" No ONE SHALL TRY TO CUT THE TrUTH OUT OF HeR." Miss Lou. Page 73 Cbe Morhs of fi. p. iRoe rOLUME NINE "MISS LOU" AND DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN ILLUSTRATED NEW YORK P. F. COLLIER & SON 9 COPYRIOHT, 1888, DODD, MEAD. & COMPANlf. 4LU rights retervttU 3n tomnq Wchitation To -LITTLE MISS LOU MY YOUNGEST DAUGHTER m CONTENTS CHAPTEE I A Girl's Protest o . 11 CHAPTEK II Something Happens 18 CHAPTEE III Mad Whately 26 CHAPTEE IV Aun' Jinkey's Policy 35 CHAPTEE V Whately's Idea of Courtship 42 CHAPTEE VI The Storm Begins 47 CHAPTEE VII Dangers Thickening 58 CHAPTEE VIII ''When?" 64 CHAPTEE IX Paralyzed with Shame 71 CHAPTEE X A Baffled Diplomatist 79 (5) b CONTENTS CHAPTEK XI Aun' Jinkey's Warning . 88 CHAPTER XII A Whirlwind of Events 95 CHAPTER XIII The Unexpected Happens 104 CHAPTER XIV A Threat 112 CHAPTER XV Miss Lou Emancipated . 119 CHAPTER XVI A Smile on War's G-rim Face 131 CHAPTER XVII The Joy of Freedom 142 CHAPTER XVIII A Well-aimed Slipper 153 CHAPTER XIX A Girl's Appeal 163 CHAPTER XX Scoville's Hope 173 CHAPTER XXI Two Storms 186 CHAPTER XXII Chunk's Quest 195 CHAPTER XXIII A Bold Scheme 205 CHAPTER XXIV A Home a Hospital 216 CONTENTS 7 CHAPTER XXV A Tribute to a Southern Girl . . . » c . . 226 CHAPTEE XXYI A Background of Egotism 237 CHAPTER XXVII Aun' Jinkey's Supreme Test . . . . c . . - 248 CHAPTER XXVIII Truth if the Heavens Fall 261 CHAPTER XXIX "Angel of Death" 271 CHAPTER XXX GrLIMPSES OF MoODS AND MiNDS ..... c . 285 CHAPTER XXXI The Duellists Vanquished ...» 295 CHAPTER XXXII Sad Tidings 301 CHAPTER XXXIII Conspirators 311 CHAPTER XXXIV Chunk Plays Spook 321 CHAPTER XXXV A Visitation 328 CHAPTER XXXVI Uncle Lusthah Exhorts 336 CHAPTER XXXVII A New Routine ^ . 346 "MISS LOU= "MISS LOU" CHAPTER i(l s[\ i i K;) rJ il A girl's protest A GREAT, rudely built stone chimney was smoking languidly one afternoon. Leaning against this chimney, as if for protection and support, was a little cabin gray and decrepit with age. The door of the cabin stood wide open, for the warm spring was well ad- vanced in the South. There was no need of a fire, but Aun' Jinkey, the mistress of the abode, said she "kep' hit bunin' fer comp'ny." She sat by it now, smoking as lazily as het chimney, in an old chair which creaked as if in pain when she rocked. She supposed herself to be in deep med- itation, and regarded her corncob pipe not merely a solace but also as an invaluable assistant to clearness of thought. Aun' Jinkey had the complacent belief that she could rea- son out most questions if she could only smoke and think long enough. Unfortunately, events would occur which required action, or which raised new questions before she had had time to solve those originally presented; yet it would be hard to fancy a more tranquil order of things than that of which she was a humble part. The cabin was shaded by grand old oaks and pines, through which the afternoon sun shone in mild radiance, streaming into the doorway and making a broad track of light over the uneven floor. But Aun' Jinkey kept back in the congenial dusk, oblivious to the loveliness of nature without. At last she removed her pipe from her moutb and revealed her mental processes in words. (11) 12 ''MISS LOV "In all my projeckin' dat chile's wuss'n old mars'r en miss, en de wah, en de preachin'. I kin kin' ob see troo dem, en w'at dej dribin' at, but dat chile grow mo' qnare en on 'countable eb'y day. Long as she wus took up wid her doll en tame rabbits en pony dar wa'n't no circum'cu- tions 'bout her, en now she am all circum'cution. Not'n gWi^iie 'long plain wid her. She like de run down dar — hit wiji' en win' ez ef hit had ter go on, en hit couldn't mek up hitjs mia' which way, ter go. Sometime hit larfin' in de sun en den hit steal away whar you kyant mos' fin' hit. Dat de way wid M iss Lou. She seem right hyar wid us — she only lil gyurl toder day — en now she 'clinin' to notions ob her own, en she steal away to whar she tink no one see her en tink on heaps ob tings. Won'er ef eber, like de run, she wanter go way off fum us ? "Ole mars' r en ole miss dunno en doan see not'n. Dey kyant. Dey tinks de worl' al'ays gwine des so, dat means de way dey tink hit orter go. Ef hit go any oder way, de worVs wrong, not dey. I ain' sayin' dey is wrong, fer I ain' des tink dat all out'n. 'Long ez she keeps her foots on de chalk line dey mark out dey ain' projeckin' how her min' go yere en dar, zigerty-zag wid notions ob her own." The door darkened, if the radiant girl standing on the threshold could be said to darken any door. She did not represent the ordinary Southern type, for her hair was gold in the sun and her eyes blue as the violets by the brook. They were full of mirth now as she said: "There you are, Aun' Jinkey, smoking and 'projeckin' ' as usual. You look like an old Voudoo woman, and if I didn't know you as my old mammy — if I should just happen in as a stranger, I'd be afraid of you. ' ' "Voudoo ooman! How you talks. Miss Lou! I'se a member ob de Baptis' Church, en you knows it." "Oh, I know a heap 'mo'n dat,' as you so often say. If you were only a member of the Baptist Church I wouldn't be running in to see you so often. Uncle says a member of the Baptist Church has been stealing some of his chickens. ' ' A OIRUS PROTEST 13 "I knows some tings 'bout de members ob he church," replied Aun' Jinkey, with a toss of her head. '*I reckon you do, more than they would like to see pub- lished in the county paper; but we aren't scandal- mongers, are we, Aun' Jinkey?" and the young visitor sat down in the doorway and looked across the green meadow seen through the opening in the trees. A dogwood stood in the corner of the rail fence, the pink and white of its blos- soms well matching the girl's fair face and her rose-dotted calico gown, which, in its severe simplicity, revealed her rounded outlines. Aun' Jinkey watched her curiously, for it was evident that Miss Lou's thoughts were faraway. "Wat you tinkin' 'bout. Miss Lou?" she asked. "Oh, I hardly know myself. Come, Aun' Jinkey, be a nice old witch and tell me my fortune. ' ' "Wat you want ter know yo' fortin fur?" "I want to know more than I do now. Look here, Aun' Jinkey, does that run we hear singing yonder go round and round in one place and with the same current? Doesn't it go on? Uncle and aunt want me to go round and round, doing the same things and thinking the same thoughts — not my own thoughts either. Oh, I'm getting so tired of it all!" "Lor' now, chile, I wuz des 'parin' you ter dat run in my min'," said Aun' Jinkey in an awed tone. "No danger of uncle or aunt comparing me to the run, or anything else. They never had any children and don't know anything about young people. They have a sort of prim, old-fashioned ideal of what the girls in the Baron family should be, and I must become just such a girl — just like that stiff, queer old portrait of grandma when she was a girl. Oh, if they knew how tired of it all I am!" "Bless yo' heart. Miss Lou, you ain' projeckin' anyting?'* "No, I'm just chafing and beating my wings like a caged bird." "Now see yere, Miss Lou, isn't you onreason'ble ? You 14 ''MISS LOW hab a good home; mars'r en miss monstus plus, en dey bringin' you up in de nurter en 'monitions ob de Lawd." "Too much 'monition, Aun' Jinkey. Uncle and aunt's religion makes me so tired, and they make Sunday so aw- fully long. Their religion reminds me of the lavender and camphor in which they keep their Sunday .clothes. And then the pages of the catechism they have always made me learn, and the long Psalms, too, for punishment! I don't understand religion, anyway. It seems something meant to uphold all their views, and anything contrary to their views isn't right or religious. They don't think much of you Baptists." "We ain' sufrin' on dat 'count, chile," remarked Aun* Jinkey, dryly. "There now, Aun' Jinkey, don't you see? Uncle owns you, yet you think for yourself and have a religion of your own. If he knew I was thinking for myself, he'd invoke the memory of all the Barons against me. I don't know very much about the former Barons, except that my father was one. According to what I am told, the girl Barons were the primmest creatures I ever heard of. Then uncle and aunt are so inconsistent, holding up as they do for my admiration Cousin Mad Whately. I don't wonder people shorten, nis name from Madison to Mad, for if ever there was a wild, reckless fellow, he is. Uncle wants to bring about a match, because Mad's plantation joins ours. Mad acted as if he owned me already when he was home last, and yet he knows I can't abide him. He seems to think I can be subdued like one of his skittish horses. " "You hab got a heap on yo' min'. Miss Lou, you sho'ly hab. You sut'ny t'ink too much for a young gyurl." "I'm eighteen, yet uncle and aunt act toward me in some ways as if I were still ten years old. How can I help think- ing? The thoughts come. You're a great one to talk against thinking. Uncle says you don't do much else, and that your thoughts are just like the smoke of your ^Ipe." A GIRL'S PROTEST 16 Ann' Jinkey bridled indignantly at first, but, recollect- ing herself, said quietly: "I knows my juty ter ole mars' r en' 11 say not'n gin 'im. He bring you up en gib you a home, Miss Lou. You must reckermember dat ar." "I'm in a bad mood, I suppose, but 1 can't help my thoughts, and it's kind of a comfort to speak them out. If he only would give me a home and not make it so much like a prison! Uncle's honest, though, to the backbone. On my eighteenth birthday he took me into his office and for- mally told me about my affairs. 1 own that part of the plantation on the far side of the run. He has kept all the accounts of that part separate, and if it hadn't been for the war I'd have been rich, and he says I will be rich when the war is over and the South free. He said he had allowed so much for my bringing up and for my education, and that the rest was invested, with his own money, in Con- federate bonds. That is all right, and I respect uncle for his downright integrity, but he wants to manage me just as he does my plantation. He wishes to produce just such crops of thoughts as he sows the seeds of, and he would treat my other thoughts like weeds, which must be hoed out, cut down and burned. Then you see he hasn't given me a home, and I'm growing to be a woman. If I am old enough to own land, am I never to be old enough to own myself?" "Dar now, Miss Lou, you raisin' mo' questions dan I kin tink out in a yeah." "There's dozens more rising in my mind and I can't get rid of them. Aunt keeps my hands knitting and work- ing for the soldiers, and I like to do it. I'd like to be a sol- dier myself, for then I could go somewhere and do and see something. Life then wouldn't be just doing things with my hands and being told to think exactly what an old gen- tleman and an old lady think. Of course our side is right in this war, but how can I believe with uncle that nearly all the people in the North are low, wicked and vile? The idea that every Northern soldier is a monster is preposter- 16 ''MISS LOU" ous to me. Uncle forgets that he has had me taught in United States history. I wish some of them would just march by this out-of-the-way place, for I would like to see for myself what they are like. ' ' "Dar, dar, Miss Lou, you gittin' too bumptious. You like de fus' woman who want ter know too much." "No," said the girl, her blue eyes becoming dark and earnest, "I want to know what's true, what's right. 1 can't believe that uncle and aunt's narrow, exclusive, com- fortless religion came from heaven; I can't believe that God agrees with unele as to just what a young girl should do and think and be, but uncle seems to think that the wickedest thing I can do is to disagree with him and aunt. Uncle forgets that there are books in his library, and books make one think. They tell of life very different from mine. Why, Aun' Jinkey, just think what a lonely girl I am! You are about the only one I can talk to. Our neighbors are so far away and we live so secluded that I scarcely have acquaintances of my own age. Aunt thinks young girls should be kept out of society until the proper time, and that time seems no nearer now than ever. If uncle and aunt loved me, it would be different, but they have just got a stiff set of ideas about their duty to me and another set about my duty to them. Why, uncle laughed at a kit- ten the other day because it was kittenish, but he has al- ways wanted me to behave with the solemnity of an old cat. Oh, dear! I'm 50 tired. I wish something would happen." "Hit brokes me all up ter year you talk so, honey, en I bless de Lawd 'tain' likely any ting gwinter hap'n in dese yere parts. De wah am ragin' way off fum heah, nobody comin' wid news, en bimeby you gits mo' settle down. Some day you know de valley ob peace en quietness." "See here, Aun' Jinkey," said the girl, with a flash of her eyes, "you know the little pond off in the woods. That's more peaceful than the run, isn't it? Well, it's stagnant, too, and full of snakes. I'd like to know what's going on in the world, but uncle of late does not even let A OIRUS PROTEST 17 me read the county paper. I know things are not going to suit him, for he often frowns and throws the paper into the fire. That's what provokes me — the whole world must go just to suit him, or else he is angry." "Well, now, honey, you hab 'lieve yo' min', en I specs you feel bettah. You mus' des promis yo' ole mammy dat you be keerful en not rile up ole mars'r, kase hit'll ony be harder fer you. I'se ole, en I knows tings do hap'n dough dey of'un come slowlike. You des gwine troo de woods now, en kyant see fur; bimeby you come ter a clearin'. Dat boy ob mine be comin' soon fer his pone en bacon. I'se g winter do a heap ob tin kin' on all de questions you riz. "Yes, Aun' Jinkey, I do feel better for speaking out, but I expect I shall do a heap of thinking too. Good- by," and she strolled away toward the brook. 18 ''MISS LOU' CHAPTER II SOMETHING HAPPENS IT was a moody little stream which Miss Lou was follow- ing. She did not go far before she sat down on a rock and watched the murmuring waters glide past, conscious meantime of a vague desire to go with them into the un- known. She was not chafing so much at the monotony of her life as at its restrictions, its negation of all pleasing realities, and the persistent pressure upon her attention of a formal round of duties and more formal and antiquated circle of thoughts. Only as she stole away into solitudes like the one in which she now sat dreaming could she es- cape from the hard materialism of routine, and chiding for idleness usually followed. Her aunt, with an abundance of slaves at her command, could have enjoyed much leisure, yet she was fussily and constantly busy, and the young girl could not help feeling that much which she was expected to do was a mere waste of time. The serene beauty of the evening, the songs of the mock- ing and other birds, were not without their effect, however, and she said aloud: "I might be very happy even here if, like the birds, I had the heart to sing— and I would sing if I truly lived and had something to live for." The sun was approaching the horizon, and she was rising wearily and reluctantly to return when she heard the report of firearms, followed by the sound of swiftly galloping horses. Beyond the brook, on the margin of which she stood, rose a precipitous bank overhung with vines and bushes, and a few rods further back was a plantation road SOMETHING HAPPENS 19 descending toward a wide belt of forest. A thick copse and growth of young trees ran from the top of the bank toward the road, hiding from her vision that portion of the lane from which the sounds were approaching. Suddenly half a dozen cavalrymen, whom she knew to be Federals from their blue uniforms, galloped into view and passed on in the direction of the forest. One of the group turned his horse sharply behind the concealing copse and spurred directly toward her. She had only time to throw up her hands and utter an involuntary cry of warning about the steep bank, when the horse sprang through the treacherous shrubbery and fell headlong into the stream. The rider saw his peril, withdrew his feet from the stirrups, and in an in-, stinctive effort for self-preservation, threw himself forward, falling upon the sand almost at the young girl's feet. He uttered a groan, shivered, and became insensible. A mo- ment or two later a band in gray galloped by wholly intent upon the Federals, who had disappeared spurring for the woods, and she recognized her cousin, Madison Whately, leading the pursuit. Neither he nor any of his party looked her way, and it was evident that the Union soldier who had so abruptly diverged from the road behind the screening copse had not been discovered. The sounds died away as speedily as they had approached, and all became still again. The startled birds resumed their songs; the injured horse moved feebly, and the girl saw that it was bleeding from a wound, but the man at her feet did not stir. Truly something had happened. What should she do ? Breaking the paralysis of her fear and astonishment, she stepped to the brook, gathered up water in her hands, and dashed it into the face of the unconscious man. It had no effect. "Can he be dead?" she asked herself in horror. He was as pale as his bronzed features could become, and her woman's soul was touched that one who looked so strong, who had been so vital a moment before, should now lie there in pathetic and appealing helplessness. Was that fine, manly face the visage of one of the terrible, TO *'M1SS LOW bloodthirsty, ■anscmpulous Yankees ? Even as she ran to Ann' Jinkey's cottage for help the thought crossed her mind that the world was not what it had been represented to her, and that she must learn to think and act for herself. As she approached, Chunk, Aun' Jinkey's grandson, appeared coming from the mansion house. He was nick- named '* Chunk" from his dwarfed stature and his stout, powerful build. Miss Lou put her finger to her lips, glanced hastily around, and led the way into the cabin. She hushed their startled exclamations as she told her story, and then said, "Aun' Jinkey, if he's alive, you must hide him in your loft there where Chunk sleeps. Come with me." In a few moments all three were beside the unconscious form. Chunk instantly slipped his hand inside the soldier's vest over his heart. "Hit done beats," he said, quickly, and without further hesitation he lifted the man as if he had been a child, bore him safely to the cabin, and laid him on x\un' Jinkey's bed. "Hi, granny, whar dat hot stuff you gib me fer de belly misery ?' ' Aun' Jinkey had already found a bottle containing a de- coction of the wild ginger root, and with pewter spoon forced some of the liquid into the man's mouth. He strug- gled slightly and began to revive. At last he opened his eyes and looked with an awed expression at the young girl who stood at the foot of the bed. "I hope you feel better now," she said, kindly. "Are you — am I alive ?" he asked. "Bar now, mars' r, you isn't in heb'n yet, dough Miss Lou, standin' dar, mout favor de notion. Des you took anoder swaller ob dis ginger-tea, en den you see me'n Chunk ain' angels." Chunk grinned and chuckled. "Neber was took fer one in my bawn days." The young man did as he was bidden, then turned his eyes wistfully and questioningly from the two dark visages back to the girl's sympathetic face. SOMETHING HAPPENS 21 "You remember," slie said, "you were being chased, and turned your horse toward a steep bank, which you didn't see, and fell." "Ah, yes— it's all growing clear. You were the woman I caught glimpse of. ' ' She nodded and said: "I must go now, or some one will come looking for me. I won't speak — tell about this. I'm not on your side, but I'm not going to get a helpless man into more trouble. You may trust Aun' Jinkey and her grandson." "Dat you kin, mars'r," Chunk ejaculated with peculiar emphasis. "God bless you, then, for a woman who has a heart. I'm quite content that you're not an angel," and a smile so lighted up the soldier's features that she thought she had never seen a pleasanter looking man. Worried indeed that she was returning so much later than usual, she hastened homeward. Half-way up the path to the house she met a tall, slender negro girl, who ex- claimed, "Hi, Miss Lou, ole miss des gettin' 'stracted 'bout you, en mars'r sez ef you ain' at supper in five minits he's gwine down to Aun' Jinkey en know what she mean, meck- in' sech 'sturbence in de fambly. " "How absurd!" thought the girl. "Being a little late is a disturbance in the family." But she hastened on, fol- lowed by the girl, who was employed in the capacity of waitress. This girl. Zany by name, resented in accordance with her own ideas and character the principle of repression which dominated the household. She threw a kiss toward the cabin under the trees and shook with silent laughter as she muttered, "Dat fer you. Chunk. You de beat'nst nigger I eber see. You mos' ez bro'd ez I is high, yit you'se reachin' arter me. I des like ter kill mysef lafin' wen we dance tergeder, " and she indulged in a jig-step and antics behind Miss Lou's back until she came in sight of the win- dows, then appeared as if following a hearse. Miss Lou entered the rear door of the long, two-story *22 *'MISS LOW house, surrounded on three sides by a wide piazza. Mr. Baron, a stout, bald-headed old gentleman, was fuming up and down the dining-room while his wife sat in grim silence at the foot of the table. It was evident that they had made stiff, old-fashioned toilets, and both looked askance at the flushed face of the almost breathless girl, still in her simple morning costume. Before she could speak her uncle said, severely, *' Since we have waited so long, we will still wait till you can dress. '* The girl was glad to escape to her room in order that she might have time to frame some excuse before she faced the inquisition in store for her. Constitutional traits often assert themselves in a manner contrary to the prevailing characteristics of a region. In- stead of the easy-going habits of life common to so many of his neighbors, Mr. Baron was a martinet by nature, and the absence of large, engrossing duties permitted his mind to dwell on little things and to exaggerate them out of all proportion. Indeed, it was this utter lack of perspective in his views and judgments which created for Miss Lou half her trouble. The sin of tardiness which she had just committed was treated like a great moral transgression, or rather it was so frowned upon that it were hard to say he could show his displeasure at a more heinous offence. The one thought now in Mr. Baron's mind was that the sacred routine of the day had been broken. Often there are no greater devotees to routine than those who are virtually idlers. Endowed with the gift of persistence rather than with a resolute will, it had become second nature to main- tain the daily order of action and thought which he believed to be his right to enforce upon his household. Every one chafed under his inexorable system except his wife. She had married when young, had grown up into it, and supple- mented it with a system of her own which took the form of a scrupulous and periodical attention to all little details of housekeeping. There was a constant friction, therefore, between the careless, indolent natures of the slaves and the SOMETHING HAPPENS 23 precise, exacting requirements of both master and mistress. Miss Lou, as she was generally called on the plantation, had grown up into this routine as a flower blooms in a stiff old garden, and no amount of repression, admonition and ex- hortation, not even in her younger days of punishment, could quench her spirit or benumb her mind. She sub- mitted, she yielded, with varying degrees of grace or reluc- tance. As she increased in years, her thoughts, as we have seen, were verging more and more on the border of rebel- lion. But the habit of obedience and submission still had its influence. Moreover, there had been no strong motive and little opportunity for independent action. Hoping not even for tolerance, much less for sympathy, she kept her thoughts to herself, except as she occasionally relieved her mind to her old mammy, Aun' Jinkey. She came into the dining-room hastily at last, but the expression of her face was impassive and inscrutable. She was received in solemn silence, broken at first only by the long formal grace which Mr. Baron never omitted and never varied. In her rebellions mood the girl thought, "What a queer God it would be if he were pleased with this old cut- and-dried form of words! All the time uncle's saying them he is thinking how he'll show me his displeasure." Mr. Baron evidently concluded that his best method at first would be an expression of offended dignity, and the meal began in depressing silence, which Mrs. Baron was naturally the first to break. "It must be evident to you, Louise," she said in a thin, monotonous voice, "that the time has come for you to consider and revise your conduct. The fact that your uncle has been kept waiting for his sup- per is only one result of an unhappy change which I have observed, but have forborne to speak of in the hope that your own conscience and the influence of your past training would lead you to consider and conform. Think of the precious monfents, indeed I may say hours, that you have wasted this afternoon in idle converse with an old negress who is no fit companion for you! You are becoming too old — " 24 ''MISS LOU" ''Too old, aunt? Do you at last recognize the fact that I am growing older ?' ' With a faint expression of surprise dawning in her im- passive face Mrs. Baron continued: ''Yes, old enough to remember yourself and not to be compelled to recognize the duties of approaching womanhood. I truly begin to feel that I must forbid these visits to an old, ignorant and foolish creature whose ideas are totally at variance with all that is proper and right. ' ' "Uncle thinks I have approached womanhood sufficiently near to know something of my business affairs, and even went so far as to suggest his project of marrying me to my cousin in order to unite in sacred — I mean legal bonds the two plantations.'* The two old people looked at each other, then stared at their niece, who, with hot face, maintained the pretence of eajing her supper. "Truly, Louise," began Mr. Baron, sole6inly, "you are indulging in strange and unbecoming language. 