellous news. Every one 
 that is, except Violet, who lay in her low chair, 
 quite silent. Into the midst of the excitement 
 presently came Doctor Strong. He was scarcely 
 noticed, and made his quiet way to Violet's 
 side. 
 
 "What has happened?" he asked, taking the 
 hand she extended. "Am I intruding on a 
 family conclave?" 
 
 "Oh ! no. Mae has come home, and we are all 
 so happy."
 
 406 The tfy'lrrxtrr Qimrnj. 
 
 His swift glance searched the groups scattered 
 about the long room. 
 
 "He is not here. He is Peter Woodman, Doc- 
 tor. Only think of it! Cousin "Keith! Conn- 
 and tell Doctor Strong all about Mar, won't you '. 
 He is one of us." 
 
 "Why, pardon me, Doctor, I did not see you 
 come in," said Keith cordially, shaking hands 
 with him. "We are all rather upset over the 
 good news. I suppose you've heard about the 
 purchase of the Brooks' stock by our dear boy, 
 and" 
 
 But Doctor Strong had reached the limit of 
 his endurance. The beautiful light on Violet's 
 face was piercing his heart. He felt that he 
 must get away from it. 
 
 "Xo, I had not heard; but I haven't a mo- 
 ment to spare now. I'll be over later. Goodbye, 
 Miss Violet. Pray excuse me." 
 
 Keith remembered, in a flash, the Doctor's 
 confidence in regard to Violet, and reali/ed, all 
 too late, what this return of Mac must mean to 
 him. He walked with him to the outer door. 
 
 "This means new life for her," Doctor Strong 
 said, quietly drawing on his gloves. 
 
 "I hardly know 7 yet. Mac feels too unworthy 
 to come back to his old place. He is not sure 
 that his foe of heredity is wholly conquered. He
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 407 
 
 is full of a plan for going out into the world to 
 prevent other lads from falling as he did. A 
 noble work, but he ought to see his way clear to 
 coming back to us, for a while at least, first. I 
 hope and pray he may." 
 
 It was characteristic of John Strong to waste 
 no time when a hard thing was to be done. He 
 drove straight from Little Acorns to Peter 
 \Yn<>dman's cabin, praying all the way as he had 
 never prayed before. 
 
 lie found [Mark with Mac. The two were sit- 
 ting on a chestnut log, in earnest conversation. 
 
 "Don't let me interrupt you," he said courte- 
 ously, after the first rather formal greetings. 
 "I'll take a look off across the valley." 
 
 It was not long before Mac joined him. 
 
 "That is a fine boy," he said. "Thank heaven 
 he has no Caldwell blood in his veins." 
 
 "Yes," responded the Doctor. "A fine clean 
 inheritance is a gift to be devoutly thankful for ; 
 but a strength of purpose mighty enough to make 
 a vile heritage pure is a possession worthy the 
 admiration of men and angels. I know enough 
 of your story, Mac, to be very proud of you, and 
 T want to bid you God-speed in your noble self- 
 imposed task of helping others do what you have 
 done for yourself, with God's help." 
 
 "It is all God's work, Doctor Strong," cried
 
 408 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 Mac, brokenly, more touched than he cared to 
 show by sympathy from such an unexpected 
 quarter. 
 
 "Now, Mac, I have something to say which is 
 none of my business as a man, but near to my 
 heart and to my conscience as a physician. You 
 cannot carry out your plan of self-effacement 
 here, and start out on your broader work without 
 going back to your home, unless you put in peril 
 the very life of one who is dear to to us all." 
 
 Mac, standing with arms folded over his heart 
 as though to quiet its tiwnultous throbbing, his 
 lips sternly compressed, his eyes fixed on the 
 cross of the chapel, shining through the tree-tops 
 far below them, saw nothing of the stern white 
 face beside him. 
 
 "She has nearly slipped away from us; she 
 can bear no added burden of anxiety or suspense. 
 If you love her, boy, you must go to her and go 
 at once." 
 
 Mac never knew when he went away. It 
 seemed to him as though whole years of his life 
 passed before he could draw a deep, full breath. 
 
