Nell Beverly, Farmer A STORY OF FARM LIFE Br Elizabeth Jewett Brown and Susan Jewett Howe Published by THE RURAL PUBLISHING CO. NEW YORK Nell Beverly, Farmer A Story of Farm Life By Elizabeth Jewett Brown and Susan Jewett Howe Published by THE RURAL PUBLISHING Go. NEW YORK S-: COPYRIGHT, 1908 BY THE RURAL PUBLISHING Co. All rights reserved. INTRODUCTION Each year THE RURAL NEW-YORKER aims to give its readers some little gift that will prove both useful and enduring. In this way we have sent out thousands of climbing rose bushes. They were, of necessity, small when they left us, yet planted and nursed by loving hands, many of them have spread over country homes where they now cling, strong and beautiful, a constant reminder of good will. In the same way we have given books, such as "The Business Hen," "The Farmer's Garden" and "The Rural Cook Book." We try to make these books, like the vines and shrubs, useful and enduring, so that they will be kept for constant reference and use. Now we come with a book of a different character, in the hope that it, like our other gifts, will bring a message that will prove permanently useful. This year we wanted to give our readers a story, not one that would simply afford amusement, but one that would take up boldly and plainly some hard problem of farm life, which the plain people of the country have been forced to work out. The quickest and easiest way to obtain a story is to go to some professional writer with a plot and engage him to fill it in. This is what we at first expected to do. The objection to this plan is the fact that while such a writer would, no doubt, prepare a more polished literary production, his char- acters would be imaginary. Not having lived them such a man could not feel in his heart and soul the scenes which he attempted to portray. I have always believed that there are among the readers of THE RURAL NEW-YORKER men and women who have lived strong and self-sacrificing lives, who therefore know what it means to struggle with real farm problems, and who are also capable of giving their message to the world. We have found that just such flesh-and-blood experience put in forcible and homely language is what our people appreciate in other things, and we believe it is what they want in a farm story. With this idea in mind, we offered a prize for the best story of farm life. Some 50 persons competed and after a careful and painstaking review this story, "Nell Beverly, Farmer," was selected as nearest our needs. I will not anticipate the reading, yet I want to say a few words about this story. The captious critic may say that it is crude in places, and not highly polished. He might also, with truth, say the same of the daily lives and conversation of thousands of plain people who work our farms and maintain our farm homes. What I like about this book is that it is a true flesh-and-blood picture of plain farm people. The characters are all taken from life, and not 497734 one of them can be said to be impossible. There is no straining after effect, nor any attempt at "fine writing"; it is simply a book just like the people who live in the country : clean, plain and true. There is not a line in this book that could possibly harm anyone. No one can read it thoughtfully without being made better for it. The story appeals to me, perhaps, more than to others, because it brings to mind my own mother's lifelong sorrow because she could not bring up her children in a home of her own on a farm. If she could have had such a farm home, where each one of us could have done some little work with our hands to help out, our family could have been held together. As it was, with no real headquarters, we were separated, and life has never been what it would have been with any of us could we have had a childhood together on the farm. I know that many who read this will go back in memory to the old farm home, and thank God for the mother or sister whose life was spent for them. I like to have people read these things; I like to have them think them and live them. Nell Beverly and her mother had the insight to see that the future of their family demanded a hard sacrifice for the home. The way the girl responded, laying her hopes and ambitions aside, will touch the heart and help to glorify the lives of thousands of men and women who in their younger days silently carried the burdens which others laid upon them. The true foundation of society and character is built upon just such homes as Nell Beverly toiled so hard to maintain. We are taught from our childhood to reverence and glorify the spirit which sends a man into battle to fight and die, if need be, that his country may live. We need more of that education which shall teach our younger people that it is yet nobler and truer to live so that our country shall not die. I like the book, too, because it is so full of human nature, and the hard truths which every man of middle years must acknowledge. How many strong lives have been ground out in the long struggle with debtl No doubt there are some who will say that Nell Beverly should have been willing to mortgage the farm or borrow in order to obtain capital. She sternly refused to do so, and she was right as her family was situated. I hope the experience, which is here so graphically portrayed, will nerve others to shun debt and easy borrowing as they would a pestilence. To my mind, the spirit of the untrained girl, realizing all that training and culture would do for her, yet resolutely giving it up because duty called her away, is full of the noblest pathos. I feel this because I know so many men and women to whom life has denied the training and education for which they longed in their youth. Most of them, like Nell Beverly, have lived through the cruel disappointment of it with a sweetness and patience which has given them a spiritual power that they never dreamed of. If I could take the young men or women of 20 and make them feel and know just what it means to be 45, after living such a life as Nell 9 Beverly lived, I could make the next 20 years of our history the most glorious years this Republic has known. Another scene true to human nature is that wherein Bob Beverly suddenly realizes what he has done in forging his sister's name. That impulse to confess the sin, to rush back to the one who had been wronged, cursing because his utmost speed seemed too slow, is imbedded in the heart of man. Bob could not help doing just what he did and retain any self-respect or real character. He had needed all his life just such a shocking lesson of what sin would lead him to. People have called this "the New England conscience," but it is really one of the primal forces in man's nature. It was much the same with Searls Jackson, a much stronger character than Bob. Some great crisis was needed to break down the old habit and the pride which had been handed down to him through a long inheritance. A happier scene is that in which Searls and Nell walk up and down the field, he holding the handles of the plow and she walking at his side, "talking of the wondrous love that was theirs." The world is so full of stories which merely amuse or entertain I We hear so much of wickedness, or some aimless or improbable life which gives no worthy incentive to plain, honest people who can only hope at best to glorify a humble station and a simple place in the world, that we are glad to give our readers this strong, simple, true story. It stands for the things which THE RURAL NEW-YORKER has represented for 20 years. HERBERT W. COLLINGWOOD. CONTENTS CHAPTER I. P AGE The Little Red Baby 7-14 CHAPTER II. The Grip of the Normal 15-30 CHAPTER III. The Ancient Prophecy 31-36 CHAPTER IV. Planning 37-49 CHAPTER V. Bob 50-62 CHAPTER VI. Nell Begins Farming in Earnest 63-76 CHAPTER VII. Sarepta Barry 77-87 CHAPTER VIII. Solving Problems 88-98 CHAPTER IX. Lucille Saves the House 99-104 CHAPTER X. The Golden Fleece 105-119 CHAPTER XI. The Prodigal's Return 120-127 CHAPTER XII. The "Hoss Trade" 128-138 CHAPTER XIII. Friday the Thirteenth 139-151 CHAPTER XIV. The Election 152-164 CHAPTER XV. How Bob Made Good 165-173 CHAPTER XVI. The Barrier 174-183 CHAPTER XVII. Sweet Out of Bitter. . 184-190 CHAPTER I. THE LITTLE RED BABY. The Thanksgiving recess of the Winthrop Normal School was at hand, and the girls of the A Division of the Juniors were exchanging merry farewells in the cloakroom when one of the teachers, coming to the door, asked for Miss Beverly. "Professor Trowbridge wishes to see you a moment in the office," she said. "Guess you are in for a lecture now," chorused a half dozen teasingly. "Can't you remember doing some terrible thing, such as talking out loud in the library, or dropping the dictionary, or or " The girl hurried away laughingly. Most of the pupils were in great awe of the principal, awe mixed with fear, for his patience was lacking when his rules were deviated from in the slightest degree, but Nell Beverly had never shared that feeling. He looked up from his desk cordially: "I thought I would tell you, Miss Beverly, that we hope noth- ing will prevent your returning," he said kindly. "You have a great future ahead of you; a remarkable one, I may say. No pupil that we have ever had here has done as well as you. When you come back I think we will promote you a little give you observation work, perhaps. You are destined to be a star pupil of the Winthrop Normal, and if you finish as well as you have promised, your position will be assured. How would you like to stay here as one of our teachers ?" The girl went out into the keen snowy air with her brain filled with the highest hopes. How pleased her mother would be; she could hardly wait until the slow local had crawled into the West Winthrop station, a dozen miles away, at seven that evening. Her brother Bob a big boy of fifteen two years her junior, was waiting for her in the snow, which by that time was assuming the bluster of a midwinter storm. "Hurry up!" he called brusquely, "the sooner we get home the better." 8 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. She stepped into the sleigh, tucking her bundle of books care- fully under the seat. "Three days of study at home,'* she said gleefully. "Oh, Bob, you don't know what good news I have to tell mother." "I guess you won't tell her much good news to-night," he answered. "There is a houseful of women there and another boy." She gasped. It came like a shock. Some way in her happi- ness and absorbing interest in the Normal School she had not realized the import of what she knew was coming. She had not been home in two days ; there had been a reception by the teach- ers the night before, and she had stayed. She had been so happy. Her heart smote her at the thought, and she questioned about her mother. "All right, I guess," the boy answered. "It blows too hard to talk. I want to keep Dora a humping till we get home." The girl felt chilled to the heart. Mingled with her love and anxiety for her mother came the fear that she could not return to the Normal and after all that Trowbridge had just told her, too. She did not think of the baby at all. He was just an incident, a sort of interloper in her plans, and she put him from her mind. All she wanted was just to get home; to be once more with her mother, and hear from her own lips that all was well. Presently they drove up to the front door, and her father opened it promptly. The warm glow of the lamplight streamed out into the sifting snow, revealing sundry drifts that were begin- ning to cover the wide stone step. She stepped over them into the warmth of the little hall, where four small children were hud- dled on the stairs in a state of suppressed excitement. They followed her into the sitting room, imploring her to guess what had happened. While hastily removing her outer wraps she amused the children by the wildest guesses, finally bribing them by the candy she had brought, to tell her the wonderful news. Then, as she was warm, she went upstairs to her mother's room. A faint wail greeted her ear as she softly opened the door. A neighbor sat in front of the small stove with a bundle of flannel THE LITTLE RED BABY. 9 in her lap. The girl, did not look at it, but went directly to the bed, and bent over the pale smiling face on the pillow. "Nothing matters in all the wide world, mother dear, but you," she said lovingly. "I have had a hard fight, Nell," said the mother, weakly, "but it is all right now. The little man is twelve hours old. I guess I am getting too old to bear children easily. Have you seen the baby?" The girl shook her head. "I don't want to. I don't want to see or know anything but you. We had enough without him, and he brought you to this this pain, this danger " she began to sob, but checked herself resolutely. The sick woman tightened her hand on the girl's strong fingers. "You must not speak that way, Nell. It is very wrong. This last child has the same right to an existence that the rest of you have had. He is the innocent cause of my suffering, but this is forgotten now " her smile glorified her face. "Some day he will probably be our greatest comfort. Who knows but that I shall yet be like our ancestress, who in this very house gave birth to sixteen children. You know it was said of her, that 'Sixteen children sat with her At the table of the Lord.' " She quoted the lines brightly with a flash of her happy nature shining in her eyes. "You know that her first child, the eldest of the ten girls, helped in bringing up the rest. She was my grandmother, Helena Beverly; and perhaps she is reincarnated in you. Who knows ? The girl laughed at the conceit, and kneeling by her mother's bed told her all the wonderful things which the future held in store for her. Then with a glance at the slumbering red baby she went down stairs to attend to the work; for there was much to do in that family. Although she was well trained in work, yet it was not easy to step into her mother's place, for there was the old man, Grandpa Beverly, past his three-score and ten; her 10 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. father, and brother Bob ; then the five small children, the oldest a girl of seven. No wonder that she did not think the baby was needed there. She was happy the next day, Thanksgiving, when she held full charge of the house, and cooked the big turkey and the vegetables. Her mother had prepared the pies and cranberries two days before, and while the family feasted in the old kitchen Mrs. Beverly lay content in the wide bed upstairs with the red baby by her side. She would soon be up again, and Nell, her brilliant Nell, could go on unhindered in her chosen way. But she was not very strong on Sunday, and Tuesday Nell hoped to return to the Normal. The little red baby was fretful and puny, and required considerable nursing from the woman who was helping with the work, but she agreed to stay several days longer, so that the girl could return to the school. The snow before Thanksgiving turned to rain Monday afternoon and when it was nearly dark Joe Green stumbled into the kitchen and asked for the old woman. "It is no use talking" he said, "but she has got to go home with me to-night, fer I am about dead." "But we can't spare her," cried Nell quickly, turning from her ironing. "I must go back to school to-morrow, and mother can't sit up .yet. The baby is only four days old." "I can't help that," he insisted doggedly, "you will have to git somebody else. There haint a bone in my body but what is as sore as a bile, and it's chances whether I can git outen the be f i to-morry mornin'. The old woman will hev' to come home and do the chores and look atter the young uns." The girl looked at him and saw that he was suffering. One arm was tied up in a handkerchief sling. He was limping on a rude crutch; there was a purple bruise on one cheek, and his clothes were streaked with mud and snow. "What has happened to you anyway?" she asked. He settled himself heavily in the wood box by the door, dis- daining the chair Nell proffered him. "When a feller feels as had as I do, settin' on a few chunks of wood don't make no THE LITTLE RED BABY. 11 difference," he grunted, "fer one place wouldn't be no softer than anuther nohow. Fact is, I hev been tradin' hosses with Searls Jackson. You know he's hum from college," he added meaningly. The girl blushed. "Yes, go on," she said hurriedly. "Well, I'd had it in my mind fer a long spell that I'd do him on a hoss trade if I could ; fer I hadn't fergot how he'd done me on a cow trade onct. Now, he didn't lie any. All he said was truth, but he didn't tell the truth far enough, and I thought I'd give him a dose of the same medicine. So when I got that bay mare of mine, and found she was as full of tricks as a woman, no dependin' on her whatever, I made up my mind that I would soak Searls on her. My, but she is a purty beast, and until you know her, you would think she was a lamb that had by mistake been put into a hoss's hide. Smile, why I have seen her grin all over her face almost human, with her ears forrard and lookin' as if ready to kiss you if she could; and fust you'd know she would grab you by the scruff of your neck with them teeth of hern, and after I'd whaled her she'd haul off and kick until no mortal man would 'a dared go near her. So this mornin' I hitched her up and went over to see Searls. We haggled fer a long time, fer he knows a hoss from top to bottom. I ain't denyin' that I lied some, but I can't say that he did. He told me everything fair and square that I ast him. I said when he brought out the prettiest little black gelding that I had seen in a long time, that I'd swap fer him if he would tell me the truth about him. He said : What do you want to know ?' So I ast a string of questions a yard long, and he told me straight on every one of 'em, I believe. But I never ast him ef he'd get mad in the rain," he groaned dismally. The girl laughed. Joe continued dolefully: "We made the swap, and I druv away, feeling purty good. Accordin' to Searls' answers I had jest bought an angel with hoofs that could make ten mile an hour easy. As long as I druv around West Winthrop here, he went all right, but the minnit I reined him on the Winthrop road then he began to show his dis- 12 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. position. He thought he had gone about fer enough in the rain, and he guessed that he wouldn't go no further with the rain in his face ef he could help it. He kept a goin' slower and slower until finally when about half way down a steep hill he stopped plumb and didn't give a hang that the democrat was a runnin' on his heels. I tried my persuader on him till it broke, and then he jest laid back them ears and began to kick. And say, Miss Nell, did you ever see the fur fly in a cat fight? Tain't nothin' to the way his heels went. The fust kick splintered the dash- board, the second sent me kitin', fer he took me when I was a standin' up in the wagon and sent me head over heels into the mud over the front axle, and while I was a pickin' myself up he kept them heels a flyin' until he had kicked himself clean outen the traces, and the last I saw of him he was a flyin' back towards Jackson's barn with the harness a dangling frum him, and me asettin' swearin' in the road. Pierre Benoit cum along jest then an' brought me as fer as here. I'd most rather a man would lie a little than to be so blamed truthful," he added mournfully. After Joe Green had departed with his domineering old woman Nell went up to her mother's room. For a few hard moments she had struggled by herself with her disappointment and her duty; but her love for her mother triumphed, and her face wore a cheerful smile when she knelt by the sick woman's bed, and laughingly told her of Joe Green's disaster. "I know he had been drinking a little, and the horse had the most sense of the two, for he was going to Winthrop to get some- thing more," she said. "Now don't say a word," as Mrs. Beverly began to speak; "a few more days at home won't make such an awful difference. Father will go to-morrow and see if he can get somebody else to take Mrs. Green's place, and even if he doesn't, he and Grandpa and Bob will help me all they can until you are better again, and," she added lovingly, "nothing in the world matters but you, mother, nothing at all." But no one else could be found, and in a day or so Nell realized that she could not possibly return to the Normal till New Year's, There was so much to do that she did not have time to THE LITTLE RED BABY. 13 dwell on her own disappointment. The little red baby required almost constant care, and her mother's convalescence was slow. Grandpa Beverly looked after the younger children, and her father and Bob assisted all that they could in the housework. Besides, there was the necessity of keeping up a bright face when with her mother, but the woman was not deceived. She knew the bitter longing in the girl's heart, and she sympathized with her deeply. And she also knew that though Nell gave patient care to the baby yet she did not love him, and that she regarded him is an interloper. But at Christmas time Mrs. Beverly began to take her old place in the daily work, and Nell's hopes of returning ito school at New Year's were again raised. A bright Monday, and the girl and Bob were doing the family washing. The boy had carried in the water and lifted the heavy tubs, while the mother had laughed with them from the rocking chair while caring for the baby. At last, when Nell went out with the final basket to the line, Mrs. Beverly laid the sleeping child in the cradle, and started down cellar for the vegetables for dinner. A few moments later, when Nell came happily in she was startled by the rush of cold air from the open cellar door, and her ear caught the heavy groans of pain. But an instant, and she was lifting her mother in her arms from the broken cellar stair where she had fallen the stair her father had always intended to mend. She carried her to the couch in the kitchen no more conscious of her weight than if she had been a child. Pausing only long enough to call to Bob she began to apply what restoratives she could, and while the boy raced Dora for the doc- tor, she knelt by the side of the dying woman with a feeling as if she was turned to stone. The little children screamed with terror at the sight of the unconscious mother who had never failed to smile for them before, and Grandpa Beverly, though crushed with grief, took them away and amused them. The red baby wailed in his cradle, but the girl did not hear him. She was praying, praying, praying humbly that her mother might be spared, but when grave Dr. Dixson entered the room and felt of the feeble pulse, she knew without being told. An hour, two 14 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. hours passed. The father and Bob knelt with her by the couch. The Greens came, and the old woman cared for the baby while the man strove to hide his emotion. By and by there was a smile on the face, and the mother spoke. Nell was alone with her at that moment. "I felt it was to be so," she said, "and Nell, my brave girl, it is all left with you now. All the little ones, their future their home is with you. You will love them, Nell." The girl assented chokingly. "Oh, mother, if it could only be me- if it could only be me." "No, dear. I am tired, and I have been tired so long. I am going to rest now. It is the baby and Bob, Nell. Bob is like his father, a wanderer ; look after him, won't you ? And the baby, the little red baby, I want him again, Nell, for the last time." He was laid in her arms and she kissed, with gray lips, the little face. "The last thing I can ever give you, Nell, it is this baby. You must love him, as I have loved him," and the girl with her heart torn with the most bitter anguish promised, and kept her word. Finally she spoke again. "And Grandpa, you must keep his home for him ; and for your father. He may wander again ; don't let him go you must look after the home the farm. It all comes on you, as it has always been on me to look after things," she whispered. Presently it was all over. There had been a final smile for each ; and with the words "The baby and Bob, Nell," and "Into Thy hands, oh, God " Helena Beverly, with a smile on her face, passed into rest, and the little red baby wailed in his sister's arms. CHAPTER II. THE GRIP OF THE NORMAL. The first terrible week was at an end before the girl realized that there would be no more Normal School for her that year. She had not even thought of it in the awful intervening days, when the readjustment of their daily life was taking place. Her grief was so terrible. She had never loved anyone as she had loved her mother; they had been all in all to each other; and often she found herself wondering dully why she did not die too. She could not see how her life could continue pulsing in her veins when her mother's life had gone out. But the luxury of brood- ing over her own sorrow was denied her. She had to think with her father and grandfather, and had to plan with them the arrangements that were made. She had to comfort Bob poor Bob who had also worshipped his mother, and who was almost crazed with grief. And the old grandfather and the father, too, though both turned to her as they would have turned to the mother for sympathy and comfort if Nell had been taken instead. Then there were the little children. Seven-year-old Lucille and five-year-old Madaline who were old enough to know what had happened, and sought Nell to take their mother's place. Then the three babies; Manning in his fourth year, Kenton, twenty months, and the little red baby that wailed continually when awake and would be good with no one but Nell. Her cup was brimming full, though the neighbors were more than kind. Mrs. Green stayed with her constantly, and Searls Jackson's mother did what she could. Her father talked with her one night when the Winter snow was heaping high the grave that had been filled for more than a week. He spoke of the Normal School and of his anxiety that she should continue her education there, and he wished that it could be managed then, though he could not well see how. There was not much money, but he would hire it on the stock. Mrs. Green could be engaged to come there every day and look 16 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. after the children, and she would take the baby and care for it all the week through while Nell was away. He had been talking with her about it, and that was the best he could do. Although the Winter term was nearly half through perhaps Nell could make up her studies. He was crushed and broken-hearted. The girl realized in- tuitively the sacrifices he was willing to make for her sake, and her heart went out to him in a great wave of pity and love. Some way her father had never commanded the love and rever- ence from her that her mother had done. In her early childhood he was away from home nearly all the time, traveling from place to place as a civil engineer. He had been only home for a few weeks at a time until after Lucille was a baby. Then he had yielded to his wife's entreaties and had taken up the farm, as Grandpa did not feel equal to the task of carrying it on any longer. It needed a younger man, and he was anxious that his only child should bring up his children to love the ancient Beverly estate. But Jason Beverly was not a farmer. It was a favorite remark of his that the farm was no place for a smart man, and her mother had always replied that it was just the place for a smart woman ; and the girl knew that her mother had always been the real head of the farm, planning the routine of crops from seed time till harvest, which her father carried out with the help of Joe Green and other hired men. In town business, for he was first selectman, he would work faithfully and interestedly, but the farm was always secondary. Forever his mind was dwelling on the Golden Fleece, which was to be found elsewhere, and when he began to speak of the future, that it would be necessary for him to go back to his trade to earn the money necessary to carry on the farm and support the family, the conflict between ambition and duty which was struggling in the girl's soul came to an abrupt end. She realized that the wanderlust had again taken possession of him. She knew by his restless wandering from window to window, and the look in his eye as he followed the windings of the road which led southward down through the flats, following the river which led to the sea. Her mother's THE GRIP OF THE NORMAL. 