1 have revealed to you your pecuniary affairs, and I have more than once suggested an alliance which is in accordance with our wishes and your interests, in order to prove to you how scrupulous we are in promoting your welfare. We look for grateful recognition and a wise, per- sistent effort on your part to further our efforts in your behalf." "It doesn't seem to me wise to talk to a mere child about property and marriage," said the girl, breathing quickly in the consciousness of her temerity and her ris- ing spirit of rebellion. "You are ceasing to be a mere child," resumed her uncle, severely. "That cannot be," Miss Lou interrupted. "You and aunt speak to me as you did years ago when I was a child. Can you expect me to have a woman's form and not a woman's mind ? Are women told exactly what they nfust think and do, like little children ? Aunt threatens to forbid visits to my old mammy. If I were but five years old she couldn't SOMETHING HAPPENS ^ do more. You speak of marrying me to my cousin as if I had merely the form and appearance of a woman, and no mind or wishes of my own. I have never said I wanted to marry him or any one." "Why, Louise, you are verging toward flat rebellion," gasped her uncle, laying down his knife and fork. "Oh, no, uncle! I'm merely growing up. You should have kept the library locked; you should never have had me taught to read, if you expected me to become the mere shell of a woman, having no ideas of my own." "We wish you to have ideas, and have tried to inculcate right ideas." "Which means only your ideas, uncle." "Louise, are you losing your mind?" ' ' No, uncle, I am beginning to find it, and that I have a right to use it. I am willing to pay all due respect and def- erence to you and to aunt, but I protest against being treated as a child on one hand and as a wax figure which can be stood up and married to anybody on the other. I have patiently borne this treatment as long as I can, and I now reckon the time has come to end it." Mr. Baron was thunderstruck and his wife was feeling for her smelling-bottle. Catching a glimpse of Zany, where she stood open-mouthed in her astonishment, her master said, sternly, "Leave the room!" Then he added to his niece, "Think of your uttering such wild talk before one of our people! Don't you know that my will must be law on this plantation?" "I'm not one of your people," responded the girl, haughtily. "I'm your niece, and a Southern girl who will call no man master." At this moment there was a knock at the door. With- out waiting for it to be opened, a tall, lank man entered and said, hastily, "Mr. Baron, I reckon there's news which yer orter hear toreckly. ' ' He was the overseer of the plantation. Roe— IX— B 26' ''MISS LOW CHAPTER III MAD WHATELY MR. BARON was one of the few of the landed gentry in the region who was not known by a military title, and he rather prided himself on the fact. "I'm a man of peace," he was accustomed to say, and his neighbors often remarked, "Yes, Baron is peaceable if he has his own way in everything, but there's no young blood in the county more ready for a fray than he for a lawsuit." "Law and order" was Mr. Baron's motto, but by these terms he meant the perpetuity of the conditions under which he and his ancestors had thus far lived. To dis- trust these conditions was the crime of crimes. In his esti- mation, therefore, a Northern soldier was a monster sur- passed only by the out-and-out abolitionist. While it had so happened that, even as a young man, his tastes had been legal rather than military, he regarded the war of secession as more sacred than any conflict of the past, and was will- ing to make great sacrifices for its maintenance. He had invested all his funds as well as those of his niece in Con- federate bonds, and he had annually contributed a large portion of the product of his lands to the support of the army. Living remote from the scenes of actual strife, he had been able to maintain his illusions and hopes to a far greater extent than many others of like mind with himself; but as the war drew toward its close, even the few news- papers he read were compelled to justify their name in some degree by giving very unpalatable information. As none are so blind as those who will not see, the old man had tes- MAD WHATELY 27 tily pooh-poohed at what he termed "temporary reverses," and his immunity from disturbance had confirmed his belief that the old order of things could not materially change. True, some of his slaves had disappeared, but he had given one who had been caught such a lesson that the rest had re- mained quiet if not contented. The news brought by his overseer became therefore more disturbing than the strange and preposterous conduct of his niece, and he had demanded excitedly, "What on earth's the matter, Perkins?" "Well, sir, fur's I kin mek out, this very plantation's been p'luted by Yankee soldiers this very evenin'. Yes, sir." "Great heavens! Perkins," and Mr. Baron sprang from his chair, then sank back again with an expression suggest- ing that if the earth opened next it could not be worse. "Yes, sir," resumed Perkins, solemnly, "I drawed that much from Jute. He seen 'em hisself. I noticed a s'pressed 'citement en talk in the quarters this evenin', an' I follered hit right up an' I ast roun' till I pinned Jute, fie was over the fur side of the run lookin' fur a stray crow, an' he seen 'em. But they was bein' chased lively. Mad Whately — beg pardon — Mr. Madison was arter them with whip and spur. Didn't yer hear a crack of a rifle ? I did, and reck- oned it was one o' the Simcoe boys out gunnin', but Jute says hit was one o' our men fired the shot, en that they chased the Yanks to'erds the big woods. They was all mounted en goin' it lickity switch. The thing that sticks in my crop isn't them few what Mr. Madison chased, but the main body they belongs to. Looks as ef there's goin' to be a raid down our way. ' ' "If that is so," said Mr. Baron, majestically, "Lieuten- ant Whately proves that our brave men are not far off, either, and the way he chased some of them shows how all the vile invaders will eventually be driven out of the coun- try. Be vigilant, Perkins, and let it be understood at the quarters that Lieutenant Whately is within call." 28 ''MISS LOW The overseer bowed awkwardly and limped away. His lameness had secured him immunity from military duty. "Ah, that's a man for you," said Mr. Baron, glaring at his niece. "Your cousin is a true scion of Southern chiv- alry. That is the kind of a man you do not know whether you wish to marry or not — a brave defender of our hearths and liberties." "If he wishes to marry me against my will, he's not a defender of my liberty," retorted the girl. "If you had the spirit which should be your birthright your eyes would flash with joy at the prospect of seeing a hero who could thus chase your enemies from our soil. If you could only have seen him in his headlong — " "I did see him." "What!" "I saw Cousin Madison leading a dozen or more men in pursuit of half a dozen. That does not strike me as sub- limely heroic." "Why haven't you told me of this? How could you have seen him?" and the old man, in his strong excite- ment, rose from his chair. "My reception when I entered was not conducive to con- versation. I was merely sitting by the run and saw both parties gallop past." "You should have come instantly to me." "I'm sure I came in hastily," she replied, crimsoning ir. the consciousness of her secret, "but I was met as if I had been guilty of something awful. ' ' "Well, if I had known," began her uncle, in some confusion, mistaking her color for an expression of anger. "I think," remarked her aunt, coldly, "that Louise should have recognized that she had given you just cause for displeasure by her tardiness, unless it were explained, and she should have explained at once. I have no patience with the spirit she is displaying." But Mr. Baron's miud liad been diverted to more serious MAD WHATELY 29 and alarming considerations than what he characterized men- tally as "a girl's tantrum." "It makes my blood boil," he said, to think that this Northern scum is actually in our neighborhood, and might be at our doors but for my brave nephew. Thanks to him, they met a righteous reception on this plantation; thanks to him, in all probability, we are not now weltering in our blood, with the roof that shelters us blazing over our heads. If those marauders had found us unprotected, young wo- man, you would have rued the day. Their capacity for evil is only equalled by their opportunities. If your cousin had not flamed after them like an avenging sword you might have cried loudly enough for the one of whom, in your fit of unseemly petulance, you can speak so slight- ingly. I advise you to go to your room and thank Heaven for your escape. ' ' "Uncle, are the people of the North savages?" "Its soldiers are worse than savages. Have you not heard me express my opinion of them over and over again ? Go to your room, and when you appear again, I trust it will be with the meekness and submission becoming in a young woman. ' ' When the girl left Aun' Jinkey's cabin the young sol- dier looked after her with an expression of deep interest. "Who is she?" he asked. "Dat's Miss Lou," said the old negress, forcing into his mouth another spoonful of her fiery decoction. "Oh, that's enough, aunty, unless you wish to burn me out like a hollow log," and he struggled to his feet to ease his tendency to strangle. "Miss Lou? How should I know who she is?'* "Ob co'se," said Aun' Jinkey, dryly, "I ain' namin' her pedigree." "You a Linkum man, ain' you ?" Chunk asked, quickly. "Yes, and Lincoln is a good friend of yours." "Hi! I knows dat. W'at fer you so hidin'-in-de-grass, granny? No use bein' dat away wid a Linkum man." so ''MISS LOW "I ain' talkin' 'bout my young mistis to folks ez drap down fum de clouds." "You wouldn't like me better if I came up from below, aunty. There now, I'm not a very bad fellow, and I be- long to the army that's going to make you all free." '.'I hasn't des tink out dis question ob bein' free yit. I'se too ole to wuk much an' old mars' r's took keer on me long time." "Well, I'se tink it out," put in Chunk, decidedly; "en I'se able to wuk fer you en me too." "You mighty peart. Chunk, co'tin' a gal lie a bean-pole a'ready. I reck'n she spen' all you eber mek. Yon bettah boos' de Linkum man into dat ar lof sud'n, kase ef Marse Perkins cotch 'im yere we all ain' feelin' berry good bimeby. ' ' "Dat ar truer' n preachin'," admitted Chunk, with alac- rity. "Des you tek hoi' ob dem ladder rouns, mars' r, an' put yo' foots on my sho'lers. Dat's hit. Nobody tink ob fin' in' you yere. I'se study how ter git yo' hoss out of sight 'gin mawnin'." "You stand by me. Chunk," said the soldier, "and you won't be sorry. There's a lot of us coming this way soon, and I can be a good friend of yours and all your people if you help me out of this scrape." "I'se gwine ter stan' by you, boss. I'se mek up my min' ter be free dis time, sho! Hi! w'at dat?" He was wonderfully agile, for his arms were nearly as long as his legs. In an instant he descended, drawing a trap-door after him. Then he sauntered to the door, which he opened wide. A troop of horsemen were coming single file by a path which led near the cabin, and the foremost asked in a voice which the negro recognized as that of Lieu- tenant Whately, "Is that you. Chunk?" "Dat's me, mars'r. My 'specs." "Be ofE, you skeleton. Make time for the house and help get supper for me and the men. If you don't run like a red deer, I'll ride you down." "Good Lawd! w'at gwine ter hap'n nex' ?" groaned MAD WHATELY 31 Chunk, as he disappeared toward the mansion. He burst like a bombshell into the kitchen, a small building in the rear of the house. "Did jou eber see de likes?" exclaimed Zany. "What yo' manners-^" "Hi, dar! talk 'bout manners! Marse Whately comin' wid a army, en want supper fer um all in des one minute en er haf by de clock!" Great, fat Ann' Suke threw up her hands in despair, and in the brief silence the tramp of horses and the jingling of sabres were plainly heard. They all knew Mad Whately, and it needed not that Mrs. Baron, desperately flurried, should bustle in a few moments later with orders that all hands should fly around. "What you doing here?" she asked Chunk, sharply. "I'se here ter hep, mistis. Dem's my orders from Marse Whately. He come ridin' by granny's." "Then go and kill chickens." A few moments later the dolorous outcry of fowls was added to the uproar made by the barking dogs. With a .chill of fear Miss Lou, in her chamber, recog- nized her cousin's voice, and knew that he, with his band, had come to claim hospitality at his uncle's hands. What complications did his presence portend? Truly, the long months of monotony on the old plantation were broken now. What the end would be she dared not think, but for the moment her spirit exulted in the excitement which would at least banish stagnation. In his secret heart Mr. Baron had hoped that his nephew would go on to his own home, a few miles further; for ap- plauding him as a hero was one thing, and having him turn everything upside down at that hour another. Routine and order were scattered to the winds whenever Mad Whately made his appearance, but the host's second thoughts led him to remember that this visitation was infinitely to be preferred to one from the terrible Yankees; so he threw wide open the door, and, with his wife, greeted his nephew 32 ''MISS LOU" warmly. Then he shouted for Perkins to come and look after the horses. "Ah, mine uncle," cried Whately, "where on earth is to be found a festive board like yours? Who so ready to fill the flowing bowl until even the rim is lost to sight, when your defenders have a few hours to spare in their hard campaigning? You won't entertain angels unawares to-night. You'd have been like Daniel in the den with none to stop the lions' mouths, or rather the jackals', had we not appeared on the scene. The Yanks were bearing down for you like the wolf on the fold. Where's my pretty cousin ?" Mr. Baron had opened his mouth to speak several times during this characteristic greeting, and now he hastened to the foot of the stairs and shouted, "Louise, come down and help your aunt entertain our guests." Meanwhile Whately stepped to the sideboard and helped himself liberally to the sherry. "You know me must maintain discipline," resumed Whately, as his uncle entered the dining-room. "The night is mild and still. Let a long table be set on the piazza for my men. I can then pledge them through the open window, for since I give them such hard service, I must make amends when I can. Ah, Perkins, have your people rub the horses till they are ready to prance, then feed them lightly, two hours later a heavier feed, that's a good fellow! You were born under a lucky star, uncle. You might now be tied up by your thumbs, while the Yanks helped themselves." "It surely was a kind Providence which brought you here, nephew.'' "No doubt, no doubt; my good horse, also, and, I may add, the wish to see my pretty cousin. Ah ! here she comes with the blushes of the morning on her cheeks, " but his warmer than a cousinly embrace and Jdss left the crimson of anger in their places. She drew herself up indignantly to her full height and MAD WHATELY 35 said, "We have beea discussing the fact that I am quite grown up. I will thank you to note the change, also." "Why, so I do," he replied, regarding her with undis- guised admiration; "and old Father Time has touched you only to improve you in every respect." "Very well, then," she replied, coldly, "I cannot help the touch of Father Time, but I wish it understood that I am no longer a child." "Neither am I, sweet cousin, and I like you as a woman far better. ' ' She left the room abruptly to assist her aunt. "Jove! uncle, but she has grown to be a beauty. How these girls blossom out when their time comes! Can it be that I have been absent a year?" "Yes, and your last visit was but a flying one." "And so I fear this one must be. The Yanks are on the move, perhaps in this direction, and so are we. It was one of their scouting parties that we ran into. Their horses were fresher than ours and they separated when once in the shadow of the woods. They won't be slow, however, in leaving these parts, now they know we are here. I'm going to take a little well-earned rest between my scoutings, and make lo\&e' to my cousin. Olympian humbugs! how hand- some and haughty she has become! I didn't think the lit- tle minx had so much spirit." "She has si^denly taken the notion that, since she is growing up, she can snap her fingers at all the powers that be." "Growing up! Why, uncle, she's grown, and ready to hear me say, 'With all my worldly goods I thee endow.' " "But the trouble is, she doesn't act as if very ready." "Oh, tush! she isn't ready to throw herself at the head of any one. That isn't the way of Southern girls. They want a wooer like a cyclone, who carries them by storm, marries them nolens volensj and then they're happy. But to be serious, uncle, in these stormy times Lou needs a protector. You've escaped for a long time, but no one M *'MISS LOU"" can tell now what a day will bring forth. As my wife, Cousin Lou will command more respect. I can take her within our lines, if necessary, or send her to a place of safety. Ah, here comes my blooming aunt to prepare for supper. ' ' " Welcome to The Oaks," she again repeated. *' Never more welcome, since you come as defender as well as guest." "Yes, aunt; think of a red-whiskered Yank paying his respects instead of me. ' ' "Don't suggest such horrors, please." The gentlemen now joined Miss Lou in the parlor, while under Mrs. Baron's supervision Zany, and Chunk, as gar- dener and man-of-all-work, with the aid of others soon set the two tables. Then began a procession of negroes of all sizes bearing viands from the kitchen. AUN' JINKEY'S POLICY 35 CHAPTER IT aun' jinkey's policy ALLAN SCOVILLB, for such was the Qnion soldier's name, fully realized that he was in the enemy's country as he watched through a cranny in the cabin the shadowy forms of the Confederates file past. Every bone in his body ached as if it had been broken, and more than once he moved his arms and legs to assure himself that they were whole. "Breath was just knocked right out of me," he muttered. "I hope that's the worst, for this place may soon become too hot for me. My good horse is not only lost, but I may be lost also through him. That queer-looking darky, Chunk, is my best hope now unless it is Miss Lou. Droll, wasn't it, that I should take her for an angel ? What queer thoughts a fellow has when within half an inch of the seamy side of life ! Hanged if I deserve such an awakening as I thought was blessing my eyes on the other side. From the way I ache, the other side mayn't be far off yet. Like enough hours will pass before Chunk comes back, and I must try to propitiate his grandam. " He crawled painfully to the trap-door and, finding a chink in the boards, looked down into the apartment below. Aun' Jinkey was smoking as composedly it might seem as if a terrible Yankee, never seen before, was not over her head, and a band of Confederates who would have made him a prisoner and punished her were only a few rods away. A close observer, however, might have noticed 9& **MISS LOU" that she was not enjoying languid whiffs, as had been the case in the afternoon. The old wotnan had put guile into her pipe as well as tobacco, and she hoped its smoke would blind suspicious eyes if any were hunting for a stray Yankee. Chunk's pone and bacon had been put near the fire to keep warm, and Scoville looked at the viands longingly. At last he ventured to whisper, "Aun' Jinkey, I am as hungry as a wolf. ' ' "Hash!" said the old woman softly. Then she rose, knocked the ashes from her pipe with great deliberation, and taking a bucket started for the spring. In going and coming she looked very sharply in all directioDS, thus satis- fying herself that no one was watching the cabin. Ee-enter» ing-, she whispered, *'Kin you lif de trap-do' ?" Scoville opened it, and was about to descend. **No, you kyant do dat," interposed Aun' Jinkey, quickly. *'Lie down up dar, en I ban' you Chunk's supper, fie gits his'n at de big house. You's got ter play possum right smart, mars' r, or you git cotched. Den we cotch it, too. You 'speck I doan know de resk Chunk en me tookin?" '* Forgive me, Aunt Jinkey. But your troubles will soon be over and you be as free as I am. ' ' "I doesn't want no sech freedom ez you got, mars'r, Lid'n en scrugin' fum tarin' en rarin* red-hot gallopers ez Mad Whately en his men. Dey'd des bun de ole cabin en me in't ef dey knowed you's dar. Bettah stop yo' mouf wid yo' supper." This Scoville was well contented to do for a time, while Aun* Jinkey smoked and listened with all her ears. Faint sounds came from the house and the negro quarters, but all was still about the cabin. Suddenly she took her pipe from her mouth and muttered, "Dar goes a squinch-owl tootin'. Dat doan mean no good." "Aunt Jinkey," said Scoville, who was watching her> *'that screech-owl worries you, doesn't it?" "Dere's mo' kin's ob squinch-owls dan you 'lows on. AUN* JINKEY'S POLICY 37 mars' r. Some toots fer de sake ob too tin' en some toots in warnin'." "That one tooted in warning. Don't be surprised if you hear another very near." He crawled to the cranny under the eaves and Aun' Jinkey fairly jumped out of her chair as she heard an owl apparently hooting on the roof with a vigor and truth to nature that utterly deceived her senses. Scoville repeated the signal, and then crept back to the chink in the floor. The old woman was trembling and looking round in dismayed uncertainty. ** There," he said, with a low laugh, '*that squinch-owl was I, and the first you heard was one of my men. Now, like a good soul, make pones and fry bacon for five men, and you'll have friends who will take good care of you and Chunk." "De Lawd he'p me! w'at comin* nex' ? Miss Lou wu^ a wishin' sump'n ud hap'n — w'at ain' gwinter hap'n?" "Nothing will happen to harm you if you do as I say. Our men may soon be marching this way, and we'll remem- ber our friends when we come." "I des hope dere'U be sump'n lef ob me ter reckermem- ber," said Aun' Jinkey, but she rose to comply with the soldier's requirement, feeling that her only course was to fall in with the wishes of whoever happened to be upper- most in the troublous times now foreseen. She was in a terribly divided state of mind. The questions she had smoked and thought over so long now pressed with be- wildering rapidity and urgency. An old family slave, she had a strong feeling of loyalty to her master and mistress. But they had been partially alienating Miss Lou, for whom she would open her veins, while her grandson was hot for freedom and looked upon Northern soldiers as his deliver- ers. Aun' Jinkey was not sure she wished to be delivered. That was one of the points she was not through "pro- jeckin' " about. Alas! events would not wait for her con- clusions, although more time had been given her than to many others forced to contemplate vast changes. With a shrewd simplicity she decided that it would be wise to keep 88 "MISS LOU" on friendly terms with all the contending powers, and do what in ner judgment was best for each. '*Hit des took all de 'visions we got," she remarked, disconsolately. "You'll soon have visions of more to eat and wear than ever blessed your eyes," said Scoville, encouragingly. "Hi! granny," said Chunk, peeping in at the door. "How you start me I" ejaculated the old woman, sinking into her chair. "That you. Chunk?'* asked Scoville. "Is the coast clear?" "I reck'n. Keep shy yet a while, mars' r." A few words explained the situation, and Chunk added: "You des feed dem Yankees big, granny. I'se pervide mo'. I mus' go now sud'n. Made Aun' Suke b'lebe dat I knowed ob chickens w'at roos' in trees, en dey tinks I'se lookin' fer um. High ole times up ter de house," and he disappeared in the darkness. In nervous haste Aun' Jinkey prepared the ample sup- per. Scoville hooted again, a shadowy form stole to the cabin for the food, and disappeared again toward the run. Then Aun' Jinkey prepared to compose her nerves by another smoke. "Hand me up a coal for my pipe, also," said Scoville, "and then we'll have a sociable time." "I des feared onsosh'ble times dis eb'nin'," remarked Aun' Jinkey. "If you knew how my bones ached, you'd help me pass the time." "Reck'n mine ache, too, 'fo' I troo wid dis bus'ness." "No, Aunt Jinkey, you won't be punished for doing a good deed. Your young mistress is on your side, anyway. Who is she?" "Young mistis ain' got no po'r ef dey fin's out. She nuff ter do ter hoi' 'er own." "How comes it she's friendly to 'we uns,' as you say down here ?' ' AUN' JIN KEY'S POLICY 39 "She ain' friendly. You drap at her feet ez ef you wuz dead, en she hab a lil gyurlish, soft heart, dat's all. Didn't she tole you dat she ain' on yo' side ?" "Well, bless her heart, then." "I circumscribe ter dat ar." "Aren't you on our side?" "I'se des 'twix en 'tween all de sides." "You're all right, Aunt Jinkey. I'd trust you with my life." "Reck'n you hab ter dis eb'nin'." "Well, about Miss Lou — you say she has trouble to hold her own. How's that?" "Dem's fambly matters." "And so none of my business, unless she tells me herself. " "How she gwine ter tol' you tings?" "Ah, Aunt Jinkey, you've vegetated a great while in these slow parts. I feel it in my bones, sore as they are, that some day I'll give you a new dress that will make you look like a spike of red hollyhocks. You'll see changes you don't dream of." "My haid whirlin' now, mars'r. Hope ter grashus I kin do my wuk ter-morrer in peace and quietness." There was neither peace nor quietness at the mansion. Whately, with a soldier's instincts to make the most of passing opportunities, added to the hasty tendencies of his own nature, was not only enjoying the abundant supper, but feasting his eyes meantime on the charms developed by his cousin in his absence. He knew of his uncle's wish to unite the two plantations, and had given his assent to the means, for it had always been his delight to tease, frighten, and pet his little cousin, whose promise of beauty had been all that he could desire. Now she evoked a sud- den flame of passion, and his mind, which leaped to con- clusions, was already engaged in plans for consummating their union at once. He sought to break down her reserve by paying her extravagant compliments, and to excite her admiration by accounts of battles in which he would not 40 ' ''MISS LOU' have posed as hero so plainly had he not been flushed with wine. There was an ominous fire in her eyes scarcely in accord with her cool demeanor. Unused to the world, and distrusting her own powers, she made little effort to reply taking refuge in comparative silence. This course encour aged him and her uncle. The former liked her manifesta tion of spirit as long as he believed it to be within control To his impetuous, imperious nature the idea of a tame, in sipid bride was not agreeable; while Mr. Baron, still under the illusion that she was yet but a submissive child, thought that her bad mood was passing and would be gone in the morning. He little dreamed how swiftly her mind was awakening and developing under the spur of events. She did not yet know that her cousin was meditating such a speedy consummation of his purpose, but was aware that he and all her relatives looked upon her as his predestined wife. Now, as never before, she shrank from the relation, and in the instinct of self-preservation resolved never to enter into it. Her long, rebellious reveries in solitude had prepared her for this hour, and her proud, excited spirit surprised her by the intensity of its passionate revolt. Not as a timid, shrinking maiden did she look at her cousin and his men feasting on the piazza. She glanced at him, then through the open windows at their burly forms, as one might face a menace which brought no thought of yielding. The family resemblance between Whately and herself was strong. He had her blue eyes, but they were smaller than hers, and his expression was bold, verging toward recklessness. Her look was steady and her lips compressed into accord with the firm little chin. Mrs. Baron's ideas of decorum soon brought temporary relief. She also saw that her nephew was becoming too excited to make a good impression, so she said, "Louise, you may now retire, and I trust that you will waken to- morrow to the truth that your natural guardians can best direct your thoughts and actions." AUN' JINKEY'S POLICY 41 Whately was about to rise in order to bid an affectionate good-night, but the girl almost fled from the room. In the hall she met Chunk, who whispered, "Linkum man gittin* peart, Miss Lou." "She'll be over her tantrum by morning," said Mr. Baron in an apologetic tone. "Perhaps we'll have to humor her more in little things." "That's just where the trouble lies, uncle. You and aunt have tried to make her feel and act as if as old as yourselves. She's no longer a child; neither is she exactly a woman. All young creatures at her age are skittish. Bless you, she wouldn't be a Baron if she hadn't lots of red, warm blood. So much the better. When I've married her she'll settle down like other Southern girls." "I think we had better discuss these matters more pri- vately, nephew," said Mrs. Baron. "Beg pardon, I reckon we had, aunt. My advice, how- ever, is that we act first and discuss afterward. ' ' "We'll talk it over to-morrow, nephew," said Mr. Baron. "Of course as guardian I must adopt the best and safest plan." Chunk's ears were long if he was short, and in waiting on a soldier near the window he caught the purport of this conversation. 42 ''MISS LOU" CHAPTER V whately's idea of courtship WHEN waiting on the table, Zany either stood like an image carved out of black walnut or moved with the - angular promptness of an automaton when a spring is touched. Only the quick roll of her eyes indicated how observant she was. If, however, she met Chunk in the hall, or anywhere away from observation, she never lost the opportunity to torment him. A queer grimace, a surprised stare, an exasperating derisive giggle, were her only acknowledgments of his amorous attentions. *'Ef I doesn't git eben wid dat niggah, den I eat a mule," he muttered more than once. But Chunk was in great spirits and a state of suppressed excitement. '"Pears ez ef I mout own mysef 'fo' dis moon done waxin' en wanin','' he thought. "Dere's big times comin,' big times. I'se yeard w'at hap'n w'en de Yanks go troo de kentry like an ol bull in a crock' ry sto'." In his .duties of waiting on the troopers and clearing the table he had opportunities of purloining a goodly portion of the viands, for he remembered that he also had assumed the role of host with a very meagre larder to draw upon. Since the Confederates were greatly wearied and were doubly inclined to sleep from the effects of a hearty supper and liberal potations, Mr. Baron offered to maintain a watch the early part of the night, while Perkins was enjoined to sleep with one eye open near the quarters. Mattresses and quilts were brought down and. spread on the piazza floor, from which soon rose a nasal chorus, "des like," as Chunk declared, "a frog-pon' in full bias'." WHATELY'S IDEA OF COURTSHIP 43 Whately, trained in alert, soldierly ways, slept on the sofa in the parlor near his men. One after another the lights were extinguished, and the house became quiet. Chunk was stealing away with his plunder through the shrubbery in the rear of the house, when he was suddenly confronted by Zany. 