 The next morning he walked down the moun- 
 tain. He found Violet sitting on the steps of the 
 Little Acorns veranda, with masses of mountain 
 laurel heaped about her, arranging them in 
 bowls. The lovely blossoms in their pink beauty
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 409 
 
 were not unlike in effect the roses which fell 
 about her as she first stood up to greet him at 
 Sylvester Hall. lie thought of that pretty scene 
 as he approached with noiseless step across the 
 lawn. And when she glanced up and saw him, 
 and her face flushed with the gladness of her 
 heart, he knew as never before how much dearer 
 and sweeter this Violet was to him than any one 
 else in the whole world ever could possibly be. 
 
 "O ! Mac !" was all she said, and his lips were 
 mute as he held her hands close, but the whole 
 >tury was told in the look of each into the eyes 
 of the other. Forgiveness, love, and a blessed 
 oneness for the rest of their lives were asked for 
 and given, without a word.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 JUNE. 
 
 HOW anybody c'n be livin' in this month 
 oMune 'u not bo wantin' to sing th'long- 
 moter doxnlogy ev'ry minute o' th' hull day, I 
 dunno!" said Annt J)iana one morning to Ber- 
 dol. "It 'pears to me 's if our cup o' mercies 
 was uiore'n runuin' over full. Hero you be, first 
 'n foremost, walkiif all round 'n doin' little 
 lliings about th' house as nobody ever 'sposoil 
 you could be 'n gettin' a bit o' pretty color into 
 those white cheeks o' yours. That's enough to 
 sing praises for cf there wa'nt nothin' else. 
 
 "An' next, <he Widder Van's a-sendin' word 
 that she's goin' to stay over to the other side o' th' 
 world a spell longer, an' lettin' me keep (Jay, 
 which is th' blessingest o' all blessin's to me. 
 "Fain't likely, now, since she's bavin' some o" 
 them cousins o' hern move all her things out <>' 
 that house, that she'll ever come back into this 
 neighborhood, 'n some o' the Lord's creatures 
 here below feel called to praise Him for that. 
 An' still I will say that there's good in that 
 flighty little spinnin' Jenny cf it only bed a
 
 Tlic !<ij! renter Quarry. 411 
 
 chance to breathe the breath o' life 'n wa'nt all 
 buried up in vanity. 
 
 "An' then, 's ef that wa'nt enough, along 
 comes the blessin' o' no more liquor sellin' up to 
 ih' Quarry, 'n the Hermanns, madder'n scat, 
 iiiiiviiv their fine new store over th' mountain an' 
 takiri' th' Old Bov along with 'em. I shouldn't 
 be 'sprised ef the hull heavenly hosts was a 
 joinin' in to the singin' o' praises for this good 
 riddance o' -bad rubbish, snch's \ve wouldn't of 
 thought possil)le a year ago. That's one thing I 
 always did admire about th' Lord from the days 
 o' th' Jebusites an' .llittites up to now. Ho never 
 does things by halves like men-folks, but smites 
 around, hi]) and thigh, when He once sets out. 
 
 "An' then, to cap all this, that great long- 
 legged Mac, that used to be so feather-brained, 
 has turned up with all the foolishness threshed 
 out o' him. 1 always did think 'twould be a pity 
 if he wasn't hauled out o' th' mire o' wickedness 
 'n -ct up on th' rock o' Zion to dry. An' Ins 
 com in' to his senses has given us back our dear 
 'Sweet Violet' that Gay sets such store by." 
 
 Aunt Diana paused in her occupation of slic- 
 ing June apples for a pie, and, looking cau- 
 tiously around, lowered her voice before pro- 
 ceeding. 
 
 "Have you noticed, Mary Berdel ?"' she asked.
 
 412 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 "how Gay ; s taken John B. under her wing like, 
 the last three or four weeks ? It seems 's if she 
 couldn't let him out o' her sight a minute nor do 
 enough for him." 
 
 Berclel nodded. A quick contraction of her 
 throat prevented speech. She had seen Claret's 
 recent devotion to her brother; the instinctive, 
 loving efforts of the child's sensitive heart to be 
 "all comf'rty" to one who suffered. It was un- 
 usual, and touching in the extreme to the sister, 
 who knew as no one else did how hard it was 
 for Doctor Strong to get through these beautiful 
 days with his wonted cheerfulness. Kven Aunt 
 1 Hana suspected nothing of the truth. 
 