17 final charge rang in her ears. She almost heard again the words the dying lips had spoken, "Do not let him go; keep him from wandering." Another woman undoubtedly could look after the baby and the children, but there was no one to care for her father and Bob but herself. And her place was at home. The Normal School could wait she was young yet perhaps in a year or so she could return. And she spoke these thoughts to her father while telling him of her plans. At fifteen she had begun teaching in the little school house some five minutes' walk from her home. The school had dwindled down to eight small children, and no teacher would take it for five dollars a week and board herself. So when Mr. Jackson had offered the school to her she had accepted it as her mother had counseled her to do. And she had had great success, enjoy- ing every hour of the time, and fairly reveling in the wealth of the one hundred and eighty dollars she had earned each year. That money had bought so many things, and had given her that one delightful term at the Normal, for Mrs. Beverly had clearly foreseen the time that was coming when Nell would lose her school unless she was trained. The district had had a Normal teacher that term, a girl who had never entered a district school before, and who made wretched work in trying to introduce her methods and the ways of a city school into the country. The board had dismissed her in disgust, and they had come to Nell with the request that she take up her own work again at seven dollars a week. The girl was glad to go back if her father was willing. The little baby was beginning to thrive on his bottle, and slept several hours at a time. Mrs. Green would do the cooking, washing and cleaning, and between them they could manage the rest, for she would take the two little girls with her to school. So it was arranged, and the middle of January found Nell back in her school, while her father and grandfather managed the best they could in the house, and Bob did the chores at the barn. She had no time to dwell on herself or own grief and bitter disappointment that Winter. The thoughts of her blighted ambi- 18 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. tion she put from her with a strong hand. She was the only comfort now that the family had. They all turned to her for sympathy, for advice and for the home, as the sunflower turns to the sun. Her mother's mantle had fallen on her shoulders, and she strove to follow in her footsteps. Her father needed her dreadfully, and as the days passed they grew very close together, and in his devotion to her he made up in part the loss of her mother. Thus two years passed, and the little red baby had become a beautiful child of two, Carlos, they called him, and next to her father Nell loved him the best of anything in the world. Hope and ambition were high in her heart again. She w r as to return to the Normal at Thanksgiving, for there seemed no reason now why she could not leave home. But that week brought the second great sorrow which entered her life. During the beautiful Fall weather her father had put off shingling the house. Town interests had been more important, until finally, just after he had opened the house a heavy storm of sleet and rain compelled him to complete his shingling during the gale. The result was three days of unconsciousness in double pneu- monia, and he was laid by the side of their mother in the ceme- tery, and Nell was left alone with the old grandfather, to care for the home and the little children. The handwriting on the wall she could read easily. There was to be no more education for her. She was to be father and mother both to the children, and she feared that she would be entirely alone, for grandpa was bowed to the earth with sorrow by the death of his son. Again she put aside her own misery and comforted him and Bob. Poor Bob! He had inherited his father's nature and the wanderlust in his blood could not be quenched. She tried to be patient with him, shi tried to hold him by her side tried to make him feel that he must share the burden of caring for the little ones, but he would not listen. He could not and would not stay there after his father was gone. Everything on the place hurt him he was going to put his sorrow behind him and go into the world, where THE GRIP OF THE NORMAL. 19 fame and fortune awaited him, and at the beginning 1 of the New Year he went, and Nell and Grandpa Beverly bore the burden between them. The young fellow came back frequently; he had great plans, and for two or three years Nell followed him implicitly, follow- ing his ideas and paying the bills as far as she could, although everything always turned out differently from what he had planned, and his schemes always proved disastrous in the end. He would begin bravely, but would not hold out. He hated farm work, and no matter how urgent or pressing the work might be he would not stick to it a whole day at a time, to say nothing of applying himself for a week or a month; consequently help always had to be hired, and Nell had to pay the bills. In the Spring he would plow more land than they could cultivate, planning for immense crops. Help would be hired till the fields were planted, and then, as there was never enough money to hire a man constantly during the season, most of the crops would be choked with weeds and die of neglect, and each year the family found itself running into debt. Fifty dollars behind the first year ; more the second, until now at the beginning of the seventh year since Nell and Bob had been "farming" they were seven hundred and fifty dollars and seventy-three cents in debt. The debts never troubled Bob. He would only shrug his shoulders when Nell spoke of them. 'They are better able to stand the loss than we are to pay them," he would say carelessly. "Anyway, if Nell would only listen to him and get Gramp to sell the blamed old farm, they would pay up everything and go to some city where he, Bob, could make money. He could make money anywhere." That was true enough, Bob could. He was a genius as far as being able to do anything in the line of work. When a boy he had picked up telegraphy in a marvellously short time, and if he would have settled down to the monotonous life of a tele- graph operator he would have been a valuable employee of the railroad. He had held one situation once for ten weeks; then bad thrown it up in disgust. He would not waste his life pound- 20 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. ing the keys for anybody, he said. Since then he had often been employed as a "spare" by the company, filling a vacancy of a few days at a time, not to exceed two weeks anywhere, for he would not stay longer. But he was faithful while he worked, and the company would have kept him in their employ if he would have stayed with them, but that was not Bob's way. Instead he liked to drift from place to place. He could always strike work, for he could do anything. He was an expert team- ster, for he loved horses; he was a competent "J a k Carpenter," and the contractors were always glad of his help. He could shoe horses, set wagon tires, file saws, was a fair machinist, keep books, clerk in a store, brake on a train, run a gasoline engine or a dynamo, and lately had worked around a garage, learned to run an automobile, and had taken out a license. Knowledge that most men have to dig out by hard labor came easy to him, so easily that he did not value it. He had worked with a veterinary surgeon at one time, and had picked up so much useful knowl- edge about the diseases of animals and the necessary remedies that he was looked upon as an authority by the neighborhood. Consequently with his great versatility of gifts he looked down upon and despised the people who were content to plod along doing the same things year after year. He considered himself superior to the rest of his family and the world in particular. He was care free, and prided himself upon being a good fellow, though he seldom had more than a dollar in his pocket, and was lucky to have more than a change of clothes. He felt no respon- sibility toward the younger brothers and sisters. Nell was a fool to stay on the old farm. She could influence Gramp to sell if she would, and then they would go to the city, where the chil- dren could be educated, and he would soon put them in a way to be rich. Why, fellows with half his brains had millions. Just give him a few thousand to work on and he would wake up the world. Then the financiers would sit up and take notice. Grandpa had been willing enough that she and Bob should do the farming. He was not a natural farmer, any more than his son had been. Born and brought up on the old place which had THE GRIP OF THE NORMAL. 21 been owned by seven generations of Beverlys since the first Robert Manning Beverly had migrated from England about 1680, he had an inherited love and pride for the farm, and for his ancestors who had been the first settlers in the town. Edu- cated at Yale, for many years he had been a professor in different seminaries and academies, until obliged to retire on account of a throat trouble; then he had returned to the farm, where his son Jason had brought his young wife, who was of the same Beverly blood as himself, for after several generations the blood of the oldest daughter and youngest son of the sixteen children had mingled in the seven descendants of Jason and Helena Beverly. Pre-eminently a scholar, Grandpa Beverly would leave the hay- field if the translation of an abstruse Greek sentence was in his mind, and there remain till he had solved it to his satisfaction. But with the mother guiding the farm machinery the family lived comfortably, though not making money. After she was gone they still kept things running without contracting any debts they could not pay, though Jason Beverly was always the kind who would run one debt to pay another. "No man can get rich till he runs in debt," was a favorite saying of his. Bob believed it and practiced it, and Nell acquiesced until Carlos was nearly eight years old ; then she put her foot down resolutely. She had enough of wild-cat schemes. Hereafter she would pay up all obligations and make no more bills. One more year of teaching and the path would be easier to travel. The constant struggle during the more than seven years that Nell had been mother to the little family had not embittered her. She had faced each day bravely, doing the best that lay in her to do ; and there had never been a night in all that time when she had lain down to rest but that she had felt she had accomplished some lasting good, something that would work out in the end for the betterment of the family. She had never idly bewailed her lost youth. When other girls of her age had frittered away their hours in gay pleasures, she had worked long days in the school- room, where her work had been crowned with success. "The best school in West Winthrop" was the verdict of the town people 22 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. and of the school board. Her pupils always passed the entrance examinations to the high, or passed from her school into schools of their own, well grounded in the fundamental rules of learning. Grandpa's library and grandpa's scholarly brain had been of immense help to her; and had made up in part her terrible dis- appointment in not acquiring the higher education for which her soul had longed. She never dwelt on her disappointment, and seldom spoke of her ambition for herself. It was no use. After her father had gone, and the terrible realization was borne upon her, that never for her would the wide halls of learning be opened, she resolutely buried her own desires and planned for the little children, and with grandpa's help she had succeeded. The old man, crushed as grief alone can crush the aged, had unselfishly put aside his own personal sorrow determining to grow young again, and help the girl bear the load which was bending her young shoulders to the earth. He had not much money beside the farm; but after another marble shaft had been erected in the silent city he had freely put his last cent in the family pocketbook, and besides he had given himself the costliest and most precious gift of all. Mrs. Green had been hired to do all that Nell could not manage, and grandpa had paid the bills. Day after day, when Nell with the older children had been in the schoolroom, he, with Kenton and little Carlos as constant care, had worked in the field, or done the daily chores. Where grandpa went the two little boys were also, until old enough to enter school. Then his burden was lighter, but hers was just the same. She was thinking of all this one drear windy day in late August, a day when the golden rod flamed in the cold wind and the skies wore the gray of fall. Alone, a thing which she seldom was, she had leisure for anxious thoughts. Each year the grip of the Normal was tightening on the schools of the land; thus far she had escaped, owing partly to her unusual skill, and partly to the friendship of Professor Trowbridge, but she knew and knew well, that her chances for obtaining her school for another year were trembling in the balance. She had held her position THE GRIP OF THE NORMAL. 23 the past year through Trowbridge's influence, against the advice of the State Board, which had placed the adjacent town of Win- throp under the jurisdiction of the Normal, where their raw graduates could win their spurs. Never had she worked so hard in her school as she had that past year never had the pupils done as well. Seven had passed the examinations for the Win- throp High without being conditioned, an unusual record for country schools. With the knowledge of her own capabilities, coupled with her dire necessities, she had persuaded herself into believing, and hoping against hope, with the odds against her, that she should have the school again. The town and district had been as anxious as she ; the school board had authorized Searls Jackson, who was also hiring com- mittee, to make a personal appeal to the Normal Board. Joe Green had gone to each man, woman and child in the district with a crudely-worded and written "partishun," as he called it, for them to sign, and which he had mailed to Trowbridge himself, asking that Nell be retained. No wonder she believed that she could be given one more year just one more year and she would be able to struggle to her feet against the heavy burden of debt and family expenses, which were becoming 1 more and more grievous every year. The last year she had paid over a hundred in bills, and had contracted none that was heavy. This year she hoped to pay two hundred at least and run no more. She could not count on Bob for anything; yet it was his place as well as hers to provide for the younger ones, who needed more and more. If she could not have her school she put the thought from her resolutely. She must have it. Surely God would influence the mighty ones who held her fate in the balance to grant her one more year ; just one. She struggled as one struggles in a nightmare against the dread that filled her heart if the school was taken away. Searls had gone that day to see about it. He would surely bring good news. She put aside her forebodings and began to sort over some old papers in the desk. She had some old compositions she had writ- 24 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. ten when a child, she wanted them for the little boys. Besides, it would take her mind away from her worriment. A little half sheet of old-fashioned note paper slipped out of her composition book. On the outside was written in big letters "Girls S. W. J." She opened it wonderingly. Then she remembered. The year she was seven her mother had taught the school. Searls, then a boy of twelve, had been requested to write a composition on girls, and her mother had always saved it. It read: "Girls are silly. All but one. She is N. B." That little scrap of yellow paper! She remembered how often her mother had laughed about it as she grew older. Big, bashful Searls, who never willingly spoke to a girl in his boyhood. Perhaps there were other little things which her mother had kept. She always liked to treasure the funny things which children unconsciously wrote, and the girl was glad that her mother had saved that brief screed. Probably Searls had forgotten all about it. She knew that she had until chance had brought it to light. She examined other papers and smiled over the reminiscences they called forth. In one corner of the drawer was a twisted bit of paper; just such a note as she had often intercepted in her own school room. Wondering what it was she unfolded it; then memory brought the circumstances back with a rush of that day when Searls, a blushing boy, had brazenly tossed it to her in school in the face of the crabbed old-maid teacher, Sarepta Barry. She remembered the ferruling he took with good grace for dar- ing to do such a thing, and how she had been obliged to stand on the floor for the sin of receiving it. This was the note, and she laughed as she read it: "Now I'm through with this school, To college I shall fly. If Nell Beverly does not go To her I'll say "good bye/ " How much that note had meant to her then ! She was but a young girl, but the love that had sprung in her heart that day THE GRIP OF THE NORMAL. , 25 had never died. Her mother had been as pleased as she with the rhyme. It was the crude expression of a boy's love but the boy is father to the man, and love grows with the years. When she entered the Normal she knew her mother's desire, that she should fit herself to be Searls' equal, for with a mother's unerring intuition Mrs. Beverly had read the heart of the young man. Although Nell had never confessed, even to her inmost self, that one of her greatest desires for an education was to fit herself to be his companion, yet as she sat with that little, soiled twisted bit of paper in her hand she knew that though life had dealt hardly with her, and she had never attained the golden heights of learning which he had climbed so easily, yet she felt that he understood why, and that he would not say "good-bye" to her because the door of opportunity had been shut in her face, and that the wide open way of self sacrifice and duty had been the only path which she had been permitted to tread. A half hope was springing in her heart. If she taught one more year, perhaps then, grandpa, who had a strange aversion to selling the timber on the place, would think better of it. Then Lucille, who was a natural housekeeper, could keep the home, and she would return to the Normal. She was young yet. Two years and she could secure a fine position after all. At thirty perhaps she would be as highly educated as Dallas Gordon, the girl whom, the gossips said, desired her school. Nell had always considered jealousy as a mark of a low mind. But she could not help, for her life, the feeling which crept into her heart whenever she thought of that girl the daughter of the judge; the girl who frequently visited at Jackson's home, and who in family, money, education, refinement and culture was in every way Searls' equal. Never a cross or burden had she known everything had always come her way, and now but the trem- bling of the balance wheel, and the school, which was hers by right of love, of sacrifice and of home, would pass into the hands of the town-bred wealthy girl as an experiment a toy; and she would face misery, and self-annihilation, and the grinding, thank- less load of paying debts which some one else had incurred, besides 26 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. the burden of educating, clothing and feeding a family of brothers and sisters; and last, but not least, with all chances of self- improvement gone, would come the inevitable end, that with her vanished youth she would lose Searls. He would want a com- panion for a wife not a drudge. She thought of the Latin proverb grandpa so often quoted: "There is no greater misfortune than not to be able to bear mis- fortune." She kissed the twisted scrap of paper. Whatever the future might bring she would bear it as she had borne the past, but she would not give up the school not yet. The evening was warmer than the day, for the wind died down to a gentle breeze. Still hopeful, in the hush of the twilight, Nell sat alone in the dusk of her room. She was quite sure that Searls would come to her that night. The last time she had seen him she had felt that there were words in his heart which he wished to say. Perhaps, if he brought her good news, he would say them. If he did, she would tell him her plans. Five years would not be long to wait. The children would be well grown then. She smiled to herself in the darkness. In the dusk she saw him driving up the road. She waited till he stopped his horse before she moved. She heard him speak to Carlos, who was trying to teach the dog to walk a ladder. Then, as the boy, too busy in his play to stop, began to scream as if in agony, she leaned from the window and called to know if he was hurt. "No ; but the committee-man wants you," he shrilled. "Stand still, Teddy won't you?" Searls had not spoken. She felt that if it was good news he would have called to her. Her heart beat so violently that it required a strong effort to compose herself enough to go down the stairs. But she forced herself to be brave, though she felt as if the world was sinking beneath her feet. She would not give up until she was forced to do so. She spoke cheerfully as she went to the gate. "So that is the youngster's method of 'wireless', is it?" he THE GRIP OF THE NORMAL. 27 said smilingly. "I did not know but that the dog had bitten him. Does he have such spells often?" "Not unless he is extra busy," she answered. "I believe his destiny is to be an animal trainer. He is always teaching either the cats or the dog, the lambs, the colt or the calves. His latest is the pig ; you ought to see him smoke a pipe. It is too funny." She forced a laugh though her lips were dry. "Like his sister, a born teacher," he returned gravely. She knew by the tone of his voice. Her lips were white as she spoke huskily : "Is it good news, Searls ?" "I am afraid not, Nell," he replied slowly. "I have been to see Trowbridge. He says that as long as this town is actually under the jurisdiction of the Normal School, the town can engage no more untrained teachers. He said he thought that was clearly understood at the July meeting of the board." "Yes," she said as he paused. "I told him everything; that the district wanted you and was very much opposed to a change ; also that the town board recom- mended that you be engaged for another year, thinking that your 10 years' experience would count for as much as the teaching of an inexperienced girl, even though she had had the Normal train- ing. He replied that the wishes of the town or the district had nothing whatever to do with it. The State had taken it up, and it was not going to allow the untrained teachers to take the places of the trained ones any longer. And he added that there was not a man in this town fitted to examine a teacher. He asked if I considered the farmers, the town butcher, the storekeeper and a horse trader capable of deciding who should teach the coming generations." "Rather rough on you, as you are the horse trader," she said a little faintly. "But he did not know that, though it would have made no difference. Professor Trowbridge is right, Nell; there isn't a man in this town, unless it is the minister, who is capable of examining teachers. I am sorry, Nell, on your account ; I've put off hiring a teacher, hoping that the State Board would let us 28 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. make an exception in your case. I had a letter from the State Superintendent to-day, and he said that in view of your efficiency and the wishes of the district, he would favor keeping you in this school, if Trowbridge agreed ; but he could do nothing unless Trowbridge approved, as all these schools are now under the Winthrop Normal School." He did not look at the girl, but he felt the misery which was gripping her body and soul. She held tightly to the gate, with strong tense hands, her unseeing eyes fixed upon the evening stars glowing faintly over the dark hill. Without a school, her school, where she had spent ten years ; without the three hundred and sixty dollars she would have earned that year, what was she to do, with all the children dependent upon her? She forced herself to speak, but her voice was dull. "Thank you, Searls. I know you have done all you could. I suppose we won't starve, but, but " she dashed away the tears and choked down a dry sob. Then through the tumult of emotion which filled the girl's mind flashed a new thought like a sudden burst of pain. "Have you engaged a teacher?" She asked the question hurriedly. "Well, yes, I have," he stammered hesitatingly. "Who is she?" "Dallas Gordon, one of this year's graduates. She won first prize for methods of teaching and physiology, and Trowbridge considers her his star pupil. Perhaps you don't know her, but she has had all the advantages of home and of college training, and is indeed a fine girl. She belongs here, too, and if there must be a change, of course she would suit our people better." The man spoke slowly like one who hesitates for words. His eyes did not meet hers as he spoke, but glanced over the house and yard, where lay the signs of grinding economy and hard denial which were so clear to him. Man-like, he could not under- stand ; could not see how his very words, as he spoke them, were beating down the last hope in the girl's heart, her faith in his love for her. THE GRIP OF THE NORMAL. 