'Hi! you niggah!" she whispered, 'I'se cotch you now kyarin' off nuff vittles ter keep you a mont. You gwinter run away." *' You wanter run wid me ?" asked Chunk, unabashed. "What you took me fer?" "Fer better er wuss, w'ite folks say. Reck'n it ud be fer wuss in dis case." "I reck'n de wuss ain' fur off. I des step ter ole mars' r an' tell 'im ter 'vestigate yo' cabin dis eb'nin'," she said, and, with a great show of offended dignity, she was about to move away. "Look yere. Zany, doan yer be a fool. Doan you wanter be a free gyurl ?' ' "Ef you had me fer wuss I'd be des 'bout ez free ez Miss Lou w'en she mar'ed ter Mad Whately." "Hi! you year dat, too?" "I got eyes, en I got years, en you ain' gwinter light out dis night en lebe yo' granny en we uns. I sut'ny put a spoke in yo' wheel dat stop hits runnin'." Chunk was now convinced that he would have to take Zany into his confidence. He looked cautiously around, then whispered rapidly in her ear. "Hi!" she exclaimed, softly, "you got longer head dan body." "I kin reach ter yo' lips," said Chunk, snatching a kiss. "Stop dat foolishness!" she exclaimed, giving him a slight cuff. "Zany, keep mum ez a possum. Here's big times comin', en no un kin bender um, dough dey kin git deysefs in a heap ob trouble by blarnations. De Linkum men soon gwine ter be top of de heap an I'se gwinter be on top wid um. Dar you be, too, ef you stan's by Miss Lou en me." 44 ''MISS LOV" "Ve'y well, but I'se gwinter keep my eye on you, Marse Chunk." "Reck'n you will, kaze 1 ain' gwinter be fur off; en ef you puts yo' eye on some oder man, you soon fin' he ain' dar." With this ominous assurance he stole away. Soon afterward the hoot of an owl was heard again; shadows approached the cabin; Scoville, assisted by Chunk, joined them, and there was a whispered consultation. Sco- ville put the result in the following words: "The chance is a good one, I admit. It is quite possible that we could capture the Johnnies and their horses, but that's not what we're out for. Besides, I'm too badly broken up. I couldn't ride to-night. You must go back to camp, and leave me to follow. Chunk here has pro- visions for you. Better be moving, for Whately will prob- ably be out looking for you iathe morning." So it was decided, and the shadows disappeared. Sco- ville was put into Aun' Jinkey's bed, the old woman saying that she would sit up and watch. Chunk rubbed the bruised and aching body of the Union scout till he fell asleep, and then the tireless negro went to the spot where the poor horse had died in the stream. He took off the saddle and bridle. After a little consideration he diverted the current, then dug a hole on the lower side of the animal, rolled him into it, and changed the brook back into its old channel. Care- fully obliterating all traces of his work, he returned to the cabin, bolted the door, lay down against it so that no one could enter, and was soon asleep. The next morning dawned serenely, as if Nature had no sympathy with the schemes and anxieties to which the sev- eral actors in our little drama wakened. Whately was early on foot, for he felt that he had much to accomplish. Mr. Baron soon joined him, and the young man found in his uncle a ready coadjutor in his plans. They were both in full accord in their desires, although governed by different motives. The old man was actuated by his long-indulged greed for land, and wholly under the dominion of his belief WHATELY'S IDEA OF COURTSHIP 45 that one of the chief ends of marriage was to unite estates. In this instance he also had the honest conviction that he was securing the best interests of his niece. No one could tell what would happen if the invaders should appear, but he believed that the girl's future could best be provided for in all respects if she became the wife of a Confederate officer and a representative of his family. Sounds of renewed life came from all directions; the troopers rolled up their blankets, and went to look after their horses; Mrs. Baron bustled about, giving directions for breakfast; Chunk and Zany worked under her eye as if they were what she wished them to be, the automatic performers of her will; Aun' Suke fumed and sputtered like the bacon in her frying-pan, but accomplished her work with the promptness of one who knew that no ex- cuses would be taken from either master or mistress; Miss Lou dusted the parlor, and listened stolidly to the gallan- tries of her cousin. He was vastly amused by her reserve, believing it to be only maidenly coyness. Breakfast was soon served, for Whately had announced to Mr. Baron his intention of scouting in the woods where the Federals had disappeared; also his purpose to visit his home and summon his mother to his contemplated wedding. He and his men soon rode away, and the old house and the plantation resumed their normal quiet aspect. It had been deemed best not to inform Miss Lou of her cousin's immediate purpose until his plans were a little more certain and matured. Circumstances might arise which would prevent his return at once. Moreover, he had petitioned for the privilege of breaking the news him- self. He believed in a wooing in accordance with his na- ture, impetuous and regardless at the time of the shy re- luctance of its object; and it was his theory that the girl taken by storm would make the most submissive, contented and happy of wives; that women secretly admired men who thus asserted their will and strength, if in such assertion every form was complied with, and the impression given 46 "MISS LOV that the man was resistless because he could not resist the charms which had captivated him. *'Why, uncle," he had reasoned, "it is the strongest compliment that a man can pay a woman, and she will soon recognize it as such. When once she is married, she will be glad that she did not have to hesitate and choose, and she will always be- lieve in the man who was so carried away with her that he carried her away. My course is best, therefore, on general principles, while in this particular instance we have every reason for prompt action. Lou and I have been destined for each other from childhood, and I'm not willing to leave her to the chances of the hurly-burly which may soon begin. As my wife 1 can protect her in many ways impossible now." / THE STORM BEGINS 47 CHAPTER YI THE STORM BEGINS OF late years Aun' Jinkey's principal work had been the fine washing and ironing of the family, in which task she had always been an adept. For this reason she had been given the cabin near the ran and an unusually fine spring. Miss Lou felt a kindly solicitude and not a little curiosity in regard to the man who in a sense had been thrown at her feet for protection. So gathering up some of her laces, she made them an excuse for another visit to Aun' Jinkey. Mrs. Baron readily acquiesced, for she felt that if there was to be a wedding, the whole house must be cleaned from top to bottom. Moreover, by such occupation her mind could be diverted from the dire misgivings inspired by the proximity of Yankees. Under the circamstances, it would be just as well if her niece were absent. As the girl passed down through the shrubbery, she found Chunk apparently very busy. Without looking up he said, "Doan be afeard, Miss Lou, I'se be on de watch. Marse Linkum man right peart dis mawnin'." Aun' Jinkey was at her washtub near the door, and the cabin presented the most innocent aspect imaginable. ' ' Grood- morning," said the girl, affably. "How is your patient?" "Recovering rapidly, thanks to your kindness and the good friends in whose care you placed me," answered a hearty voice from the doorway. Aun' Jinkey made a sort of rush to the door, exclaim- ing in tones that were low, yet almost stern, "Marse Lin- 48 *'MISS LOW' kum man, ef you show yo'sef — ef you doan stay by dat ar ladder so you git up sud'n, I des troo wid dis bus'ness! Tain' far ter dem w'at's reskin' dere bodies en a'most dere souls!" "You are right, aunty," said Scoville, retreating. *'It's wrong for me to do anything which might bring trouble to you or Chunk; but I was so eager to thank this other good Samaritan — " "Well, den, sit by de ladder dar, en Miss Lou kin sit on de do'step. Den a body kin feel tiogs ain' comin' ter smash 'fo' dey kin breve." "Good Samaritan!" repeated Miss Lou, taking her old place in the doorway where she had so recently wished something would happen; "you have not fallen among thieves, sir." "My fear has been that you would think that a thief had fallen among the good Samaritans. I assure you that I am a Union soldier in good and regular standing." "I reckon my uncle and cousin would scout the idea that you, or any of your army, had any standing whatever." "That does not matter, so that I can convince you that I would not do or say anything unbecoming a soldier." "You are a Yankee, I suppose?" she asked, looking at him with strong yet shyly expressed interest. "I suppose I am, in your Soathern vernacular. I am from New York State, and my name is Allan Scoville." "Uncle says that you Yankees are terrible fellows." "Do I look as if I would harm you, Miss Lou ? Pardon me, I do not know how else to address you." "Address me as Miss Baron," she replied, with a droll little assumption of girlish dignity. "Well, then, Miss Baron, you have acted the part of a good angel toward me. ' ' "I don't like such talk," she replied, frowning. "You were merely thrown helpless at my feet. You didn't look as if you could do the South much harm then. What I may feel to be my duty hereafter — " THE STORM BEGINS 49 "I have no fears at all of wliat you may do," he inter- rupted, with a smile that made his expression very pleasing. "How so?" "Because you are incapable of betraying even an enemy, which I am not to you. On the contrary, I am a grateful man, who would risk his life to do you a service. The little unpleasantness between the North and South will pass away, and we shall all be friends again." "My uncle and cousin — indeed all the people I know — will never look upon you Northern soldiers as friends." "Never is a long time. I certainly feel very friendly toward you." "I wish you to know that I am a Southern girl," she replied stiffly, "and share in the feelings of my people." "Well, I'm a Northern man, and share in the feelings of my people. Can't we agree that this is fair and natural in each case ?' ' "But why do you all come marauding and trampling on the South?" "I beg your pardon. Miss Baron, but your question opens up all the differences between the two sections. I have my views, but am not a politician — simply a soldier. You and I are not at war. Let us talk about something else. With your brave cousin enlisting your sympathies against our side, what use would there be of my saying anything?" "My brave cousin does not enlist any of my sympa- thies; but that, certainly, is a matter which we cannot talk about." "Pardon, but your reference to him made it natural — " "There is no need of speaking of him," she interrupted, coldly. "I merely meant that he and those with him in what you slightingly term an unpleasantness can never be friendly to you. This war may be a small thing to you, but suppose your home and family were in danger, as ours are?" "Can you think that this war is a holiday to me?" he Roe— IX~C 50 ''MISS LOU'' asked, gravely. "What stands between me now and death — perhaps a shameful and horrible death — except your kindly, womanly impulses ? I am hourly in danger of being caught and treated as a spy." "Oh, I didn't realize it," said the girl, simply and kindly. "Everything looks so quiet and lovely. Aun' Jinkey, there, my old mammy, is at work just as I have seen her for years, and Chunk is busy yonder in the gar- den. It is hard to think how suddenly all might change." "A soldier must think and be prepared." "Have you no fear?" "Life is sweet to me. I know only one thing — I must do my duty and trust in God. I have the consolation that no one is dependent on me; no one would grieve for me very much. I'm quite alone in the world. My crusty old guard- ian would inherit my property, and you may well guess that Aunt Jinkey 's tub yonder would hold all his tears if I should make a sudden exit, ' ' and again he smiled in his pleasant way, as if with the purpose to relieve his words of all sombreness. "Are you an orphan, too?" she asked sympathetically. "Such a mature, fully developed orphan as I am is not an object of pity, Miss Baron," he replied, laughing. Then he added, a little proudly: "I'm nearly twenty-two; I was twenty -one on my last birthday, and 1 celebrated it by a ride only less risky than the one which landed me at your feet. But your little word 'too' suggests that you are some- what alone, also. I hope that your father was not killed in this war?" "No, my father and mother died long before the war." "I am glad of that — not glad that they died, but that you cannot associate me with the causes of their death." "But you and yours have caused death and suffering to so many Southern people!" "Yes, I'm sorry it is so, but things are pretty even on. that score. Your men give as many blows as they take." " W hy did you enter the army ?" THE STORM BEGINS 51 *'l suppose for about the same reasons that your cousin did." "Oh, you aren't like my cousin at all. I don't wish you to keep referring to him." "Well, then, I thought it was right. There was an urgent call for men and strong public feeling. I was at college. 1 couldn't see others go and not go with them. I had no influence, no one to push my interests, so I simply enlisted, and am trying to pu§h my way by extra services. Now, Miss Baron, think for yourself a little. Here we are, two young people thrown together by a strange chance. We have been brougbt up differently, surrounded by dif- ferent influences. Even if you think me wrong, can you not believe that I've followed my conscience and lived up to such light as I had ? I can believe this of you. I don't wish you to think that we Yankees are monsters. Do I look like a monster? Why, Miss Baron, if I should live to be a hundred years I should regard a chance to do you a kindness as the best good-fortune that could befall me. ' ' As he spoke these words his face flushed, there was a slight quiver in his dark mustache, betokening deep, honest feeling, and his expression was one of frank admiration and respect. She looked at him in silent wonder, and asked her- self, "Can this be one of the Yankees of whom I have heard such horrible things?" She began saying, "I am trying to think for myself, but I have been so shut out from the world that — " when she was suddenly interrupted. Chunk appeared and said, "Marse Scoville, des git up de ladder en shut de trap- do' quicker' n lightnin'. Miss Lou, kin'er peramberlate slow to'rd de bouse, des nacbel like ez ef you ain' keerin' 'bout not'n. Wash away, granny. Play possum, ev'y one." Miss Lou had gone but a little way before Mad Whately joined her, having ordered his men to pass on before. "Chunk," he shouted, "take my horse and rub him well, or you'll get rubbed down yourself." 52 ''MISS LOU" The openings under the eaves in Ann' Jinkey's cabin were so many and large that Scoville had fairly good op- portunities for observing what was going on in the imme- diate vicinity. In witnessing the meeting between Whately and Miss Lou he was conscious of a peculiar satisfaction when noting that her manner confirmed her words. The dashing cousin evidently was not in favor. "Well," thought the scout, with a decisive little nod toward him, "were I a young Southerner, you'd have a rival that would put you to your best speed. What a delicious little drawl she has in speaking, and how charmingly her consonants shade off into vowels ! I would be more readily taken for a Southerner than she, if I did not speak. How blue her eyes are ! and her fluffy hair seemed a golden halo when the sunshine touched it through the trees. And then how un- sophisticated her face and expression ! She is a lady from instinct and breeding, and yet she is but a sweet- faced child. Well ! well ! it was an odd chance to be pitched to the feet of a girl like that. Very possibly I'd be there again of my own free will should I see her often enough." If Scoville were a rival now he certainly would have to take a wild pace to keep up with Mad Whately in his woo- ing. His eyes were full of resolate fire as he walked beside his cousin, and her quick intuition took speedy alarm at his expression. "Well, sweet coz, " he said, "the Yanks have very prudently dusted back to the region from which they came. My mother will give herself the pleasure of a visit at The Oaks this afternoon. Can you guess her object in coming?" "Why, as you say, to give herself the pleasure of a visit." "Yes, and you and I will enhance her pleasure a thou- sand-fold." "I shall do all that I can in courtesy." "I'll do the rest, for I shall gladden her heart by marry- ing you." "What!" THE STORM BEGINS 53 *' Simply that, nothing more. Isn't that enough?" "Far too much," replied the girl, hotly. "I don't like, such jesting." "Faith and it will prove the best joke of our lives, over which we will often laugh at our fireside hereafter. Come now, cousin, make the best of it; it is the best for you as well as for me. You know I always intended to marry you, and I have the hearty sanction of all the high contracting powers. ' ' She stopped abruptly in th^ path, her face so rich in angry color that it shamed the flowers blooming in the shrubbery near. "Mr. Whately," she said, firmly, "there is one contract- ing power that you have not consulted. How can you marry me when I loill not marry you?" "Nothing easier, pretty coz. " "But how— how?" "Oh, that you will learn at the proper time. Everything shall go as simply, naturally and merrily as fate. The blessing of parent and guardian, the clergyman in robes, prayer-book, wedding feast — nothing shall be wanting." "This is absurd talk," she cried, and rushed to the house. In the upper hall she encountered her aunt engaged in superintending a general dusting and polishing of the old- fashioned furniture. "What is the meaning of this wild talk of Cousin Madi- son ?" the girl asked, breathlessly. "I've heard no wild talk," was the cool response. "Well, come into my room and hear it, then." Mrs. Baron reluctantly followed, rather aggrieved that she must bear the first brunt of the storm. "What are you putting the house in such wonderful order for?" asked Miss Lou, with flashing eyes. "What do all these preparations mean? What is Aunt Whately coming here for this evening?" "It is very natural she should wish to be present at her son's wedding," was the quiet and exasperating answer. 54 ''MISS LOU" "When is this wedding to be?" was the next query, liccompanied by a harsh laugh. "I think we can be ready by to-morrow evening." "Are you a woman, that you can thus try to sacrifice the motherless girl committed to your charge ?' ' "So far from sacrificing you, I am trying to further your best interests, and at the same time carrying out the wishes of my husband and your guardian. These are solemn times, in which you need every safeguard and protection. We should be faithless, indeed, to our trust did we not give a brave sol- dier the best right in the world to shield and care for you. ' ' "Bah!" cried the girl, now almost furious. "Where's uncle?" "In his office, I suppose." Whately had preceded her thither, and had already made known to Mr. Baron the nature of his interview with his cousin, adding: "Our best policy will be just to take our course as a matter of course, in a genial, friendly way. We certainly are the girl's best friends, and it won't be long before she acknowledges the fact. All we do is to secure her safety, welfare and happiness. She will be as skittish as a blooded filly over it all at first — a feature in the case which only increases my admiration and affection. She doesn't and can't realize the need of the step, how it's best for all concerned in general and herself in particular. The thing to do, therefore, is to go right straight along. Mother will be here this evening, and will do much toward talking her into it. Lou's anger and revolt will probably be well over by to-morrow, and all — ' ' Further predictions were interrupted by the swift en- trance of the girl. She stood still a moment and regarded the two men in silent scorn. "So you are plotting?" she said at last. "Oh, dear, no, sweet coz. Nothing is more foreign to my nature than plotting. I am a man of action." "If your words have any truth or meaning, you are bent on very dishonorable action. ' ' THE STORM BEGINS 55 **Far from it. I shall have the sanction of both Church and State." "This, then, is the boasted Southern chivalry of which I have heard so much. ' ' "It has been knightly in all times to protect and rescue lovely woman. ' ' "I need no protection, except against you. Please leave the room. I wish to speak to uncle." He attempted to kiss her hand as he passed out, but she snatched it away. "Uncle," she said, coming directly to him, "can it be that you sanction anything so wicked as this? It seems as if you and aunt were permitting my cousin to put upon me a cruel practical joke." "Ahem! Your very words, Louise, prove how unfit you are to judge and act in accordance with this emergency. You even dream that we are in a mood for jesting at this time, when our days and even hours may be numbered. No, indeed. I am resolved to unite with my protection all the power and dignity vested in a Confederate officer." "In other words, to shield me against some possible dan- ger you will try to inflict on me the worst thing that could happen. ' ' "Hoity-toity! Is an honorable marriage which has always been contemplated the worst that could happen ? If we are driven forth by hordes of Northern vandals, you would think it the best thing that had happened. ' ' "I don't fear these Northern vandals. I have" —and then she checked herself in time. "You don't fear them! Why, Louise, every word you speak makes it more imperative that I should act for one so utterly inexperienced and ignorant." "Do you actually mean to say that you will try to marry me against my will?" "Certainly, against your present will. Do you suppose that I can be guided in my solemn trust by your petulance, your ignorant notions of life, and your almost childish pas- sion ? In France, the most civilized country in the world, 56 **MISS LOV parents and guardians arrange these affairs as a matter of course, and witli the best results. It is the general method all over the world. Far more than mere family and pecuni- ary interests are concerned in this instance. We are giving you a protector in the time of your deepest need. ' ' "How could Lieutenant Whately protect me if the Yankees should come in numbers?" "In more ways than you can imagine. Moreover, he would probably be permitted to escort you and your mother to a place of safety. . You would have his name, and the name of a Confederate officer would always entitle you to respect. ' ' "Oh, this is dreadful!" cried the girl, bewildered and almost paralyzed by the old man's inexorable words and manner. So unsophisticated was she, so accustomed to be governed, that the impression was strong that she could be controlled even in this supreme crisis. She rushed into the parlor, where her cousin was striding up and down in a whirl of the glad excitement so congenial to his spirit. ** Cousin Madison," she exclaimed, "I know you are hasty and impetuous, but generous impulses should go with such a nature. You surely will not use your advan- tage against an orphan girl?" "No, indeed, dear coz, not against, but for you. I love you too well to leave you to the chances of war." ' ' Oh, but this is the certainty of evil. You know I do not love you. If you would wait — if you would give me time to think it all over — " "Why, so you shall when I've escorted you and mother to some place where none can molest or make you afraid." "Escort me, then, as I am, under your mother's care. Truly this would be a better way to win my heart than such hasty violence to all my feelings and wishes. ' ' "My dear Louise, you may think me a hasty, inconsider- ate wooer to-day, but that is because you do not know all that I know. I must, like your guardians, be guided by your best welfare. When you learn to know me as a kind, THE STORM BEGINS 57 loyal, considerate husband, you will appreciate my most friendly and decisive action at this time. Yon are in great danger; you may soon be homeless. In the case of one so young and fair as you are, those who love you, as you know 1 do passionately, must act, not in accordance with your passing mood, but in a way to secure your peace and honor for all time." "Oh, this is all a terrible dream! You can — you can protect me as your cousin, should I need any such protec- tion, which I cannot believe. Northern soldiers are not savages. I know it ! I know it !' ' "How can you know it? Have I not seen more of them than you have ? I tell you that for the honor of our house I shall and will give you the protection of my name at once. Your uncle and aunt feel as strongly as I do about it, and your happiness will be the only result. We South- ern people take no chances in these matters." Overwhelmed, frightened, bewildered, the girl left the room and mournfully climbed to her own apartment. She was too utterly absorbed in her own desperate plight to observe Zany whisking away in the background. 58 ''MISS LOU'' m CHAPTEK VII DANGERS THICKENING E. B AEON was scarcely less miserable than his ward, yet from wholly different causes. His anxieties con- cerning her were deep indeed, his very solicitucie impelling him toward the plan which he was eager to con- summate. He was distracted by fears and forebodings of every kind of evil; he was striving to fortify his mind against the dire misgiving that the Confederacy was in a very bad way, and that a general breaking up might take place. Indeed his mental condition was not far removed from that of a man who dreads lest the hitherto immutable laws of nature are about to end in an inconceivable state of chaos. What would happen if the old order of things passed away and the abominable abolitionists obtained fall control ? He felt as if the door of Dante's Inferno might be thrown wide at any moment. There was no elasticity in his nature, enabling him to cope with threatening possibilities; no such firmness and fortitude of soul as he might be re- quired to exercise within the next few hours. To start with, he was wretched and distracted hj the breaking up of the methodical monotony of his life and household affairs. Since general wreck and ruin might soon ensue, he had the impulses of those who try to secure and save what is most valuable and to do at once what seems vitally important. Amid all this confusion and excitement of mind his domi- nant trait of persistence asserted itself. He would continue trying to the last to carry out the cherished schemes and purposes of his life; he would not stultify himself by chang- ing his principles, or even the daily routine of his life, as DANGERS THICKENING 59 far as lie could help himself. If events over which he had no control hastened action, such action should be in har- mony with previous purpose to the extent of his power. The plan, therefore, of marrying his niece immediately to her cousin doubly commended itself to him. It would throw around her additional safeguards and relieve him in part from a heavy responsibility; it would also consummate one of the cherished intentions of his life. Things might take a happy turn for the better, and then just so much would be gained and accomplished. Thus he reasoned, and his nephew spared no pains in confirming his views. The truth urged by his niece that she did not love her cousin seemed a small matter to the unemotional, legal mind of the old man when safety and solid interests were concerned. "A child like Louise," be said, "must be taken care of, not humored." Mrs. Baron had long since formed the habit of yielding complete defer- ence to her husband, and now was sincerely in accord with his views. She had never had much heart; her marriage had satisfied her ambition, had been pleasing to her kith and kin, and she saw no good reason why her niece should not, under any circumstances, form a similar union. That the girl should revolt now, in the face of such urgent neces- sity, was mere perverseness. Sharing in her husband's anxieties and fears, she found solace and diversion of mind in her beloved housekeeping. Neither of the old people had the imagination or experience which could enable them to understand the terror and distress of their niece, whom with good intentions they were driving toward a hated union. Dinner was served two hours later than usual — a fact in itself very disturbing to Mr. Baron; while Aun' Suke, com- pelled to cook again for the Confederate troopers, was in a state of suppressed irritation, leading her satellites to fear that she might explode. Small, pale and bloodless as "ole miss" appeared, none of her domestics dared to rebel openly; but if any little darky came within the reach of Aun' 60 *'M1SS LOU" Suke's wooden spoon, she relieved her feelings promptly. In dining-room and kitchen, therefore, was seething and repressed excitement. The very air was electric and charged with rumors. Perkins, the overseer, was at his wits' end, also, about the field- hands. They were impassive or sullen before his face, and abounding in whispers and significant glances behind his back. What they knew, how much they knew, he could not discover by any ingenuity of qnestioning or threatening, and he was made to feel that excessive harsh- ness might lead to serious trouble. Disturbing elements were on all sides, in the air, everywhere, yet he could not -lay his finger on any particular culprit. Of all the slaves on the plantation. Chunk appeared the most docile and ready to oblige every one. He waited on the Confederate troopers with alacrity, and grinned at their chaffing with unflagging good-nature. In all the little com- munity, which included an anxious Union scout. Chunk was about the most serene and even-pulsed individual. Nature had endowed him with more muscle than nerves, more shrewdness than intellect, and had quite left out the elements of fear and imagination. He lived intensely in the present; excitement and bustle were congenial condi- tions, and his soul exulted in the prospect of freedom. Moreover, the fact that he had proved himself to Zany to be no longer a mere object for ridicule added not a little to his elation. Shrewd as himself, she was true to her word of keeping an eye on him, and she was compelled to see that he was acting his part well. Miss Lou positively refused to come down to dinner. Slie had buried her face in her pillow, and was almost cry- ing her eyes out; for in the confusion of her mind, resulting from her training and inexperience, she feared that if all her kin insisted on her marriage, and gave such reasons as had been urged upon her, she must be married. She was sorely perplexed. Could the Yankees be such ravening wolves as her uncle and cousin represented them to be ? Certainly DANGERS THICKENING 61 one was not, but then he might be different from the others because he had been to college and was educated. "He said he would be glad to do me any kindness," she sobbed. *'0h, if he could only prevent this marriage I Yet what can he do ? I could not even speak to a stranger of my trouble, much less to a Northern soldier. I wish I could see my old mammy. She's the only one who in the least understands me and feels a lii;tle like a mother toward me. Oh, wbat a dreadful thing to be a motherless girl at such a time!" The powers below stairs concluded that it would be best to leave Miss Lou to herself for a time, that she might think over and become reconciled to the need and reasonableness of their action, but Mrs. Baron considerately sent up her dinner by Zany. The unhappy girl shook her head and motioned the tray away. "Hi, now. Miss Lou, w'at you tookin on so fer ?" asked the diplomatic Zany. "For more than you can understand." "1 un'erstan's a heap mo'n you tink," said Zany, throw- ing off all disguise in her strong sympathy. "Marse Whately des set out ter mar'y you, ez ef you wuz a post dat cud be stood up en mar'd to enybody at eny time. Hi I Miss Lou, I'se bettah off dan you, fer I kin pick en choose my ole man." "Everybody in the world is better off than I am." "I wudn't Stan' it, Miss Lou. I sut'ny wudn't. I'd runned away." "How could I run away ? Where could I go to ?" "See yere, Miss Lou," and Zany sank her voice to a whisper, "dere's a Linkum man" — "Hush! how did you know that?" "Chunk en me's fren's. Don' be 'feard, fer I'd like ter see de gyurl dat kin beat me playin' possum. Dat Linkum man he'p you ter run away." "For shame, Zany! The idea of my going away with a stranger!" 