 "John B.'s had a look about his eyes for sonic 
 time back that I don't like to see. lie don't 
 know no more'n a baby 'bout takin' care o' him- 
 self if he can do so well by other folks. I guess 
 I'll fix him up a bowl of boiicset. But ain't it 
 strange that a child like Gay should be so 
 noticin' ? There she goes now, like a. streak. 
 You may be sure she's heard his buggy wheels." 
 
 Garet had rushed by the porch around to the 
 front of the house, a whirl of pink gingham and 
 flying hair. She had seen the Doctor's carriage 
 far up the road and sped forth to meet him. lie 
 was quite used to the sight of her graceful little 
 figure, ready to jump in beside him.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 413 
 
 Sometimes she chatted gaily of all sorts of 
 things ; sometimes, as now, she pulled off her 
 !)ig shade hat and nestled up elose to him, laying 
 her check against his arm and not speaking a 
 word. After one swift glance into his face she 
 knew that this was one of the times "to be 
 silent." 
 
 Just as they turned into the driveway he 
 roused himself from his abstraction. 
 
 " You are a sweet little comforter, Garet. Did 
 you know that ?" 
 
 Her face grew radiant as she heard the softly- 
 spoken words. 
 
 "O, I'm glad ! I trv to be just like a 
 grain'thur to you. And I've picked a saucer full 
 of the beautifullest strawberries for you to eat 
 the minute you came home. They're all ready 
 on the dining-room table. You'll come right in 
 there, won't you?" 
 
 Without waiting for an answer she ran ahead 
 to add a glass of fresh water to her dainty 
 offering. 
 
 Berdel saw the Doctor's smile as he came 
 around the corner of the house. 
 
 "\Yhat a rare child that is," he said, as he bent 
 to drop a kiss on his sister's cheek. "If I'm not 
 spoiled between the two of you, it will be a 
 wonder !' :
 
 414 The Sylvester Quarnj. 
 
 "I've a great mind to be jealous o' you, John 
 B.," remarked Aunt Diana, u as ever I was to 
 eat. Gay's beginning' altogether too .soon to lie 
 down 'n let a man walk right over her. Th' most 
 o' us wimmeii folks come to it sooner or later, 
 but" 
 
 She was interrupted by the mingled laughter 
 of her two hearers. 
 
 "O! Aunt Di!" began Berdel, but Caret ap- 
 peared. So the Doctor took her outstretched 
 hand and went in to eat the strawberries. As In- 
 passed Aunt Di he stooped to say roguishly : 
 
 "I'll promise to walk very carefully, Aunt 
 Diana." 
 
 The lovely June days slipped by, one by one, 
 until the fairest of them all dawned the wed- 
 ding day of Louise and Keith. 
 
 .Mac came down early from the mountain 
 home, which he had steadfastly refused to leave, 
 to assist in putting the last touches to the deco- 
 ration of the chapel. By ten o'clock every seat 
 was full and the yard thronged with the Quarry 
 people, while the road down nearly to Little 
 Acorns was lined with men. women and children 
 eager to catch a glimpse of the bride and their 
 loved pastor. 
 
 As the open carriages began coming slowly up
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. -ilo 
 
 the mountain from Staiidish Hall and Little 
 Acorns, hats were pulled off and many glances 
 and smiles of recognition exchanged. But when 
 at last one appeared whose occupants were Violet 
 and Mac, with Garet and Hilda as little flower 
 hearers to walk before the bride, an irrepressible 
 shout went up along the whole line, reaching 
 even into the chapel itself. Cheer after cheer, 
 prolonged and heartfelt, rang out on the soft 
 summer a;r. Hats were waved, handkerchiefs 
 fluttered. At first. Violet looked about in won- 
 der, knowing that Louise had not left the house. 
 But in an instant she comprehended. 
 
 "It is for you, dear," she said to Mac, her own 
 eyes shining. 
 
 "O ! no!" he exclaimed in protest. But he 
 could not help seeing that it was so, and, as white 
 i^ the- roses piled upon his knees, hat in hand, 
 he bowed to the right and left, seeing nothing, 
 feeling humiliated and ashamed. 
 