29 For a moment Nell burst out in indignation. "But why should she, who has no trouble or care, who has no need to teach, has no one depending upon her, have the education and the school which are denied to me? What have I done that fate should treat me in this way? Why should she take my school and " She mastered herself with an effort as she realized what she was about to say. Then the great misery of her grief and dis- appointment flooded over her and dimmed her sight, and she bowed her head for support upon the gate. There are times when all men and women are tried as by fire, when the dross is burned away to leave the gold, or else they flinch from the heat and leave the gold hidden. In these supreme moments smaller things are forgotten in the great conflict which must sooner or later come between love or selfishness and duty, and that was the day of testing for Nell Beverly. The vision of all that seemed lost to her flashed through her brain; it seemed so hard and so cruel. She knew now, as never before, why she had longed and prayed for education and training. It was in order that she might be this man's equal. He had never seemed so much to her before as now, when this other girl, with all the advantages which God seemed to have denied her, was to come into his life. The man sat awkwardly waiting for her to compose herself. As he watched her there flashed through his mind a picture he had seen of a peasant woman in Europe climbing a hill with a heavy burden upon her back. She had gone on and on without complaint when added loads were strapped upon her, with the great patience of love and lifelong habit. Once she had been young and fair, like this girl who leaned upon the gate, but her back had been bent and her beauty wasted by carrying the burden and the sorrows of the world. "If there is anything I can do," he began. The girl had mastered herself at last. Her face was white, but her eyes were dry as she raised her head. "I didn't mean to break down," she apologized. "There will be a way out of the wilderness, I know ; there always is, there always has been." "If there were not so many children," he began awkwardly. 30 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. "Oh ! don't say that," she implored quickly, her voice thrilling with pain; "it hurts me to have you say that; I cannot bear to have it said. It is just exactly as if some one said, Too bad there are too many kittens,' and then proceeded to drown all but one. There are not one too many in my brood; mother gave them to me, all of them, the little red baby and all, and I have done the best I could for them, and I will do it to the end. They were all I had, all that mother could leave me when God called her, and they are all I have now." The young man was silent. In the face of that grief and after that supreme struggle between love and duty anything that he might say seemed out of place. He leaned from the carriage seat and caught her hand. "If there is anything I can do, you will let me know?" "Yes," she said slowly and quietly, "I will let you know." He did not look back, but she stood by the gate until the last sound of the wheels had died away. Then it seemed that with that sound something that she had cherished also died within her. It was so hopeless after all; this hard life of toil and drudgery, denied forever the right to fit herself to be the true companion of the man she loved. As she turned to the house at last a twisted bit of paper crackled in the front of her shirtwaist. It was the little verse which Searls had written so long ago, and as she groped for the handle of the door to pass in to her hard duties her eyes were blurred with tears. CHAPTER III. THE ANCIENT PROPHECY. She felt old and weary as she went in the house. Lucille, now a tall dignified girl of fifteen, looked up from her book, and asked drily if Searls Jackson had been proposing, as the reason he had stayed so long. "Worse than that," Nell answered soberly. "He came to tell me that I could not have the school." Lucille looked at her steadily; her face growing almost as pale as Nell's. "Can't have the school ?" she repeated. Then she added in a strained voice, "Whatever are we going to do?" Nell shook her head hopelessly. "With no money coming in, and all those debts, and nothing but this farm that does not pay " continued Lucille tragically. "What is Searls Jackson thinking of to not let you have the school? Didn't the district give him the petition for you to stay ,here?" "He isn't to blame it is the State. I am not trained. That's all there is about it," Nell answered resignedly. "You have been crying. I see you have. It's, a mean shame, that's what it is. I'd like to tell the old State, and Trowbridge, too, just what I think about it," said the girl warmly. "I'm glad that I decided not to go to their old high school ; there would not have been any money for it anyway. Can Madaline go now ?" Nell glanced at her younger sister, who had just entered the room. She had her algebra in her hand, and had evidently been studying. Her eyes were big with excitement. "Don't say I can't go to the High," she pleaded, "don't say that, Nell." "We will manage so that you can go, Madaline," Nell spoke decidedly. "We must give you a chance, so you will not be crippled when you are a woman. And Lucille, we will manage your music, too." She was not going to burden the girls if she could help it. "Has grandpa gone to bed ?" "Yes," said Madaline, "and so have the boys, all but Carlos. Did you want to tell grandpa what Searls said?" "Not to-night," Nell answered weariedly. "It must be nearly 32 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. nine o'clock. Perhaps things will look brighter in the morning. I wish that Bob were home. You girls would better retire soon. No, I am not going to cry, Lucille," she protested as the girl put her loving arms around her. "I I was just thinking what a mighty unfair place this old world is anyway, and in my cup it has been all of bitter and none of sweet." Nell thought of all her perplexities as she sat in the old kitchen that night, with no company but the cat which purred unremittingly in her lap. Over and over again she went over the bills; over and over again she tried to puzzle a way out of her difficulties, until at last, as the room grew chill, she realized that she was exhausting herself to no purpose, and would be better off in bed. She put the disgusted cat out at the east door and bolted it; then she tried the two other outside doors, the west one which opened from the sink room and the front door, facing the south, and found that Lucile had locked them. Then as the clock struck eleven she slowly climbed the stairs to the front chamber, which she occupied with the girls. She passed directly through it to the north room where the three little boys slept. The trundle bed had been pulled out as usual, but Carlos had tumbled into it without undressing properly. He had taken off his shoes and his coat, and had apparently fallen fast asleep while pulling off his stockings. The cool wind from the north window was blowing directly upon him, and his face and arms were cold. "Croup to-morrow night most likely," observed Nell, as she roused him enough to divest him of his clothes. "Won't you ever learn, Carlos, to undress yourself properly?" she asked as he opened his sleepy eyes when she rolled him into the bed and pulled the warm blanket over him. He blinked drowsily and murmured that he was going to make a harness and hitch the pig and dog together. "I shall call one Teddy and the other Bill Bryan and and " the last was unintelligible, for the little fellow was in dreamland again. Nell looked at the other boys. Slender little Kenton was curled up in Manning's protecting arm, and both slept peacefully. She pulled the quilt up over their shoulders and left the room. THE ANCIENT PROPHECY. 33 Luciile woke as the lamp light flashed in her eyes. She sat up and 'asked Nell if she had been sewing. "Not sewing, but thinking. I did not realize that it was so late." "I have been thinking, too," the girl rejoined, "and perhaps to-morrow we can think together." "You and grandpa will have to help do the thinking after this. I think I will talk with him awhile to-night. His lamp is still burning." She crossed the little hall and knocked at his door. "Come in," he called, wheeling around in his chair from his study table, which was littered with Greek and English dictionaries and some Arabic manuscripts. "Trying my hand at my old interests, Arabic translations," he said. "I am glad to find that I recall them easily and " he stopped short at the sight of Nell's distressed face. "What is the trouble ?" he asked, rising with old-fashioned courtesy and offering her his chair. "Are you sick ?" She declined gently. "Sit right in your old place, grandpa. I will take this old rocker and face you. Just what you have predicted has come to pass." "The school?" She nodded. "I feel like Joe Green when he said he was 'between the old woman and the devil, and didn't know which was the wust.' Between debt and no income what are we going to do?" The old man laid down his pencil carefully on the table. He folded his manuscripts and put them away. Then he leaned back in his chair and gazed at the girl. The rays of the student lamp fell over his fine intellectual face and scholarly head, with its high dome-like brow. He did not look his years his hair and beard were but little gray, his gray eyes bright and his voice clear. A little lame, he toyed with his cane while he spoke. "I would suggest that timber being sold," he said, "if it was not for the prophecy." "The prophecy?" she repeated. "I did not know there was such a thing." 34 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. "Yes," he answered. "I have always known of it, and it is written in one of the old journals that the first Beverly in this country kept. It relates to the old trees on the knolls yonder." He went to the east window and raised the curtain. The early moon was flooding the flats which reached from the house to the river, the eastern boundary of the farm, with silvery light. He pointed to the knoll which raised itself like a sentinel on the north side of the mowing lot, and which was crowned with majestic trees. To the south of the lots were other high knolls, like shoul- ders standing against the evening sky, with their wealth of timber which had never been disturbed by the ax. "This is the prophecy," he continued. "When the first Beverly purchased this land of the Indians there was a little half-breed Indian girl whom he adopted. As she grew up she saw visions and dreamed dreams. She would spend hours by herself on the knolls, but preferably the one to the eastward. That is where her ancestors had built their tepees, and she loved each inch of the ground and every tree on the knolls and flats. In one of her visions she uttered this prophecy: 'Into the hands of the stranger shall the Beverly lands be gathered When the ax lays low the giant trees which rise on the knolls to the eastward.' And from father to son," added the old man, "we have never cut those trees; never a living tree has fallen by the ax, and I hope they never will. The only trees ever cut on this place were when this house was built. The great wide planks of the kitchen floor were sawn from trees that grew in the west pasture, and our grandfather always regretted having cut that tree. A tree has always been to me like a friend. If those trees should be felled I should mourn them like friends. It takes fifty years for a tree to grow the lifetime of millions and who are we to destroy them ?" he asked reverently. After a pause' he continued: "No, Nell, those trees must never be cut. If they do the prophecy will be fulfilled. When Bob has urged to have them cut, I refused, but kept still, for I THE ANCIENT PROPHECY. 35 knew he would laugh at the prophecy and think it a good way to get rid of the farm. But I know you do not feel that way." "Indeed I do not," she returned warmly. "I am glad I know of the prophecy, and I shall respect it, and I know all the younger children will also. I know now why all of our wood has always been taken from the west pasture, though it is so hilly and hard to get it there." "My father set out trees up there for wood. I planted chest- nuts and other trees, and I want you to do the same. That is why we always have a good wood lot, and if you keep it up you will continue to have. Besides, those trees up on the hill there enable us to have any crops at all on the flats. If they were not there, the water which pours down the hills in heavy rains would gully the earth down here and wash everything away. Some day New England will appreciate her trees. Our orchards will be a great thing for the land also. We are going to get several bushels of nice apples this year from the old orchard. I think I would better get to work on those trees again. Joe Green would not think I was almost dead if he could see the orchard work I am able to do," he said, chuckling as he returned to his chair. "The trend of the times is toward education," he resumed. "I am glad that it is, although it comes very rough on you now, Nell. I think Trowbridge could have listened to the wishes of this district and let you remain in the school. You have been right here for ten years, lacking one term, and no other can suc- cessfully take your place. But that is not our business. The question is, what are you going to do now? Wait for Bob?" he asked sarcastically. "Hardly," she replied. "I am going to see what you and I can do with it now. It used to pay when you and father ran it. Why can't it again?" "It will have to be brought up to condition first. It has gone back dreadfully in the last six years. When I was a boy it was the best farm in the country. One hundred and sixty- five acres ought to support a family, I should think, if properly 36 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. managed. But I have been so busy in my studies that I have not paid much attention to farming these late years." "I know that, but I think it is high time that you did." The ring in her voice was decisive. "My mind, for all these years has been entirely on my school during the school year, and in vacation on the thousand and one things necessary in caring for the home and bringing up the children. If it had not been for you, Grandpa, I could never have done it after Father went away and Bob became reckless. But I won out on both home and school problems, and I believe that if you and I both work for the farm as hard as we worked, you in helping keep the home together and I in the school room, we can at least keep from contracting any more debts." "I was always opposed to debts in the first place," said the old man. "I know you were, and if we had listened to you in the first place we would never have had any bills to meet as we have now. I was to blame in letting Bob make them. I was foolish enough to hope that the school would go on forever, and I am almost glad that the turn in the lane has come now, for I am sure there is a way out of the wilderness, and I am going to find it." After she had left the old man in the quiet east room, with its book-lined walls on two sides and family portraits of past Beverlys on the other, she felt fairly hopeful. She slept till the first gray light was stealing into the south window, and her first conscious thoughts were of independence. What she was to do in the future would be done without any reference to Bob whatsoever. And as she combed her hair before the small old- fashioned mirror she saw her new self shining in her clear hazel eyes. Within the last ten hours she had become a new person. She was neither crushed nor broken-hearted, but resourceful and purposeful. Other people made farming pay. Searls Jackson did, and even shiftless Joe Green did not accumu- late debts. She was going to do as well or know the reason why. She and she alone was the hub of the Beverly wheel. CHAPTER IV. PLANNING. The house, built about 1750, stood with its gable end toward the road, which ran north and south, having been built that way to suit the ideas of the architects of that time, who decreed that the front door should open to the exact south. Hence the "front door" of the Beverly farmhouse opened into the driveway which led from the road around the house to the barn and sheds on the east; a big ugly carriage shed stood on the opposite side of the driveway, so there was in fact no front yard at all to the place. The house was built around the great stone chimney, after the fashion of those times. On opening the south door one entered a narrow front hall, from which ascended a flight of steep stairs to the chambers, with a cubby- hole closet under the stairs. From the east and west ends of the small hall, doors opened; the east one leading into a large room, which was Bob's room when he was home; directly over it was the grandfather's private study and chamber. The west door led into the front room of the house, where stood Lucille's piano, and it was woe to the boys if they dared to pause while going through its sacred precincts, for in that room she expended all her surplus energy in desperate efforts to keep it immaculate. The kitchen opened from that front room; a long narrow dark room on the north side of the house; a middle room, shut off from the western light by a small room used by the early Beverlys as a bedroom, and by them as a dining room. The east door of the kitchen, a great door wide as two modern doors, opened into a big east entry, which was always wall- decorated with coats and caps; a sort of stamping-room from the barn and fields, and always the despair of Lucille. On the northeast corner of the house was built an ell, con- taining a sink room, which opened to the west, toward the road, and consequently was the real "front door" of the house. Besides the sink room, the ell contained a big square pantry 38 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. used by the early Beverlys as a cheese and milk room, but by the present family as a dairy, where stood the expensive sep- arator which Bob had insisted on buying three years before, when they stopped selling milk to the Boston Milk Company and joined the creamery association. Bob was so sure they would get rich then; the cream would bring good prices, and the skim-milk would fatten the calves and pigs. The project looked good to Nell also; Searls made money that way, but they had not managed well some way. The cream check was all right, but their cows were milk producers and not cream- makers, and the pigs and calves really ate their own heads off before ready to market. That venture had plunged them a hundred in debt, and Nell had given a note to meet fifty of it at Thanksgiving. She thought of all this as she descended to the kitchen. The room was cheerless and cold in the pale light which crept in the two north windows. The wood-box was empty, and there were no kindlings. She remembered that the boys had been conjuring with some one of Manning's endless inventions the previous night, and they as well as she had forgotten about the wood. She went out of the east door, over the wide neat wharfing which Grandpa had built around the house, down the stone steps, across the driveway to the woodpile; but as she expected there was not a stick of wood; there seldom was, so she was not dis- appointed. A few old fence rails and apple tree limbs were scattered about. She lifted them on the saw-horse, and with the dexterity born of frequent practice she sawed them up into several armfuls of wood; then she split up a few shingles and old boards for kindlings and returned to the house. She soon started the fire in the big expensive range. That was her extravagance, but she felt well justified for having bought it, for no matter how bleak the Winter day the old kitchen was always comfortable. Lucille came down as the breakfast was nearly ready and set the dining room table. She was full of the school subject but was interrupted by the boys, Manning PLANNING. 39 and Kenton, who rushed with a whoop through Bob's room, the east entry and into the kitchen. Nell turned on them abruptly. "What made you take the longest way around?" she asked. "Why didn't you come through the front room, the way you always do?" " 'Cause Lucille had locked the door," said Manning. "I heard her turn the key the old fuss-budget." "What did you do that for, Lucille?" demanded Nell warmly. The girl drew herself up to her full height and answered decidedly: "I am not going to have those wild Arabs racing through that room all the time, littering it up as fast as I clean it. Last night, while you were out talking to Jackson, Man- ning brought in his water-wheel and Kenton his kite: just as if there was no other place in the house for them to go. I drove them out and to bed, and they are not going through that room again if I can help it. It's bad enough when you are sewing in there on the machine ; for they will always go where you are, but when I am boss they must stay out." "And Bob raises the roof if we go through his room," said Kenton, "There is no place for us boys anywhere." "We can go out the front door, then come in the east door, I suppose," said Manning, "unless Gramp kicks because we go on his boulevard. That will be fun in a blizzard." "The boys can go from their own bedroom into the attic room over the kitchen and down the back stairs into the east entry," declared Lucille. "I'm not going to have such big boys racing through our bedroom after this; and I'm going to lock the door and keep them out ; that's all there is about it." "Lucille is right," said Nell firmly. "The way for you boys is down the back stairs, and see that you come that way, too. And now, Lady Lucille, you unlock the door into the front room ; both doors, too. The boys are not going to be shut out of the only decent room in the house, but they shall not litter it up. I will put my sewing machine in Bob's room to-day. He is here so seldom that I shall use that room after this as I need it ; and i NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. another thing, just as soon as the cows are milked, you boys must get wood enough to last all day. Not one stick did I have this morning." Manning whistled. "I forgot all about it," he said regret- fully. "But say, Nell, I've got the dandiest idea for a water- wheel. I'm going to make a dam, and then we will flood the flats and cut ice in the Winter. Won't that be great? And . you can take your school money and build an icehouse and " "There won't be any school money," said Nell, as the four sat down to the table and Nell poured out the coffee. "You are going to have a Normal School teacher. Miss Helena Ursula Beverly is passte" "That's a jolly idea," said the boy. "I suppose she will be like the other Normal girls they have had in this town, who treated all the children as if they were kindergartners and let them play. Bet a cookie she won't be as strict with us Beverly kids as you have been, Nell. I shall cut up if I get a chance." "No you won't," Nell spoke sternly. "If you do you will catch as much as you ever did, when you get home. You are going to help Miss Gordon to succeed in school. I'm not going to have it said that we are playing the dog in the manger over this school. We are not going to criticise anything, no matter what we think; and you children have got to behave just as well and better than you ever did with me. Do you understand?" The boys nodded and became interested in their oatmeal. When Nell put on her schoolma'am face and spoke with her schoolroom voice the whole family paid attention. Grandpa came down to breakfast and began to speak of what he could do on the place. He resented being called "old," and neither Nell nor the others ever referred to him as feeble. It was a favorite saying of his that a man was as young as his arteries; and as Dr. Dixson had told him that his arteries were like those of a man less than sixty, he was wont to refer to himself whimsically as a boy. "A man gets to seventy," he would say, "then he begins a new life, if that is the allotted time; hence PLANNING. 41 I must be about ten years old and growing younger all the time, right up to twenty-one again. Who knows?" "The other day, when I was working around those young apple trees which we recently purchased," he began, "Joe Green came along. He remarked that I was a fool to set out trees at my time of life I would never eat any of the fruit. I told him that I did not know about that that I had got so firmly fastened in the habit of living that I had no notion of stopping; and I thought my chances of life were as good as his, for I have never abused my system with whisky and tobacco. He remembered just then that his old woman wanted him, and went away muttering that whisky and tobacco 'never hurt nobody/ But I am going to show him now what a young fellow like me can do. I shall not live forever, and " "Don't," protested Nell with tears in her voice. "Don't say such a dreadful thing, Grandpa." "But I can't," he persisted dryly. "What a looking creature I would be a thousand years from now if I kept on living! All I said was that I should not live forever, and you won't either. I offered to bet with Joe that I would live twenty years ; that I was as sure of that as he was of forty, but he would not take me up. I am going out now to look over the farm and see what I can do to help push the wheel along." Nell turned to the boys. "If you are through with your breakfast you must hurry to the barn and do your milking. The cows must be turned out directly." "You had better get a hustle on you, Kenton," cautioned Manning. "When Nell looks like two schoolma'ams and speaks like three it is time the kids of Beverly took notice." "And after milking the woodpile comes next," remarked Kenton mournfully. "Not milking the woodpile, but the cows," corrected Man- ning cheerfully. '"Hustle up, kid, for after we get our chores done we can play, can't we, Nell. He has promised to help with my water-wheel if I help him saw up the dead woodchuck Ted killed yesterday." 42 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. Nell promised laughingly, and with a shout the boys raced to the barn. Manning separated the milk with the help of Lucille. "Two of the cows do not give enough milk to pay for their feed," she observed. "We ought to sell them and buy new ones." "I wish they were not driven right past our front door every time they are turned to the west pasture," Lucille fretted. "There is not another place in town where cows promenade twice a day in the front yard as they do here. Can't they be turned out the back way? I know that I can fix up the bars which lead into the lower lot if you will let me do it, so they could go that way, and then drive them through the north lot to the road. Bob always said there was no use in their going that way, it would spoil the grass ; but the grass there now won't hurt, and I don't think he should be boss anyway." "You can get the boys to help you and fix the bars to suit yourself," Nell agreed. "After this, Lucille, whatever we do on this place shall be done independently of Bob. I feel as if I had signed a Declaration of Independence since last night. I will get Madaline up to help do the work, and you look after the boys at the barn." "I fed the horses as soon as I got up," said the girl, "and I will turn them into the south lot with Blanchie. She will be the best horse we have ever had yet, Nell. And Carlos has already taught her to shake hands and bow her head. I think you had better make him and Madaline get up. There is no sense in their staying abed all the morning." Lucille took hammer and nails and started to the bar-build- ing. Nell heard her talking enthusiastically with the boys, who had begun work on the woodpile. Then she called Madaline, who came down languidly with a Greek grammar in her hand. "I took this out of Grandpa's study last night, and I have been studying it for quite awhile in bed," she explained. "And now you will have to study dishes and brooms for PLANNING. 