62 ''MISS LOU" '"Pears to me I'se rudder runned away wid one man dan hab anoder man runned away wid me. ' ' "Don't ever speak to me of such a thing again." "Well, den, Miss Lou, de niggahs on dis plantashon des lub you, en dey aio' hankerin' arter Marse Whately. Ef you say de wud, I des belebe dey riz right up again dis mar 'age." "Oh, horrible!" said the girl, in whose mind had been instilled the strong and general dread of a negro insurrec- tion. "There, Zany, you and Chunk mean kindly, but neither you nor any one can help me. If either does or says anything to make a disturbance I'll never forgive you. My cousin and the men with him would kill you all. I'd rather be left alone, for I must think what to do." "I ain' say in' not'n. Miss Lou, sence dat yo' 'quest, but doan you gib up," and Zany took her departure, resolving to have a conference with Chunk at the earliest possible moment. The impossible remedies suggested by Zany depressed Miss Lou all the more, for they increased her impression of the hopeless character of her position. She felt that she was being swept forward by circumstances hard to combat, and how to resist or whether she could resist, were questions which pressed for an immediate answer. She possessed a temperament which warned her imperatively against this hasty marriage, nor was there any hesitancy in her belief that it would blight her young life beyond remedy. She was not one to moan or weep helplessly very long, however, and the first gust of passion and grief having passed, her mind began to clear and face the situation. Looking out of her window, she saw that her cousin and his men were mounted and were about to ride away again. Having waited till they had disappeared, she bathed her eyes and then descended to her uncle. "Where has Lieutenant Whately gone?" she asked. "Your cousin does not forget, even at such a time, that he is a soldier, and he is scouting the country far and wide. DANGERS THICKENING 68 Moreover, it is his intention to ask the Rev. Dr. Williams to be here to-morrow evening, and a few friends also. I trust that by that time your perverse mood will pass away, and that you will unite with your kindred in their efforts in your behalf." "Is there no use of reasoning with you, uncle — no use of pleading with you?" Perkins stood in the door and knocked to announce his presence. "Well, what is it?" asked Mr. Baron, nervously. "Have you heard anything, sir?" "Good heavens, no! Heard what?" "Well, sir, I dunno. The field-hands are buzzing like bees, en I kyant get nothin' out of 'em." "Well, Perkins, be watchful. Do your best. God only knows what's coming. You are well armed, I suppose?" "You may reckon that, sir, en I'll use 'em too, ef need be. The hands are cute, mighty cute. I kyant lay my finger on any one in particular, but they're all a sort of bilin' up with 'citement. " "Best to stay among them and be stern and vigilant." When Perkins withdrew Mr. Baron said to his niece with strong emotion, "You see we are beset with danger, and you talk of reasoning and pleading against my best efforts for your safety. There I I'm too harassed, too overwhelmed with weighty subjects for consideration, to discuss this matter further. I must give my attention to securing some papers of vital importance." Miss Lou departed with the feeling that dangers were thickening on every hand, and that she was only one of the causes for anxiety in her uncle's mind. She knew it would be useless to say anything to her aunt; and- with a longing for a little sympathy and advice, she resolved on another visit to her old mammy, Aun' Jinkey. The Union soldier had a remote place in the background of her thoughts, and yet she felt that it was preposterous to hope for anything from him. 64 *'M1SS LOU CHAPTER VIII "WHEN?" THE vigilant eyes and constant demands of her mistress prevented Zany from giving Chunic more than a few significant hints, but he was quick to comprehend the situation. When he saw Miss Lou bending her steps toward bis granny's cottage, be thanked his stars that the garden was in that direction also, and soon apparently was very busy at a good point from which to observe the cabin. In view of the approaching wedding Mrs. Baron had given Aun' Jinkey much to do, and she was busily ironing when Miss Lou again stood within the door. The old woman's fears had been so greatly aroused that she had insisted that Scoville should remain in the loft. "Folks '11 be comin' en gwine all the eb'nin', en ole miss hersef mout step dis away." At the same time her heart ached for the young girl. At sight of the sweet, troubled face the faithful creature just dropped into a chair, and throwing her apron over her head, rocked back and forth, moaning "You po' chile, you po' chile!" "Yes, mammy," cried Miss Lou, forgetting for the mo- ment that a stranger was within hearing. "I'm in desperate straits, and I don't know what to do." The trap-door was lifted instantly, and Scoville was about to descend. "You mustn't dodat!" exclaimed Aun' Jinkey. "We's all in mis'ry anuff now." "I hope that in no sense I am the cause of it," said Sco- ville, earnestly. ''WHEN?** 65 **0h, no/' replied Miss Lou, wiping her eyes hastily, **not directly. Pardon rae, I forgot for the moment that you were here. My trouble is with my family, and you have nothing to do with it except as you Yankees are coming South and making trouble of every kind. ' ' "Well, Miss Baron," said the scout, regarding her sym- pathetically through the open door, *'it is too late to talk about our coming South. Isn't there something I can do for you, to show my gratitude and good- will ?" *'0h, no, indeed!" "De bes' ting you kin do, Marse Scoville, is ter shet dat do' an' kep still; den git back ter yo' folks soon ez you kin trabble. We uns got des ez much ez we kin stan' up un'er, en ef dey foun' you yere, hit ud be de worl' comin' ter smash. ' ' "If Miss Baron would tell me her trouble, she might find that I am not so powerless to help as I seem. Since she has done so much for me, I have a certain kind of right to do what I can in return." "You forget, sir, that we are strangers and aliens." "No one is an alien to me from whom I am accepting life and safety," and his glance was so kind and friendly that, in her dire extremity, she was induced to ask a question. "If you feel that you owe anything to me," she said, hesitatingly, "tell me truly, if your people came to this plantation, would our home be burned and we all be in danger of insult and death?" "Is that all you fear ?" he asked, smiling. "But answer me on your word and honor." "No, Miss Baron, not from our regular troops. There are vile wretches connected with all armies, on your side as well as ours, who act without orders or any control except their lawless will. If you and your friends are tortured by the fear of Northern soldiers, should they come this way, you may set your mind comparatively at rest. I must add, however, that our troops have to live off the country, and so take food for man and beast. They also help them- 66 ''MISS LOW selves to better horses when they find them. I have told you the truth. Why, believe me, Miss Baron, I would defend you with my life against any one." "Oh, dear!" cried the girl, with another rush of tears, *'my uncle believes that our house will be burned and we all murdered, and they are going to marry me to my cousin against my will, so that he can take me to a place of safety. " "When?" asked Scoville, excitedly. "To-morrow evening." Aun' Jinkey in her trepidation had stepped to the door, and there, sure enough, was Mrs. Baron coming down the path with her hand full of crumpled muslins. She had ap- peared so silently and suddenly before Chunk that he had started and stared at her. When he tried to edge oS. to- ward the cabin, she had said, sharply, "Keep at your work. What is the matter with you? 1 reckon your granny is smoking instead of doing my work," and she hastened her steps to surprise the supposed delinquent. Entering the cabin, she saw only Aun' Jinkey ironing, and her niece sitting with her handkerchief to her face. "Ah!" said the old lady to her laundress, "I'm glad you realize the importance of doing my work when it's needed." Then followed a few brief directions in regard to the articles she had brought. "Louise, I wish you to come with me. This is no place for you," concluded Mrs. Baron, turning to depart. The girl rose and followed submissively, for she was overwhelmed by a confused sense of danger, not merely to the Union soldier, but also to her old mammy, who was sheltering him. The extremity of her fears and the fact that Chunk had not come to warn them led her to dread that her aunt's suspicions were already aroused. Chunk gave her a very anxious look as she passed, but she only shook her head slightly, as much as to say, "I don't know." The negro's elation and confidence now passed utterly; he became deeply alarmed, not only for the scout, but for ''WHEN?'' 67 himself and grandmother as well. He was not long in com- ing to a decision. Whately and his troopers were absent, and now, perhaps, was the best time to act. After satisfy- ing himself that he was not observed, he slipped away to the cabin. When Mrs. Baron finally disappeared, Ann' Jinkey sank into a chair almost in a state of collapse. "0 good LawdP' she gasped, "I des tremblin' so in my knee-jints I kyant stan'." "Courage, Aunt Jinkey," said Scoville, through the chink in the floor. "Try to get Chunk here as soon as possible." "1 des done beat. I kyant lif my han' no mo'." "Grranny, " said Chunk, sauntering in, "you des watch at de do'," and without waiting for a word he went up the ladder, lifted the door and closed it. "Ah, Chunk, I wanted you badly," said Scoville. "Do you think it possible for me to get away at once ?" "Dat des w'at I come ter see 'bout, mars'r, en I'se gwine wid you. Marse Whately and he men all done gone till eb'nin'." "Well, there's no need of further words. See what you can do about getting horses and a good start. I will ex- plain on the way. Hoot like an owl when the coast is clear and you are ready." A few moments later Chunk emerged from the cabin, with careless mien, eating a pone of hoecake. "Go back to yer work," shouted Perkins, who was pass- ing in the distance. This Chunk did, his eyes following the overseer until the hated form was lost to sight in a distant field where a squad of hands were at work. Perkins was simply trying to be ubiquitous that day. Chunk's next step was to steal to the rear of the stables. To his delight he found that Whately had left his horse in order that it might rest for further hard service, and had borrowed one of his uncle's animals for the afternoon ride. As Chunk was stealthily 68 ''MISS LOW putting on a bridle, a gruff voice asked, "Wtiat yer doin' thar?" The negro's heart stood still. Turning quickly, he saw, to his dismay, one of the Confederate soldiers lying on a pile of straw. A closer scrutiny revealed that the man was drowsy from partial intoxication, and Chunk, feeling that he was in for it now, said boldly: "Marse Whately tole me at dinner ter tek his boss ter de run fer a drink en ter limber his jints 'bout dis time in de eb'nin'." "Very well; bring 'im back safe en sud'n or I'll make you a head shorter'n you air." "Ob co'se, mars'r, I do ez I tol'. I des ride ole bay down, too, Mout ez well took 'im ter water de same time." The soldier making no response Chunk slipped away with the horses, trembling as if in an ague fit. Nothing was left for him now but to get away and take his chances. Fortune in this instance, as it often does, favored the bolder course. The Confederate soldier was familiar with Chunk, since he had been the waiter at the troopers' mess; more- over, his faculties were confused and blunted and he was soon asleep again. Perkins' back was turned and every one at the mansion deeply preoccupied. Even Zany, who had been charged not to leave the dining-room, was not on the watch. Chunk hastened the horses down the lane toward the run, which having reached, he looked cautiously around, then hooted in fairly successful imitation of the ominous bird of night. Aun' Jin key dropped into her chair again with an ejaculation of terror. "Look out of the door and tell me if you see any one," said Scoville, quickly. Mechanically she obeyed, saying, "No, mars'r, but dat squinch-owl des shook me like a ghos'." Before she knew it he was beside her, his eyes shining with excitement. "There," he said, putting into the hand he pressed a ten- dollar bill, "I'll see you again, and you won't be sorry. Good-by," and with a swift glance around he strode away toward the run. A moment or two later he was mounted on the bare back of Mad Whately's horse, following Chunk down the stream so that the flowing water might obliterate the hoof-prints. They soon left the water and put their horses to a gallop toward the forest, within whose shades they disappeared. Both had deemed best not to tell Aun' Jinkey of their departure, so that she might honestly plead ignorance. With the unerring instinct of a scout the soldier led the way hour after hour toward the point where he expected to find the Union cavalry force. On the way he and Chunk compared notes, and thus Scoville more truly understood Miss Lou's position. "We must be back to-morrow after- noon," he said, "in time to prevent this marriage. So, Chunk, be careful. You must not get sleepy or let your horse stumble." Leaving them to pursue their way to the northwest, we can return to The Oaks. Miss Lou followed her aunt into the house, burdened for the moment with a new and press- ing anxiety. Did the resolute old lady suspect that one of the class which she most detested had been concealed within earshot of her voice, and would a search be instituted ? The girl's sympathies bad gone out to the stranger, and the fact that he so trusted her appealed strongly to her woman's nature. In her alienation from her relatives she was pecul- iarly isolated and lonely at just the period in life when she most craved appreciative understanding, and her intuitions led her to believe that this stranger could both understand and respect her feelings. His genial, kindly smile warmed her sore, lonely heart, and convinced her that there was a world of human affections and simple faith as well as of im- perious wills and formal beliefs. His words in regard to himself and the North was another shock to her confidence in her uncle and aunt, and another proof that there was no good reason for the marriage they were forcing upon her. For a brief time she watched with keen-eyed interest to 70 **MISS LOW see if her aunt would take any steps to have Aun' Jinkey's cabin searched. Her mind was soon relieved on this score, for she became convinced that her uncle was distracted by various anxieties; while Mrs. Baron, from force of habit and with the purpose of diverting her mind from all she feared, was pursuing her preparations with restless energy, keeping every one in her employ as busy as herself. It was evident that her niece's idle hands and perturbed wander- ings to and fro annoyed her, and at last she broke out: ''Louise, it would be much more becoming in you to unite with me in my efforts. The idea of your sitting and idly bemoaning your case in that foolish old woman's cabin! I'm glad you had the grace to show obedience to me before her, for this is a time when to our people the example of obedience is most necessary, and you should be the first to set it in all respects. It will only increase the trouble which your uncle and Perkins are having if our people see that you are rebellious. There is much that you should be doing and seeing to, for your uncle says that it may be best for you to leave the plantation with Mrs. Whately and her son imme- diately after your marriage. ' ' "I am not married yet. I shall appeal to Aunt Whately, and if she has a woman's heart she will not sanction the marriage." "You will find that because she has a woman's heart, and a Baron's heart, she will sanction it and insist upon it." "We shall see," replied the girl, turning to go to her room. "Louise, it is my wish that you should put your things m order to be packed hastily, if need be." Miss Lou made no answer. PARALYZED WITH SHAME tl CHAPTER IX PARALYZED WITH SHAME SO far from obeying her aunt's injunctions, Miss Lou sat down by her window, but she did not note the smiling spring landscape over which the western sun was throwing its long, misty rays. Tears so blurred her eyes and blinded her vision that she could scarcely see at all. At last she was aroused by the crunching of wheels, and became aware that Mrs. Whately had arrived. From what she knew of this aunt she had a good deal of hope from her appeal, for Mrs. Whately had always seemed a kind-hearted woman. True, she had been over-indulgent to her son, and, in her blind idolatry of this only child, blind to his faults, always comforting herself with the belief that he was merely high-spirited and would settle down when he grew older. Miss Lou wished to speak to the mother before the son returned, and in the hope of securing a merciful ally in the lady, went down immediately to receive her. Mr. Baron was on the back porch calling, *' Chunk, where in the mischief are you ?" Where, indeed, with the start he had gained for the Union lines ? *'My dear niece," cried Mrs. Whately, effusively, "how glad I am to see you, and to take you in my arms on this deeply interesting occasion!" but the matron was troubled at the girl's red eyes and pallid face. "I will show you to your room at once," said Mrs. Baron to her guest, decisively and significantly. Miss Lou was right in believing that the situation and the unhappy appearance of the prospective bride would be 72 **MISS LOU" explained. She had been forestalled in her chance to make an appeal. Mrs. Baron emphatically sustained her hus- band's purpose, concluding: "My dear sister, in this crisis you will have to take a firm stand with the rest of us. Louise is acting like a perverse child, and no more realizes the necessity and wisdom of our course than a baby." Meantime the outcry for Chunk increased, and Miss Lou was troubled that he did not respond. Taking advantage of the fact that her mistress was upstairs. Zany stole swiftly, with many a misgiving, to Aun' Jinkey's cabin. " Whar dat gran'boy o' you'n ?" she asked, breathlessly. " Ain' he in de gyardin ?" "No, he ain'. Does you know whar he is? Bettah tell me de truf . Mout sabe you a heap ob trouble. ' ' "Des you min' yo' business, en doan cum trapesin' yere 'bout Chunk. You talks ez ef you own 'im. " "Ole mars'r tinks he own 'im, en he des ayellin' fer 'im. De oberseer hollerin', too, en de lil niggahs runnin' yere, dar, en yander lookin' fer 'im. Yere one ob um now." With new and direful forebodings Aun' Jinkey declared loudly: "I doan know what he be. He ain' say not'n ter me 'bout gwine any whar. " Uttering an angry and contemptuous exclamation, Zany sped back, and, with a scared look, said to Miss Lou, "Aun' Jinkey 'clar she dunno not'n 'bout Chunk's doin's. Ef she ain' foolin' me, I des belebe he's runned away." At these tidings and at this suggestion the young girl was almost distracted. She went instantly to the cabin, supposing that it would soon be searched. "Mammy!" she exclaimed, "where's Chunk?" "Fo' de Lawd, honey, I doan know. 1 des gwine all ter pieces wid de goin's on." "But people will be here looking. Is he up there?" asked the girl in a whisper. "No, he des lit out two hour ago, en he guv me dis" (showing the money), "en say he see me agin. I'se feared he'n Chunk gwine off togeder." PARALYZED WITH SHAME 73 **Well, you don't know. Hide the money and declare you don't know anything. I'll stand by you as far as I can." As she hastened back she saw a Confederate soldier run- ning toward the hoase and Perkins limping after him as fast as possible. Entering the rear door she heard the soldier demanding fiercely of her uncle, "Where's that cursed nigger you call Chunk?" "Whom are you addressing, sir?" asked Mr. Baron, indignantly. "Well, see yere, boss," was the excited reply, "this ere ain't no time fer standin' on nice words. That cursed nigger o' your'n took the lieutenant's horse ter the run fer a drink, 3n one o' your'n 'long of him, en me en Perkins kyant find nary one of 'em." "Yes, sir," added Perkins in great wrath, "we uns fol- lered the hoof-prints ter the run en inter the water, en there's no hoof-prints comin' back. That infernal nigger has lit out with the two horses. ' ' " W hy don't you go after him then ?' ' shouted Mr. Baron, distracted with anger and accumulating perplexities. "He can't be far yet." "I'd like ter see the hoss on this place that could ketch the lieutenant's black mare. Oh, why didn't I shoot the nigger?", and the soldier strode up and down as if de- mented. "You deserve to be shot yourself, sir, if you, who had been placed on guard, permitted that black rascal to take the horses. ' ' "Yes," replied the soldier,- desperately, "en the lieuten- ant is ther man ter shoot me — cuss his red-hot blood!" and he stalked away toward the stables as if possessed by a sud- den resolve. Turning to enter the house, Mr. Baron encountered his niece, who had been a witness to the scene, which explained everything to her. "You see, you see," cried the old man, "everything going to rack and ruin! Would to Heaven Roe — ^ly — D 74 ''MISS LOU" you could be married to-night and sent away to a place of safety!" * 'Uncle," said tbe girl, almost fiercely, "did you not hear that man say of my cousin, 'curse his red-hot blood' ? Is that the kind of a protector you would force upon me?" "Yes," almost shouted the angry man, "because he has the spirit to deal justly with such reprobates. He's just the kind of protector you need in these lurid times, when it seems as if no one could be trusted. To think that that boy Chunk, who has been treated so well, could play us such an infernal trick ! His old crone of a grandam must know something about it, and I'll make her tell. Perkins!" and Mr. Baron rushed toward the door again. The ladies had now descended and joined the excited group on the veranda. Zany was listening with craned neck from the dining-room door, and other "yard folks," great and small, were gathering also. "What is the matter?" cried Mrs. Baron. Paying no heed to her, Mr. Baron said to his overseer, "Aun' Jinkey must know about this rascally flight and theft. Bring her here." "Uncle," said Miss Lou, firmly, "Aun' Jinkey doesn't know anything about Chunk's disappearance. I've been to her cabin and asked her." "As if the cunning old witch would tell you anything! Bring her here, I say, Perkins. It's time the spirit of insub- ordination on this place received a wholesome check." "Why!" exclaimed Mrs. Baron, "it seems but a little while ago that Chunk was working quietly in the garden." "En I reckon hit ain't much more'n two hours gone sence I seed 'im comin' out o' the cabin, lazin' and eatin' hoe-cake," added Perkins as he started angrily to obey his orders. "He had mischief in his mind, though, now I think of it." resumed Mrs. Baron, "for he seemed startled when he fc-aw me, and tried to edge away to the cabin. I thought he was afraid I would catch his granny smoking instead of PARALYZED WITH SHAME 75 doing urgent work. Louise, you were in the cabin at the time. Why should Chunk be so anxious to get there before I did?" '*I have not spoken to him this afternoon, and know nothing of his movements except what I have heard," replied the girl, coldly. "Oh, dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Whately, 'Vhat troublous times we've fallen upon!" In the silence which followed they heard the gallop of a horse. A moment later a negro came running up and exclaiming, "Dat sojer in de stable des saddle he hoss en put out ez ef de debil wuz arter 'im!" Miss Lou smiled bitterly as she thought, *'He evidently doesn't think it wise to wait for my protector." At this moment Mad W hately appeared cantering smartly up the avenue at the head of his men. Throwing his reins to a colored boy, he strode smilingly up the steps, exclaim- ing, "Why, this is a regular committee of reception. I am doubled honored since my fair cousin is present also." Miss Lou made no reply, and the expression on all faces led him to ask quickly, "Why, what's the matter?" The young man's brow grew black as Mr. Baron gave a hasty explanation. A half-suppressed oath rose to his lips as he turned on his heel and shouted to his men, "Halt, there! Let every man mount and await orders. Simson, you and two others follow the guard I left with my horse. Where's that nigger who saw him start? Here, you, put these men on his track as you value your life! Simson, take him, dead or alive!" The men saluted, and departed at once. The galloping of their horses soon died away in the distance. "Now for this beldam," said Whately, sternly, as Aun' Jinkey ap- proached, tottering in her excess of fear and accompanied by Perkins. Miss Lou saw that her cousin was terribly excited; in- deed, that he fairly trembled with passion. She was scarcely less stirred herself, for she possessed much of the hot blood 76 ''MISS L0&" of her kindred, and during tlie last twenty-four hours nearly all that had occurred tended to fire her spirit. Now that she saw her own dear old mammy led cowering under the hostile eyes of every one, she was almost beside herself with pity and anger. Unaccustomed to conventional restraint, reacting from long years of repression, a child still in some respects, in others a passionate woman revolting at a fate from which her whole nature shrank, she was carried far above and beyond her normal condition, and was capable of following her impulses, whatever they might be. Aun' Jinkey turned her eyes appealingly, and was awed, even in that terrible moment, by the intensity of the girl's expression, as she half consciously drew nearer and nearer. The field-hands, deeply excited, had also edged up from the quarters. Mr. Baron and his overseer observed yet tolerated this, thinking that it might be just as well to have the negroes learn from Aun' Jinkey's experience that authority would still be sternly enforced. Whately's headlong temperament was so overcome by anger that he noted nothing except the presence of one whom he believed the aider and abetter in his great loss, for a favorite and trusty horse is one of the dearest posses- sions of a cavalryman, "Where's your grandson?" he demanded, fiercely. " 'i^o' de Lawdj I dunno," gasped Aun' Jinkey. "The truth, now, or you'll be sorry." "I dunno, I dunno. Ef he gone, he ain' say neber a word ter me, not eben good-by." "No use of your lying. You knew the rascal's purpose. Why didn't you tell Mr. Baron ? Which way did he go ?" "I des declar, mars'r, 1 dunno." "You do know," cried Whately, driven almost to frenzy, "and I'll cut the truth out of you." His whip fell before he could arrest it, but it struck the arm and shoulder of Miss Lou. She had drawn very near, and, swift as light, had sprung forward and encircled the form of her mammy. There were startled exclamations PARALYZED WITH SHAME 77 from those near, echoed by a groan from the negroes, and then the girl spoke in stern, deep tones, "You thought to strike one woman, and you have struck two.''^ Whately dropped his whip and stood with bowed head, paralyzed with shame. There were wild cries and a sway- ing of the field-hands toward the house. The mounted soldiers drew their revolvers and looked from the thronging black faces to that of their commander, but he paid no heed to them. Perkins did not wait, however, but drawing his weapon, began to limp toward the threatening mass, with oaths and orders to disperse. As for Mr. Baron and the ladies, they were just helpless in the whirl of events. Although Miss Lou's back was toward this new phase of the drama, she instantly and instinctively comprehended it. With a fear almost hereditary, as well as one vaguely dreaded from childhood, she recognized the possible horrors of an insurrection, her own action the indirect cause. She turned and sprang forward so swiftly to interpose that her comb fell away, and her golden hair streamed behind her. She stood between the blacks and those who could harm them; also those whom, in their wild excitement, they were ready to attack. ''Silence!" she cried; then in the deep hush that followed she called out, in clear, ringing tones: "Every friend of mine will go back to quarters, keep quiet, and obey orders. I promise that no harm shall come to any of you." The men doffed their ragged hats, and a voice from the crowd answered, "We 'bey you. Miss Lou, en we won' let no harm come ter you, noder." Then as the dense, angry mass of a hundred or more men and women melted away toward the quarters, it was seen that many a heavy club was carried among them. Miss Lou watched them silently two or three moments, the rest looking on in wonder and suppressed anger mingled with fear. The girl returned, and taking her mammy by the hand, was about to -lead her into the house. Whately started as she essayed to pass him unheedingly, and seized her hand. "Lou, Cousin Lou, 78 ''MISS LOW forgive me!" he cried. "You know I meant you no such indignity. ' ' "I know you mean me a greater one,' she replied, coldly, withdrawing her hand. "See! I ask your forgiveness on my knees!" he urged, passionately. But her heart was steeled against him, for her very soul was hot with indignation. "Come, mammy," she said, firmly, "such shelter and protection as I still have in this house you shall share." "Louise, this is monstrous!" began Mrs. Baron. ''NoP^ cried the girl. "This poor creature is the nearest approach I have ever known to a mother. She doesn't know about her grandson, and no one shall try to cut the truth out of her. Come, mammy," and she led the trembling old negress up to her room. When hidden from all eyes her courage and excitement gave way, and she cried on her mammy's breast like the child she was. A BAFFLED DIPLOMATIST 79 CHAPTER X A BAFFLED DIPLOMATIST MISS LOU left consternation, confusion and deep anxiety below stairs. Mad Whately had his owq code of ethics, and he felt as if he had committed the unpardonable sin. His mother was shocked and pained beyond measure. She understood the feelings of her son, and sympathized with him. Drawing him into the parlor, she soothed and cheered him with the assurance that when his cousin's anger passed she would explain and intercede. "Oh, mother!" he exclaimed, "I did love her honestly before, but now I adore her. I must marry her, and by a lifetime of devotion wipe out the wrong I did not intend to inflict." "It will all come about right yet, my boy," she whis- pered. "E never understood Louise before. I fear they have been too strict and unsympathetic in her bringing up, and so she has naturally rebelled against all their plans. You didn't think at the time — indeed, in' our excite- ment we all forgot — that Aun' Jinkey was her mammy, and you know how strong that tie is, even in your case, and you have always had a mother's love." "Oh, fool, fool that I was in my mad anger! Brave, grand, heroic girl! I'd have done as much for my old mammy; or rather I'd have struck down a general before he should harm her. Oh, mother, mother!" concluded the much-indulged youth, "I must marry her. She is just the bride for a soldier.