 "This is dreadful, Violet. Can't it be 
 stopped ?" he murmured. 
 
 "I don't see how," was her reply, ''and I don't 
 want them to stop. You deserve every bit of the 
 appreciation and love they give you." 
 
 Janet and Keith, already at the chapel, heard 
 the loud huzzas. 
 
 "Listen !" cried Janet, stepping to the win-
 
 416 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 clow. "O Keith! they are cheering Mac! 
 See !" 
 
 "That is a fine thing for the people to do, 
 Janie," he said. "It will do Mac good, too." 
 
 "It is giving him an uncomfortable quarter of 
 an hour now," laughed Janie. "Modest boy that 
 
 K f . >>) 
 
 ne is : 
 
 Few who were there ever forgot the beautiful 
 scene, as the words were spoken which united 
 forever two loving hearts. To Violet and .Mac, 
 who stood side by side before the altar, it seemed. 
 almost as though their own troth were being 
 plighted. Both felt strengthened by the sacred 
 service for the long parting which lay close be- 
 fore them. 
 
 Andy, his strong, rugged face alight, had eyes 
 for little else besides Mac and the winsome girl 
 beside him. 
 
 "Thank tli' dear Lord that He's saved th' lad 
 a longer time o' darkness," he was saying over 
 and over to himself. "Praise to His holy name 
 that th' curse is gone frae our village." 
 
 When his turn came to speak to the bride and 
 groom words failed him, and he could only 
 repeat Aunt Diana's ascription : 
 
 "Praise God, from whom all mercies Row." 
 
 "We surely do, Andy," Keith answered 
 heartily, grasping both the Scotchman's hands.
 
 The Sylvester Quarry. 417 
 
 The little word "we" brought to the rather over- 
 whelmed Andy a realization of the occasion. 
 
 "I do wish you both a long life fu' o' joy 'n 
 blessin'," he said then, taking the hand Louise 
 extended. "Ye ken that I'm a bit daft wi' a' th' 
 happeni n'." 
 
 "We'll forgive you/' laughed Louise, taking 
 pity on his evident embarrassment, "as it is on 
 Mac's account. We know that we have no more 
 loyal friend than Andrew Graham." 
 
 "An' then you spoke as true a word as Gospel, 
 Miss Louise," returned Andy. His glance had 
 strayed away from her toward Mac and Violet. 
 "Is it nae a bonnie sicht tae see th' twa o' them 
 togither ?" ho said. "Th' dear Lord spare them 
 as well as yoursels for many a long year to be a 
 blessin' to th' world." 
 
 "Amen," murmured Keith. 
 
 It was but a few days after this that Mac- 
 closed Peter Woodman's cabin arid came down 
 to spend the last hours with Jeanie and Violet 
 before going to his chosen work at Keith's old 
 Walnut Hill Mission in Philadelphia. 
 
 "I've changed my mind about Doctor Strong, 
 Violet," he said, as they were sitting on the 
 veranda at Little Acorns. "He is a fine fellow, 
 now that I know he's not in love with you. I 
 was over there this morning to bid him good-bye
 
 418 The Sylvester Quarry. 
 
 and to thank him for all his goodness to you. 
 And I asked him to look after you until I come 
 back; for you know, dear, it may be a good 
 while. I shall feel so safe to know that there is 
 a good physician near at hand." 
 
 "But I'm not going to be ill again, Mac." 
 
 "Heaven grant it. You surely will never 
 have the same cause, God helping me. It is 
 going to be a fight for a long while yet, though. 
 O Violet ! hard as it is to leave you, I feel eager 
 to be at work, doing all I can, with my whole 
 heart and strength to battle against this dreadful 
 thing in people's lives." 
 
 "I wish there was something I, too, could be 
 doing," said Violet, wistfully. 
 
 "You do everything, dear, by letting me love 
 you, and by your promise to let me bring you, 
 some blessed day, all in God's own good time, to 
 be my true helpmeet, my joy, my very life," was 
 Mac's instant response, spoken with such tender- 
 ness that the rare tears filled Violet's eyes. She 
 slipped her hand in his and they sat silent while 
 the twilight shadows fell softly about them.
 
 A 000118721 o