43 awhile if you expect me to sew on your dress. Did you call Carlos?" "I looked into the boys' room, but he wasn't in the trundle bed. I thought he had got up; his clothes are gone." "Then he must be in them." Nell went to the east door and called his name. An answering "yes" came from the swill house, and the small boy appeared a moment later. "I was teaching the pig to jump the rope," he called back hoarsely. "Of all things !" Nell made a dash for him, brought him into the house without ceremony, thoroughly greased his throat and chest, dosed him with croup medicine and set him down at the breakfast table before he realized what had happened. Then she issued orders. He was not to play out doors at all that day, but he could have the dog in the east entry and teach him all the tricks he wanted to. He begged for the pig, but Nell was firm. "Lucille would simply die if we brought Nero into the house," she said. "The idea of having a dirty pig in here; the dog and lambs are bad enough, and after you get through with Teddy, Madaline will bring Buster and Bruiser if you want them." The boy capitulated reluctantly. "I like to teach Nero the best of them all, and he isn't dirty; he is just as clean as any old girl when he is washed," he grumbled, but he had to give in to Nell's orders, and make the best of a day's confinement to ward off his frequent affliction the croup. Nell was eager to begin work on the farm, to do something to make it pay, but her hands were full of other tasks that day. Madaline reluctantly and languidly did the housework. She hated it, but Nell could not be disobeyed, and besides she was sewing for her. Grandpa spent the morning in going over the farm, leaving his study entirely alone, and he announced to Nell at noon that he was going to set out a new strawberry bed, and trim up the long rows of currant, raspberry, and blackberry bushes, for he believed that they could make that fruit pay with proper cultivation. Nell heartily agreed with him, and after 44 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. dinner he began work eagerly in the long neglected strawberry bed. Lucille and the boys had conjured up a fair pair of bars, so that the cattle could be turned out through the barnyard. The boys rilled the woodbox ; then went off to their play. Lucille sat down with Nell at the sewing machine in Bob's room, and began to plan with her how the expenses should be cut down and the bills paid. Madaline amused Carlos, who was not sick enough to appreciate being kept in, and yet not well enough to play out doors. The older sister was surprised at the womanly view the fifteen-year-old girl took of the situation. The other children did not realize that there would be no more money coming in regularly to supply their wants, but Lucille did, and was troubled. "I think," she said abruptly, "that you ought to sell two of the cows. The cream we would get from their milk would not pay for their grain, and besides the hay will give out before Spring. And I think it would be well to turn off four or five sheep. You know you spoke of this to Bob in the Summer." "Yes, but he opposed, and said it was giving things away to sell in the Fall, but I have been thinking the same way this morning. If Carlos had not been half-sick to-day I should have gone to see if I could not have turned the cows on that note. You know that must be paid by Thanksgiving." Lucille nodded. She drew a letter from her pocket. "This was in the mail to-day. I hated to show it to you, but I have to give it to you I suppose. I opened it." Nell's face paled as she read it. Two years before Bob had persuaded her to go into the poultry business. Incubators and brooders had been bought, purebred stock purchased, and of course she had given her note. It had all been paid but thirty- seven dollars, which was on demand. The "demand" had come and there was no money. "Mr. Marsh must have heard that I could not have the school," she said. "That is the way with these men ; they always jump on a person when he is down. Whatever am I to do, Lucille?" she asked helplessly. "With seven to care for, their. PLANNING. 46 food and clothing, the expenses of the farm, a run-down farm, too; these bills to be paid, and no money. Debt is the worst thing in the world, and I will never, never run in debt a cent again. I feel as if I had a millstone around my neck crushing me to the ground." The girl had no advice to give. Outside in the east entry they heard Madaliue's clear voice and Carlos' hoarse tones as they played with the lambs. The warm August wind came in through the window screens, and the flies buzzed fretfully out- side. Nell's eyes listlessly traversed the western side of the panelled room, and lingered on the great feathery bunches of asparagus in the empty grate, then followed the heavy beams along the low ceilings and the Summer-tree stretching straight across from east to west. Madaline's new dress, a pretty per- cale, lay on Bob's bed. It seemed to stare up at the Summer- tree even as she stared at it. She spoke her whimsical thought to Lucille. "That dress seems to wonder as much as I do where the money is coming from to meet the debts. I wish that Summer-tree could speak." "We would be scared if it did," said Lucille practically. "I was wishing we had some of the money which was spent in panel- ling this wall. Do you suppose the old Beverlys had such trouble as this?" "No, for they never ran in debt. I remember that Grandpa said no Beverly for a hundred years had contracted bills till we did, and if I have my way no Beverly shall for the next hundred." "This Beverly won't," the girl answered confidently. "If I thought it was safe to leave Carlos with you I would go this afternoon and see about selling one of the cows. We must pay something on the grocery bill anyway, and manage not to run any more bills. We must cut out everything we can, and plan to economize closer than we ever did ; though it has always been economizing ever since I was your age. What do you say ? Do you think you can look after Carlos and keep him from going out doors?" "No !" Lucille's tone was tragic. "I can't look after him. I 46 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. could keep him in the house, but you would not be out of sight before either Grandpa or Madaline would bring in Nero, if he asked for it. It's bad enough for him to have the lambs in the east entry, but he shan't have the pig." Nell laughed. "Well, I guess one day will not make such an awful sight of difference, so I will stay at home myself in order to keep the pig out of the parlor. Some one has driven in the yard. Who is it? Another bill collector?" "It is Joe Green," Lucille answered, looking out of the window. "He is hitching his horse to the shed." "Let him in the front door; unlatch the screen," Nell ordered nervously. "I don't want him coming through the east entry where the lambs are. He would tell his wife, and she would have another canniption over my slackness. I'll see him in the front room." She gathered up her sewing and darted through the hall. Lucille unsmilingly opened the door. The big burly man, with a breath redolent of cheap whisky, slouched past her with a sickly grin, and settled heavily into a chair by the door. Nell remained standing, waiting for him to speak. He fumbled with his hands ; then muttered that he had heard she was not going to have the school. "Yes," Nell's tone was quiet. "And I think and everybody thinks that it's a mighty mean turn-down Searls Jackson has give you," he continued loqua- ciously. "Folks is sayin' that that Gordon girl is going to have it, and that she is going to board there. There's money in the Gordon family, and as Mis' Jackson and Mis' Gordon was school- mates tain't nowise likely but that Jackson will be a marryin' her, and" "What did you want to see me about, Joe?" Nell interrupted. Her face had grown white, and Lucille restrained a strong desire to invite the man to leave the room. "That's what everybody is sayin'," he continued with an apologetic grin. "And everybody is sorry for you, Nell. Them darned Normalers don't know nothin'. Guess now the Flats school will go to the dogs. What did I want to see you about? Oh, about my pay. You know I wuz to have it Thanksgiving, PLANNING. 47 but the old woman sez, sez she, 'J oe / sez sne 'tain't nowise likely Nell Beverly will have it at Thanksgiving, and as we need another cow/ she sez, sez she, 'you ask her if we can't have the Jersey right away; it will jest settle the bill, so I stopped in here, on my way back frum Winthrop, to find out." "I will talk it over with Grandpa," the girl replied slowly. "I was planning to-day how I could pay you. I know your bill has run ever since Spring. I will let you know in the morning." "And as soon as that's paid I'll do your Fall work if you want me too," he said rising. "I don't want to be hard on you, Nell, but you know I am a poor man, and and the old woman and " he stopped confusedly. "I know. Good-day. Lucille, be sure to latch the screen, the wind blows the door open, you know." She walked firmly from the room, into the little dining-room, and stared blindly out of the window. Lucille returned to her immediately after she had gravely latched the door. "It's a good thing both windows were opened all the time, or I should have had to burn coals on a shovel in order to fumigate the room, after that whisky-whim- perer," she said scornfully. She put her arms around her sister. "Are you looking at the cows ?" she asked. "They are all feeding there on the brow of the hill." "I did not see them," Nell replied. "I did not see anything. I was wondering why God ever created me ; why He ever placed so many burdens on my shoulders. Lucille, if we let him have the Jersey, it will cut our cream check almost half. She is the best cow." "How much do we owe him?" "Just what the cow is worth. He offers a fair price. I shall have to let her go." "Or we can't get him to do the Fall work ?" the girl asked. "Not that. For we must do the work ourselves ; but because he must have his pay. I wonder who will come dunning next." After the children had gone to bed that night she talked it over with Grandpa. At first he was opposed, but he finally agreed. There was some fine young stock coming on another year, and he thought they were not so very badly off after all. 48 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. He was sure that he could do a good amount of the Fall work himself, and when the girl went to bed she felt more hopeful of the future. She had taken Carlos into her bed that night, for she was fearful of the croup. The first brassy cough roused her from her slumber. The attack had come, but it proved to be light. She worked quickly, and in an hour the boy was much better, but it was near morning before she dared to trust herself to go to sleep. When she woke the clock was striking seven. She started guiltily. When had she ever slept so late before? The opposite bed was empty; both girls had gone down stairs. By her side Carlos was still sleeping quietly. He smelt strongly of skunk's grease, but his breathing was natural. She looked in the boys' room after she had dressed. It was empty. Lucille had man- aged so that she should have a long rest. Madaline came softly up the stairs a moment later. "Joe Green has come again and wants to know about the cow," she said. "He is out in the road." Nell lifted the curtain and called to him. "You may have the cow after the first of September, but not before." "It's all right as far as I'm concerned, but the old woman " "The old woman is not working for me, and you will take her then or not get her at all," she interrupted decisively, turning away from the window. "His old woman will give him fits," laughed Madaline. "I'm all right now," piped Carlos from the bed. "Can't I take this old rag off my throat?" "I did not know you were awake," said Nell, turning back. "I will see how you are after you say your prayers." "I heard your schoolma'am voice," said the boy. "Was it the skunk's grease that cured me, Nell, and shall I say in my prayer that I am thankful for skunks?" "If you like," laughed Nell. "I think the Lord will under- stand you. Madaline, you help him get dressed." "And I'm going to try to catch a baby skunk and teach it tricks," he called after her as she went down stairs. Lucille greeted her smilingly. "You are a lazy girl, Nell. Breakfast over an hour ago, but I've kept yours hot. I heard PLANNING. 49 you disciplining Joe Green. Why don't you let the cow go now ?" "On account of the cream check. It's only five days more, and I need all the money I can get. Carlos seems to be all right now, and to-day I mean to begin to run the farm in earnest. By having forethought and care I saved Carlos from a severe attack of croup; and I do not see why the same forethought and care applied to the farm will not work out our salvation. I'm going to be the farmer, and I will let you be the housekeeper." "Good," said the girl. "I've been thinking of lots of things I can cook cheaply and so save part of our grocery bills. Will you let me go ahead as I like?" "Do what you like, my dear. I am the H. U. B. of the Beverly wheel, and you will be the main spoke. I've decided that Bob is to be out of the running. We will sink or swim on our own responsibility." CHAPTER V. BOB. Nell reasoned that if she applied the same force of thought to the farm problems that for ten years she had used in the solving of Greenleafs brain twisters in the National Arithmetic, she ought to find the solution to them all in time. There was a masculine bent to her brain inherited from a long line of brainy ancestry. Her position, since her parents' death, of breadwinner for seven had intensified that faculty, so that now she was able to face the complex situation better than most women could do. With Grandpa and Lucille as her right and left arms she felt able to meet all obligations if she was only granted sufficient time. Everywhere she went, she found people were sympathiz- ing with her; her heaviest creditors were willing to help her all that they could, by not pressing her for money. The grocer, to whom they were owing a bill which had been accumulating for five years, was kindness itself. He hesitated about accepting the heifer which Nell urged him to apply on the bill, but finally did, when he found that she was obdurate about paying him that amount at least. "Grain is so high and our hay crop was light this year," she explained. "If I keep this stock I shall have to buy hay before Spring, and that I cannot afford to do, so I am saving money by turning off the stock now." So he credited her the price of the heifer, and one bill was lowered. Those were busy days before the first of September. By selling a few sheep and calves, three of the pigs, and turning the Jersey cow over to Joe Green, she was able to raise the money to pay the most pressing of the bills. There was but fifty dollars more which had to be met that year, and that she had determined Bob should help pay. It was not fair that he should skirk everything on her shoulders. Madaline started in at the High School the first Tuesday in September. Other pupils from the neighborhood were entering, and by an arrangement with the different families, each family BOB. 51 carried the pupils back and forth for a week at a time, from the railroad depot three miles away. They had taken the first week, and when Lucille returned the first morning she brought back Bob, who had left the city on the early train. Nell was always apprehensive about his return from any town, for she never knew how he would appear. She seldom let the children meet him, as it had been a matter of pride with her to keep them from knowing that he drank; but that morning it could not be avoided. He was not drunk, just excited, and he did not have sense enough to hide it from Lucille, whose sense of propriety and respectability was so outraged that she would neither speak to him nor look at him during the ride home. "Look after the beast; I won't," she said in withering tones to Nell, when she drove in the yard. Bob's handsome face flushed with the taunt. Her abhorrence was sobering him, and he felt ashamed enough to crawl out of sight. Nell treated him as usual, calmly arid apparently not noticing, but the man knew that he had forever disgraced himself in the eyes of Lucille. "Lady Lucille" he always called her. She was his ideal. Calm, dignified and exquisitely neat, he valued her good opinion above everyone's else. "What in fury's name did you let her go to the station for?" he growled savagely at Nell. She did not answer him. Instead she went to the girl, who had thrown herself on her bed choking with sobs. Bob waited around a short time. The girls did not appear, so he flung him- self savagely into the barn, and climbing on the mow, he stayed there till he had slept off the effect of his midnight supper with the boys. He appeared at the supper table, and no reference was made to the morning. Lucille was frigidly polite, Nell as pleas- ant as ever, and the younger children and Grandpa thought he had just returned. He knew nothing of the change in the family prospects. He had had a streak of luck, and was well dressed. He always appeared prosperous and dapper, and was quite a hero to the small brothers. He had been generous that time, and had bought new shoes all around for each of the children, including Nell. There were also new ribbons for the girls and a magazine for 52 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. Gramp. He felt well satisfied with himself, and considered that the family should be also. Lucille thawed slightly over her presents. They were badly needed, and Nell was very grateful. She had a long talk with him that evening. He had always opposed everything that she had proposed as a matter of principle, and consequently she knew that he would disapprove of what she had done. And he did disapprove, and that mightily. She had no business to do things without consulting him. He was the man of the house, for Grandpa did not count. What they must do immediately was to get Grandpa to sell the farm; he could find a purchaser immediately. Nell's refusal to do that angered him, as it always had done; and then he declared that if she was so mighty inde- pendent she could stay there and starve for all him. He would look after Lucille and Carlos. They were the only ones in the family worth caring for anyway. "I hardly think Lucille will accept your care after what she saw to-day," Nell remarked quietly. "That was a put-up job," he growled savagely. "You knew I was coming home, and besides you have always set the children up against me ; it's your old trick and " "Have a care, Bob," Nell warned. "I have taken all that kind of talk from you that I ever shall. You know what you say is false, and you must never say those words again." In the moon- light flooding the kitchen she appeared like their mother, as she stood tall and slender before him. Her voice had the same decisive ring, and in spite of himself the young man felt awed and humiliated. It was the same voice and manner which suc- cessfully ruled the turbulent ones in school; consequently, like the big boy he was, he hedged : "Oh, come off, Nell, from your high perch. This is no school room, and I'm not a kid you can shake. I wish you would shut the east entry door and light the lamp. I don't like so much moonlight; it's uncanny." "I prefer to save oil on such a night, and the moonlight is perfect. It is not often we get it here in the kitchen," she returned briefly. BOB. 63 "If you ever went anywhere instead of staying cooped up on this old farm year in and year out, you would not see anything so horrible in what I have done," he began again. "A young fel- low must have his fling ; and last night a few of us who had been at the Beach till it wound up for the season got together for a night. Hang it all, Nell, I've got to be a good fellow with the rest of them." "How about being a good brother?" she questioned calmly. He hedged again. "I am a good brother. Didn't I bring home the Winter's shoes, and haven't I always looked after that part of the kids' clothing? Why, those seven pairs of shoes and the other things cost twenty dollars. If that isn't generous, what is?" He spoke grandly, and marched complacently back and forth through the room. "I appreciate everything you have done, Bob, everything; and so do all of us. But where you have put in fifty dollars a year toward the support I have put in myself and all I have earned. That's the difference. And now I want to know if you are going to put in four times fifty, as you are perfectly capable of doing. There are not many who can earn the money you can, in as many ways." "If you* would sell the blamed old farm and let me have my way I would support every one of you ; but as long as you won't I'm not going to drudge my life out and not enjoy myself while I am young," he returned selfishly. "But I will do one more thing on the farm if you will agree. If you will get Gramp to sell those big trees on the knoll so as to raise the money, or else mortgage the farm for it, if he won't sell the trees, I will buy one of those portable sawmills and teams and then buy up wood lots, and cut them off. I could make no end of money that way, and you know it. That's what Searls Jackson did one year," he added, playing his strongest card. She chose not to mention the prophecy he would have ridi- culed it but listened to him patiently as he went on elaborating his plans. That was the way he had talked about the creamery, and she had backed him ; he had discoursed the same way about poultry and she had agreed; he had argued that he would make 54 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. the farm a gold mine if they had improved machinery, with the result that they had purchased several different machines, mow- ing machines, rakes, tedders, sulky plows, potato diggers, har- rows and farm wagons and manure spreaders; things which had taken her five years to finish paying for. Bob had delighted in using them on other people's farms at four dollars a day for awhile; then when the novelty had worn off, he had suddenly darted away to the city, leaving their own work half done, and Joe Green to take his place on the home farm. The girl thought of all these things, but she did not mention them. She never nagged. Instead, when Bob had finished his roseate plans, she asked quietly what security she had that he would stick to the sawmill for even three months." He would stick to anything where he was making money, he told her gruffly. He was in for the surprise of his life when she absolutely refused to consider the subject at all. For the nonce he did not believe his own ears: that Nell, his sister Nell, should refuse 'to abide by his judgment and announce her firm determination to :arry on the farm her own way, staggered him. He made a few attempts to convince her that she, being a woman, had no busi- ness sense whatever, and that he, being a man, was about the last word on all subjects. But as she was so idiotically and stupidly persistent in adhering to her own opinions in spite of his con- vincing arguments, he gave up logic, and swaggered and blus- tered in anger, until, pausing for lack of breath, he realized that he was alone in the kitchen. "Nell," he called weakly, "where are you?" "In the front room," she replied steadily. "When you will act like a gentleman I will come back and talk ; not till then." She smiled to herself in the darkness as she heard his mut- terings and quick breathing. She knew that he was trying to control himself. He acted as he had always done from childhood up whenever he was crossed. After all, he was the brother for whom she was always to care. She knew that her mother's firm hand had always held him in check, and perhaps, were she equally firm, but kind, he would mend his ways. She went back to the BOB. 55 kitchen, closed the east door against the moonlight and lit the lamp. Bob looked at her a trifle wistfully. "You are a good girl, Nell," he said, "and I am not half bad. I wish you would patch this thing up with the Lady Lucille for me. I just can't stand her dignity. It gives a fellow the jimjams." "Words do not count for very much with Lucille, Bob. Deeds count for a great deal. Best never refer to the subject, and never let her see you excited in such a way again. You will win her favor if you will pay for her music for a year. A few more terms and she will excel any girl in West Winthrop." Bob pulled his pocketbook out eagerly and emptied the con- tents on the table. "That's every cent I have, Nell, and just to prove to you that I am not all hog, I'll do what I can. Here is enough for Lucille's music," he passed her the money "here is a ten spot for Madaline to keep her with books and etceteras at the High. It will go for awhile, and here is a half for each of the boys; and here is another tenner for you. There, that leaves me pretty near broke, but there is plenty more where that came from. How is that for being a good brother, eh ?" Nell's astonishment was not greater than her pleasure. "You never had so much money at a time before, Bob, as this. How did you happen to strike so much wealth ?" Her eyes were directly upon him. With all his failings he was truthful when pressed on a subject, though he never volun- tarily told of things when he knew that Nell would disapprove. "Well !" she interrogated, sharply. "We had a stiff game last night, and I was lucky enough to win," he said. "Don't look as if I had broken the Ten Com- mandments. I am not a gambler, and have never played for money a half dozen times in my life. But I did last night, and as usual was lucky. That's all there is about it. You are not going to make a fool of yourself and refuse to take the money, are you, just because I won it in a fair play, from a lot of fel- lows who if they had kept it would have spent it before now on whisky and women? If you do, you will be the first fool by the name of Beverly." Nell's New England conscience was urging her to spurn the 56 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. money and starve rather than take it. On the other hand her common sense told her that if she did such a thing she would certainly lose all influence over Bob, and probably drive him directly to the devil; besides, the money was needed so dread- fully. "I shall not refuse it," she replied briefly. "It will do good here, but I wish you had won it by work, honest work. You may give the children theirs yourself." "It was won by working my brains. It takes brains to defeat card sharps, and that is what I did," he chuckled, "but on the level, Nell, I do not care much for play. I haven't got the gambler's itch added to my other sins." Nell sighed. "You are all right in