^' "Rather than have her fall into the hands of the enemy, 80 ''MISS LOU"" we will lead her to see that it is the only thing to be done," replied Mrs. Whately. Perkins had a consultation with Mr. Baron, as far as that desperately perturbed old gentleman was capable of hold- ing one, the result of which was the decision to let the negroes alone, provided they kept quiet and obeyed. It was evident to both of them that the approach of Union forces, though yet comparatively distant, had produced the usual demoralizing effects. The government at The Oaks had not been harsh, but it had been strict and animated by a spirit which alienated sympathy. The situation was now seen to be too critical to admit of severity, all the more as the protection of Whately and his troopers might soon be withdrawn. It was a silent and depressing meal to which they sat down that evening, long after the accustomed hour, a fact which Mr. Baron would not forget, even in the throes of an earthquake. He groaned over it; he groaned over every- thing, and especially over his niece, who had suddenly developed into the most unmanageable element in the whole vexed problem of the future. He felt that they owed her very much, and that she held the balance of power through her influence over the negroes; and yet he was incensed that she was not meek and submissive as a young woman should be under all circumstances. An angry spot burned in each of Mrs. Baron's cheeks, for she felt that Miss Lou's conduct reflected very unfavorably on her bringing up. She was so scandalized and vexed that she could scarcely think of anything else. Mrs. Whately was all deprecation and apology, trying to pour oil on the troubled waters in every way, while her son was as savagely angry at himself as he had been at poor Aun' Jinkey and her grandson. Most fortunately the main feature in the case remained undiscovered. The fact that a Union scout had been hidden and permitted to depart would have been another bomb- shell, and the consequences of its explosion would have A BAFFLED DIPLOMATIST 81 been equally hard to predict or circumscribe. As it was, Miss Lou and Auq' Jinkey received a certain remorseful sympathy which they would have forfeited utterly had the truth been revealed. And the secret did tremble on the lips of Zany. She was not only greatly aggrieved that Chunk had "runned away" after all, without her, and had become a sort of hero among his own kind on the plantation, but she also felt keenly her own enforced insignificance when she knew so much more than that Chunk had merely de- camped. Her mistress little dreamed, as the girl waited stolidly and sullenly on the table, that she was so swelling witli her secret as to be like a powder magazine. But fear rather than faith finally sealed Zany's lips. She was aware that the first question asked would be, "If you knew so much, why didn't you tell?" and she could give no reason which would save her from condign punishment. Moreover, she hoped that Chunk would soon return with no end of "Linkum men," and then her silence would be rewarded. Supper was sent up to Miss Lou and her guest, and the old woman, having at last some sense of security, made her first good meal since "things began to happen." Then she hankered after her pipe. "I'll get it for you," said the warm-hearted girl. She stole to the head of the landing, and, the hall below being clear at the moment, she flitted down and out at the back door, reaching the deserted cabin unobserved. How desolate it looked in the fading twilight! The fire was out on the hearth, and the old creaking chair was empty. But Miss Lou did not think of Ann' Jinkey. Her thoughts were rather of a stranger whose face had been eloquent of gratitude as he offered to shield her with his life. Then she remembered his excited question as to the time of the marriage. "When ?" Had her answer anything to do with the sudden and bold departure ? Her heart was in a sudden flutter. She snatched the corncob pipe and tobacco pouch, and sped back again in a strange blending of fear and hope. She felt guilty that she could dare hope to see him, a Yankee^ again. "But his smile was so pleasant 82 "MISS LOU'' and frank !'^ she murmured. "Oh, I never remember to have had such genial, honest, unreserved good-will looked at me by any one except mammy, and she's so old and wrinkled that she can't look much of anything. What handsome, kind, dark eyes he had! Yet they would all say, 'He's a monster!' " She made her way back in safety until she reached the head of the stairs, and then came plump upon her aunt. "Where have you been ?" asked Mrs. Baron, sharply. "After Aun' Jinkey's pipe." "Horrible! I forbid her smoking in this house." ' ' I shall permit her to smoke in my room. ' ' "You have no right." "Very well; then ['11 go with her to her cabin.'* "My dear sister," said Mrs. Whately, putting her hand on the irate lady's arm, "I think it will be better to let our niece have her way in such little things. We must remem- ber that she is no longer a child. " "I think she is acting like a very perverse and foolish one; but then rather than have any more scenes" — and looking unutterable things she passed on down the stairs. "My dear, I wish to see you by and by. Won't you let me?" said Mrs. Whately. ' ' I wish to see you — I must see you before I sleep, ' ' re- plied the girl, decisively. "I'll come up soon, then, dear." Mrs. Baron reported to her husband what had occurred, but he only groaned. He was scarcely able to do much else now. "Oh, hang it!" exclaimed Whately, "what fiend directs my luck this evening ? If I had only known she had gone to the cabin, I could have compelled her to listen to me and to my apologies. ' ' "No worse luck could have happened," said his mother, entering. "You must curb your impatience, and so — par- don me for saying it — must you, brother and sister. You are driving the girl to lengths she would never have thought A BAFFLED DIPLOMATIST 83 of going. She is excited and almost beside herself. You forget, brother, that she is a Southern girl and a Baron, and has all the spirit of our race. She is one to be coaxed, to yield to gentle pressure and firm reasoning, and not to be driven." "Oh, curse it! we've made a mess of it, I fear," groaned Whately, who was capable of violent alternations of mood, and now was in the valley of humiliation and almost despair. "Well, you must all let me manage a little now," re- sumed Mrs. Whately, somewhat complacently, "or else there is no telling what trouble you may have." "Yes, yes," cried her son, "I insist on mother's man- aging. She has always obtained what I wanted, and I shall certainly throw my life away if I don't marry Cousin Lou." "Madison," said his mother, tearfully, "am I, who have so loaded you with kindness, of no account?" "Oh, forgive me, mother, I can't do anything but blunder to-night. I'm all broken up, distracted by conflicting duties and feelings. I picked up important information this even- ing. The Yankee column, halting in the rich valley to the northwest, have been ranging the country far and near, loading their wagons and resting their horses. They will make a move soon, and will come this way just as likely as not. Our forces are coming up from the South, and there certainly will be a fight soon somewhere in this region. I received a secret despatch at the court-house, after seeing the minister, who will be here early to-morrow evening. After the wedding I intend to escort mother and my wife south to Cousin Sam Whately' s. They certainly will be out of the Yankee line of march there. Perhaps you and aunt had better go too." "No," said Mr. Baron. *'I intend to stay and face it out here. I shall stand or fall on my own hearth. ' ' "And I shall remain with my husband," added Mrs. Baron, firmly. "Well, nothing worse may happen than a general sack of the place, but I cannot leave mother and the girl who is 84 ''MISS LOU'' to be my wife. I shall ride over to our place in the morn- ing for the best horse on it, and to see the overseer. I'll bring back a few papers which I will put in your charge, uncle. ' ' Thus they discussed the emergency till Mrs. Whately thought she could venture to Miss Lou's room. Her son accompanied her to the door and called out, '*I give you my word, cousin, that Aun' Jinkey can go to her cabin, and that no one shall disturb her"; then he retreated to the parlor again. When Mrs. Whately entered the room, she witnessed what was not reassuring. Miss Lou's white shoulder was bare, and upon it was the long red mark of the whip. Aun' Jinkey was bathing the bruise with some lotion. *'My poor child!" said the lady, "Madison is almost beside himself with grief and self-reproach." "Please tell him," replied the girl, "that I'm glad the blow fell on me instead of mammy. ' ' "Ah, well, my dear, he has asked forgiveness and is profoundly sorry." "Hit soon be well, honey. Wish ter grashus hit wuz me dat hab it! en you barin' hit so patient, too, w'en I smokin'. Dar, I kiver hit up now, en hit ain' dar in de mawnin'. I reck'n I go back ter de cabin now, honey. I kin'er used ter my own chimbly corner. Miss Whately got sump'n ter say ter comfort you. ' ' ' 'Very well, mammy. I' 11 see that you have no trouble, ' ' and the old woman departed. "Surely, Louise, you cannot expect any more trouble, after my son has said there would not be any," said Mrs. Whately, in a somewhat aggrieved tone. "You must have seen," was the reply, "that Cousin Madison hasn't just the kind of self-control which inspires confidence." "I assure you, Louise, that he regrets his act as much as you can. You should, in charity, remember his great provocation. ' ' A BAFFLED DIPLOMATIST 85 **Well, then," Miss Lou burst out, "let him make amends. Here I am, a defenceless girl, with all my kin- dred against me. He should be the first to defend me. ' * "So he wishes to do, my dear; and he only craves the most sacred right to defend you." "Yes, in his own way, and without any regard to my feelings and wishes." "Indeed, my dear, you misjudge him. You have only to yield one point in order to make him a slave to your wishes." "But that is yielding everything. Oh, aunt, how can you urge a girl toward a loveless marriage?" "Now, my dear, just listen patiently to me for a few moments," began Mrs. Whately in a wheedling tone. "I am older than you are. I know young girls are apt to have romantic notions, but when they reach my age they find that it is ever best to act in view of good and sufficient reasons. Apart from the terrible emergency that is upon us, you know that we all have had our hearts set on this marriage almost ever since you were born, and we have made no secret of the fact. It would be » terrible disap- pointment to us if it should not take place. I fear that life has been too strict and narrow for you here, but you know that in my home you will dwell in an atmosphere of kind- ness and indulgence. I will give up to you whenever you are ready to take the reins after these sore troubles are over. But, Louise, you do not realize that we are in the midst of a terrible emergency. You ought not to remain here. Madison has arranged that we both go south to his cousin Sam's." "I don't wish to go!" cried the girl, wringing her hands. "Now, my dear, can't you just believe that we, who are more experienced and know the danger, wish to do what is best for you and what you will soon see was best?" "No, I cannot! I cannot! I just feel that I can't marry my cousin without perjuring myself." "Surely you don't love any one else, Louise?" 8(5 '*MISS LOU'' '*What chance have I had to love any one, except my old mammy ? I don't know anything about the love which I feel should lead to marriage. I have just been treated like a child, and then without any girlhood at all I'm to be mar- ried to one that I shrink from. I feel in my very soul that it's all wrong and unjust." "But, my dear, you won't feel so after you are a wife and safe in your own home. You will then feel that you have reached woman's true place and sphere, without incur- ring the risks and misfortunes which befall so many. Your guardians might have shown more tact, perhaps, but they meant well, and they wish you well, and are seeking only your welfare. They feel in honor bound to do what is best for you, and not what, in your inexperience, you may wish at the moment. As for my son, a warmer-hearted fellow does not breathe. He loves you fondly. You can influ- ence him, you can control him as no other can, you have the strongest hold upon him." *'AlasI" said the girl, divining the ultimate truth, "you love him blindly and wholly; you would sacrifice me, your- self and everything to him, and because he has always had everything his own way, he would have me in spite of the whole protest of my being. No one truly cares for me; no one understands me. I have been thrown back upon books and my own nature for such knowledge as I now so des- perately need, and I feel that if I am false to my interests, to what 1 believe is right, my life is spoiled. I don't wish to marry any one, and as to all these dangers you so vaguely threaten, I believe that if there is a good God, he will take care of me." "Well, my dear," said Mrs. Whately, striving to hide the fact that she was baffled, "we won't talk any more about it to-night. You are excited and worried, and incapable of wise judgment. Rest and sleep are what you need now," and she kissed the girl, who did not return the caress. "Wise judgment!" she muttered, bitterly, "what fine words they use! So you, too, are hopelessly against me- A BAFFLED DIPLOMATIST 87 You would give me to jour son just as you used to give him everything he cried for when a child. Well, then, I'll appeal to the minister himself. I don' t believe he can marry me against my will. At any rate, I shall never give my consent, never; and perhaps somebody may come in time. My people are teaching me to fear them even more than the Yankees. ' ' 88 ''MISS LOU" CHAPTER XI aun' jinkey's warning THE night passed like a lull in the storm. Perkins reported that the negroes were quiet, contenting themselves with whispering and watchfulness. Aan' Jinkey smoked and dozed in her chair, listening to e very- sound, but no "squinch-owl" renewed her fears. The fam- ily at the mansion were too perturbed to sleep much, for all knew that the morrow must bring decisive events. The three soldiers sent after the recreant trooper returned from a bootless chase and were allowed to rest, but Whately saw to it that there was a vigilant watch kept by relief of guards on the part of the others. He was not very greatly encour- aged by his mother's report, but as the hours passed the habits of his life and the tendencies of his nature asserted themselves with increasing force. He would marry his cousin on the morrow; he would not be balked in his dearest hope and wish. The very resistance of the girl stimulated his purpose, for throughout all his life nothing so enhanced his desire for anything as difficulty and denial. The subduing the girl's high spirit into subservience to his own was in itself a peculiarly alluring prospect, and he proved how little he appreciated her character by whiling away part of the night over ''Taming of the Shrew." A creature of fitful impulse, nurtured into an arrogant sense of superiority, he banished all compunctions, persuading himself easily into the belief that as soldier, officer, and lover he was taking the manly course in going straight for- ward. "The idea of consulting a whimsical girl at such a AUN' JINKEY'S WARNING 89 time," he muttered, "when a Yankee horde may descend on the plantation within forty-eight hours." Miss Lou was quite as sleepless as himself, and also did a great deal of thinking. She had too much pride to hide and mope in her room. Her high, restless spirit craved action, and she determined to brave whatever happened with the dignity of courage. She would face them all and assert what she believed to be her rights before them all, even the clergyman himself. She therefore appeared at the breakfast table with just enough color in her cheeks and fire in her eyes to enhance her beauty. "Ah, this is something like," exclaimed her uncle. "I knew sleep and thought would bring back good sense." Mrs. Whately kissed her eifusively and Mrs. Baron for- mally, the girl submitting with like mien in both instances. Her cousin, in accordance with his mood and the policy he had adopted, bowed gallantly and with a touch of grandilo- quence in his tone said, "I again apologize before all for my most unfortunate act last evening." She only bowed sileutly in reply. Then Whately assumed the air of one who had many and weighty matters on his mind, his whole conversation con- forming to the accepted belief that they were facing a terri- ble emergency, and that he, as the practical head of the family at such a time, must act decisively for the best good and safety of all. "If I could be governed in this instance," he said, "only by patriotic feeling 1 would advise the de- struction of all the forage on the place if convinced that the Yanks were coming this way, but that would incite them to every possible outrage. Still, I truly believe that it would be best for you and aunt to go with us this evening. ' ' "No," said Mr. Baron, "I've settled that." "Haven't you negroes that you can trust to take the stock off into the woods for concealment?" "After Chunk's rascality I won't trust any of them." "Well, I shall adopt that plan at our place this morning, and leave as little of value within reach as I can help. ' ' 90 ''MISS LOW By a sort of tacit agreement it was thought best not to say anything to Miss Lou except as Mrs. W hately broached the subject, it being believed that a quiet ignoring of her will and a manifest purpose to carry out their own would have the most weight in breaking down her opposition. Indeed it was a shrewd policy, hard for the young girl to bear up against. Mrs. Baron had been enjoined not to cross her in little things. The busy housekeeper was too preoccupied to do so had she been disposed, but it troubled and incensed the girl to the last degree to see her bustling about, preparing for the wedding as if it would take place as a matter of course. Mrs. W hately 's affectionate smiles and encouraging words were even harder to endure. That good lady acted as if Miss Lou were a timid and coy maiden, who merely needed heartening and reassuring in order to face a brief ordeal, and then all would be well. Her cousin gallantly lifted her hand to his lips and then rode away with part of his men, saying cheerfully, "I'll manage every- thing for the best." A vague terror seized upon the girl and she again sought the refuge of Aun' Jinkey's cabin. She must have some one to speak to who understood her, who felt for her. She found that Mrs. Baron had been there before her, urging the completion of certain tasks. Indeed, the old woman was ironing a white muslin dress which looked very bridal- like. Miss Lou recognized it as her own gown, which might naturally be worn on such an occasion. "Who brought that here?" she asked quickly. "Ole miss, honey. She said you cud war dis or de one you hab on, des ez you pleases." "Aun' Jinkey," said the girl in an awed whisper, *'do you think they can marry me against my will?" "Miss Lou, I declar ter you I'se been smokin' en pro- ^eckin' ober dat mos' all night." "Well?" "Hit 'pears ter me a orfuUy mux-up question. Yere yo' gyardins, ole mars'r en ole miss. Dey's des had dere AUN' JINKEY'S WARNING 91 on dis plantasbon sence I wuz a gyurl. You wuz trus' ter dem ter be took keer on en you tole me how he manage yo' prop'ty. He call you he ward. I des dunno w'at po'r dat ward business gib 'im. I'se yeared en my day ob young gy urls mar'ed yere en mar'ed dar en dey ain' sayin' much 'bout who dey mar'y. Folks say dat wuz de way wid ole miss. I reckermember dem days en I year ole mars' r's fader talk'n wid her fader 'bout w'at dey call set'l'ments en po'tions. Den ole miss's mammy tole me how her young miss wuz cool ez a cowcumber, en how she say her folks know bes' en she sat'sfied; en den how she gib her min' ter w'at she call her trosso. Why honey, I des doin' up tings ob dat ar trosso yit." "That's just the trouble with aunt," said Miss Lou scornfully. "I don't believe she ever had heart enough to love with." "Well, 1 reck'n ole mars' r is projeckin' dis away. Ole miss, she settle down en tuck hole strong. She des kin'er fall inter he ways en mek tings hum wid de yard en house folks. She des a nachel-bawn housekeeper, en we uns all had ter stan 'roun' en do ez she sed sud'n, we sutn'y did; en ole mars'r, he tink hit be des de same wid you." "But it won't, mammy. I'm not like my aunt." "Dat you ain', honey, bless de Lawd! Ole miss neoer Stan' 'twix me en a whip, en she neber run fer my pipe en let her shol'er ache whiles I smokes like a ole himage. I'se only des a s'plainin' how dey feels 'bout yo' mar'age." "Ah, but mammy, you know how I feel about it. I won't marry my cousin if I can help it." "Hit's yo' feelin's, honey, w'at des riles up my in'erds BO I kyant hardly wuk. Dat's whar my projeckin' gins out, en I'se kin'er stump' d 'bout hit. Dey's gwine right 'long wid dere prep' rations des ez ef dey cud do ez dey pleased. Dunno w'at de law is 'bout hit ef dere is any law in dese mux-up times. I'se des took clar off my foots wid all de goin's on. De fiel'-han's at de quarters is bilin' ober wid 'citement, en dey's sajin' de Linkum men's comin' ter 92 ''MISS LOU" upset ebryting. Whar dey get de news fum I dunno. Dey sez ole mars' r is 'stracted en ole miss des put her thin lips tergedder ez ef she gwine ter hab her way ter de las' minit. Ez fer Marse Whately, you knows he al'ays hab his way, en ef dere isn't eny way he mek it. You sez de min'ster en folks is comin' ? Hit des stumps me fer dem ter go on so ef dey hasn't de po'r." "Well, then," said the girl desperately, "they will have to use force all the way through. I'll never give my consent." "P'raps w'en de min'ster see dat he woan mar'y you." "That's just my hope," said the girl, "I—" A quick step was heard and a moment later Mrs. Baron entered the cabin. Ostensibly she came for some of the articles which Ann' Jinkey had ironed, but Miss Lou knew she was under surveillance and she departed without a word. On entering her room she found that her little trunk had been packed and locked in her absence and that the key was gone. She felt that it was but another indig- nity, another phase of the strong quiet pressure urging her toward the event she so dreaded. A hunted, half- desperate look came into her eyes, but she did not waver in her purpose. Mrs. Whately knocked, but the girl would not admit her. Meanwhile Mrs. Baron said to Aun' Jinkey in parting, "See to it that you don't put foolish notions in my niece's head. We are none of us in a mood for trifling to-day." Then the old woman's wrath burst out. "You 'speck I'se feared ter speak fer dat chile w'at stan' by me so? Bettah be keerful yosef, mistis; you alls gittin' on ve'y scarey groun' wid Miss Lou. You tink you kin do wid her w'at you pleases des ez ef she a lil gyurl baby. I reck'n her moder come out'n her grabe ter look arter you ef you ain' keerful." "What do you mean by such language?" "I mean des dis, mistis. Ef you tinks Miss Lou ole anuff ter mar'y you know she ain' a chile. Ef she ain' a AUN' JINKEY'S WARNING 98 chile she a woman. Does you tink you kin tromple on a woman? You kin tromple on me en I ain' sayin' not'n, but you kyant tromple on a wi'te woman like yosef. I tells you you gittin' on scarey groun' wid Miss Lou." "If you both had sense you would know we are getting her off scarey ground, as you call it. All you have to do is to obey my orders and not meddle. ' ' "Ve'y well, mistis, I'se warn you," said Aun' Jinkey, sullenly returning to her work. "Warn me of what?" But the old woman would not vouchsafe another word. Mrs. Baron returned to the house, her lips compressed with a firmer purpose to maintain discipline on deck till the ship went down, if that was to be the end. Combined with her cold, unimaginative temperament was a stronger and more resolute spirit than that of her husband, who now was chiefly governed by his lifelong habit of persistence. He adhered to his purposes as a man at sea clings to the ship which he feels is going to pieces beneath him. Chunk and Scoville reached the Union camp in the gray dawn of the morning, and the latter soon had an audience with the commanding officer, with whom he was a favorite scout. The small party which had been compelled to leave Scoville behind had brought important information, gained chiefly by the young man's daring and address, and the general was very glad to see him again and to be assured of his escape. "We are ready to move," said the commander, "and the information brought in by your party has decided me to bear off to the southeast in order to meet the enemy ap- proaching from the southwest. As soon as you are rested, Lieutenant Scoville — " "Sir! what?" "Yes, I had recommended you for promotion and the order has come." "If zeal in your service, sir" — began the scout flushing proudly. 94 "MISS LOU" *'Yes, yes, I understand all tHat. 1 remember the men who serve me well. As soon as you're able to start out in the same direction again I would like you to do so." **I'm able now," said Scoville eagerly, and then he briefly related the situation of affairs at The Oaks, conclud- ing, "If I had twenty-five men I believe I could not only prevent the marriage but capture all the Confederates with their information. They have been scouting up toward us just as we were toward the enemy." "All right," said the general, laughing. "Perhaps the marriage may come off yet, only with another groom." "No, sir," said Scoville, gravely. "The girl befriended me in my sore need. She is as good and innocent as a child, and I would shield and respect her as I would my own sister. ' ' "That's the right spirit. Lieutenant. I was not sure how far matters had gone—in fact, was only jesting." Scoville made a hearty breakfast, and within an hour, at the head of over a score of men, was rapidly retracing his steps. Chunk following in a state of wild elation. They both had been furnished with fresh horses, and the tough, elastic sinews of the newly- fledged officer were tense with an un- wonted excitement. If those tearful blue eyes of Miss Lou should welcome him as deliverer this would be the most memorable day of his life. A WHIRLWIND OF EVENTS 95 CHAPTER XII A WHIRLWIND OF EVENTS WHATELY returned wearing a rather gloomy and angry aspect. He had threatened his negroes and stormed at them ; they had listened in sullen silence. The overseer had said, "Hit's the old story. They have heard that the Yanks are near and may come this way. Fact is, one doesn't know what they haven't heard. They hold together and keep mum. You can see that all disci- pline is at an end among 'em." Whately could only give the man such directions as the emergency dictated, obtain some valuables, and return chafed and all the more bent upon securing out of the possible wreck the one object he most coveted. But Miss Lou puzzled him and perplexed them all. She had taken refuge in almost absolute silence, and was as unresponsive to Mrs. Whately's endearments as to her uncle and aunt's expostulations, while toward Whately she was positively freezing in her coldness. Troubled and inwardly enraged, he was yet more than ever determined to carry out his purpose. His orders to his men were given sharply and sternly, and his mood was so fierce that there was no longer any affectation or assumption on his part. The girl's heart fluttered with nameless fears, but she had the strength of will to maintain the cold, impassive demeanor she had re- solved upon. She felt that it would be useless to make further effort to influence her kindred, and that if she revealed her purpose to appeal to the clergyman, they might so prejudice his mind against her that he would not 96 ''MISS LOU" listen favorably. Fearing that this might be the case any- way, she found her thoughts turning with increasing fre- quency to the possible intervention of the Union scout. She both hoped for and feared his coming, supported as he would be, in this instance, by followers who might be so different from himself. She could not free her mind from the influence of the stories about Northern soldiers, and yet she was sure that as far as his power went, they would all be protected. Indeed, one danger menaced so closely and threateningly she could scarcely think of any- thing else than escape and relief from it. As the sun began to sink in the west her uncle came to her door and said authoritatively, "Louise, I wish you to come down." She obeyed without a word and entered the parlor where all were assembled, noting with dismay that the Eev. Dr. Williams was already present. Her cousin sought to meet her gallantly, but she evaded him and took a seat. Mr. Baron began a sort of harangue. "Louise," he said, "as your guardian and in obedience to my sense of duty in a great responsibility, 1 have approved of this marriage. I am convinced that the time will speedily come when you will be glad that I — that we all — were firm at this time. Both I and your aunt are growing old. Troubles, sore indeed even for the young to endure, are upon us. I am not sure that a roof will cover our gray hairs much longer. Perhaps in the dead of this very night the ruthless enemy may come. Now, your aunt Whately's carriage is at the door. A gallant soldier and a Confederate officer, the choice of all your kindred, is eager to give you his name and loving protection. He will take you far away from war's rude alarms, with its attendant and horrible perils. We have no common foe to deal with, but monsters animated by unquenchable hatred and a diabolical spirit. I should betray my trust and be recreant to my duty did I not avail myself of the one avenue of safety still open to you. See, your cousin's brave men are mounted, armed, and A WHIRLWIAD OF EVENTS #7 ready to act as your escort. Dr. Williams is here to per- form his good offices, although other invited friends have not ventured from home in this time of peril which recent tidings prove to be increasing every hour. In a few mo- ments you will be an honored wife, on your way to a place of refuge, instead of a helpless girl whose defenders may soon be scattered or dead. ' ' "Truly, Miss Baron," said the clergyman, rising and approaching, "you cannot hesitate in circumstances like these." Miss Lou felt her tongue clinging to the roof of her mouth, and could only say in a hoarse whisper, "But I do not love my cousin — I do not wish to marry. ' ' "That may be your feeling at this moment. Indeed, circumstances are not conducive to gentle amatory feelings, and all may seem sudden and hasty to you, but you must consider that your relatives in this emergency — indeed that all your neighbors — are doing many things and taking many precautions that would not be thought of in a time of security. I have already sent my own family further South, and now in your case and Mrs. Whately's I feel that time is pressing. Will you please rise and take your cousin by the hand?" She shook her head and remained motionless. Whately advanced decisively, took her hand, and sought gently to draw her into position before the clergyman. His touch broke the spell, the paralysis of dread, and she burst out, "No, no, you cannot marry me when my whole soul pro- tests. I will not be married !" "Louise, I command you," began Mr. Baron excitedly. "It makes no difference. I will not! I will not!" was the passionate and almost despairing response. "Oh, come, cousin, you are just excited, frightened, and ofE your balance," said Whately soothingly. "My dear Miss Baron," added the clergyman, "let me reassure you. It is evident that you are a little nervous and hysterical. Pray be calm and trust your relatives to *r Roe— IX— E 98 "MISS LOW do what is best for you. I do not wonder that your nerves have given way and that — " "My nerves have not given way. Unfriended child that I am, I must not lose self-control. God grant that my will does not give way." "Unfriended!" exclaimed Mrs. Whately reproachfully. "Few girls in these times have so many to care and think for them. We are all bent on securing your welfare at every cost." ' ' Yes, at every cost to me. ' ' "Dr. Williams sees the wisdom and reasonabxcness of our course. My son is even straining his sense of military duty to escort us to a place of safety, where you will still be among relatives." "Then let him escort me as his cousin, not his wife," cried the girl. "But, Miss Baron, in the turmoil and confusion which may ensue you will be far safer as his wife," Dr. Williams urged. "I would have been glad if I could have given my daughter like protection. Truly, it is not wise to be swayed by mere nervous excitement at such a time. ' ' "Oh, even you, from whom I hoped so much, are against me!" "No, my dear child," replied the minister, earnestly and sincerely, "I am for you always, but I cannot help seeing, with your relatives, that at present you are not in the quiet state of mind which would enable you to act wisely for yourself. What earthly motive could I have except^ your safety, welfare and happiness ?' ' "Well, then," said the girl, with a swift glance around and as if turning into stone, "do your worst. I will never give my consent, never/''' They looked at each other perplexedly and inquiringly, as if to ask what should be done, when Perkins burst in at the back door of the hallway shouting, "The Yanks!" The girl sank into a chair and covered her burning face for an instant. Deep in her soul she divined who her res- A WHIRLWIND OF EVENTS 99 cuer was, yet in the midst of her hope she felt a certain consciousness of guilt and fear. Mr. Baron, Dr. Williams, aad the ladies, half-paralyzed, yet drawn by a dreadful fascination, approached the open windows. Mad Whately now played a better part. He was in full uniform and his horse stood saddled without. He went to it, mounted with almost the swiftness of light, and was just in time to see the Federals sweep around the drive which led to the stables. Scoville had brought his little force by the familiar way of Aun' Jinkey's cabin. Furious at being forestalled, and in obedience to a headlong courage which none disputed, Whately's sabre flashed instantly in the rays of the sinking sun, and his command, "Charge!" rang clear, without a second's hesitancy. The order echoed in the girl's heart and she felt that she had too much at stake not to witness the conflict. Her own high spirit also prompted the act, and in a moment she was out on the veranda. She saw her cousin spur directly toward the leader of the Federals, in whom she recognized the Union scout. His men came galloping after him, but seemed more inclined to envelop and surround the Confed- erates than to engage in hand-to-hand conflicts. The latter were experienced veterans and quickly recognized that they were being overpowered and that there was no use in throw- ing away their lives. Hasty shots were fired, a few sabres clashed, but the demand, "Surrender!" heard on all sides, was so well enforced by the aspect of the situation that compliance soon began. Scoville and Whately, with those immediately about them, maintained the conflict. The two young officers were evenly matched as swordsmen, although the Federal was the larger, stronger, and cooler man. As a result, their duel was quickly terminated by the loss of Whately's sabre, wrenched from his hand. Then the point of his foe's weapon threatened his throat, and the word "Surrender!" was thundered in his ears. Instead of complying, he fell from his horse as if shot, lay still an instant, and then in the confusion of the melee 100 ''MISS LOU" glided through an adjacent basement door and disappeared. Seeing him fall, his mother uttered a wild shriek and gave way to almost hysterical grief. A backward glance re- vealed to Whately that the fight was lost, or rather that it had been hopeless from the first, and his one thought now was to escape and lead back a larger force for the purposes of both rescue and vengeance. Gaining a rear door, a bound took him to some shrubbery. A second later he was behind the kitchen. Aun' Suke saw him, threw up her hands, and uttered an inarticulate cry. A moment or two more and he was in the stable, leading out a horse. All attention was now so concentrated in front of the mansion that he was not observed. He took only time to slip on a bridle, then springing on the animal's bare back, he struck into a field behind a clump of trees. Putting the horse to a run, he was soon beyond successful pursuit. Some of his own men had seen him fall before they were driven back, and be- lieved that he was either wounded or dead; thronging Fed- erals, unaware of the circumstances, occupied the ground, and only Miss Lou, with an immense burden lifted from her heart, saw his ruse and flight. She wished him well sin- cerely if he would only leave her to herself. Hastening to Mrs. Whately she speedily restored the lady with assurances of her son's escape, then with her joined the group on the veranda. Mr. Baron, in the crisis of his affairs and as the head of the family, maintained a dignity and composure which of late had been lacking. Scoville paid no heed to them until every vestige of resistance had ceased and the Confederates were disarmed and collected as prisoners. Then sitting on his horse in front of the piazza steps he rapidly gave his orders. His first act was to send a vedette down the avenue toward .the main road; then he selected five men, saying, "Take charge of the stables, barn, and out-buildings. Keep them as they are and permit no one to approach without my written orders. ' ' At this moment the field-hands, who had been surging A WHIRLWIND OF EVENTS ' ' ' '' 'ICfl' nearer and nearer, sent forward a sort of "iftipmyis The tricked sergeant was placed under arrest, and Whately, who had gone to sleep with such high and mighty notions of his prowess and friendly league with fate, found himself in partial disgrace and in the depths of mortification. He kept guard over his prisoners in person the remainder of the night and again had opportunity to repent at leisure. A HOME A HOSPITAL 219 He mentally cursed himself as a fool, for now lie remem- bered his mother's words. If he had shown leniency to Scoville, and brought him into the honse, lie might have kept the prisoner and won the goodwill of his cousin. Now, she would probably hear the humiliating facts and be less inclined either to fear or favor him. It was well that no suspicion on his part or that of others had fallen on her, for she was not one who could face coolly a severe cross-questioning. Perkins skulked off to his house, assuaged his aching head with cold water and his wounded spirit with whiskey. As he tried to think the matter over a vague suspicion of the truth began to enter bis confused brain. The little slipper with which he had been hit over the eyes in the morning now became a broad hint. He knew well, how- ever, that it would be dangerous to make any charges, or even suggestions, unless he had ample proof. When all became quiet again Miss Lou, in spite of deep anxieties, was overcome by extreme weariness and slept until, in a dream, she heard Scoville moaning and sighing in the extremity of physical pain. Starting up, she saw it was broad day. She passed her hand confusedly over her brow and tried to recall what had occurred, to understand the sounds which had suggested her dream. Then in a flash, the strange swirl of events in which she was involved pre- sented itself and she knew she bad wakened to other ex- periences beyond even her imagination. The groans of wounded men brought pitiful tears to her eyes and steadied her nerves by banishing the thought of self. Whatever might befall her, so much worse was the fate of others that already she was passing into the solemnity of spirit inspired by the presence of mortal pain and death. She drew the curtains of her window and then shrank back, shuddering and sobbing, for, scattered over the lawn, men and horses lay stark and motionless. More pitiful still, here and there a wounded horse was struggling feebly. The spring morn- ing, dewy, bright, fragrant, made these evidences of strife 220 ''MISS LOW* tenfold more ghastly. There could not be a more terrible indictment of war than nature's peaceful loveliness. By the time she was dressed she was joined by Mrs. Whately, who looked serious indeed. Before they could descend to the lower hall, Madison, haggard and gloomy of aspect, intercepted them. Looking at his cousin's red eyes and pale face, he asked abruptly, "What's th« matter?" "Do you think I am accustomed to these sights and sounds?" she answered. "Oh," he said, in a tone which seemed to her heartless, "it's an old story to me. Mother, I must speak alone with you a moment. " She turned back with him to her room, meantime say- ing, "Louise, I do not think you had Jbetter go down with- out me." The girl tremblingly returned to her apartment, fearing that now she might be forced to confront her own actions. But she was conscious of a sort of passive courage. Mad Whately 's anger, or that of others, was a little thing com- pared to the truth that men were dead and dying all about her. "Mother," said her son, "I had cursed luck last night. I wish 1 had slept on the rain-soaked ground near my pris- oners," and he told her what had happened. "Oh, Madison!" sighed Mrs. Whately, "I wish this ex- perience would teach you to be more guided by me. Louise cared nothing for this Yankee, except in a sort of grateful, friendly way. Through him, you could have done so much to disarm — " "Oh, well, mother, the milk is spilled. If possible, let the whole affair be kept from her knowledge." ' ' Yes, I suppose that will be the best way. If she hears about it, we must try to explain by the usages of war. Now, Madison, you are cool. Let experience be your teacher, for you must face the truth. You must either give her up — " "I'll never give her up." A HOME A HOSPITAL 221 "Then, as Major Brockton said, you must win her like a Southern gentleman. Her spirit is as high as yours. You can't continue to speak to her as yoa did last night and this morning. Try to realize the facts. In the seclusion of her bringing up, Louise has learned nothing of the convention- alities of society which might incline her toward a good match on general principles. So far from this, the many old-fashioned romances she has read have made her feel that she must and will have her romance. If you can make Louise feel that you love her so well as to become her gal- lant suitor, circumstances may soon give you great advan- tages. She may be cold and indifferent for a time, but like all passionate high-strung natures, present impulses against xaay turn just as strongly for you. At least, you have not to contend with tllat most fatal of all attitudes — indiffer- ence. A great change in you will be a flattering tribute to her power to which no girl would be indifferent. I must tell you now once for all that I will not again assist in any high-handed measures against Louise. Not only the futility of such action, but my own dignity and sense of right, for- bid it. I did not understand her at first. Now that I do, I am all the more eager to call her daughter; but I wish her to feel toward me as she should in such a relation. Yesterday, when I apologized and told her that I meant to treat her with kindne'ss and fairness, she kissed me like the warm-hearted girl she is. I will help you win her as a man should win his wife; I will not be dragged into any more false positions which can end only in humiliation. I will be your tireless ally in the only way you can succeed, but in no other." "Very well, mother, I agree," said Whately, whose nature it was to react from one extreme to another. "Ah, now I have hope. How is your arm ?" "It pains horribly." Mrs. Whately went to Miss Lou's room and said, "Forgive me for keeping you waiting. Madison is almost beside himself with pain in his arm, and I will be detained a little longer." 222 ''MISS LOU'' In her immense relief that she was not charged with all she dreaded, Miss Lou had leisure from her fears to feel commiseration for her cousin. When at last he appeared she said kindly, "I am sorry you are suffering so much." "If I thought you really cared I wouldn't mind the pain," he replied. "Cousin Lou, I owe an apology, several, I reckon, but I've been so distracted between conflicting feelings, duties and pain, that I scarcely know what I say." "You little know me if you think I'm weighing words at this time," she replied. "Come, let us forget the past, shake hands and remember that we are simply cousins." He took her hand instantly, but said, "You ask what is impossible. Suppose you had said, 'Just remember your arm is well from this moment,' would it be well? I cannot help my feelings toward you and don't wish to." "Very well, then," she sighed, "I cannot help mine either. I don't wish to talk on that subject any more." VThen I must plead by actions. Well, I must go now." Mrs. Whately was much pleased, for her son was adopt- ing just the course she desired. She added nothing and accompanied Louise downstairs. The amputating table had been removed and the halls cleansed, but the unmistakable odor of the hospital per- vaded the house. Every apartment on the first floor except the dining-room was filled with the wounded. Some were flushed and feverish by reason of their injuries, others, pallid from loss of blood and ebbing vital forces. The Confederate general, with his staff, had already made a hasty breakfast and departed; through the open door came the mellow sound of bugles and the songs of birds, but within were irrepressible sighs and groans. Mrs. Whately entered the spacious parlor on the floor of which Confederate officers lay as close as space for attendance upon them permitted. The young girl paused on the threshold and looked around with a pitying, tearful face. A white-haired colonel was almost at her feet As he looked up and recognized her expression, a pleased smile A HOME A HOSPITAL 228 illumined his wan, drawn face. "Don't be frightened, my child," he said gently. The swift glance of her secured attention took in his con- dition. His right arm was gone and he appeared ghastly from loss of blood. In her deep emotion she dropped on her knees beside him, took his cold hand and kissed it as she said, '* Please let me help you and others get well." The old man was strongly touched by her unexpected action, and he faltered, "Well, my child, you make us all feel that our Southern girls are worth fighting for and, if need be, dying for. Yes, you can help us, some of us, in our dying perhaps, as well as in our mending. My battles are over. You can help best by caring for younger, stronger men." "Such men will not begrudge you anything, sir." "Bravo! cried half a dozen voices, and an officer near added, "Miss Baron speaks as well and true as you fought. Colonel." She looked hastily around. Seeing many friendly smiles and looks of honest goodwill and admiration she rose con- fusedly, saying, "I must go to work at once." "1 think, Louise," said Mrs. Whately, joining her in the hall, we can accomplish most if we work much together and under the directions of the surgeons. It is evident from the numbers of the wounded that time, strength, food — everything will have to be used to the best advan- tage. I'm glad that we both got some sleep last night. Now, I insist. Before you do a thing you must have a cup of hot coffee and some nourishing food yourself. The best impulses in the world are not equal to the tasks before us. Indeed, we shall fail these poor men in their sore need if we do not keep our strength. The worst is yet to come. As far as you can, control your feelings, for emotion wears faster than work. Let's first go to the kitchen." Zany followed from the dining-room with her hands full of dishes. She gave Miss Lou a swift, significant glance, and that was all. Even she was sobered by the scenes wit- 224 **MIS8 LOW nessed that morning and the thought of Chunk's indefinite absence. Aun' Suke sat dozing in a corner, absolutely worn out, and other negroes from the quarters had been pressed into the service. Mrs. Baron was superintending their efforts to supply soup and such articles of diet as the sur- geons had ordered. *'01e miss'* now shone to advantage and had the executive ability of a general. In cool, sharp, decisive tones she gave her orders, which were obeyed promptly by assistants awed into forgetfulness of every- thing else except the great, solemn emergency. All differ- ences had disappeared between the two ladies, and they began consulting at once how best to meet the prolonged demands now clearly foreseen. ' *'The confusion and conflicting requirements are just awful," said Mrs. Baron. "As soon as possible, we must bring about some system and order. One of the first things to do is to get as many provisions and delicacies as possible under lock and key, especially the coffee and sugar. They are going to give out anyway, before long." Miss Lou stole away and ran to Aun' Jinkey's cabin. Soldiers had taken possession of it and were cooking and eating their breakfasts. Some recognized the girl politely as. she stood at the door, while others continued their occu- pation in stolid indifference. Aun' Jin key rose tottering from a corner and came to the doorstep. "You see how 'tis, honey," she said. "Dey des gwine on ez ef I ain' yere. I a hun'erd yeahs ol'er dan I wuz w'en you want sump'n ter hap'n." "Take courage, mammy," Miss Lou whispered. "Chunk's safe. Have you had any breakfast?" "I can't eat, honey, w'en ev'yting des a whirlin'." The girl darted away and in a few moments returned with a cup of coffee. Entering the cabin, she said, "Fair play, gentlemen. This is my old mammy's cabin and this her place here in the corner by the hearth. Will you do me the favor of being kind to her and letting her remain un- disturbed ? Then you can use her fireplace all you please." A HOME A HOSPITAL 226 The Southern soldiers, understanding so well the rela- tion between the girl and the old woman, agreed with many good-natured protestations, offering to share with Aun' Jin key their rude breakfast. By the time the girl had returned to the house, she found that Zany and others had prepared a second break- fast in the dining-room for the family and such of the offi- cers whose wounds were so slight as to permit their pres- ence at the table. Miss Lou was placed between her cousin and a young, dark-eyed officer who was introduced as Cap- tain Maynard. He also carried his left arm in a sling. Mrs. Whately sat in Mr. Baron's place, since he, after a night's vigils, had retired to obtain a little sleep. "Lou- ise," said the lady, "you will have to begin being useful at once. You have a disabled man on either side of you for whom you must prepare food." "Miss Baron," said Captain Maynard gallantly, "I am already more than reconciled to my wound. Anything that you prepare for me will be ambrosia." Whately frowned as he heard these words and saw the immediate impression made by his cousin upon his brother officer; but a warning glance from his mother led him to vie in compliments. Before very long Maynard remarked sotto voce^ "If you aid in healing the wounds made by the Yanks, Miss Baron, who will heal the wounds you make?" "I shall not make any, sir. Such thoughts, even in jest, wound me at this time. Please excuse me, I've had all the breakfast I wish, and I cannot rest till I am doing some- thing for those who are suffering so much." He rose instantly and drew back her chair. In sitting down again, he encountered Whately's eyes, and recog- nized the jealousy and anger already excited. 226 *'MISS LOV m CHAPTER XXV A TRIBUTE TO A SOUTHERN GIRL ISS LOU entered upon her duties as hospital nurse at once. Untrammelled even by the knowledge of conventionalities, and with the directness and fear- lessness of a brave child, she went from one to another, her diffidence quickly banished by her profound sympathy. The enlisted men on the piazzas received her chief attentions, nor was she long in discovering the Federal wounded, crowding the outbuildings and offices. With the exception of a rearguard and hospital attend- ants, the Confederate forces had marched in pursuit of the Union column. The dead were buried during the morning and the ghastlier evidences of strife removed. Along the edge of the grove tents were pitched, some designed for the soldiers, others for the better accommodation and isolation of certain critical cases. The negroes performed most of the labor. Uncle Lnsthah counselling patience and quiet acceptance of their lot for the present. The prisoners were sent South. Confederate surgeon Ackley was in charge of the hospital, while upon Whately was conferred the mili- tary command. His partial disablement would not prevent him from attending to the light duties of the position, the surgeon being practically the superior officer. Order was quickly restored, guards set at important points, and the strangely assorted little community passed speedily under a simple yet rigorous military government. Curiosity, de- sire of gain, as well as sympathy, led people to flock to the plantation from far and near. One of Surgeon Ackley 's A TRIBUTE TO A SOUTHERN GIRL 227 first steps was to impress upon all the need of provisions, for Mr. Baron's larder, ample as it had been, was speedily exhausted. During the day began the transfer of the slightly wounded to the nearest railroad town, where sup- plies could be obtained with more certainty, and it was evi- dent that the policy of abandoning the remote plantation as soon as possible had been adopted. Miss Lou knew nothing of this, and simply became ab- sorbed in successive tasks for the time being. "Miss Baron," said Surgeon Ackley, "a number of the men are so disabled that they cannot feed themselves. Proper food at the right time usually means life." These words suggested what became one of her principal daties. At first, rough men were surprised and grateful in- deed to find fair young girl kneeling beside them with a bowl of hot soup; then they began to look for her and wel- come her as one who evoked their best and most chivalrous feelings. It had soon been evident to her that the wounded officers in the house would receive the most careful atten- tion from the regularly appointed attendants and also from Mrs. Whately. With the exception of the old colonel, she gradually began to devote the most of her time to the en- listed men, finding among them much less embarrassment in her labors. W ith the latter class among the Confeder- ates, there was not on either side a consciousness of social equality or an effort to maintain its amenities. The relation was the simple one of kindness bestowed and received. The girl made the acquaintance of the Union wounded with feelings in which doubt, curiosity and sympathy were strangely blended. Her regard for Scoville added to her peculiar interest in his compatriots. They were the ene- mies of whom she had heard so much, having been repre- sented as more alien and foreign than if they had come across the seas and spoke a different tongue. How they would receive her had been an anxious query from the first, but she quickly learned that her touch of kindness made them kin — that they welcomed her in the same spirit as did 228 ''MISS LOW her own people, while they also were animated by like curi- osity and wondering interest in regard to herself. A wo- man's presence in a field hospital was in itself strange and unexpected. That this woman should be a Southern girl, whose lovely features were gentle in commiseration, instead of rigid from an imperious sense of duty to foes, was a truth scarcely accepted at first. Its fuller comprehension began to evoke a homage which troubled the girl. She was too simple and honest to accept such return for what seemed the natural offices of humanity; yet, while her manner and words checked its expression, they only deepened the feeling. At first she could scarcely distinguish among the bronzed, begrimed faces, but before the day passed there were those whose needs and personal traits enlisted her special regard. This was true of one middle-aged Union captain, to whom at first she had no call to speak, for apparently he was not very seriously wounded. Even before his face was cleansed from the smoke and dust of battle his large, dark eyes and magnificent black beard caught her attention. Later on, when feeding a helpless man near him, he spoke to her and held out a photograph. She took it and saw the features of a blond young girl scarcely as old as herself. "My little girl," said the officer simply. "See how she resembles her mother. That's one reason why I so idolize her," and he handed Miss Lou another picture, that of a sweet, motherly face, to which the former likeness bore the resemblance of bud to blossom. "We must try to get you well soon, so that you may go back to them," said Miss Lou cordially. "You are not seri- ously hurt, I hope?" "No, I think not. I wanted you to see them so you can imagine how they will look when I tell them about you. I don't need to be reminded of my little Sadie, but I almost see her when you come among us, and I think her blue eyes would have much the same expression as yours. God bless you, for you are blessing those whom you regard as your enemies. We don't look very hostile though, do we?" A TRIBUTE TO A SOUTHERN GIRL 229 *'It seems a terrible mistake that you should be here at all as enemies," she replied. "I have been taught to dread your coming more than if you were Indians. I never can understand why men who carry such pictures as these next their heart can fight against us." "Well, Miss Baron, you must try to believe that we would not have left the dear originals of such pictures un- less we had felt we must, and there let the question rest. Our lives are sweet to us, although we risk them, chiefly because so dear to those at home. Let the thought cheer you in your work that you are keeping tears from eyes as good and kind as your own. That's another reason why I showed you the likenesses." "It will be but another motive," she said. "A suffer- ing man, whether friend or enemy, is enough." She smiled as she spoke, then picked her way across the wide barn floor and disappeared. Every eye followed her, pain all forgotten for the moment. "By G — d!" exclaimed a rough fellow, drawing his sleeve across his eyes, "I'm hard hit, but I'll crawl to and choke the first man who says a word she oughtn't to hear when she's around." "If you can keep your own tongue civil, Yarry, you'll have your hands full," said a comrade. "Well, I be blankety blank-blanked if that girl doesn't rout the devil out of a fellow, hoof and horns." "You're right, my man," said the Union captain, "and your feelings do you credit. Now I have a suggestion to make. Not one of us is capable of using a word before her that she shouldn't hear, if not out of our heads. We can pay her a better tribute than that. Let us decide to speak in her absence as if she were present. That's about all we can do in return for her kindness. She won't know the cost to us in breaking habits, but we will, and that's better. We all feel that we'd like to spill some more of our blood for the girl who fed Phillips yonder as if he were a baby. Well, let us do the only thing we can — speak 280 ''MISS LOU" as if our mothers heard us all the time, for this girl's sake." "I be blanked if I don't agree, and may the devil flj away with the man who doesn't," cried Yarry. "Ah, Yarry," said the captain, laughing, "you'll have the hardest row of any of us to hoe. We'll have to let you off for some slips. ' ' Then began among the majority a harder fight than that for life — a fight with inveterate habit, an effort to change vernacular, almost as difficult as the learning of a new lan- guage. For some time Miss Lou did not know nor under- stand. Word had been passed to other and smaller groups of the Union wounded in other buildings. The pledge was soon known as "A Northern Tribute to a Southern Girl." It was entered into with enthusiasm and kept with a pathetic effort which many will not understand. Yarry positively began to fail under the restraint he imposed upon himself. His wound caused him agony, and profanity would have been his natural expression of even slight annoyance. All day long grisly oaths rose to his lips. Now and then an ex- cruciating twinge would cause a half-uttered expletive to burst forth like a projectile. A deep groan would fol- low, as the man became rigid in his struggle for self- control. "Yarry," cried Captain Hanfield, who had suggested the pledge, "let yourself go, for God's sake. You have shown more heroism to-day than 1 in all my life. We will make you an exception and put you on parole to hold in only while Miss Baron is here." "I be — oh, blank it! This is going to be the death of me, boys. The Kebs gave me hell with this wound. But for God's sake don't let her know. Just let her think I'm civil like the rest of you. Wouldn't she open them blue eyes if she knew a man was dyin', just holdin' in cussin' on her account. Ha, ha, ha! She'd think I was a sort of a Yankee devil, worse than the Injins she expected. Don't let her know. I'll be quiet enough before long. Then like A TRIBUTE TO A SOUTHERN GIRL 231 enough she'd look at me and say, 'Poor fellow! he won't make any more trouble.' " Whately had a busy day and felt that he had a reputa- tion to regain. He therefore bravely endured much physi- cal pain in his arm and gave very close attention to duty. Captain Maynard, on the contrary, had nothing to do, and his wound was only severe enough to make him restless. The young girl whom he had met at breakfast at once be- came by far the most interesting subject for thought and object of observation. He was a young fellow of the ordi- nary romantic type, hasty, susceptible, as ready to fight as to eat, and possessed of the idea that the way to win a girl wa^ to appear her smitten, abject slave. The passing hours were ages to him in contrast to his previous activity, and as he watched Miss Lou going about on her errands of mercy he quickly passed from one stage to another of admiration and idealization. Eemembering the look that Whately had given him in the morning, he maintained a distant attitude at first, thinking his brother officer had claims which he must respect. As he wandered uneasily around, however, he discovered virtually how matters stood, and learned of the attempt which Whately had made to marry his cousin, nolens volens. This fact piqued his interest deeply and sat- isfied him that the way was clear for a suit on his part were he so inclined. Fair rivalry would give only additional zest, and he promptly yielded to his inclination to become at least much better acquainted with the girl. At dinner he and Whately vied in their gallantries, but she was too sad and weary to pay much attention to either of them. Mrs. Whately compelled her to lie down for a time dur- ing the heat of the afternoon, but thoughts of the suffering all about her banished power to rest. She went down and found the old colonel lying with closed eyes, feebly trying to keep away the pestering flies. Eemembering the bunch of peacock feathers with which Zany, in old monotonous days, had waved when waiting on the table, she obtained it from the dining-room, and sitting down noiselessly by 232 ''Miss LOW the officer, gave him a respite from his tormentors. In his drowsiness he did not open his eyes, but passed into quiet sleep. The girl maintained her watch, putting her finger to her lips and making signals for silence to all who came near. Other Confederate officers observed her wistfully; Mad Whately, coming in, looked at her frowningly. His desire and purpose toward his cousin had been that of entire self-appropriation and now she was becoming the cynosure of many eyes. Among them he saw those of Captain May- nard, who was already an object of hate. Little recked the enamored captain of this fact. To his ardent fancy the girl was rapidly becoming ideal in goodness and beauty. With the ready egotism of the young he was inclined to believe that fate had brought about the events which had revealed to him the woman he should marry. A bombshell bursting among them all would not have created a greater sensation than the knowledge that the girl's thoughts were following a Yankee, one whom she herself, by daring stratagem, had released from captivity. A twinge of pain awakened the colonel and he looked up, dazed and uncomprehending. Miss Lou bent over him and said gently, "Go to sleep again. It's all right." "Oh, I remember now. You are Miss Baron." ' ' Yes, but don' t try to talk ; just sleep now that you can. ' ' He smiled and yielded. A few moments later Maynard came forward and said, •'Miss Baron, your arm must be tired. Let me take your place." Now she rewarded him by a smile. "I will be glad if you can," she replied softly, "not that I am very tired, but there are so many others." As she moved away, she saw Surgeon Ackley beckoning to her. "Miss Baron," he said, "1 am going to put one of my patients especially in your and your aunt's charge. Young as he is, he is a hero and an unusual character. I have had him moved to a tent, for he is in a very criticaJ condition. Indeed, his chances for life are few and he A TRIBUTE TO A SOUTHERN GIRL 233 knows it. I am acquainted with his family — one of the best in the South." He led the way to a small tent beneath the shade of a wide-branched oak. A stretcher had been extemporized into a camp bed and on it lay a youth not older apparently than the girl herself. His face had the blood-drained look which many will remember, yet was still fine in its strong, boyish lines. The down on his upper lip was scarcely more deeply defined than his straight eyebrows. A negro attend- | ant sat near fanning him, and Miss Lou first thought that he was asleep. As she approached with the surgeon he opened his eyes with the dazed expression so common when the brain is enfeebled from loss of blood. At first they seemed almost opaque and dead in their blackness, but, as if a light were approaching from within, they grew bright and laugh- ing. His smile showed his white, even teeth slightly, and her look of deep commiseration passed into one of wonder as she saw his face growing positively radiant with what seemed to her a strange kind of happiness, as he glanced back and forth from her to the surgeon. Feebly he raised his finger to his lips as if to say, "I can't speak.