streaks, Bob ; the good and bad is pretty well mixed in you. You are like father; that side of trie Beverlys had the wanderlust in their veins. You will be like him, always wandering until you marry. A woman will be the making of you. I have told you so ever since you came of age." He laughed. "Women and girls do not interest me. I have never spent a dollar on any girl yet but my own sisters. You can't lay that to my door, Nell. I have no use for the girls what- ever; they are a lot of silly nothings, just hanging after the men for their money. When I see a girl that isn't a grafter, first, last and always, then I'll ask for an introduction. Girls!" he ejacu- lated scornfully. "Not for yours truly." "That is where you and Lucille agree. She has no use for boys any more than you have for girls. I do not think we need to discuss either matrimony or farming any more to-night, Bob. The clock will strike ten presently and that is bedtime for coun- try folks. Besides I am tired. Digging potatoes and picking apples is not the easiest work in the world for a school teacher." "I'll attend to the potatoes to-morrow, and get Green to help fix up the work," said Bob complacently. "You were a fool to let him have the cow." "Green is not coming here to work again unless he is paid every day," the girl returned firmly. "There will be no more bills run, Bob, for anything whatsoever." BOB. 57 "Well, I've got no money left, now, but he could wait a spell, just as he always has done, and " "We will not discuss the subject, Bob. If you will pay him cash down for services all right ; if not he stays away, that's all." He growled to himself, but did not answer at once. Nell quietly brushed her long gold-brown hair and braided it prepara- tory for bed. The deliberate striking of the old-fashioned clock broke the stillness. Bob rose from the rocking chair and took his lamp, which Nell had lit. "You have made ten fools of your- self, Nell, and will make ten more before the year is out, if you persist this way ; you will find that business cannot be done with- out credit. Why, a man never gets rich till he runs in debt. It's the keystone to success, credit is, for credit brings capital." "We are bright and shining lights of the debt system which leads to riches. Rockefeller isn't in it with us," observed the girl ironically. "You are just Gramp right over," he returned irritably. "You run your head against a stone wall, and haven't sense enough to get away from it. Well, there is no use to argue with you. Rea- son was never in a woman and never will be. You have fixed it up with Gramp in such a way that I don't count at all. Now I am not going to offer any more advice, but just let you go ahead and run the blamed old farm into the ground; and the sooner you do it the better. I say, what do you put your sewing machine in my bedroom for?" he demanded turning back at his door. Her explanation that it was to please Lucille mollified him, though he considered himself as being decidedly misused by Nell. She would take his money, but not his advice. Well, it would not be long before she would come to him for counsel, and then he lost himself in a maze of dreams, where money was coming to him in veritable showers, and where he was playing Prince Boun- tiful to his unappreciative family. He was in good humor the next morning. He bestowed his gifts on the children as soon as they were awake, and Lucille's smiles proved that she had forgiven him. The breakfast hardly suited him; there was no meat, and nothing but coffee, oatmeal, with plenty of cream, and fried potatoes. Nell made no apolo- 58 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. gies, and he made no comment. After the meal he put on his overalls and went to the potato field. He worked faithfully, and came up at noon hungry for dinner. The table was ready with a big bowl of steaming vegetable soup, flanked by baked beans and a dish of macaroni. For dessert Nell served baked sweet apples and cream. "Didn't the cart come this way yesterday ?" he inquired scowl- ing at the table as he sat down. "I suppose so," Nell answered indifferently. "It never stops unless we hail it." "We don't buy any meat now," said Carlos. "We can't afford it, Nell says." "Then how can she expect to work ? A man must have hearty food if he does farm work. This is another of your fool ideas of economy, I suppose." "It certainly is. With a thirty-dollar meat bill to pay I am certainly not going to add to it, and as I have no money to buy meat consequently we go without," she answered serenely. "Who cares for meat?" said Manning. "This vegetable soup is the right thing. Lucille fixes things up boss with some butter and cream." "And I could not get any bones for Teddy, only as I make him earn them," piped Carlos. "I took Teddy down to Green's the other day when the cart was there, and I asked the meat man if he would give me some bones if Teddy would do his tricks. I'll show them to you after dinner, Bob. He stood on his head, he walked on a ladder, he danced and when I asked him which he would rather do, 'die or go in debt,' he just tumbled right down dead with his paws up in the air. And you ought to have heard the meat man laugh. He said he would be dollars to doughnuts ahead if that was his policy." "You will have to wait till you are home from school to-night before you show off Teddy," cautioned Lucille. "Besides, Bob won't be through with his dinner as early as you boys are." "And what do you suppose, Nell, Kenton told the teacher to- day?" continued Carlos eagerly. "It was in his spelling lesson and he missed the word debt. He spelled it 'd-e-t'; and when BOB. 59 she asked him if he knew what debt meant, he said quick as any- thing, 'Yes, Miss Dallas, it means "destruction." Nell says that there ought not to be any "b" in "debt" anyhow.' " "You must be careful how you quote me in school," cautioned Nell. "The teacher will not like it, and after this, unless she asks you your authority for anything, never mention me. Will you remember, boys ? I mean each one of you." "Yes'm;" three boyish faces bent over their soup. Kenton raised his to remark in self -extenuation that all the other scholars did. "They may if their parents allow them, but it is wrong for them, just the same. Miss Gordon is the teacher now, and they must abide by her ways and forget mine." "Miss Gordon, didn't Carlos say Miss Dallas?" queried Bob. "That's the Normal way of addressing teachers," explained Manning. "She told us all yesterday that we must call her Miss Dallas. It is 'No, Miss Dallas,' and 'Yes, Miss Dallas/ all the time. The boys say they will have lots of fun with her. She seems to think we are all little kids; she calls the girls 'honey' and the boys 'sonny.' Shucks !" he added disgustedly. "But she is nice, just the same," added Kenton, "and pretty, too. She has soft little hands and pretty dresses. Joe Green's boy says that Searls Jackson is stuck on her already." "Oh, Jackson will look out for number one every time," agreed Bob. "You can't make me believe that he wanted you to have the school again. If she is one of Judge Gordon's daughters she will have the tin all right, and her boarding there will help the thing along. Besides, it is about time Jackson was marrying. He must be thirty." Nell left the table abruptly. Bob continued his conversation with Grandpa, who was as sore as he over the school question. After the children had gone to school, Lucille followed Nell into the pantry. "Did you come here to hide?" she asked quizzically. "I wish Bob and Grandpa would not talk about the school business all the time. It is bad enough for it to grind me inwardly 60 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. as it does without having to hear it all the time," said the older girl warmly. "But they agree on that subject, and that is about the only thing that they do think alike about; so let them talk and shut your ears," counseled Lucille. "I do." After a pause she added firmly, "But if that Dallas Gordon gets Searls Jackson from you the way she has got your school I shall tell her what I think of her." "I never have had Searls, Miss Hotspur; and he is free to marry her or you." "Me!" Lucille was disgusted. "Catch me ever marrying. You can't fool me, Nell. I have seen you and I have seen Searls. But I know enough to keep still." Bob worked well on the farm for a week. He surprised him- self, his family and the neighbors by the amount of work he accomplished. He talked of staying at home for a month, but by past experience Nell knew that he would not be contented. If he could have had his own way he would have been pleasant when 'in the house, but as Nell steadfastly persisted in her own plans, he was as cranky as he well could be most of the time. The daily living displeased him. He could not bear plain food ; he was something of an epicure in his tastes, and he wanted the best the market afforded ; then he was determined that the apples should be sold for cider; they were not marketable for anything else; but Nell stubbornly refused to do so. She would feed them to the pigs first, she said, and so she did, with Grandpa's approval. The cider question was a rap on Bob and he knew it. Nell's former patience and apparent ignorance of his love for hard cider were gone. In its place she was uncompromising on the subject, and Bob knew that he had met his Waterloo on that farm, now that his sister had so determinedly taken the reins of gov- ernment into her capable hands. Cross looks, outbursts of tem- per, or sullen mutterings had no effect. He could stay or leave, she told him. She preferred him to stay, if he would peaceably ; if not, he could do as he chose. The man in him told him that his place was there to help her, BOB. 61 or rather to bear all the burdens himself, but the wanderlust in his veins was the strongest force in his nature. It called him daily and hourly, and the second week he told her he was going to the Maine woods for the Winter ; he knew he could get a posi- tion as sealer or walking boss, and he would send her all the money she needed. She did not try to oppose him; instead she carefully prepared his clothing, and pretended she believed all his promises. The children were really glad he was going; his tem- per was too uncertain for them to enjoy his society long, and it was always pleasanter with just Nell and Gramp. The night before he went while they were sitting long at the supper table, Manning's voice floated in at the window: "Say, you folks, want to hear the new piece I've just thought up? It's called the 'Kids of Beverly/ " "Go ahead," called Bob, and the family settled themselves to listen. "Who's turned farmer the debts to quell? It is Nell; it is Nell," he sang solemnly. His audience applauded, and he sang again : "Who'll study Greek till he gets a cramp?" "It is Gramp ; it is Gramp," chorused all the boys, laughing with Grandpa. The childish treble continued: "Who is it hates to work like sin?" "It's Madaline; it's Madaline," sang the tormenting small boys, while the girl flushed with anger. "Manning is too mean for anything," she stormed. "If the shoe does not fit you don't need to wear it," said Bob loftily. The boy sang on : "Who likes to train the dog and the hoss?" "It is Carlos ; it is Carlos," chanted the whole family. "Who on the piano likes to pound and squeal?" "It is Lucille ; it is Lucille," howled the delighted youngsters. "I don't squeal," flashed Lucille. "Just let me get my hands on that boy." 62 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. "Be still," laughed Nell. "Can't you take. a joke?" "Whose poor temper gets an awful rent?" "It is Kenton ; it is Kent." "He told me he was going to say something nice about me," the boy's wail sounded above the laughter. "The shoe fits," observed Bob. "Go it again, kid." "Who likes hard cider, and bums his job?" "It is Bob; it is Bob," daringly sang Manning, preparing to run if necessary. Bob was angry, but he did not show it. Instead he forced a laugh as Lucille said something about a shoe fitting. Then he joined in the shout against Manning, as Grandpa chanted his addi- tion to the "Beverly Kids." "Who is it needs a first class tanning?" "It is Manning; it is Manning," chorused the delighted vic- tims of the boy's rhymes as they hurried out through the various doors to catch the culprit, whom they found grinning at them from his perch in the big ash tree across the road. CHAPTER VI. NELL BEGINS FARMING IN EARNEST. After Bob left Nell settled down to the Fall work, leaving Lucille to run the inside of the house. She pressed the boys into service out of school hours, while Grandpa worked at the wood- pile. By the time Winter really set in, the crops were all gath- ered, the corn husked and the buckwheat had been thrashed with the flail, Grandpa having done that as he always had done. A fair amount of wood had been hauled up to be cut whenever he could manage to do so, and the woodshed was partly filled with split green wood. She had interested the boys in gathering the nuts, and they had sold a few dollars' worth toward their Winter clothing; so taking everything into consideration, she felt satisfied with her first attempts at farming. There had been no crops raised that they could sell; there were barely potatoes and other vegetables enough for their own use, but she counted on the fat hog after New Years for the family use. Bob's letters were infrequent ; he had stayed in Maine but a short time, had struck something better in Quebec, and his letters were glowing of the good times he was having. He sent Nell ten dollars to help pay on the fifty-dollar note, and by scrimping and planning she raised the balance. Bob wrote that at last he was saving money he was buying mining stock, which would yet make them millionaires. Nell threw the letter in the stove. Did he not know that it was only by the closest economy she could provide for the family? she asked herself bitterly. One-tenth of the money he wasted would keep them in comfortable food. There were no new clothes for herself that year; the girls could not be shabbier than their companions, so she dressed them and stayed at home herself, under plea of work to do. The girls rebelled at her self-sacrifice, but she was firm, and 64 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. they could not help themselves. She treated the subject as a joke, saying that she liked to be alone when she had a chance; but her real reason, not confessed even to herself, was her desire not to meet Miss Gordon, who was escorted to all the merrymakings by Searls Jackson. At the beginning of the term he had invited Nell to several outings, but she had declined. The gossip concerning him and the pretty teacher had left its sting, and she was happier not to see them together, and he, piqued by her refusal, had tried to make her jealous. Miss Gordon was nothing to him, and he nothing to her. She accepted his attentions because there was no one else; but she was as innocent of flirting as Nell. She was anxious to meet the teacher she had displaced, and was hurt because Nell avoided her. Her work was very far from easy. The town was strong against Normal teachers, and everything she did they criticised unfavorably. She regarded the Beverly boys as her only scholars who respected her methods. They made her no trouble, and Searls Jackson informed her that they dared not do otherwise for fear of Nell. Terribly afraid of making a failure of teaching, and utterly unused to district schools, the girl worked with an ardor which would have won Nell's friendship if she had known it. She tried to win Lucille's friendship, but that young lady, resenting her apparent conquest of Searls Jackson, treated her with dignified coolness, though Nell urged her to be friendly. It was no use, and the girl con- tinued to ignore both her and Jackson completely. Bob sent a few little things as Christmas gifts, and wrote that if Nell would agree to the portable sawmill plan he would come home. Nell's reply angered him and he wrote back a curt letter to the effect that if she was so blamed independent she could go without his assistance as well as his advice, both now and in the future. If he expected her to beg his pardon and cringe for favor he was disillusioned promptly, for her answer- ing letter bore no reference whatever to the subject. With the beginning of the New Year came trouble. For some time Nell had suspected that her cows were not as they NELL BEGINS FARMING IN EARNEST. 65 should be ; and when the State Veterinarian inspected the herd she was not surprised that he condemned three. That stopped the small cream check, and left them entirely without milk until the young heifer should be fresh in May. She was almost in despair over this misfortune, and after consulting with Grandpa she sold the fat hog to the market in order to get money to supply the groceries and buy a quart of milk daily from the nearest neighbor. Unknown to Nell, Lucille wrote to Bob, asking him to send some money, but her letter crossed his to them; in which he asked Nell to send him ten dollars. He had invested so much had been robbed besides and was greatly in need of the money. He would pay it back threefold in a very short time. Nell did not answer it, but Lucille did, and her brief letter made him ashamed of himself, though he did not send any money home. He needed it himself for traveling. The Winter, which seemed interminable in prospect, wore away rapidly, and Nell rejoiced hourly with the coming of the Spring. She had carefully planned her season's work, and she longed for the chance to begin. After a number of days of raw winds and sleety rains, the weather changed as if by magic, and almost hourly one could see the swelling of the buds and the coming greenness of the fields. The very air pulsated with hope, and the bluebirds and robins caroled joyously in the rapidly leafing trees. The Springtime was there indeed, and the farm began to grow green and beautiful in the soft sunshine. Nell stood in the wide east door and gazed lovingly over the fields, stretching over comparatively level ground to the wooded knolls, crowned with the great trees which lifted their strong arms toward Heaven; the old, old trees so dear to the heart, trees which had been standing since the Indians built their campfires beneath them, and whose shade offered rest and com- fort to the weary squaws that toiled to raise their corn on the very fields where her ancestors had later earned their bread. She stepped out on the wide earth wharfing into the yard, and gazed up at the bare white end of the house, which seemed to stare like a sentinel from the garret window in its high 66 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER, corniced peak across the fields to the little river at the foot of the ilats. Close by, in the strong white Spring sunshine, it looked cold and forbidding. From the flats, with the back- ground of green trees around it, the house looked restful and inviting, a symbol of peace and prosperity. She thought of this as she glanced at the letter which had come from Bob in the morning's mail. She had thrust it in her apron pocket after she had read it. She did not want Lucille to see it; it breathed such contempt of the farm and such a spirit of indifference to the needs of the family. "If you won't get Gramp to sell the old place, then have him mortgage it so as to get a fine span of horses, regular thoroughbreds that would do farm work and still make a fine appearance on the road." With such a team to work with, he would come home and put the old farm through its paces ; he would not work with the old plugs Nell and Gramp persisted in keeping. But if they would neither sell nor mort- gage, why the place could go to the dogs for all him. He ended by sending word to each of the family that he loved them devotedly. He was in Denver then, working as timekeeper on important public works. He had invested in mines, and was sure of magnificent returns very soon. Nell tore the letter into little bits and thrust it into the wall. Let the old farm go to the dogs? No, never. Not while she possessed two strong hands with which to work. Visions of deserted New England homes rose before her eyes; they were far too common throughout the country. The four windows, set in the stern white face of the east end of the old house, gazed at her solemnly. She fancied that they were mutely pro- testing against being deserted, and as she passed through the barnyard bars she repeated aloud a few lines which seemed appropriate to her mood : "The paths unheeded drift and gray, Old Winter's sifted snow; And weeds of Summer nod and sway, Unheeded where they go. NELL BEGINS FARMING IN EARNEST. 67 Decay hath made its ravage felt, The want of care is shown; By sagging beam where man once dwelt, By fence and shed o'erthrown. And where the farmer walked the fields, While Summers came and went ; Amid the golden harvest fields In peaceful calm content. Broad hillsides, slope and level ground Lie flecked with bush and brier; And fox and rabbit here have found A home for their desire. A home where plenty crowned the toil, Of hands of other days ; Where sturdy labor tilled the soil, Where flocks were wont to graze. Before the eye how drear and strange. The scene that time had laid; How desolate and sad a change, The fleeting years have made." She shuddered as she repeated the last lines; just such a change would come to old Beverly if Bob could have his way; but his way was not hers. So she resolutely opened the stable door, harnessed and lead out the span of old farm horses that had been on the place for twenty years, but were still sturdy and strong and capable of carrying on the farm work; they were the "plugs" which Bob condemned, but they were as much part of the farm as were the trees, and were going to stay. She told them so, as she harnessed them, and they neighed con- tentedly. She glanced back at the house as she drove out in the lane. 8 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. She hoped Lucille would not come back from the neighbor's just yet; she would make a fuss. The other children were at school, and Grandpa would not only ridicule her, but would call her all kinds of simpletons, and say that she did not know enough to plow; that she might as well turn old Dinah and her pigs out in the lot, they would do a better job than she would be able to do. Yet still she was confident that she could plow if she only tried, for she had driven the horses many times for both Grandpa and Bob many years ago. Her courage did not fail, though the heavy weight of the harnesses almost staggered her. She hitched the team to the stone boat, on which she had already placed the plow, and drove down the lane to the level field where Joe Green had planted corn the year before. The soddy rows and blackened weeds showed plainly the shift- less way in which it had been cultivated, for Bob gave it but scant attention the weeks he had been home. She spent the first fifteen minutes studying to see which way she should strike out her land, though in the years when she had been "Grandpa's boy" she had often seen him strike out the new land to plow. Finally she decided to plow through the center, then back and forth; she could remember how to do that at any rate. Although very confident of her own ability, as she always was, somehow she could not turn the furrows straight, and the horses wabbled dreadfully as they slowly plodded across the field. She was thankful that they were old "plugs." Were they the nervy team that Bob desired she would not dare to drive them at all. She fancied she could see a disgusted look in Dan's eye, and an answering one in Dora's kind face. They knew she was green, and she knew it, too ; and by the time she had turned a half dozen furrows her arms ached dreadfully, and as she glanced back over her zigzag furrows she felt fearfully discour- aged and felt ready to give up her job ; only there was no money with which to hire help. As she rested she thought of the many times when she was teaching of how she had dreamed of the freedom of an outdoor life; the freedom was hers now, but it brought such weariness NELL BEGINS FARMING IN EARNEST. 69 of muscle and aching bones that felt ready to drop on the steaming- earth. But she kept on and on and on, until when it was time to put the horses up for noon she was repaid by find- ing that her furrows were really going straighter, and the plow did not wabble as much as it had done. She waited for Lucille to speak of it, but the dignified girl had an extra share of dignity on that noon, and was further- more so disgusted with her sister's doing such work that she inwardly resolved not to speak of it at all. But finally her impatience got the better of her reserve, and she burst forth : "Helena Ursula Beverly, what did you ever do such a thing for ? Don't you know you will die of fatigue, besides being the talk of the town?" "Don't you worry, little girl, until I am sick. Look at this arm" rolling back her sleeve to show her firm, white, well- developed arm. "I have not cultivated muscle during ten years of boy-shaking for nothing. "Why, the horses pull the plow; all I have to do is to guide it, and that is not much worse than bicycle riding; the sulky plow is out of repair or I would have risked my neck on that." "I shall write this very day to Bob, and tell him that if he does not come back and do this work himself, or else send the money to hire it done, that he ought to be tarred and feathered. You are so set in your own way that you will do it now if it kills you, no matter what becomes of the rest of us. But why don't you hire Joe Green? His wife asked me to-day, when I went after the pattern she had borrowed in the Winter, when you was going to want Joe. She said that he had no work prom- ised just now, and she would take some of the pigs in payment by and by." Nell answered the last part of Lucille's remarks first: "I do not want Joe Green at all. I told him so, but that talk is all the old woman's idea. She wants some of these nice Chester Whites, but they are not going to pay for any new bills. You girls need new clothes, and so do the boys; the taxes have not yet been paid; seed has to be bought, and we must live and the 70 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. horses have grain. And until we get some wool and lamb money I shall have to depend upon the sale of the pigs. That ends that part of the subject. In regard to Bob, you are not going to write him one word as if he was needed. He knows that he and his money are needed right here; but if his own conscience does not prompt him to help nothing else will. I do not want him to come home until he has seen enough of the world to convince him that the fields far away are no greener than these are here ; and until he is glad to ask for his old place back again. You understand me, Lucille." The girl nodded. Nell's tone of finality ended her plan com- pletely. "There will be strawberries by and by," she remarked presently. "Mrs. Green and Joe would take part of his pay in them." * "At a cent a quart, I suppose. No, Lucille. I understand Mrs. Green's desire to have Joe work here, where he will get no cider, but I can't afford to hire him, and that ends it. We already owe the butcher and baker and candlestick maker, and if we run bills this year we will have to sell your Bonny Blanche to help pay them. The pigs will keep us going for a while, but no more. A good man to work, like Joe, costs money, and a poor worker is a luxury I can't afford. Now don't cry, Lucille. The colt shan't be sold unless we are afraid she will starve. Pass the rye dodgers this way; you excelled yourself in baking them this time." "Madaline says that her lunches are so plain that she is ashamed to let the other girls at the High see her eat them," remarked Manning. "But she says they do not give her head- aches, so she does not care if they are not fancy." "I wish we could take our dinner to school so as to play with the other boys noons," said Kenton. "The teacher comes out and plays too. I think it is a shame the children don't like her better; I think she is fine." " 'Cause she laughs at all you say," said Manning. "You can't guess, Nell, what he told her this morning." NELL BEGINS FARMING IN EARNEST. 71 "I hope he did not bring my name in again," she said quickly. "Well, he did all right. There was something in the reading lesson about inanimate objects, and she said that inanimate meant things that did not have life; and, of course could not make a sound, like a stone or a penny, and then Kenton said that a penny could make a noise, he knew it could, for Grandpa said that Nell squeezed every penny till it hollered. You ought to have heard Miss Dallas laugh for a minute ; then she sobered just as quick, and said that was only a figure of speech. What is a speech figure, Nell?" "It is no use," said Nell to Grandpa after the boys had gone to school, "they will quote me or you on every possible and impossible occasion. I don't see but that we shall have to work out our own salvation on the place by squeezing the pennies harder than ever. I am glad that you are trimming up the apple trees. I think that we can make the orchard bear good fruit." "I have about finished them," Grandpa answered. "If I wasn't so lame I'd do the plowing ; for you need never be afraid of the devil catching you in those crooked furrows," he added laughingly. "Why, he couldn't catch you, for he would get dizzy running. What are you going to plant there, potatoes? I think it would be a good plan. The bugs would get so dis- heartened trying to eat in straight lines that they would die of despair; that would save bugging them." "Oats will go crooked as well as straight," she returned lightly. "You needn't laugh; I am going to try it again this afternoon, and keep on trying it; and any help you can give me I shall greatly appreciate." "And I will greatly appreciate some wood," said Lucille as she quickly cleared the table. "I have got to iron this afternoon ; and as usual there is not a stick. Oh, dear; as shiftless as Joe Green is, yet he always kept up his woodpile." ."His old woman would kill him if he didn't," remarked Grandpa, rising from the table. "Poor Joe; I don't see how he stands one woman. Here I have two to boss me all the time, 72 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. and three part of the time, and it keeps me between the devil and the deep sea," he groaned in mock misery. "Here is Lucille calling for wood, wood, and yet more wood all the time. I shall be forced to marry her off to a wood dealer to save myself from an untimely death ; and Madaline is forever stealing my encyclopaedias or pestering me with a translation, and Nell is so independent that I have been obliged to turn my framed picture of the Signers with its face to the wall; as two such Declarations as she and the Independence are too much for one house. I begin to think that Bob shows his common sense by steering clear of a house full of women." Nell was hard at work in the field again when Grandpa came down the lane. She knew that he was not disgusted, but immensely pleased with her spirit in undertaking such work. His gray eyes were twinkling and his beard failed to conceal the smile he tried to suppress. "I thought I heard it thunder," he remarked solemnly. Nell glanced at the clear sky involuntarily. Grandpa con- tinued dryly: "But you need not be alarmed; lightning would be ashamed to strike in such a crooked place; why, it would meet itself coming back." Nell pretended not to hear. At that moment the plow came up stiff against a stone, and the swaying handles sent the girl to her knees. She got up doggedly and brushed off the dirt which clung to her dress. "Why didn't you swear?" said Grandpa, chuckling. She looked at him in astonishment. "That is what Carlos asked Joe Green last year, or rather he asked him why he swore, and he said he could not plow straight unless he did; so I think if you tried it you might get along better." "Did you swear when you plowed?" she demanded. "No," he returned gravely, "I always had to save my breath to pray for rains. I was just giving you Green's recipe for straight furrows." NELL BEGINS FARMING IN EARNEST. 73 "But I don't believe I shall follow it to find out if it is correct/' she answered. "The Bible says that the plowing of the wicked is sin; perhaps that is the reason that there has been more wild turnip and chickweed in our fields than corn and oats ; perhaps his cursing cursed the seed. Anyway, he always kept his 'orchard tea' handy, so as to drink when he rested, and he rested frequently." She was so weary that night when she drove up to the barn- yard that she could hardly speak. Grandpa unharnessed the horses, and leaving Lucille to look after the children and the evening's work, she bathed and went directly to bed without eating anything. She woke the next morning with every muscle feeling as sore as if she had been pounded, but as she was able to eat breakfast she concluded that she was able to continue the hardening process, so she began her plowing again, in spite of the united opposition of the whole family. Grandpa declared that he would do it himself. Lucille predicted Nell's immediate death and the consequent disruption of the Beverly family. "She would drown herself just as soon as Nell died ; it would kill Grandpa, and that would be the death of three of them. Madaline and the boys would have to be sent to the Children's Home and then Bob would sell the place and spend the money traveling; and that was just what Nell wanted, or she would not persist in committing suicide by plowing." Madaline was furious. She was everlastingly disgraced by Nell's conduct; she hoped that she would never let anybody see her doing such an awful thing, and she wondered what Searls Jackson would think if he knew it. Manning begged Nell to let him do the plowing out of school nights and Saturdays; then as a final appeal the five children pooled all their money and brought it to their determined sister, begging her to hire Joe Green with it to do the work. Nell almost cried over their self-sacrifice. Lucille had given up the balance of her music money ; Madaline had put in the dollar she had left, and the savings of the three little boys amounted to a dollar. Carlos had earned ten cents from the teacher by putting Teddy through his tricks, and he 74 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. said that he was going to take the dog every night around the neighborhood and see if he could not earn more. Nell returned the pitiful little amount gently. Then to stop the grief which was choking each one of them as Lucille's horrible forecast seemed to be in imminent danger of quick fulfillment, she prom- ised them that if she was sick after three days of trying to plow she would give it up for good. They knew she would keep her word and were satisfied. The work was not quite as hard that morning. Grandpa had showed her how to do the work easier for herself, and the horses understood her ways better. By noon she was surprised at the amount of plowing she had accomplished; she had nearly finished the piece, and was proud of her work, for each furrow was straighter than the one before. Much to Lucille's joy it rained that afternoon, so she was obliged to rest. The next morning the soreness in her muscles was a little less, and she finished the piece easily before noon. She was not sick, and the children were obliged to let her continue her work in her own way. The girls rebelled constantly; Grandpa laughed at her, but Manning upheld her, and was willing to put aside his tinker- ing for the sake of working with her in the fields. The neighbors gossiped, as she knew they would. Searls Jackson did not hear of it until she had begun on her second piece, then he surprised her one morning by appearing in the field. She saw him coming, and if there had been a hiding place handy she would have made for covert; but she had to stand her ground. She expected a scolding, but he only praised her work. "The neighbors tell me that you are making a success plow- ing," he said pleasantly. "I came over to see if I could not get you to do mine. Labor is at a premium, and I have no man this year. How much do you charge a day?" he asked in mock seriousness, "You need not laugh," she said. "You know now that I cannot teach I must do something; besides, it is good for me to be out of doors. I am feeling better already. NELL BEGINS FARMING IN EARNEST. 75 "I want to grant that it is good for you, but the work isn't. Why, Nell, you will kill yourself." "I don't kill quite as easily as that. I know when I am tired and I know when to stop it. Besides, I am naturally strong. It is not half as wearing as teaching is." "I would give a good deal if you were back in your own school," he said abruptly. "It will take fully ten years before this town will get reconciled to Normal teachers." "I should not think you would say that," she replied quickly. She was ashamed of herself at once. She had not meant to refer in any way to the gossip concerning him and Miss Gordon. He understood her reference. "Dallas Gordon is one of the best girls I have ever known. My mother cares a great deal for her. But, Nell, no matter what you may have heard or what you may think, I am nothing to her, and she is nothing to me but a friend. You ought to have known, years ago, how I felt, but since she came to this school you have avoided me as if I was poison. I don't know as a plowed field is the conventional place for a proposal, yet nevertheless I ask you right now to be my wife ; for I love you and you know it." His face was white beneath the tan. He lifted the reins from around her neck and tried to draw her into his arms, but she drew back, frightened by his impetuosity. The horses looked around inquisitively. They seemed to feel in a dumb way as if a crisis had come into the life of their young mistress. "Did you come here to tell me this?" she asked presently. "Yes," he returned. "It has been in my mind for years, but I knew you would not listen while the children were small. But now you must listen. You must give me the right to care for you and look after the others. Were you to leave the family Bob would prove himself a man ; I know he would. What is it, Nell?" he pleaded. "Is it yes?" The girl could truly say it was sudden. Years before it had seemed to her as if she should some day marry him, though he had never spoken to her of love. But now, with all the bur- dens resting upon her shoulders, she could not think of giving 76 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. them up. For an hour she talked there in the field. For an hour he pleaded, and for an hour she stifled the love which for years had lain in her heart, to be quickened that morning by his words. Her duty was with the children and with Grandpa. If he would wait till the children were older, or until the farm was prospering, all right; but she would not consent to an engagement. They loved each other, and that was all that was necessary. He had his duty toward his mother. The girl knew, as well as he, that she did not wish him to marry during her lifetime, and for his mother's sake as well as her own home ties, there should be no engagement. They should be the same friends as in the old days when she was the teacher in the school. With that he had to be content. Although there were press- ing duties awaiting him on his own farm, he forced her to leave that piece for him to finish, and during the bright morning hours, while they talked of the wonderful love which was theirs, she walked beside him in the field in the straight deep furrows he plowed so easily. CHAPTER VII. SAREPTA BARRY. In the eyes of Searls Jackson the world was glorified that morning. Since his callow youth Nell Beverly had been the one girl in the world to him, and until the dainty Dallas Gordon boarded at his home he had never paid any girl but Nell the slightest attention. Knowing where his own heart lay, he had not thought that the gossips would seriously connect his name with the teacher. He had been awakened that morning to the fact by the gossip of Joe Green, who with the news of Nell's plowing on his ready tongue also told him that folks were won- dering whether he would live with his mother or build a new house when he married Miss Gordon. He had answered by abruptly leaving the man to answer his own questions, and had started for Nell, with the intention of marrying at an early date and preventing her from further farming. But the very quality which he admired most in the girl was the one which thwarted his plans. She would not give up her duties and her work, and no logic of his could prevail upon her to change her mind. Her very decision would have angered most men, but it pleased Searls. She was like his mother in that, and the almost masculine firmness of her mind was, to him, her most attractive quality. If Dallas Gordon had been as firm and resolute she might have proved a rival; as it was, with her gentle, yielding ways, she seemed childish and immature, and had she been the only girl in the world he could never have loved her. The Jacksons were the aristocrats of West Winthrop. Mrs. Jackson was a New York woman, a fact which she never forgot. She had married Mr. Jackson rather late in life, and had settled down on the fine old farm, in the old Colonial mansion with its wide, heavily-pillared porch, with a contentment which surprised her friends. She had always held herself, and her one child, Searls Woodrow, named after her father, as being a little better than the rest of West Winthrop. Searls had been educated in 78 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER, college, but his taste was for country life, so at his father's death he had returned to run the farm as a country gentleman should. He made money at it, and was successful in everything he under- took. He was first selectman, a member of the school board, and a trustee in the church, which he and his mother zealously attended and supported. They were all in all to each other, and he, knowing of the organic weakness of her heart, had solemnly told himself, in obedience to her unexpressed, but secret wish, that he would never marry while she lived. But since Dallas Gordon had come to them she had more than once hinted that she would like to see him make her his wife. He had evaded the subject laughingly, but he knew how she felt. She had always been friendly with the Beverlys. Grandpa Beverly being a scholar won her favor. Nell she liked and respected, but it never occurred to her to think that Searls would wish to marry her. No, her son would marry an aristocrat like his mother when the time was right. West Winthrop could never produce a girl good enough for her son. Dallas Gordon was the only one she had ever met who would at all answer; and it worried her consider- ably because the girl did not fall in love with him. It was her only fault. Nell knew intuitively that the stately white-haired woman would not wish her son to marry her. She also knew that Mrs. Jackson's term of years was sure to be short, and under no cir- cumstances would she consent to an engagement. He must do his duty by his mother, and she would do hers by her own peo- ple. The time would come right if they were patient, she told him. For the present, the knowledge of his love was all that she asked. Lucille guessed from the happiness shining in Nell's eyes what had happened. It was too sacred, too personal a subject to be discussed with anyone, but she felt obliged to tell the girl, for she knew that she could rely on her faithful promise of secrecy ; and although Lucille had never been able to see the least thing attrac- tive in any man or boy, she was glad for Nell's sake that it was to be Searls Jackson and not some one else. But in spite of her new-found happiness it was a month of SAREPTA BARRY. 79 the very hardest toil that Nell had ever known. She persisted in it every day the weather permitted, though the girls prophesied daily that she would fall dead in her tracks, yet she disappointed them by keeping on living, though she would sink into bed every night at dark, too weary almost to breathe, and there lie in dead slumber till daylight crept in at the south window at the head of her bed. Then she would stagger to her feet, dress with every muscle crying for more rest, and drag herself downstairs to her daily work. Grandpa compared her to a spavined horse that could work after he got warmed up, and told her that she was like the horse that was fed on shingle nails; as soon as he got accustomed to the diet and could begin to thrive on it, he died. She began to think that she would be dead herself before the hardening process was finished, for her tortured muscles protested daily and hourly against such hard work; but the necessity she was under spurred her on to her task, and finally she found that she was becoming less and less weary. The feel of the fresh earth 'neath her feet, the soft winds and the springing life around her invigorated her, and by the time the plowing and harrowing was done she had begun really to like her work in the open air. She interested the little boys in the work, by giving them each a row of potatoes to care for and have the sale themselves. She planted, with Grandpa's help, a good garden; together they put in three acres of corn, and she hoped for great results from it that year. She had but one creditor who was troubling. The grocer who had been so obliging was now seriously ill, and his sister had taken the business into her own hands for a term of years; her first move was to round up all the debtors and bring them to terms. She was a maiden lady, sharp and aggressive, with no mercy for anyone. Her manner implied that she believed everyone dishonest until he should" prove himself innocent. She kept the books, and perched on a high stool near the door she kept close watch and scrutiny over everyone who entered and over every- thing that was done. In going over the books she was amazed and horrified to find the Beverly account was so large and had stood so long. Her brother had been sent to Colorado for his 80 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. health, and she knew that she had discovered the real reason of his physical breakdown. It was the mental worry caused by the culpable dishonesty of the wicked Beverlys; and her duty was plain. She must compel them to pay up immediately. They had only made one payment in a year ; the price of the heifer credited on the bill was proof positive that her brother had made a des- perate effort to secure a settlement through taking cattle as pay- ment. If they did not square the bill immediately she would know the reason why, or her name was not Sarepta Barry. She mailed the bill to Nell with a note requesting immediate payment. It came just after the girl had paid the taxes, which had taken every cent she could rake together above the actual expenses of the family. The children all had to have clothes, and she and Grandpa had gone without things they actually needed. She had less than five dollars to use until the lambs could be sold, or the strawberries ripen, and to be asked, or rather ordered to pay a bill when she had nothing to pay it with, dazed her for the time. "There is no slavery like the slavery of debt," she said to Lucille. "Here I have not a cent I can spare for anything above the daily necessities, and that woman is hounding me this way. Her brother would never have done it. What shall I do?" "Tell her you can't pay it, that's all," suggested the girl naively. "That ought to settle the question." "But it won't," Nell replied. "She is after my scalp fast enough. I will send her a note when you go there again to trade." "I never want to enter her old store again," cried the girl quickly. "She makes me feel so uncomfortable; the last time I bought those packages of oatmeal she remarked that it seemed to her we must live on oatmeal, we bought so much of it ; as if it was anything to her." "But you paid cash for it, so she ought not to have com- plained. If there was any other store in West Winthrop I would never buy another thing there. I believe we will manage to have the groceries come in the delivery wagon twice a week, so you need not go there again. I will write her a note that I can't SAREPTA BARRY. 81 pay anything at present, though I don't suppose it will do any good." Th brief note regretting that she was at present absolutely unable to cancel the bill angered Miss Barry. It was all non- sense; they could pay if they wished, and she would see about it personally. The very day she received it she drove there directly. Lucille saw her as she stopped at the hitching post by the front gate. Darting out of the east door the frightened girl sped through the barnyard and down the lane to the field where her sister was harrowing, carrying the news that Miss Barry was after her. Nell continued her work serenely, leaving the indig- nant lady to knock vainly at each of the three outside doors as she circumnavigated the house. Finally returning to the wharf- ing on the east side her keen eyes saw the girl in the field. Mak- ing a megaphone of her hands she hallooed till Nell felt obliged to answer the summons, and followed by the reluctant Lucille she returned to the house. Miss Barry surveyed her disapprovingly. The slender figure clothed in coarse brown denim, the short skirt just to the top of the stout shoes, were not to her liking. The man's straw hat pinned to the tightly coiled beautiful hair on the top of the girl's head displeased her very much. The face and neck were tanned, and the small hands calloused. That annoyed her as much as did Nell's fearless straightforward gaze and her clear refined voice. "I suppose you have come to see about the bill I owe your brother, Miss Barry," she remarked pleasantly as she lead the way into the sitting room. "I am very sorry to tell you that at present I have no means whatever of paying you." rt l did not come to listen to any hard luck stories. My busi- ness is to collect my brother's long-standing accounts. It is no wonder he is ill after dealing with dead beats. As long as you have not filed a petition of bankruptcy I must hold you respon- sible for the bill." Nell controlled her temper with difficulty. Her voice was calm as she answered, though her eyes sparkled dangerously. "I was never accused of being a dead beat before, Miss Barry, and I warn you that you must never repeat that remark again. I 82 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. told you that I would pay you as soon as I possibly could do so, and with that you must be content. I have so many bills to meet and so many expenses that I have to ask my creditors to be patient." "They all tell the same story," sniffed the woman. "Yet all can afford things they do not need. You claim to be hard up. Look at this furniture," she glanced around the room dis- approvingly. "I have been told that your house is full of old antique things. Why, I myself will take that and that and that," she pointed to the cherished high-boy and low-boy, and the Revolutionary musket which hung on the wall over the sword and sabre crossed beneath it. "I will offer you enough to pay a good deal of the debt. Now is your chance to show your honesty," and she smiled magnanimously. "Those things are not for sale, Miss Barry ; and even if they were they would bring far more than you have offered. For years our grandfather has refused to part with them, and as long as I am able to work they shall not be sold." Nell's voice rang with indignation, and Lucille, listening in the kitchen, clapped her hands softly. "Then there is no use for you to talk to me about being honest and desiring to pay your lawful debts, which my brother out of the great kindness of his heart allowed you to run," said Miss Barry wrathfully. "Of course, I know how you was turned out of your school because you did not know enough to teach it ; I know that that stopped your ready money, but look at this farm. Look at your sheep. I saw them on the hill as I drove down, and I counted thirty or more and a dozen or so fine lambs. And there is that fine calf in the pasture, and the cow, and while I was waiting for you I saw that you had two fine barrows in the pen. Besides, you have a team, and are able to spend money in giving one sister music lessons and sending the other to the High. It looks to me as if you could pay some of your bills if you wanted to very bad. Now, what I want,'"' she continued shrilly, effectually drowning Nell's attempt to speak, "is to come to an understanding. If you intend to SAREPTA BARRY. 