*' ^'That's right, Waldo; don't try to talk yet. This is Miss Baron. She will be one of your nurses and will feed you with the best of soup. We'll bring you round yet." He shook his head and smiled more genially, then tried to extend his hand to the girl, looking his welcome and ac- ceptance of her ministry. So joyous was his expression that she could not help smiling in return, but it was'the ques- tioning, doubtful smile of one who did not understand. ''When she comes," resumed Ackley, *'take what she gives you, but don't talk until I give permission. That will do now. You must take everything except quiet in small quantities at first." His lips formed tbe words *'A1I right," and smilingly he watched them depart. '*I suppose he is not exactly in his right mind," said Miss Lou as she and the surgeon returned to the house. j 234 ''MISS LOU'- "Many would think so, I reckon," replied Acklej la- conically. "He believes in a heaven and that he's going there. That's the only queer thing I ever discovered in Waldo. He's worth a lot of trouble, Miss Baron." "It would be right strange if I did not do my best for him, sir." "I thought you'd feel so. I want very strong beef soup made for a few such special cases, who can take but little at a time. I would like him to have a few teaspoonfuls every two hours. I am going to trust to you and Mrs. Whately chiefly to look after him in this respect. We can do little more than help nature in his case." Poor Ann' Suke was getting weary again, but she had a heart which Miss Lou speedily touched in behalf of her patient, and a special saucepan was soon bubbling over the fire. The soup for the evening meal being ready, she began again her task of feeding the helpless soldiers, visiting, among others, Phillips, who lay in a half-stupor on the great barn-floor. As she stepped in among the Federal wounded, she was again impressed by the prevailing quiet and by the friendly glances turned toward her on every side. The Union surgeon in charge lifted his hat politely, while such of the men as were able took off theirs and re- mained uncovered. The homage, although quiet, was so marked that she was again embarrassed, and with downcast eyes went direct to Phillips, gently roused him and gave him his supper. While she was doing this the men around her were either silent or spoke in low tones. The thought grew in her mind, "How these Northern soldiers have been misrepresented to me ! Even when I am approaching and before they are aware I am near, I hear no rough talk as I do among our men. ^ The world is so different from uncle's idea of it! Whether these men are right or wrong, 1 will never listen patiently again when they are spoken of as the scum of the earth. " As she rose and saw the respectful attitude toward her, A TRIBUTE TO A SOUTHERN OIRL 235 she faltered, "I— I — wish to thank you for your — your kindness to me." At these words there was a general smile even on the wannest and most pain-pinched face, for they struck the men as very droll. "We were under the impression that the kindness was chiefly on your side," said Captain Hanfield. "Still we are glad you find us a civil lot of Indians." "Please remember," she answered earnestly, "that was not my thought, but one impressed upon me by those who did not know. Only within a very short time have I ever seen Northern people or soldiers, and they treat me with nothing but courtesy." "Perhaps you are to blame for that," said the captain pleasantly. "I can't help feeling glad that our good opinion is be- coming mutual," she replied, smiling. "Won't you please put on your hats and let me come and go as a matter of course? I don't like to be sort of received every time I come. I just want to help those I can help, to get well." "You have only to express your wishes, Miss Baron," was the hearty reply. "Thank you. Is there anything more that I can do for you ? Is there any one who specially needs — ' ' As she was glancing round her eyes fell upon Yarry. His face was so drawn and haggard with pain that, from an impulse of pity, she went directly to him and said gently, "I fear, sir, you are suffering very much." "I be — oh, hang — there, there, miss, I'll stand it a little longer. I could stand hell-fire for your sake. I didn't mean to say that. Guess I better keep still." His face, now seen attentively, revealed more to her in tuition than his words. She stooped by his side and said piteously, "Oh, you are suffering— I /ee? that you are suffer- ing terribly. I must do something to relieve you." "Oh, now, miss," he replied, forcing a ghastly sort of smile, "I'm all right, I be well, I am. Bless your kind 236 *'MISS LOU" heart! Don't worry about me. I'll smoke my pipe and go to sleep pretty soon. You look tired yourself, little one. I will feel better if you won't worry about me, I be well, I will. I'm just like the other fellows, you know." "I reckon you are a brave, good- hearted man, to think of others when I know you are suffering so much. I am having very strong soup made for one of our men, and I'll bring you some by and by," and with a lingering, troubled look into his rugged face, she departed. His eyes followed her until she disappeared. * ' Yarry, you are rewarded, ' ' Captain Hanfield remarked. *' my reward. Fellers, she's just wearin' herself out for us. I don't want no reward for anything I can do for her. Well, I'm goin' to shut up now. The only thing I can do for her is to hold my tongue till it can't wag. I told her I'd smoke my pipe and go to sleep. I be well, I will. Light it for me, Tom. When she comes, like enough I'll be asleep, a sort of dead sleep, yer know. Just let her think I'm dozin' after my pipe. Don't let her try to wake me and worry about me." "All shall be as you wish, Yarry," said Captain Han- field. "I tell you, men, few women ever received such a tribute as Yarry is paying this Southern girl. For one, I'm proud of him." A BACKGROUND OF EGOTISM 287 CHAPTER XXVI A BACKGROUND OF EGOTISM WHEN Miss Lou returned to the house supper was ready and she sat down weary, saddened and pre- occupied by the scenes she had witnessed. "You are going beyond your strength," said Captain Maynard, who had watched her coming back from the Fed- eral wounded. "Cannot you be content to confine your ministrations to your friends only?" "For once I can agree with Captain Maynard," Whately added stiffly. "I don't think it's right for you, cousin, to be going among those rough, brutal fellows. ' ' Instantly her anger flamed at the injustice of the remark and she answered hotly, "I've found no rough, brutal fel- lows among the Yankees. ' ' All smiled at her words, and Ackley remarked to one of the Union surgeons, "Dr. Borden, I thought our men could hold their own pretty well with the Army in Flanders, but you Yanks, I reckon, surpass all military organizations, past or present. There was one man especially who fairly made the night lurid and left a sulphurous odor after him when he was brought in. It would be rather rough on us all if we were where he consigned us with a vim that was start- ling. I certainly hope that Miss Baron is not compelled to hear any such language." "I appeal to Miss Baron herself," said Dr. Borden, "if she has been offended in this respect to-day?" "No, indeed j I have not," replied the girl indignantly. "I never was treated with more courtesy. I have not heard 238 **MISS LOW* a rough word from tlie Yankees even when they did not know 1 was near, and that is more than I can say of our own men. Fight the Yankees all you please, but don't do them injustice." In spite of the girl's flushed, incensed face, there was an explosion of laughter. "Pardon me. Miss Baron," said Ackley, "but you can't know how droll your idea of injus- tice to the Yankees seems to us. That you have such an idea, however, is a credit to you and to them also, for they must have been behaving themselves prodigiously." "Yes, Dr. Ackley," replied Borden emphatically, *'Miss Baron's impressions are a credit to her and to my patients. They promptly recognized her motives and character, and for her sake they pledged themselves that while here, where she is one of the nurses, they would not use language at any time which they would not have their mothers hear. That very man you speak of, who swore so last night, be- lieves himself dying from his effort at self-restraint. This is not true, for he would have died anyhow, but his death is hastened by his effort. He has been in agony all day. Opiates make him worse, so there is no use of giving them. But I can tell you, no man in your Confederacy ever did a braver thing than he is doing this minute to show his re- spect for this young lady who has shown kindness to his comrades. I can assure you, Lieutenant Whately, that you need have no fears about your cousin when visiting my patients. ' ' "What's the name of the soldier of whom you speak?" Miss Lou asked eagerly. "He is called Yarry. I don't know any other name y^t — been so busy dressing wounds. ' ' "Thank you," faltered the girl, rising, her face showing signs of strong emotion. "Oh, Louise 1 finish your supper,'' expostulated Mrs. Whately. "You must not let these scenes take so strong a hold"— but she was out of hearing. "I fear it's all going to be too much for her, ' ' sighed the lady in conclusion. A BACKGROUND OF EGOTISM 239 Mr. Baron and his wife exchanged grim glances from the head and foot of the table, as much as to say, "She has shaken off our control and we are not responsible,*' but Ackl'ey remarked, "I agree with you, Dr. Borden, that it's fine to see a girl show such a spirit, and I congratulate you that your men are capable of appreciating it. By the way, Mrs. Whately, I have put her, with you, in charge of young Waldo and truly hope that among us we can bring him through." "Mrs. Whately," said Captain Maynard, *'I reckon more than one of us begin to regret already that we were not so desperately wounded as to need your attention and that of Miss Baron. We must remember, however, that she is not accustomed to these scenes, and I think we must try to make her forget them at the table. I suppose in the kindness of her heart she is now crying in her room over that Yankee." Whately shot a savage glance at the speaker which plainly implied, "It's none of your business where she is." Suddenly rising, he departed also, his mother's eyes follow- ing him anxiously. Miss Lou was not crying in her room. As the level rays of the sun shone into the wide old barn, making the straw in a mow doubly golden, and transforming even the dusty cobwebs into fairy lacework, she crossed the threshold and paused for the first time in her impulsive haste to find and thank the dying man of whom she had been told. All eyes turned wonderingly toward her as she stood for a mo- ment in the sunshine, as unconscious of herself, of the mar- vellous touch of beauty bestowed by the light and her expression, as if she had flown from the skies. "Is there a soldier here named Yarry ?" she began, then uttered a little inarticulate cry as she saw Captain Hanfield kneeling beside a man to whom all eyes directed her. "Oh, it's he," she sobbed, kneeling beside him also. "As soon as I heard I felt it was he who told me not to worry about him. Is — is he really dying?" 240 **MIS8 LOW* "Yes, I hope so, Miss Baron,'* replied the captain gravely. "He couldn't live and it's time he had rest." The girl bent over the man, her hot tears falling on his face. He opened his eyes and looked vacantly at her for a moment or two, then smiled in recognition. It was the most pathetic smile she had ever imagined. "Don't worry, " he whispered, "I'm just dozin' ofi." "Oh, my poor, brave hero!" she said brokenly, **I know, I know it all. God reward you, I can't." "Don't want no reward. I be — say, miss, don't wear — yourself — out fer us." She took his cold hand and bowed her forehead upon it, sobbing aloud in the overpowering sense of his self-forget- fulness. "0 God!" she cried, "do for this brave, un- selfish man what I cannot. When, when can 1 forget such a thing as this! Oh, live, please live; we will take such good care of you." "There, there, little one, don't — take on — so about — me. Ain't wuth it. I be — Say, I feel better — easier. Glad — you spoke — good word to God — for me. I be— I mean, I think — He'll hear — sech as you. I'm — oS. now. Don't — wear — yourself — ' ' Even in her inexperience she saw that he was dying, and when his gasping utterance ceased she had so supported his head that it fell back on her bosom. For a few moments she just cried helplessly, blinded with tears. Then she felt the burden of his head removed and hereelf lifted gently. "I suspected something like this when you left the table, Miss Baron," said Dr. Borden. "Oh, oh, oh, I feel as if he had died for me," she sobbed. "He would a died for you, miss," said Tom, drawing bis sleeve across his eyes, "so would we all." '"'Miss Baron," resumed the doctor gravely, "remember poor Yarry's last words, * Don't wear yourself — he couldn't finish the sentence, but you know what he meant. You must grant the request of one who tried to do what he could for you. As a physician also I must warn you to rest A BACKGROUND OF EGOTISM 241 until morning. Y"ou can do more for these men and others by first doing as Yarry wished," and he led her away. They had not gone far before they met Uncle Lusthah. The girl stopped and said, *' Doctor, won't you let Uncle Lusthah bury him to-morrow down by the run ? I'll show bim the place." ' ' Yes, Miss Baron, we all will do anything you wish if you only rest to-night. I tell you frankly you endanger yourself and your chance to do anything more for the wounded by continuing the strain which these scenes put upon you.'* "I reckon you're right," she said, *'I feel as if I could hardly stand. " "I know. Take my arm and go at once to your room." On the way they encountered Whately. ** Cousin I where on earth have you been ? Yoa look ready to faint." His presence and all that he implied began to steady her nerves at once, but she made no reply. "She has witnessed a painful scene, Lieutenant," began the surgeon. "You have no business to permit her to witness such scenes," Whately interrupted sternly. "You should see that she's little more than an inexperienced child and — " "Hush, sir," said Miss Lou. "Who has given you the right to dictate to me or to this gentleman? I'm in no mood for any more such words, cousin. To-day, at least, no one has taken advantage of my inexperience. Good- evening," and she passed on, leaving him chafing in im- patient anger and protest. At the house Mrs. Whately began expostulations also, but the girl said, "Please don't talk to me now. By and by I will tell you what will touch all the woman in your heart." "I earnestly suggest," added Dr. Borden, "that you take Miss Baron to her room, and that nothing more be said to disturb her. She is overwrought and has reached the limit of endurance. " Roe— IX— K 242 ''MISS LOU" The lady had the tact to acquiesce at once. After reach- ing her room Miss Lou exclaimed, **But I have not been to young Waldo." *'I have, " replied her aunt, **and will see him again more than once before I retire. Louise, if you would not become a burden yourself at this time you must do as the doctor says. " Within an hour the girl was sleeping and her nature regaining the strength and elasticity of youth. As Whately stood fuming where his cousin had left him, Perkins approached for the first time since they had parted in anger the night before. "I reck'n Miss Baron's gone over ter the inemy," re- marked the overseer. "What do you mean?" "Look yere, Lef tenant, what^s the use o' you bein' so gunpowdery with me ? What's the use, I say ? I mout be of some use ter you ef you wuz civil." "Of what use were you last night? You allowed my prisoner to be carried off right under your nose." "Who carried 'im off? Answer that." "Why, some gawk of a Yank that you were too stupid to tell from me. " • "P'raps hit was, p'raps hit wasn't." "Who else could it be?" "I s'picion who it was, but I'm not goin' ter talk to one who's got nothin' better to give me 'n uggly words." "You don't mean to say — " "I don't mean to say nothin' till I know who I'm talkin' ter." ' Whately gave a long, low whistle and then mv.ttered "Impossible!" "Oh, sut'ny," remarked Perkins ironically. The two men gave each other a long searching look; then Perkins resumed, "That's right, Lef tenant, take yer Dearin's. I don't see ez you kin do me any special good, ner harm nuther. Ef yer want no news or help from me^ we kin sheer off right yere en now." A BACKGROUND OF EGOTISM 243 *'I say your suspicion is absurd," resumed Whately, as if arguing with himself. *'When the alarm, caused by firing, came last night, it happened she was in her room and was badly frightened. ' ' "What time did the alarm happen?" "About two o'clock." "Wal, about midnight a figger that favored you 'maz- ingly, yes, ter yer very walk, came up boldly en sez ter me, nodding at the Yank, 'Leave 'im ter me. ' The figger wasn't jes' dressed like you in 'Federate uniform, but I kin a'most swear the figger had on them clo's and that hat you're a wearin' now; arm in sling, too. What's mo', when I thought hit over I was cock sure the figger wuz shorter'n you air. I don't believe there's a Yank livin' that could a fooled me last night, 'less he had yer clo's on en yer walk." "My uniform and hat hung on the chairs beside me, just where they had been put when I went to sleep." "Jes' tell me ef the do' o' yer room wuz locked." "I wasn't in a room. I slept at the end of the hall." "Then enybody could git 'em en put 'em back while you wuz asleep." "She couldn't knock you senseless. You're talking wild." "I've schemed that out. Thar's tracks in the gyardin not so blinded but they kin give a hint ter a blind boss. Thar's a track nigh whar I fell mighty like what that infernal nig- ger Chunk ud make. Beyond, ez ef some uns had hidden in the bushes, right in the gyarden bed, air two little woman- like tracks en two men tracks. ' ' Whately ground his teeth and muttered an oath. "I don't s'pose I kin prove anything 'elusive," resumed Perkins, "en I don't s'pose it ud be best ef I could. Ef she was up ter such deviltry, of co'se you don't want hit gen'ly known. Bigger ossifers 'n you ud have ter notice it. Ef I was in yu shoes howsomever, in huntin' shy game, I could use sech a clar s'picion agin her en be mo' on my gyard inter the bargain. " 244 ''MISS LOW "I can use it and will," said Whately, sternly. ** Per- kins, keep your eyes wide open in my behalf. If that Yankee or Chunk ever come within our reach again — the nigger stole my horse and brought the Yank here too in time to prevent the wedding, I believe." "Eeck'n he did, Lef tenant." "Well, he and his master may be within our reach again. We had better not be seen much together. I will reward you well for any real service," and he strode away in strong perturbation. "Hang your reward," muttered Perkins. "You think you're goin' ter use me when the boot's on t'other foot. You shall pay me fer doin' my work. I couldn't wish the gal nuthin' worse than ter marry you. That ud satisfy my grudge agin her, but ef I get my claws on that nigger en dom'neerin' Yank of a master" — his teeth came together after the grim fashion of a bulldog, by way of completing his soliloquy. The spring evening deepened from twilight into dusk, the moon rose and shone with mild radiance over the scene that had abounded in gloom, tragedy and adventure the night before. The conflict which then had taken place now caused the pathetic life-and-death struggles occurring in and about the old mansion. In the onset of battle muscle and the impulse to destroy dominated ; now the heart, with its deep longings, its memories of home and kindred, the soul with its solemn thoughts of an unknown phase of life which might be near, came to the fore, rendering the long, doubtful struggle complex indeed. The stillness was broken only by the steps and voices of attendants and the irrepressible groans of those who watched for the day with hope that waxed and waned as the case might be. Uncle Lusthah yearned over the Federal wounded with a great pity, the impression that they were suffering for him and his people banishing sleep. He hovered among them all night long, bringing water to fevered lips and say- ing a word of Christian cheer to any who would listen. A BACKGROUND OF EGOTISM 245 Miss Lou wakened with the dawn and recognized with gladness that her strength and courage for work had been restored. Even more potent than thoughts of Scoville was the impulse to be at work again, especially among those with whom she inevitably associated him. Dressing hastily, she went first to see the old Confederate colonel. He was evidently failing fast. Ackley and an attendant were watch- ing him. He looked at the girl, smiled and held out his . hand. She took it and sat down beside him. *'Ah!" he said feebly, '* this is a good deal better than dying alone. Would you mind, my child, writing some things I would like to say to my family?" Miss Lou brought her portfolio and tearfully received his dying messages. *'Poor little girl!'^ said the colonel, "you are witnessing scenes very strange to you. Try to keep your heart tender and womanly, no matter what you see. Such tears as yours reveal the power to help and bless, not weakness. I can say to you all the sacred, farewell words which would be hard to speak to others." Brokenly, with many pauses from weakness, he dictated his last letter, and she wrote his words as well as she could see to do so. "They will be all the sweeter and more sooth- ing for your tears, my dear," he said. He kept up with wonderful composure until he came to his message to "little Hal," his youngest child. Then the old soldier broke down and reached out his arms in vain yet irrepressible longing. "Oh, if I could kiss the little fellow just once before — " he moaned. For a few moments he and the girl at his side just wept together, and then the old man said almost sternly, "Tell him to honor his mother and his God, to live for the South, for which his father died. Say, if he will do this he shall have my blessing, not without. Now, my child, I trust this letter to you. Good-by and God bless you. I wish to be alone a little while and face the last enemy calmly." As she knelt down and kissed him tears again rushed to 246 "MISS LOV his eyes and he murmured, "That was good and sweet of you, my child. Keep your heart simple and tender as it is now. Good-by. ' ' Keturning to her room with the portfolio she met her cousin in the upper hall. He fixed his eyes searchingly upon her and with the air of one who knew very much began, "Cousin Lou, my eyes are not so often blinded with tears as yours, yet they see more perhaps than you are aware of. I'm willing to woo you as gallantly as can any man, but you've got to keep some faith with me as the represent- ative of our house and of the cause which, as a Southern girl, should be first always in its claims." Her heart fluttered, for his words suggested both knowl- edge and a menace. At the same time the scenes she had passed through, especially the last, lifted her so far above his plane of life that she shrank from him with something very like contempt. ''Do you know what I have been writing?" she asked sternly. ' ' 1 neither know nor care. I only wish you to understand that you cannot trifle with me nor wrong me with impunity. ' ' "Oh!" she cried, with a strong repellant gesture, "why can't you see and understand ? You fairly make me loathe the egotism which, in scenes like these, can think only of self. As if I had either time or inclination to be trifling with you, whatever you mean by that. Brave men are dying heroically and unselfishly, thinking of others, while 'I, me and gallant wooing,' combined with vague threats against one whom you are in honor bound to protect, are the only words on your lips. How can you be so unmanly ? What are you, compared with that noble old colonel whose last words I have just received ? If you care a straw for my opinion, why are you so foolish as to compel me to draw comparisons? Do, for manhood's sake, forget yourself for once. ' ' He was almost livid from rage as he replied harshly, "You'll rue these words I" A BACKGROUND OF EGOTISM 247 She looked at him scornfnlly as she said, "It's strange, but your words and expression remind me of Perkins. He might make you a good ally. ' ' In his confusion and anger he blurted out, "Little won- der you think of him. You and that accursed nigger, Chunk—" "Hush!" she interrupted in a low, imperious voice, "hush, lest as representative of our house you disgrace yourself beyond hope." And she passed quickly to her room. Within less than an hour he was asking himself in bitter self-upbraiding, "What have I gained? What can I do? Prefer charges against my own cousin which I cannot prove ? Impossible! Oh, I've been a fool again. I should have kept that knowledge secret till I could use it for a definite purpose. I'll break her spirit yet." If he had seen her after she reached her room he might have thought it broken then. Vague dread of the conse- quences of an act which, from his words, she believed he knew far more about than he did, mingled with her anger and feelings of repugnance. "Oh," she moaned, "it was just horrible; it was coming straight down from the sub- lime to the contemptible. That noble old colonel took me to the very gate of heaven. Now I'm fairly trembling with passion and fear. Oh, why will Cousin Mad always stir up the very worst of my feelings! I'd rather suffer and die as poor Yarry did than marry a man who will think only of his little self at such a time as this I" 248 ''MISS LOD" CHAPTER XXVII aun' jinkey's supreme test THE first long tragic day of hospital experience bad so i absorbed Miss Lou as to relegate into the background events which a short time before had been beyond her wildest dreams. In the utter negation of her life she had wished that something would happen, and so much had happened and so swiftly that she was bewildered. The strangest thing of all was the change in herself. Lovers of the Whately and Maynard type could only repel by their tactics. She was too high-spirited to submit to the one, and too simple and sincere, still too much of a child, to feel anything but annoyance at the sentimental gallantry of the other. The genial spirit of comradeship in Scoville, could it have been maintained through months of ordinary life, would probably have prepared the way for deeper feel- ing on the part of both, but there had been no time for the gradual development of goodwill and friendly understand- ing into something more. They had been caught in an un- expected whirl of events and swept forward into relations utterly unforeseen. He owed his escape from much dreaded captivity and his very life to her, and, as he had said, these facts, to her generous nature, were even more powerful in their influence than if she herself had received the priceless favors. At the same time, her course toward him, dictated at first by mere humanity, then goodwill, had made his re- gard for her seem natural even to her girlish heart. If she had read it all in a book, years before, she would have said, *' A man couldn't do less than love one when fortune had enabled her to do so much for him." So she had simply AUN' JINKEY'S SUPREME TEST 249 approved of his declaration, down by the run, of affection for which she was not yet ready, and she approved of him all the more fondly because he did not passionately and arbitrarily demand or expect that she should feel as he did, in return. "I didn't," she had said to herself a score of times, "and that was enough for him." When later, for his sake, she faced the darkness of mid- night, a peril she dared not contemplate, and the cruel mis- judgment which would follow her action if discovered, some- thing deeper awoke in her nature — something kindled into strong, perplexing life when, in his passionate gratitude, he had snatched her in his arms and, as she had said, "given her his whole heart because he couldn't help himself." From that moment, on her part there had been no more merely kind, tranquil thoughts about Scoville, but a shy, trembling, blushing self-consciousness even when in soli- tude his image rose before her. As she sought to regain composure after the last inter- view with her cousin, and to think of her best course in view of what seemed his dangerous knowledge, a truth, kept back thus far by solemn and absorbing scenes, sud- denly became dear to her. The spirit of all-consuming selfishness again manifested by Whately, revealed as never before the gulf of abject misery into which she would have fallen as his wife. "If it hadn't been for Lieutenant Sco- ville I might now have been his despairing bond slave," she thought; "I might have been any way if the Northern offi- cer were any other kind of a man, brutal, coarse, as I had been led to expect, or even indifferent and stupid. 