83 pay at all, there, must bei some system about it. I want you to agree by giving a note to pay just so much each year, and to prove that you are in earnest, I want you to turn over to me to-day some of your livestock. I forgot to mention that handsome yearling colt. I will give you credit for thirty-five dollars for that on the bill." Nell heard Lucille gasp with horror. "That colt does not belong to me, Miss Barry. I have no authority over it wjiat- soever." She thought rapidly. "I do not see how I can pay you anything before Fall, but I will give you a note then to pay you twenty-five dollars in either cash or farm produce. Your brother has taken potatoes. I am not going to let my brothers and sisters go hungry for the sake of paying the bill, and as for their education, that is something with which you have no possible concern." "I will agree then to take twenty-five dollars' worth of potatoes at fifty cents a bushel, irrespective of the price, provided they are first class," acquiesced Miss Barry craftily. "No, you won't," interposed Nell sharply. "If the potatoes are a dollar a bushel you are not going to get them for fifty cents. I shall make out that note to read that I will pay you the sum of twenty-five dollars in either produce or cash by November first ; the produce to be credited at the highest market price. You will have to agree to that or I will not give you a note at all." Miss Barry shook her finger wrath fully at the girl. "No wonder my brother's health failed dealing with such sharpers. I will tell you what I will do. What do you ask for those bar- rows? I will take the biggest one on the bill to-day as a guar- antee of your good faith. And when your strawberries are ripe I want every berry that is marketable brought to my store, to be credited on that note. If you won't do this I shall put the bill into the hands of a collector and you won't get off as easy as you will with me." Lucille caught the pig while Nell wrote the note. The woman haggled a little over the price, but Nell would not yield. She 84 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. drove away with the squealing pig in the bottom of her car- riage. "Two hog's together," observed Lucille, "and I think the four-legged one has the most soul." "We must not be too severe in our judgment of her, little girl. She thinks she is acting just right for her brother's inter- ests, just as I think I am doing the best for my family," sighed Nell, fighting to keep back the tears. "I never believed that any- body would ever talk as mean to me as she has done." "And yet you will apologize for her," observed the girl dis- gustedly. "I know that I will starve before I will ever enter her old store again. What a mistake the good Lord made in not letting her have consumption instead of her brother; but he couldn't because there is nothing of her to be consumed but meanness, and that lives forever." Joe Green walked in soon after Miss Barry had departed. She had driven by his house with the squealing pig, and his curiosity was excited. "I don't like to go to no funerals," he began abruptly, "but I would enjy goin' to hern," he announced meaningly. "So would I," cried Lucille. "You just ought to have heard how she abused Nell. I wish I had ordered her out of the house." "I never spoke but one piece in skule in my life," he returned, "and I can't remember all on it; but she allers makes me think of it. P'raps she thinks folks don't know how derned poor her folks was, and how the town helped 'em fer a long while when her pa was sick. But we do reckom ember it all right. Her brother ain't that way, but she is jest the pet-plant I learned about oncet. I'll tell you what it is, and you kin have your boys learn it fer a kertation in school. All I know is the last verse. It is about a leetle posy which growed in a ditch. ~ ,^ 'In the by-ways of life how often there are People born under a fortunate star. By beauty or talent they sudden grow rich, And bloom in a hothouse instead of a ditch. SAREPTA BARRY. 85 And while they disdain not their own simple stem, The honors they win, win honors for them. But when like the Pet-plant they begin to grow pert, We soon trace them back to their primitive dirt/ "Now, that's jest Sarepta Barry. She is the pet-plant of the piece, that was took out of a ditch and put in a hothouse, but it got so proud and over-bearin' that it couldn't be endured^ Twice as stuck up as the plants that natchelly growed there. Now, with her brother, folks never throw it up agin him because he wuz poor; they respect him fer it, but Sarepta acts as if she was allus rich, so folks like to think about the ditch frum which she was took when her brother by bein' fair and square to everybody made money. Have you heard how she has b'en a usin' the Willetts up in the Smith deestrick?" "No." Nell was all attention. "Mrs. Willett lost her school last Fall the same way that I did. What has Miss Barry done there?'' "Done! I could tell you easier what she hain't done. She hain't sent her to jail fer bein' in debt, but has done about everything else. You know Bill Willett is one of the shiftless kind that nothin' ever turns out jest right with him, and besides he is consumptive can't work half the time. Not the gallopin' kind, but the kind that will go a mile an hour if he feels like it, perty much like the last hoss that I got from Searls when I swopped. So with her husband havin' the long-drawed-out lingerin' kind of consumption tackled to no ambition, Mrs. Wil- lett has had a hard row to hoe. They'd got a little home most paid fer and Barry held the morgidge. 'Course when Miss Barry cum into persession she foreclosed that and turned 'em out into the street. They hired a little house of her then, all they could git, and the use of some land. Blamed ef she don't keep the screws on 'em harder than ever. Got to come down with the rent every first day uv the month or out they go. She 'tached all their last year's crops an' has even got a morgidge on their cow and their crops this year ef they have any. Lucky 86 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER, they hain't no kids, and I'm mighty glad that Sarepta Barry can't tax the air they breathe. The water in their well is so poor they can't use it, but she won't clean it out, and they have to cart every bit uv their drinkin' and cookin' water a plumb half mile. The first uv this month it wuz rainin and blowin' suthin' orful one night when who should knock at my door but that skin-and-bone Bill Willett. He'd come fer the old woman to know ef she couldn't cum and take keer uv Mis' Willett, who wus used up with a cold she caught nussin'. He said he couldn't pay, but would split wood or anythin' to give back the favor. The old woman went right off, and thar wa'n't a bite in the house, nor a bit of wood 'nuther, and that poor sick woman told how they didn't hev' a cent to pay the rent, as she hadn't be'n paid for her last nussin'. Then I got a day off frum Searls, who told me to haul her a load uv wood and split it fer her; an Searls sent taters and groceries and paid the rent fer that month, and I lent Bill anuther five to help 'em along. Sech things as that make me feel as if I'd like to go to that woman's funeral. The Smith deestrick is terrible mad about their Normal teacher. They're goin' to git up a partishun this year and see ef they can't git Mis' Willet back agin." "I hope they will succeed," said Nell warmly. "She is worse off than I am. I wish Miss Barry could be made to feel ashamed of herself." "She will kotch it some time," said Joe confidently. " 'Ef you 'scape it when young, you kotch it when older,' is an old sayin'. The old man wuz tellin' me about the way them old Greasers had of oystereyesen folks." "Of what!" Nell asked in bewilderment. "Your Grandpa said that them Greasy fellers that he knows sech a sight about used to oystereyes a man when they didn't like him. That they had a box or suthin put up and they would all throw in to that the name uv the man they hated and make him leave town. That was oystereyes-en 'em; so I think we'll hev' to throw some oyster's eyes at Miss Barry as them Greasy fellers used to do." SAREPTA BARRY. 87 "Ostracize," corrected Nell laughingly. "They did that in Greece." Joe's untrained ear did not catch the difference. "That is what I said 'oyster-eyes' her. It will do her good. But she'll git squeezed mighty hard one of these days ef the Bible is true," he added, "for you know what it says about the 'pressor gittin' pressed." "The presser getting pressed," Nell repeated blankly. "P'raps it was that when the 'pressed becomes the 'pressor, that the dickens is to pay," he corrected his first statement judic- iously. "I've allers noticed that when a beggar gits a hoss he'll ride hard; and if a feller has allers been pressed hard, he's mighty apt, ef he gits a chance to do it, to press jest as hard and mebbe a leetle mite harder than he was pressed himself. That is what I'm thinkin' about Sarepta Barry. Fust she was the pressed; now she's the 'pressor; but ef the wheel ever turn? so she gits to be the 'pressed agin, won't I help squeeze if I git a chance. She'll come out flatter than the scraps dew after we've squeezed all the lard out on 'em. I ain't no use fer that woman; and I don't believe the Lord has 'nuther. If he did he'd take her. And as fer the devil, she has got so much of his disposition that he don't want her. She is rich now, and ef she keeps on doin' as she has begun she'll be like a haw g; jest 'cumulatin' fat money all the time till folks will wish she was dead to find out what she reely was wuth." CHAPTER VIII. SOLVING PROBLEMS. That evening Searls Jackson came for his weekly call. The hour with him was the one bright spot in the week of toil. Though she saw him frequently during the intervening days when .driving by, he would stop for a moment's chat on the pre- text of getting a cool drink from the deep well by the west door, yet that one evening of the week was the time when she could talk with him undisturbed. Though Grandpa had asked no questions, yet she knew that he believed they had come to an understanding, and he left them alone. Lucille and Madaline also managed to interest the small boys elsewhere, and so 'neath the twisted elm, which Grandpa had brought up from the river bank when it was but a sapling and had set out on one side of the big front gate, as a mate to the thriving young elm on the right side, she would entertain him, seated on the rustic bench which Grandpa had built there for his own enjoyment on hot afternoons. "The Twisted Trysting Tree'' Madaline christened it in a tongue-twisting alliteration when Searls began calling on Wednesday evenings. She was waiting for him that night while watching Carlos, who was patiently teaching a brace of yellow kittens to jump through a hoop. "When they get it learned I will take my animals through the town and give exhibitions with them," he cried excitedly, "and then perhaps I will make money enough to pay Miss Barry myself. Miss Dallas wants me to take her two dogs this Summer and teach them all the tricks I can. She says she will pay their board and me too. I told her that I knew you would say yes, as you said to-day that the Good Lord was the only one who knew where I was going to get any clothes, as all the money had to go in bills ; and I told her that I had prayed in my prayers for the Lord to send me pants and " "What's this?" interrupted Searls' hearty voice, as he came SOLVING PROBLEMS. 89 up behind them unnoticed. "What have you been telling Miss Dallas now, kiddie? I guess it is something your sister is shocked at. I know by the look on her face." "Indeed it is," said Nell warmly. "This terrible youngster has been quoting me offhand to Miss Dallas. She must think I am a terrible sort of creature. I've tried punishments, but nothing prevents these boys from swearing by me constantly." "On the contrary, she has a very high regard for you and for the children. Did Manning tell you how he refused to let the Green boys ride on his wheel the other day when they were so troublesome. Miss Dallas said she overheard him telling them that if they could not behave in school they could not play with him." "No, he did not tell it, but Kenton did. That old wheel he enjoys immensely. You know how he made it; picked up the wheels in one place, the seat in another and the pedals somewhere else. That boy is a genius with tools. Just now he is tinkering on an automobile up in the shop. He is conjuring up one out of some boards and soap boxes and the wheels that city fellow who was at your house last year discarded. I think they belonged to his tandem bicycle which broke down, didn't they?" "That is what Manning wanted of them, was it? He told me he would give me fifteen cents apiece for them, all the money he had," he laughingly told her, "but I told him I did not need the money, but if he would drive up the cows he could have them. He said he was going to make something with them. He will be an inventor, Nell." "I don't know what he will be," remarked Grandpa, walking up to them, "but I know what he is now. He is what Artemus Ward said about the kangaroo an amoosin' little scamp." "That isn't fair," protested Nell. "There is not a thing wrong with Manning but mischief, but he is at that continually," she added, joining in the laugh. "Of course he uses all the tools, but I make him put them back when he gets through with them, so there is no harm done." "I want your opinion regarding keeping Miss Gordon another 90 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. year," said Searls presently. "It will all depend on the report I send in. Of course the district is against her they would be against any Normal teacher but my mother wants her to return, and I think she wants to come back. She will feel herself ever- lastingly disgraced if she is not engaged again." Something in his tone made Nell think that he would rather she did not return on her, Nell's, account, so she hastened to say everything favorable regarding the school that she could. She spoke of the progress Carlos had made in all his studies of the knowledge all three boys had acquired of the birds and the flowers of what they had learned of the poets and artists of the skill they had acquired in drawing and clay modeling, and of the accuracy with which they could make a relief map in sand. She also commended the training they had received in singing, but she said nothing of the fact that she and the older girls had been obliged to coach Manning in his arithmetic all Winter, for of that subject he was learning nothing at all at school. "I am glad you speak so favorably," he rejoined. "There is such a kick against her methods. We West Winthrop people, you know, favor drilling in the three R's and spelling book with- out any frills. And that is just what she does not do. The chil- dren are learning all sorts of fol-de-rols, the district thinks, but the Normal School visitors regard her work as satisfactory; though I hardly think they could force her on us again if there was a united opposition. Green has been telling me to-day that up in the Smith District the people have absolutely refused to have a'Normal teacher another year, and that they want their old stand-by, Mrs. Willett, to teach there again." "What a gossip that Joe Green is ; he hears everything in the county. But I did not suppose that the district would or could refuse a Normal teacher now that the State has so much control." "It has been done there all right; and Joe says that the dis- trict wish to put you back in the school. He says that if each family will sign a paper saying the school has been decidedly unsatisfactory the Normal Board will give up, for a year at least. Here is your chance, Nell. Do you want your old school back ?" SOLVING PROBLEMS. 91 "Do I want my old school back? Do you mean to say that if I sign that paper in all probability I can teach here again?" she questioned in amazement. "In all probability you can," he replied. "Of course I would hire no one but you ; neither would the district have anyone else. What do you say ?" For a fleeting moment the girl's heart thrilled with joy. She was to go back to the pleasant work in her beloved schoolroom at ten. dollars a week. There would be the ready money to pay all the debts, and she would not be so everlastingly harassed with the eternal question as to the wherewithal whereby the family should be fed and clothed. Curiously enough, the text which Grandpa so often quoted flashed into her mind, "He that putteth his hand to the plow and turneth back is not fit for the kingdom of God." It ran something like that. She had put her hand to the plow, and for her there could be no turning back. Dallas Gordon was conscientiously doing the best that lay in her, according to the new methods of teaching, the Normal methods which Nell her- self had been so anxious to obtain. She knew that she was not up to date, and that Miss Gordon was. She was educating Madaline to be a Normal teacher, who would be certainly as advanced as the girl she was expected to supplant if she signed that paper. No; a thousand times no. She had been deposed herself, and she would not hold the same cup to the lips of another teacher to drink. "I will not sign any paper to put Miss Gordon out of the school," she answered firmly. "And you may tell Joe Green to tell the district for me, that I regard Miss Gordon as' a successful Normal teacher and hope she will come back another year." "Nell," said Searls a little huskily; "you are the most manly girl I ever know. You have more honor about you than nine- tenths of the women and ninety-nine per cent of the men. I knew what your answer would be." Finally they spoke of other things, and she told of Miss Barry's dunning call. He listened without comment; that was his way, and she liked him for his unspoken sympathy. He did 92 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. not offer her the money to pay the bill, for he knew that she would refuse it. Instead he talked with her about her work and told her how he made a dollar double itself; he did not give advice; he simply told his way, and Nell listening eagerly re- solved to profit by what he said. It was a business courtship they carried on beneath the Twisted Trysting Tree, saying more of the every-day affairs of life than of love, and parting at an early hour ; for not even for the sake of the man she loved could Nell afford to lose many of her precious hours for sleep. It was the only night in seven when she failed to go to bed at dusk, leaving Lucille to look after the boys and Grandpa to lock the house for the night. So hard did she work and so constantly were her thoughts occupied with farming that she was scarcely conscious of the flight of time. The school closed in early June, and Miss Gordon was re-engaged, to the great disgust of the district. All felt that if Nell had only signed the paper she could have had her old place again; the gossip reached the teacher's ears at length, and she wrote Nell a grateful letter, expressing the wish that when she returned they could be friends and that Nell would help her by her advice in the school. Nell answered at once, disclaim- ing any credit for her generous act, but the pleasure of being appreciated more than recompensed her for the loss of the school. There were days when she was obliged to stay in the house and sew for the children. They belonged to the Juvenile Grange and the Sunday School, and their clothes had to be kept ready for the special exercises, the picnics and the outings. There were stormy days, when nothing could be done outdoors, and then she bent every energy to the accumulated mending. Being both man and woman was a serious task on her strength and executive ability, but her home compared favorably with her neighbors', and her crops were equal to the cracks farmers of the neighbor- hood, including Searls Jackson. The strawberries were almost a failure. The early June frost nipped them, so she harvested scarcely two bushels. The great majority Miss Barry was on hand to claim promptly, and against SOLVING PROBLEMS. 93 the tears of the boys Nell was obliged to let them go toward the debt. However, they managed to have about a dozen baskets for their own use, and Nell, profiting by the lesson learned by that season's failure, resolved to bend every energy another season to make her strawberries profitable. It seemed to her that she never entered the house that Sum- mer but she found Lucille either chasing flies or making war on the dust and litter stirred up by the boys. Madaline, like all younger sisters, positively would not work under Lucille, but she would work outdoors with Nell and work faithfully, either hoeing in the cornfield and garden or else working in the hayfield. Nell had written to Bob, not asking for money, but telling him that she saw no way but that she would have to do the haying herself that year. He did not answer at once, so stifling the faint hope that he would send money to hire help she began the haying herself with the help of the children and Grandpa. She had often ridden the rake, but the mowing machine was new work. She reasoned that it could not be much worse than the harrow, so she dauntlessly mounted it and began work in the easiest field. She set Manning to the job of riding the tedder and rake; Grandpa mowed the side hills and the corners with his scythe and the girls and Kenton followed with the hand rakes. Mowing it away in the barn was the hardest, as there was no hay fork in the old-fashioned hundred-year-old barn; but with two weeks of perfect weather they had the satisfaction of having done all their haying themselves, and of beating a few of the neighbors, includ- ing Searls Jackson. She dreaded the oats. The wind had flattened them so badly that she was afraid to cut them. Besides, their reaper was out of repair, and there was no money to spend in repairing it. She was debating how she could raise the money to hire them cut when she heard the song of the reaper in the field. Searls had sent Joe Green over with his team to get them in. "He told me," explained Joe, when Nell questioned his being there, "that he was not going to have the finest piece of oats in the town spoiled while you were waiting to get some one to reap 94 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. them. He said to tell you that he was coming over to-night to dicker for some of the lambs in payment," he grinned broadly, "you know that Searls is allus looking how he can make a penny, and he thinks this is a chance to get some fine lambs at his own price." He laughed that night when the girl took him to task for his kindness. "I wanted to send a team in to do the haying, but I could not manage it very well, for you had finished before I was half through. The neighbors say they never saw hay put in better than yours has been. That Manning is the boy to rake and tedder. I think I shall have to hire him myself next year. How many times did you get thrown from the mowing machine ?" "Not once," she returned proudly. "Manning knew just where every stone big enough to cause trouble was, in each field ; so he decorated each one with a reel cloth tied on a pole and planted in the ground, and I was careful not to hit them. In fact, I did not go near enough to hit them. Grandpa said that if I gave Satan as wide a berth as I did the stones, that he would never get me." He laughed. "If you keep on, Miss Nell, you will make us veteran farmers sit up and take notice. But these oats are my affair. It isn't an act of kindness, or of charity, or of generosity. It is selfish business, first, last and always," he announced gravely. "I shall charge you so much for harvesting the oats" ; he named a fair price, "and in payment I want lambs enough to cover the bill. You are going to sell them anyway, so I might as well have them. I will pay you just what I think they are worth. You know I drive hard bargains." His voice was grave, though his eyes twinkled. Nell agreed, but when she settled she found that his ideas of what they were worth was nearly as much again as the market price. "They are worth that much to me," he said, when she remon- strated; "you can let Miss Barry have them at the price you wanted me to pay." September came again, and Madaline returned to school. She SOLVING PROBLEMS. 95 lead her class at the High, the same as in the district school. Miss Gordon came back to the school to find the people more hostile to her than ever, and then Nell decided it was time that she showed her hand. She invited the perplexed teacher to her house, and talked with her of the best ways to combine both plain and Normal teaching to suit the critical patrons of the school. She went farther, and visited the school one afternoon, and addressing the children she commended Miss Gordon's work. She also spoke with the different families, and gradually the deep- rooted opposition to the Normal methods became less and less. "Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all," quoted Searls to her soon after. "Nell, you are a won- der. I believe that little Miss Dallas will canonize you as a saint. Joe Green tells me that the folks say that 'ef yew can put up with Normal nonsense atter the way you learned the young uns thet they kin, too. He told his boys thet he'd lick the daylights clean outen 'em ef they give the teacher any more sass'," he drawled in exact mimicry, "and the old woman says 'that what is good enough fer Nell Beverly is good enough for her,' " he added. "So she has forgiven me for not hiring Joe to do my work," said the girl. "There was a while she would not speak to me; and I understand that she was scandalized because I did not try to go to church after I began working outdoors. The rest of the family have attended, but I concluded that I needed rest more than I did sermons. I received a letter from Bob to-day. See what he sent me." She abruptly changed the subject, as she handed Searls a folded paper. He opened it slowly. "Is it a check for a million? I see it has a grandiloquent- looking seal stamped on it," he said teasingly. "It is a oh, you can see for yourself," she returned impa- tiently. "He knows how badly I must need some help, yet he sends me that ; a certificate of mining stock in my name for which he has paid a hundred dollars. He writes that now he has satis- factorily demonstrated his love for me, by presenting me with a block of stock which will make me a Hetty Green almost imme- 96 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. diately," she continued sarcastically. "I shall probably commence receiving dividends by day after to-morrow, and have a steam yacht and an automobile by next week. If he had sent me a third of that in money I should have been grateful. I wish that I knew some fool who would buy it from me," she added wretchedly. "Here is one," and Searls took out his pocketbook. "I will buy it from you to-night at an advance of 10 per cent. You know I always set my own price." "But I did not mean you," cried the girl confusedly. "I was so disgusted that I hardly knew what I said. I am not going to permit you squander money even if Bob did." "I am not squandering it," he returned. "I simply want to buy this stock. I know something about these mining properties, and I do not doubt but that, after a time, those shares will sell for considerably more than three cents a share. Will you sell it to me ?" "Yes, if you are in earnest," she answered, "though, of course, Bob would be dreadfully angered if he knew it. It was really kind of him to spend his money for me this way, and no doubt he thinks he has done a great thing. He sent Lucille a check for $10 to carry on her music, and a dollar each to the others. He wrote that as fast as he could he should purchase blocks of stock for the rest of us, beginning with Lucille. Grandpa said that I would have a much more certain gold mine if I had the price of this certificate invested in fruit and berries. He thinks I should work this into a fruit farm. It would not be such hard work." "That is where Grandpa is level-headed. I will tell you what I will do, Nell. I will buy this block from you to-night, and will give you a written guarantee that any time you wish to buy it back you shall have it at cost. That will satisfy Bob. Then you take this money and set it out to fruit. I have been thinking of suggesting the same thing, and now is your opportunity. What do you say?" The transfer was made, and Grandpa was called down from his study, where he was lovingly translating Shakespeare's trag- SOLVING PROBLEMS. 97 edies into Greek, into a conference on fruit culture. His ideas tallied with Searls' exactly, and Nell agreed delightedly. The next day the three made their plans more fully; the site was selected for the peach orchard in the cold north lot, and plans were made to use the west lot for the cherry, pear and young apple trees. The order was sent to a responsible nursery within a week, and Grandpa willingly left the study for the work of getting the ground ready for the berry bushes, of which they had ordered different varieties. The little bird that always carries the news in country towns soon informed Miss Barry that Nell Beverly had sent an order for a hundred dollars' worth of fruit trees. If she could squan- der money that way she could pay her honest debts, that lady reasoned, so she once more paid the girl a visit. Nell was cut- ting corn that clear morning when the woman suddenly appeared to her and demanded that she pay at least another twenty-five by New Year's Day, or she would make things interesting. "Anyone who had money to squander on fruit trees had money to pay debts," she declared, and the girl, disdaining to explain how she had received the money, and too hurt to bandy words, gave her note for fifty instead of twenty-five, though she regret- ted it the moment she had passed over the paper. The same old problem confronted her that year as it did last, only she had more means at her command. Her potatoes had yielded fairly well. She allowed a generous supply for their own use through the year, and found she could transfer ten bushels to Miss Barry. She obliged that woman to credit her the full price, a dollar a bushel, which she did under protest. She also sold her several bushels of turnips, and with the strawberries already credited the first note of twenty-five dollars was met. Other farm produce was sold, and the family was clothed for the Winter, but as the time drew near to pay the second note she could see no way of raising the full amount without selling the fatted hog. If she did, the family would be without meat for the Winter, excepting what they could afford to buy. She pondered long over the problem. Grandpa and the children 98 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. were indignant over it; Madaline especially so. They lived on little enough as it was, but to sell away their Winter's meat to a rich woman was an outrage. She did not tell Searls of her trouble. She was afraid he would offer her the money and then be angry if she refused it. She knew the creature was worth at least twenty-five dollars, for several told her so. One day he offered her thirty, live weight. "Pork will be very high this year," he said, "and I am not taking any chances on losing. I have an order for a thousand pounds, and I need this one. What do you say about letting me have her? Her price will provide your family plenty of good beef." Nell took the money and thus made up her note. Miss Barry received it eagerly. "If you can raise money like this," she said, 'when you are forced to it, you may just as well sign another note to pay twenty-five again in three months." "I will not do it," the girl answered angrily. "I have almost starved my family already to pay this sum of seventy-five dollars, and not another dollar will you get till I have raised more crops. Put it into the hands of a collector, or do anything you please, for all that I care. I can't do any more than I can, and that is all there is about it." Miss Barry gasped. "Oh, very well, if you are so highty- tighty about it. Talk about your family; why don't you marry Searls Jackson and be done with it? Then you will have money to pay your bills. I understand that he is running after you. And you could have had your old school, I hear, if you would have taken it. Guess you are not very anxious about your debts, after all," she sneered. Nell cried herself to sleep that night. Was there any slavery in the world, she questioned dumbly, as terrible as the awful slavery of debt? CHAPTER IX. LUCILLE SAVES THE HOUSE. The March wind was making merry over the flats of West Winthrop one bright Saturday, sending everything that was not firmly anchored to the ground flying skyward, and causing the fire in the big kitchen range to burn out so rapidly that Lucille's patience began to wear threadbare. She had so much baking that she wished to accomplish that morning, and she was alarmed lest all the semi-dry wood which she had been accumulating since Wednesday should be used up before the last pies were out of the oven. She and Kenton were all alone on the farm. Grandpa had taken Manning with him to an auction, and Nell, with Madaline and Carlos, had gone to Winthrop. Kenton had offered to stay at home. There was some surgery that needed doing. Carlos had been training the pig to smoke a pipe and walk on his hind legs. In some way he had slipped and lamed one leg. Kenton had put it into a rude splint, and his pigship was apparently improving. A flying board had lamed the old gobbler, and the boy desired to doctor him. He was having a rather difficult time of it, and started back to the house to see if Lucille would not help him, when he saw the heavy clouds of black smoke rolling out of the chimney and the strong odor of burning soot was borne on the high wind. The girl had just stuffed the fire-box full with her last dry wood, preparatory for the last pies, when the boy rushed in screaming the news. With not a second of waiting she felt of the fTreboard behind the range it was not hotter than usual then she ran out of the east door to verify the news herself. The heavy clouds of smoke sent her flying back into the house, and up the two flights of stairs to the garret, where the big chimney raised its massive pile, unhid, to the roof. She felt of the stones from the floor up as high as she could reach. They were getting hot, though not dangerously so, and she thought the fire must be lower down. In Grandpa's room she found the fireboard was 100 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. scorching hot, even with its zinc back, and it was the same in the opposite room which was her's and her sisters'. Kenton had been at her heels all the time. She sent him racing to the barn for the longest rake he could find. She tore off her gingham apron, which covered her old woolen dress. She tied up her head in a strip of flannel, and fastened a silk handkerchief over her mouth and nose. When the boy returned she was struggling with the fireboard behind the kitchen range. The range was set so close to it that they had difficulty in pulling it entirely away. Finally it was set to one side, and she stepped back into the old-fashioned fireplace and looked up into the great chimney, filled with hazy smoke, but even with the second floor she saw that the soot was glowing with smoldering fire. Reaching up with the rake she pulled down a charring mat of it, which fell with a thud to the wide stone floor of the chim- ney. Kenton was ready for it and shoveled it into the big brass kettle Lucille had told him to get. The terrible sickening smell of the soot would have strangled her if it had not been for the handkerchief. Back in the depths of the chimney she was in no great danger, yet it took nerve for the girl to stand there and rake down mat after mat of the burning soot, which the small boy shoveled into the kettles, old pans, and galvanized tubs. Up on the side of the fireplace were broken places where bricks had fallen out. Climbing up by using such spots for foot rests, she was able to reach several feet higher with the rake. She felt she was gaining a little, but the mass of the burning soot was above her reach. Fanned by the draft underneath, it was begin- ning to roar threateningly, and she called to Kenton that he must run for help, though with every man in the neighborhood gone to the auction the chances for aid was slim. A strange voice answered her, and looking down she saw a mass of red hair surmounting a soot-streaked face. "What are you doing up there, Topsy?" called a voice from somewhere in the smoky depths. "Look out, you will set the bottom of the chimney afire with that red hair," she returned. "Get out from under, whoever LUCILLE SAVES THE HOUSE. 101 you are. I can't stand this much longer ; it is getting too choky. I'm going to drop." Bracing the rake against the chimney bottom for a support, she swung herself down, being caught in the arms of a strange young man who, half-choked and begrimed from head to foot with soot, dragged her out into the partially clear air in the kitchen. "Help the kid clear out this mess of soot here," he com- manded, "while I get something else. We've got to knock that soot out of the top of the house, or the house will go as sure as thunder. There is no time to waste." She lost no time in questions. Who he was she never rhought. Already the roar of the fire was bringing terror to her heart. With the boy's help she put the fireboard back, to shut off the underdraft. She heard him raise a ladder against the house. She ran out in time to hear his orders. He wanted all the salt he could get, and she was to help him haul up the birches he had found by the woodpile. For the first time in her life the girl was thankful that they burned green wood, as she saw him haul up a young white birch tree after him as he made his way like a cat to the roof. After him she went, with another birch, and Kenton followed with another. A bag of coarse-grained salt from the barn, as well as all the table salt in the house, he threw down the chimney; then the three of them, each with a birch, began pushing the burning soot down the wide maw of the big chimney, with the high wind swirling around them, and driving the big gusts of black smoke first one way and then another, sometimes nearly strangling them with its foul breath; but they persevered, for they were getting the better of the fire. Cake after cake of the clinging soot fell down against the old stones at the bottom. The green branches of the birches tore the accumulation of the years from the hollows in the stones, and the soot that was burning when loosened was smothered by the soot that had not yet caught fire. Grandpa, Manning and Joe Green, coming one way from the auction, and Nell and the children the other way from the train, 102 HELL BEVERLY, FARMER. saw the same sight as they came in sight of the house; Lucille, with her two helpers on the ridgepole of the house poking down into the depths of the chimney, and each so smoke-begrimed and sooty as to be scarcely recognizable. After the excitement was over and the three had descended to the ground, the young man introduced himself as the doctor's son, Norval Dixson. He had been driving by, and stopped to the rescue of the house. He laughed at Nell's thanks and Grandpa's gratitude, and made light of the fact that he had ruined his clothes; said that he would not have missed the experience for the world, and declared that the Topsy in the chimney was the pluckiest sight he had ever seen, and after he had made himself presentable, with the aid of hot water, soap and brushes, he lingered awhile waiting for the girl to appear. But safely hidden in her room, there Lucille stayed until he had driven away. It was bad enough to be called Topsy, without further acquaintance that day, she declared to Nell, who wondered at her precipitate flight as soon as all danger was over. The old home had been saved by her prompt action and his assistance. Joe Green stayed till all the soot had been cleared away and the heated stones of the chimney had begun to cool. Then he sat down for a feast on one of the pies that had been baked that morning. "There ain't no use in bein' excited now, Miss Nell," he said ; ''you act just as flurried as ef the old thing was a bilin' hot now. The chimney is jest as clean now as anything. But there is no knowing what would have happened ef Lucille hadn't acted so quick and ef that there Norval Dixson hadn't happened jest then. The old woman says that things don't happen; it is all planned long ago, and of course has to come that way ; but I don't believe thet she believes that way allus. Now when I've took a drink of cider or suthin' like that she sez, sez she, that there ain't no sense in my doin' it. When I try to tell her that it was all planned that I should, accordin' to her way o' thinkin' and that I natchelly hev' to dew what it was planned I should do, she gets mad. There ain't no reason in wimmen nohow. Now ef I made a hog of myself and drinked a gallon or so at a time of LUCILLE SAVES THE HOUSE. 103 hard cider or suthin' else she might talk, but as long as I only take a half dozen glasses or so, there ain't no sense ov her kickin' about little things like that." "I'm not excited now," said Nell; "that is, not much. I am only thinking how grateful we all are to Lucille's prompt action and that young man's help. If it had not been for him the house would have burned down in all this wind." "It would," said Joe. "Nothin' could ha' stopped it ef it had oncet set the woodwork afire. Lucky that Norval got up there with his distinguisher. Have allers heard that there wan't nothin' that could distinguish a fire like salt. When I tell my old woman about it she'll git anuther neat streak, and they air thicker now than fleas on a dawg. The only thing on the hull premises that she haint scrubbed is the inside of the chimney, and I'll bet a cookie that she'll tie a rope to herself and hitch the t'other end to suthin' fer me to hold onto, so as to haul her up and down, and that she will begin scrubbin' the inside on it ter- morrer. I used ter say that when I got married I'd rule or know why, and I found out. Women rule here at this house all right, Miss Nell, and whenever I go home my old rooster begins to crow 'So they doo-oo everywhere,' " he crowed hoarsely. Then he continued : "I never had much notion for the agricultural college. It looked ter me like a waste uv good money fer the State ter teach a lot uv young fellers how to plant beans and hoe taters; how to milk cows and hatch eggs. Jest like the Normal skule, of no good to nobody but the folks that get paid fer teachin' non- sense. It allers seems ter me that if it had been the right way to git the cream fust thing outen the milk that cows would ha' b'en made that way. Two of the teats would ha' give down cream and the rest skim-milk. Separators are plumb again the natchul order uv things, and so air incubators. Guess all the hen skules in the world can't teach an old hen nothin'. She knows the best way to hatch eggs, and it is that kind of nonsense that young Dixson is studyin' at the Aggie. His dad is a spendin' good money in sendin' him thar, when he could take an old 104 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. barrel and an old hen and larn it all and a heap more to hum. When he gits through he's goin' to git a big job in a hencoop somewhar. In my mind that skule is jest like a separator. It takes the young men, runs 'em through as the milk does, and a mighty small share of learnin' comes out of one spout and heap of conceit outen the other." He pushed his chair back from the table and got up. "The old woman will be sendin' little Joe atter me," he said dismally. "I told her I'd be hum frum the awkshun long ago. She'll say that I've been talkin' all this time, but that ain't so, fer there ain't many men that kin talk less and say more'n I kin in the same length uv time." CHAPTER X. ; THE GOLDEN FLEECE. Both Nell and Grandpa were eager for the Spring to open, so that they could begin their second season's work. He had spent the Winter in his study, doing no manual labor excepting the cutting of the daily woodpile; for they had not reached the state of prosperity where they could afford to hire having it cut and hauled from the woods to the door, and then sawed into stove length by Pierre Benoit's portable gasoline engine. Instead the old man cut and hauled it himself from the hillside, with Manning's help. The green wood was the trial of Lucille's life. The chip-dirt constantly scattered whenever wood was put in the stove, the slow drying of wood all the time in the oven when it was empty, the stifling smell which permeated every room as the wood steamed from the heat, and the oozing out of the moisture when it was in the firebox, tried her not very patient soul almost beyond endurance. At such times she would turn on Nell and declare it was all her fault, because she had never insisted that they must have dry wood like other people. "You have always picked up old trash and got along for the sake of saving the men's time," she declared, "and of course you always will have to put up with any old thing to burn. I declare, if I knew a decent man that wanted to marry me I'd have him if he would provide a woodpile." This was several weeks later than the fire episode, and Manning dryly remarked that he did not doubt but that Norval Dixson would provide one when he was married. Lucille flushed angrily. "I wish Nell would make you keep still about him. Ever since the day of the fire you have talked him all the time. I wish you would find something more inter- esting." "Do you really? Well, how do you like this little poem?" He retreated to a safe distance and began : " 'My name is Norval ; on the Winthrop hills I feed my feath- ered flock.' That sounds better than the original Grampian hills, doesn't it, sis?" he teased. 106 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. Nell came to the rescue. She had her own opinion about the probable reason the doctor's son had for the frequent calls he made at the farmhouse, but she did not care to have Manning tormenting the girl all the time about him. Lucille's opinion of young men was changing, and Nell preferred to let her do her own thinking about them; but the boy delighted in proffering unasked advice. It was a backward season, but every day that the weather permitted Nell and Grandpa were at work. During the Winter she had so carefully mapped out mentally her work, profiting by what she read and the near-advice which Searls had given, that her progress continued without a hitch. Her plowing was done and the oats and potatoes were in before many of the farmers were well under way. Her onions, cabbage and tomatoes had been started under glass Grandpa's work, and their garden was smiling long before another one in the neighborhood was more than peeping from the ground. "Getting things started for the frost," said Joe Green. "I've seen lots of sech things done afore. Your fine things will all be killed by the May and June frosts. It don't pay to hurry Nater." "I guess not," Nell answered, "not as long as I have a ton or so of old newspapers suffering to be used as blankets." But before June was an established fact she began to fear that his prophecy would come true. There were nights when the mer- cury sank so low in the glass, that despite the heavy paper blankets with which she covered the green things and her straw- berry beds, and the pails of water deposited near the plants, that she was obliged, with the help of Grandpa and Manning, to keep fires burning all night to ward off the effects of the frost. "It isn't so much the heat," Grandpa explained, "but the fire will set the air in motion, and the frost will not settle if there is a wind." And so, while all of the other farms on the Flats were nipped by the frost, the Beverly farm escaped, and Nell felt justified in crowing a little to Searls about their good manage- ment. THE GOLDEN FLEECE. . 107 Joe Green saved her the trouble of telling it around the neighborhood. He felt a sort of personal pride in her achieve- ment, though why he did, it was doubtful if he could have told himself. He went to Searls with the story, relating that the Old Man Beverly had learnt all his good points from the Romans up in York State. "You know he used to teach in some of them colleges up that way, and he tells me a lot about what the Roman fellers did; there was a Sabine field where one of their great men, by the name of 'Kate-oh,' did the plowing, and he told me a rhyme about a sacred plow which the kings used. And up thar somewhere around Rome in the Greasy country they thought a lot about the plow, too. There was one feller that after he had been king, or emperor, or suthin', went back to raisin' cabbages. And that is why Nell takes so natchelly to the work ; she says that the Dutch say 'the sile is Nater and Nater is the sile.' I never did see that larnin' was necessary fer farmin,' but Old Man Beverly did get some good pints from the Romans in York State." The strawberries ripened, were gathered and transferred as credit on the many bills. Miss Barry claimed the lion's share of them, and fifteen dollars were thus paid. The wool was sheafed, and that paid the taxes. The lambs were not a startling profit that year. Days of very cold weather fell due the week the majority of the lambs entered the world, and despite her best care Nell lost several promising ones; then early in the Spring, soon after the sheep were turned out, the dogs got in the flock, and ten, including ewes and lambs, fell victims. After much haggling by two of the selectmen against Searls, Nell was paid a price within a quarter of their value. So the profit from her lambs were many dollars less than she had anticipated. Most of her crops were excellent, but the blight struck the potatoes; nevertheless when the Fall had come and the last bit of produce had been garnered and accounted for, she was greatly encouraged. The doctor's son had advised Lucille to take up poultry, and she had done well with her incubator and brooder work, but the foxes had carried off several of her chickens; 108 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. the hawks had also helped themselves, but after all she was beginning to make the eggs pay most of the grocery bill, though Miss Barry insisted on two dozen every week against the bill, and more if she could get them. Bob was in the Philippines then. He had secured a position as secretary to some politician, and was having a snap of it, traveling with but little to do. Occasionally he sent home money. He realized that they must need shoes all around again, and possibly new clothes. His check was an immense help, and Nell promptly forgave him for his past neglect, and hoped he would send another, but it failed to come immediately. At last he sent Lucille money to continue her music, and a five dollar bill to each of the other children. He was planning to return home at New Year's; he had a plan whereby they would all get rich immediately. Manning entered the high school that Fall. He would not be thirteen till the Spring, but he was capable of the work. It entailed another heavy burden on Nell, for he must be clothed like the rest of the boys. She could manage Madaline's clothes better; for the girl, all legs and arms, like most fourteen-year- olds, could be partly clothed with made-overs of her's and Lucille's, rejuvenated by skilful fingers and home dyes. But Grandpa's clothes could hardly be cut over for the boy. Manning solved his own clothes problem unbeknown to Nell. He wrote Bob a straight letter, in the care of the politician, asking for clothes. The man, thinking it was his letter, read it, and passed it on to Bob, with the remark that there was a young chap that meant business, adding that he would give him a check for twenty-five to send immediately. Bob did not want to spare it. Manning was always a saucy little beggar anyway, he thought, but he had no alternative. He wrote a rather grumbling letter about not being made of money, but he sent the check. It came Thanksgiving Day. Manning had kept his own counsel, so he was the only one not surprised. "When I want anything I believe in going after it," he com- mented wisely, THE GOLDEN FLEECE. 109 One stormy day in the Christmas holidays, when Lucille was struggling with her everlasting problem of green wood, she announced desperately that she would marry the first man that asked her, if he had a woodpile, just to see how it would seem to burn wood that was dry before she died. "Do you suppose that you will find out afterwards?" asked Manning dryly. "I think," he added soberly, "that Norval Dix- son has a woodpile. Shall I speak to him about you?" "If you do," flamed the girl. "Nell, I wish you would send that boy out of doors. He has done nothing but whittle and litter up the east entry and tease me about Norval Dixson. I hate boys anyway." "Where shall I send him in this storm, Lucille? As it hap- pens, the boys have as much right in the house as the girls," said Nell quietly, turning from the sewing machine in Bob's room, where she was industriously stitching. "He might go into the shop, I should think. How I do hate stormy Saturdays and vacation, when the boys have to be around the house. They don't do a thing but litter, and you let them do it," declared the girl impatiently. "I can't walk across the kitchen, because Kenton has got his double-runner sled stretched across it, and is conjuring up a sail for it; and I can't come in where you are, because Carlos is making a harness for the dog and takes up all the room." "What is to hinder you from going in the sitting-room, sis?" asked Manning coolly. "This east entry is my automobile shop, and I'm going to use it. Nell said I could. I don't want your old neat room anyway." "It is lonesome in there without Nell. Besides, it is cold, as there isn't wood enough to last through this storm if we keep two fires going. Such a sight as this house is," and she stepped gingerly around Kenton's sled, picked her way among Manning's tools and got tangled up in Carlos' straps as she stumbled over the dog, sprawled contentedly in the middle of the room. With a quick movement she sent her young brother and the dog out of her way and threw herself disgustedly in the rocking chair. 110 NELL BEVERLY, FARMER. "Lucille has no business to be so fresh with me," cried the boy angrily. "I will stay in this room with Nell, so there; she said I could. You just wait till I am fourteen, Lucille Beverly, and then you won't get so gay. I'll knock you around then, myself." "Then you will be too much of a gentleman to do such a thing," said Nell. "And you can begin being a gentleman now by not taking up so much room." The boy's face fell. "There is no show for a boy anyway," he muttered resignedly. Lucille continued her chapter of discouragements. "I have not been able to get Madaline to help do a thing to-day. First she had to get her lessons, and since then she has been up in the study with Grandpa getting him to help her with Greek. I should think she would know that there is some work to be done in this house. I've just slaved all day and so have you." "Madaline will learn some time that there is something to be done besides studying," Nell answered. "I used to have just such a passion for learning; so did mother, and so did Grandpa. We both have it now, but we have learned to put it aside. I shall fit her to be a teacher, where she can gratify her natural taste. Some time, when she realizes the necessity, she will take up practical work and will succeed. There is no use to scold her or nag her; just let her alone. She has that trend in her nature, the same as Bob has the wanderlust, and the same as you have housework and music." "And I have machinery, and Carlos animal-training, and Ken- ton doctoring," chimed in Manning. "Whenever I want Kenton to help me invent, he says he wants to play doctor and dose me with some weed he has steeped, or else he wants to pretend I've broken my leg and do it up in splints, or make-believe saw off my arm. It is no fun to play with him." "I've been thinking that when I am a man and a doctor I will have a sail put on my carriage or sleigh and then I could get to see my patients sooner ; couldn't I, Nell ?" interrupted Kenton.