1 might have been forced into relations from which 1 could not es- cape and then have learned afterward what noble, unselfish men there are in the world. Oh, I could marry Allan Sco- ville, I could love him and devote my life to him wholly, knowing all the time that I needn't protect myself, because he would always be a kinder, truer, better protector. How little I have done for him compared with that from which he has saved me!" 250 *'MISS LOU" There was a knock at the door and Zany quickly en- tered. "I des slip off while ole miss in de sto'-room, ter gib you a warnin', Miss Lou. Hain't had no charnce till dis minit. Dat ar ole fox, Perkins, been snoopin' roun' yistidy arter we un's tracks en las' night he tell Mad Whately a heap ob his 'jecterin'." •'But, Zany," said Miss Lou, "you don't think they know anything." "Beck'n hit's all des 'jecterin'," Zany replied. "Kyant be nufin' else. We des got ter face hit out. Doan you fear on me. We uns mus' des star stupid-like ef dey ax ques- tions, ' ' and she whisked off again. The girl felt that the spirit of Zany's counsel would be the best policy to adopt. While she might not **star stupid- like," she could so coldly ignore all reference to Scoville's escape as to embarrass any one who sought to connect her with it. In the clearer consciousness of her feeling toward the Union officer her heart grew glad and strong at the thought of the service she had rendered him, nor did it shrink at suffering for his sake. A gratitude quite as strong as his own now possessed her that he had been the means of keeping her from a union dreaded even as an ignorant child, and now known, by the love which made her a woman, to be earthly perdition. "Having escaped that," she reflected, "there's nothing else 1 greatly fear," and she went down to breakfast resolv- ing that she would be so faithful in her duties as a nurse that no one in authority would listen to her cousin or Perkins if they sought to make known their surmises. Ignorant of her son's action and its results, Mrs. Whately met her niece kindly and insisted that she should not leave the dining-room until she had partaken of the breakfast now almost ready. Captain Maynard joined her with many ex- pressions of a solicitude which the girl felt to be very un- called for, yet in her instinct to propitiate every one in case her action should be questioned, she was more friendly to him than at any time before. Meanwhile, she was asking AUN' JINKEY'S SUPREME TEST 251 herself, "What would they do to me if all was found out?" and sustaining herself by the thought, "Whatever they do to me, they can't reach Lieutenant Scoville." It was gall and bitterness to Whately to find her talking affably to Maynard, but before the meal was over she had the address to disarm him in some degree. For his own sake as well as hers and the family's she thought, "I must not irritate him into hasty action. If he should find out, and reveal everything, no matter what happened to me, h© would bring everlasting disgrace on himself and relatives. I could at least show that my motives were good, no matter how soldiers, with their harsh laws, might act toward me; but what motive could excuse him for placing laie, a young girl and his cousin, in such a position ?" Whately had already satisfied himself that no pretence of zeal for the service could conceal his real motive or save him from general scorn should he speak of the mere conjec- tures of a man like Perkins. He had never meant to speak of them publicly, simply to use his knowledge as a means of influencing his cousin. He now doubted the wisdom of this. Eeacting from one mood to another, as usual, his chief hope now was that some unexpected turn of fortune's wheel would bring his opportunity. The one thing which all the past unfitted him to accept was personal and final denial. His egotism and impatience at being crossed began to manifest itself in another direction, one suggested by Maynard's evident susceptibility to his cousin's attractions. "Here is a chance," he thought, "of righting myself in Lou's eyes. If this fellow, thrown into her society by the fortune of war, not by courtesy, presumptuously goes be- yond a certain point in his attentions. Cousin Lou will find that no knight of olden time would have fought for her quicker than I will. Mother says she is one who must have her romance. She may have it with a vengeance. It may open her eyes to the truth that a spirit like mine brooks no opposition, and when she sees that I am ready to face death for her she will admire, respect, and yield to 262 *'MISS LOU" a nature that is haughty and like that of the old no- bility." Thus he blinded himself in these vain, silly vaporings, the result of a false training and the reading of stilted romances. The thought of studying the girl's character, of doing and being in some degree what would be agreeable to her, never occurred to him. That kind of good sense rarely does occur to the egotistical, who often fairly ex- asperate those whom they would please by utter blindness to the simple things which are pleasing. Miss Lou had read more old romances than he, but she speedily outgrew the period in which she was carried away by the fantastic heroes described. They became in her fancy the other ex- treme of the matter-of-fact conditions in which her uncle and aunt had lived, and as we have seen, she longed to know the actual world, to meet with people who did not seem alien to her young and natural sympathies. Each new character she met became a kind of revelation to her. She was the opposite pole of the society belle, whose eyes have wearied of humanity, who knows little and cares less for anything except her mirrored image. With something of the round- eyed curiosity and interest of a child, she looked at every new face, asking herself, "What is he like?" not whether he will like and admire me, although she had not a little feminine pleasure in discovering that strangers were inclined to do this. Her disapproval of Maynard arose chiefly from the feeling that his gallantry at such a time, with the dead and dying all about them, was "more shocking than a game of cards on Sunday." She regarded his attentions, glances, tones, as mere well-bred persiflage^ indulged in for his own amusement, and she put him down as a trifler for his pains. That he, as she would phrase it, "was just smitten without any rhyme or reason" seemed preposterous. She had done nothing for him as she had for Scoville. The friendly or the frankly admiring looks of strangers, the hearty gratitude and goodwill of the wounded, she could accept with as much pleasure as AUN' JINKEY'S SUPREME TEST 253 any of her sex; bat she had not yet recognized that type of man who looks at a pretty woman and is disposed to make love to her at once. "Why does Captain Maynard stare at me so?" she asked herself, *'when I don't care a thistle for him and never will. Why should I care? Why should he care? Does he think I'm silly and shallow enough to be amused by this kind of thing when that brave old colonel is dying across the hall?" It was a relief to her to escape from him and Whately and to visit even poor Waldo, dying also, as she believed. "Dr. Ackley," she said, "you may trust me to give him his food now every two hours. I won't break down again." "You did not break down, Miss Baron. All my nurses have their hours off. Why shouldn't you? I reckon," he added, smiling, "you'll have to obey my orders like the rest. I will go with jou again on this visit." To her the youth seemed ghastlier than ever, but the exp»ession of gladness in his eyes was unchanged. "Miss Baron feels very remorseful that she has not been to see you before," said Dr. Ackley, "but her labors yester- day were so many and varied that she had to rest. She will do better by you to-day." Waldo could only reach his hand feebly toward her in welcome. She took the brown, shapely hand in both of hers and it made her sad to feel how cold and limp it was. "But a few hours ago," she thought, "it was striking blows with a heavy sabre." — "I have brought you some strong, hot soup," she said gently, "and shall bring it every two hoars. You'll be very good and take it from me, won't you?" He laughed as he nodded assent. "When can I begin to read to him, doctor, to help him pass the time?" "Perhaps to-morrow if he does well, but never more than a few minutes together until I permit Slow and sare, Waldo, slow and sure are my orders, and you are too good a soldier to disobey." 254 ''MISS LOU" He shook his h^ad mischievously and whispered "Insub- ordinate. " The doctor nodded portentously and said, "If you and Miss Baron don't obey orders I'll put you both under arrest." This seemed to amuse the young fellow immensely and he was about to speak again, but the surgeon put his finger to his lips and departed. As she was feeding him with eyes full of gentle commis- eration his lips framed the words, "You can talk to me." She scarcely knew how to do this. There were questions she was eager to ask, for his strange, exuberant happiness under the circumstances were hard to understand, even after Dr. Ackley's explanation. She had never seen religion produce any such results. Uncle Lusthah seemed to her very sincere and greatly sustained in his faith, but he had always been to her a sorrowful, plaintive figure, mourning for lost kindred whom slavery had scattered. Like the ancient prophets also, his heart was ever burdened by the waywardness of the people whom he exhorted and warned. In young Waldo appeared a joyousness which nothing could quench. From the moment she obtained a clew to his unexpected behavior, everything in his manner accorded with the surgeon's explanation. In his boyish face and expression there was not a trace of the fanatical or abnormal. He seemed to think of Heaven as he did of his own home, and the thought of going to the one inspired much the same feeling as returning to the other. "Well," said Miss Lou, after a little hesitancy, "it is a pleasure to wait on one who is so brave and cheerful. It makes me feel ashamed of worrying over my troubles." He motioned her to get something under his pillow and she drew out a small Testament. With the ease of perfect familiarity he turned the leaves and pointed to the words, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." He looked up at her, smiled brightly, and shook his head when he saw tears in her eyes. Again AUN' JINKEY'S SUPREME TEST 255 he turned the leaves and pointed to other words, "Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you : but rejoice, inasmuch as ye are partakers of Christ's sufferings; that, when his glory shall be revealed, ye may be glad also with exceeding joy. ' ' His expression was wonderfully sig- nificant in its content, for it was that of one who had ex- plained and accounted for everything. "Oh," she faltered, "I wish I felt as you do, believed as you do. I hope you will get strong soon. I would like to tell you some things which trouble me very much, and there is no one I can tell." * ' By and by, "he whispered. " Don' t worry. AIJ right. ' ' "Oh, what does this mean ?" she thought as she returned to the house. "Awfully wounded, suffering, dying perhaps, yet 'glad with an exceeding joy' ! Uncle and aunt haven't any idea of such a religion, and for some reason Dr. "Wil- liams never gave me any such idea of it at church. Why didn't he? Was it my fault? What he said seemed just words that made little or no impression. Since he tried to marry me to Cousin Mad I feel as if I could scarcely bear the sight of him." Yet he was the first one to greet her on the veranda. He spoke with formal kindness, but she responded merely by a grave salutation, and passed on, for she felt that he should have understood and protected her in the most terri- ble emergency of her young life. Having looked after the safety of his family, he had returned with the best and sincerest intentions to minister to the wounded. If the good he would do corresponded with these intentions he would have been welcomed in most instances; but he possessed that unfortunate temperament which is only one remove for the better from a cold indiffer- ence to his sacred duties. He did not possess a particle of that mysterious, yet in his calling priceless, gift termed magnetism for the lack of a better definition. All respected him, few warmed toward him or thought of opening to him 256 ''MISS LOU** their hearts. His mrnd was literal, and within it the doc- trines were like labelled and separate packages, from which he took from time to time what he wanted as he would sup- plies from a store-room. God was to him a Sovereign and a Judge who would save a few of the human race in exact accordance with the creed of the Church in which the good man had been trained. What would happen to those with- out its pale was one of those solemn mysteries with which he had naught to do. Conscientious in his idea of duty to the last degree, he nevertheless might easily irritate and repel many minds by a rigid presentation of the only for- mula of faith which he deemed safe and adequate. It seemed his chief aim to have every form and ceremony of his Church complied with, and then his responsibility ceased. He and Mr. Baron had taken solid comfort in each other, both agreeing on ev^ry point of doctrine and politics. Both men honestly felt that if the world could be brought to accept their view of life and duty little would be left to be desired. When summoned to perform the marriage cere- mony Dr. Williams no more comprehended the desperate opposition of Miss Lou to the will of her guardian, the shrinking, instinctive protest of her woman's nature, than he did the hostility of so many in the world to the tenets of his faith. His inability to understand the feelings, the mental attitude of others who did not unquestioningly ac- cept his views and approve the action of the "powers that be" was perhaps the chief obstacle to his usefulness. He was not in the least degree intolerant or vindictive toward those who opposed him; his feeling rather was, "This is your opportunity. I gladly afford it and there my responsi- bility ceases" — a comfortable sort of belief to many, but one that would not satisfy a warm, earnest nature like Paul's, who said, "To the weak I became as weak, that I might gain the weak: I am made all things to all men, that I might by all means save some." Paul would have found some way to reach the ear and heart of nearly every wounded man in the extemporized hospital, but for the AUN' JINKEY'S SUPREME TEST 257 reasons suggested the visits of poor Dr. Williams soon began to be very generally dreaded. Old Uncle Lusthah had far better success with those who would listen to him. Miss Lou soon found her way to the Federal wounded again. While agreeably to her wishes there was no formal- ity in her reception, it was evident that the poor fellows had now learned to regard her with deep affection. *'I have told them all," said Dr. Borden who received her, "that you did as Yarry wished, that you took a good rest and were looking this morning as you should, and it has pleased them greatly. Phillips died last night, and has been removed. He hadn't any chance and did not suffer much. Eemembering your wishes, we kept Yarry here. He lies there as if he were dozing after his pipe, as he wished you to think." The girl stepped to the side of the dead soldier and for a moment or two looked silently into the still, peaceful face. Quietly and reverently the surgeon and others took off their hats and waited till she should speak. "Oh," she breathed softly at last, "how thoughtful and considerate you have been! You have made this brave, unselfish man look just as if he were quietly sleeping in »his uniform. There is nothing terrible or painful in his aspect as he lies there on his. side. Poor generous- hearted fellow! I believe he is at rest, as now he seems to be. I want you all to know," she added, looking round, "that he shall be buried where I can often visit his grave and keep it from neglect, for I can never forget the kindness that he — that you all have shown me. Dr. Borden, I will now show Uncle Lusthah the place where I wish the grave to be, and when all is ready I will come and follow poor Yarry to it. Do you think there ought to be a minister? There is one here now — Dr. Wil- liams, who has a church near the Court House." "Just as you wish, Miss Baron. For one, I think a prayer from Uncle Lusthah, as you call him, would do jus4 as well and be more in accordance with Yarry 's feelings if he could express them. The old negro has been in and out 258 ''MISS LOU*' nearly all night, waiting on the men, and has won their goodwill. He certainly is a good old soul." "I agree with the doctor," added Captain Hanfield. *'Were it my case I'd ask nothing better than a prayer from Uncle Lusthah over my grave, for he has acted like a good, patient old saint among us. ' ' A murmur of approval from the others followed these words, and so it was arranged. Uncle Lusthah was soon found, and he followed the girl to the shadow of a great pine by the run and adjacent to the grassy plot with which the girl would ever associate Allan Scoville. It was there that she had looked into his eyes and discovered what her own heart was now teaching her to understand. Aun' Jinkey followed them from her cabin and asked, *' Wat you gwine ter do yere, honey ?" "Bury here a Norther soldier who has done me a very great honor." "Oh, Miss Lou, I des feared ter hab 'im so neah de cabin. ' ' "Hush!" said the girl, almost sternly. '* Uncle Lusthah, you ought to teach, mammy better than that. ' ' "Ah, youn' mistis, hit's bred in de bone. I des mourns ober my people, 'fusin' ter be comf 'ted. Yere Aun' Jinkey, gittin' gray lak me. She a 'fessor ob religion, ye de word *spook' set her all a tremble. Ef dey is spooks, Aun' Jinkey, w'at dat ter you? Dere's tunder en lightnin' en yearthquJtkes en wurin' iliments en all kin' ob miseries ob de body. Who gwine ter keep all dem fum yo' cabin ? Keck'n you betteah trus' de Lawd 'bout spooks too." "You don't believe in any such foolishness. Uncle Lusthah?" "Well, young mistis, I gettin' po'ful ole en I al'ays yeared on spooks sence I kin reckermember. I neber seed one fer sho, but I'se had strange 'sper'ences o' nights, en dar's dem w'at sez dey has seen de sperets ob de 'parted. I dunno. Dere's sump'n in folk's buzzums dat takes on quar sometimes, ez ef we libin' mighty close on ter a worl' AUN' JINKEY'S SUPREME TEST 259 we kyant mos' al'ays see. Dat ar doan trouble me nohow, en Aun' Jinkey orter know bettah. Ei de Lawd 'mits spooks, dat He business. He 'mits lots ob tings we kyant see troo. Look at dese yere old ban's, young mistis. Dey's wuked nigh on eighty yeah, yit dey neber wuked fer mysef, dey neber wuked fer wife en chil'n. Dat mo' quar dan spooks." "I don't know but you are right," said the girl thought- fully. "I didn't know you felt so about being free. Aun' Jinkey never seemed to trouble much about it." "I'se 'feared Aun' Jinkey tink a heap on de leeks en inions ob Egypt. ' ' "Dar now. Uncle Lusthah, you po'ful good man, but you owns up you doan know nufin' 'bout spooks, en I knows you doan know nufin' 'bout freedom." "Yes I does," replied Uncle Lusthah. "Ef de day come w'en I kin stan' up en say fer sho, 'I own mysef, en God ony my Mars'r, ' I kin starbe ef dat He will. En dat 'minds me, young mistis. Is we free ? Perkins growlin' roun' agin dis mawnin', en say we he'p 'bout de horspital ter-day, but we all go ter wuk ter-morrer. I 'lowed he orter talk ter us 'bout wages en he des larf en cuss me. Wat's gwine ter be de end? Marse Scoville en de big Linkum gin'ral say we free, en Perkins larf 'temptuous like. We des all a-lookin' ter you, young mistis. " . "Oh, uncle! what can I do?" "Shame on you. Uncle Lusthah, fer pilin' up sech a heap ob 'plexity on my honey," cried Aun' Jinkey, who was as practical as she was superstitious. "I kin tell you w'at ter do. I doan projeck en smoke in my chimbly-corner fer not'n. W'at kin you do but do ez you tole twel Marse Scoville en de Linkum gin'ral come agin? S'pose you say you woan wuk en woan 'bey, how you hole out agin Perkins en Mad Whately ? Dey'd tar you all ter pieces. Dey say dis wah fer freedom. Whar yo' patience twel de wah'll end ? De Yanks mus' do mo' dan say we free; dey mus' keep us free. Dar Aun' Suke. She sav she free one minit en a 260 *'MISS LOW slabe nex' minute twel her haid mos' whirl oflE her shorers. Now she say, 'I doan know 'bout dis freedom business; I does know how ter cook en I'se gwinter cook twel dey gets troo a whirlin' back en forth.' You says I mus' trns' de Lawd 'bout spooks, Uncle Lusthah. W'y kyant you trus' de Lawd 'bout freedom ?" The old man shook his head sorrowfully, for Aun' Suke and Aun' Jinkey's philosophy didn't satisfy him. "I'se willin' ter do my shar," he said musingly, "de Lawd knows I be. Ef I cud die lak po' Marse Yarry en de oders fer free- dom I'se willin' ter die." "Now, Uncle Lusthah, your strong feeling and not your good sense speaks," said Miss Lou, who had been thinking earnestly, meanwhile recalling Scoville's prediction that the negroes might come to her for help and counsel. "Aun' Jinkey is certainly right in this case, and you must tell all our people from me that their only safe course now is to obey all orders and bide their time. Perkins' authority would be sustained by all the soldiers on the place and anything like disobedience would be punished severely. If what Lieutenant Scoville and the Northern general said is true you will soon be free without useless risks on your part. If that time comes I want you and mammy to stay with me. You shall be as free as I am and I'll give you wages." "Dar now, young mistis, ef I know I free I bress de Lawd fer de charnce ter gib my wuk ter you. Dere's a po'ful dif'unce 'twix' bein' took en kep en des gibin' yosef out ob yo' own heart. Slav'y couldn't keep me fum gibin' mysef ter de Lawd en I been He free man many a long yeah, en I be yo' free man, too, fer lub." "Look yere, now, honey," added Aun' Jinkey, wiping her eyes with her apron, "you kin bury sogers all 'bout de cabin ef you wan ter. Uncle Lusthah kyant do mo' fer you, iioney, ner me, tookin resks ob spooks. Des bury dem so- gers, ef you wanter, right un'er my win'er." TRUTH IF THE HEAVENS FALL 261 CHAPTER XXVIII TRUTH If THE HEAVENS FALL IT was quite natural that the thoughts of Perkins and Mr. Baron should turn toward the growing crops, neglected by reason of events unprecedented in their experience. The announcement to the slaves, first by Sco- ville and later confirmed by General Marston, of freedom, had staggered both employer and overseer, but every hour since the departure of the raiding Union column had been reassuring. It is not within the province of this story to follow the fortunes of that force, since it is our modest purpose merely to dwell on those events closely related to the experiences of the Southern girl who has won our attention. She had suddenly become secondary in her uncle's thoughts. A phase of the war, like a sudden destructive storm, had been witnessed; like a storm, he hoped that it and its effects would pass away. The South was far from being subdued; the issue of the conflict unknown. He was the last man in the Confederacy to foresee and accept new conditions, es- pecially when he still believed the Southern cause would triumph. As the confusion of his mind, after the battle, passed he began to look around and consider what should be done, what could be saved out of what at first appeared a wreck. When Dr. Ackley assured him that the house and plantation would be rapidly abandoned as a hospital, hope and courage revived, while to these was added the spur of necessity. He knew that he must "make his crops," or his fortunes 262 **MISS LOU" would be desperate. Eemembering the value of timely labor Id the spring season, he was eager on this second day after the battle to put his slaves to work again at their interrupted avocations. Accordingly he held a consultation with his nephew and Dr. Ackley. "The hands are becoming demoralized," he said, "by unaccustomed duties and partial idleness. Some are sullen and others distracted by all kinds of absurd expectations. Uncle Lusthah, the leader and preacher among them, even had the impudence to ask Perkins about wages. The Yankee officers, when here, told them they were free, and they wish to act as if they were. The sooner that notion is taken out of their heads the better. This can be done now while my nephew is here to enforce authority, better than when we ar6 alone again. It seems to me that a certain number could be detailed for regular hospital duty and the rest put to work as usual." "I agree with you, certainly," replied Surgeon Ackley. "Give me a dozen men and half a dozen women to wash and cook, and I can get along. Lieutenant Whately, you, at your uncle's suggestion, can make the detail and enforce discipline among the rest. ' ' "I was going to speak to you about this very matter, uncle," said Whately. "My overseer has been over and I find the black imps on our place are in much the same condition as yours, a few venturing to talk about wages or shares in the crop and all that nonsense. I sent him back with half a dozen men, armed to the teeth, and told him to put the hands at work as usual. Mother is going to ride over and spend part of the day. I don't wish her to be there alone just yet, and 1 shall gallop over in time to be on hand when she arrives. Things are getting settled, my arm is not so painful, and it is time we pulled ourselves and everything together. You struck the right note when you said, 'Now is the time to enforce authority. ' It must be done sharply too, and these people taught the difference between the Yanks' incendiary talk and our rights and positive com- TRUTH IF THE HEAVENS FALL 263 mands. From what Peridns says, this old Uncle Lusthah is a fire-brand among your people. Give your overseer his orders and I'll see that he carries them out." Perkins was summoned, acquainted with the policy — just to his mind — resolved upon, told to pick out the detail for hospital duty and to have the rest ready for work after an early dinner. "Go right straight ahead, Perkins," added Whately, "and let me know if one of these Yankee-made freemen so much as growls." Dr. Borden was not the kind of man to take upon him- self undue responsibility. He had therefore mentioned to Surgeon Ackley Miss Baron's wish to give Yarry a special burial by the run and that she expected to be present. Ackley good-naturedly acquiesced, saying, "I suppose there can be no objection to burying the man in a place of Miss Baron's selection, instead of the one designated by Mr. Baron. It's but a small concession to her who is so kindly bent on making herself useful. Let her have her own way in the whole affair. " The spirit of Yarry's turbulent career seemed destined to break out afresh over his final disposition. Uncle Lust- hah went to the quarters in order to obtain the aid of two or three stout hands in digging the grave. It so happened that his visit took place during the adoption of Mr. Baron's policy in dealing with his property and just before Perkins received his instructions. The negroes not engaged in labor relating to the hospital gathered around Uncle Lusthah in the hope of receiving some advice from Miss Lou. Mourn- fully the old man told them what she and Aun' Jinkey had said, adding, "I doan see no oder way fer us des at dis time ob our triberlation. Ole Pharo sut'ny got he grip on us agin, he sut'ny hab fer a spell. But brudren en sistas, hit ony lak a cloud comin' 'cross de risin' sun. Let us des wait pashently de times en seasons ob de Lawd who alone kin brung de true 'liverance." When he saw the deep, angry spirit of protest he threw 264 ''MISS LOU" up his hands, crying, "Wat de use? I warn you', I 'treat you, be keerful. Wat could us do wid our bar ban's agin armed men? I tells you we mus^ wait or die lak Moses 'fo' we enter de promis Ian'." Then he told them about Yarry and asked for two or three to volunteer to dig the grave. A score stepped forward and nearly all expressed their purpose to attend the funeral. The old man persuaded all but three to remain near the quarters at present, saying, "So many gwine wid me mout mek trouble, fer Perkins look ugly dis mawnin'." "We ugly too," muttered more than one voice, but they yielded to Uncle Lusthah's caution. In going to the run Uncle Lusthah and his assistants had to pass somewhat near the house, and so were inter- cepted by Perkins and Whately, both eager to employ at once the tactics resolved upon. "Where the devil are you goin' with those men and shovels?" shouted Perkins. " We gwine ter dig a grabe fer a Linkum soger down by de run," replied Uncle Lusthah quietly. "That ain't the place ter plant the Yanks, you old fool. Go back to the quarters. No words. Lef tenant Whately will detail the hands fer sech work. Back with you. Why in don't you mind ?" "I hab my orders fum — " "Silence!" thundered Whately. "Obey, or you'll go back at the point of the sabre." Uncle Lusthah and his companions still hesitated, for they saw Miss Lou running toward them. She had lingered to talk with Aun' Jinkey and was returning when she heard Perkins' high, harsh words. The overseer was in a rage, and limped hastily forward with uplifted cane, when he was suddenly confronted by the hot face and flashing eyes of Miss Lou. "Don't you dare strike Uncle Lasthah," she said sternly. Her appearance and attitude evoked all the pent-up hate and passion in the man's nature and he shouted, "By the TRUTH IF THE HEAVENS FALL 265 'tarnal, I will strike 'im. I've got my orders en I'll find out yere en now whether a traitor girl or a Southern officer rules this place." Before the blow could descend she sprang forward, seized his wrist and stayed his hand. "Wretch! murderer! coward!" she cried. "Oh, come. Cousin Lou, this won't do at all," began Whately, hastening up. An ominous rush and trampling of feet was heard and an instant later the negroes were seen running toward them from the quarters and all points at which the sounds of the altercation reached them. "Turn out the guard," shouted Whately. "Rally the men herewith carbines and ball-cartridges." He whirled Perkins aside, saying, "Get out of the way, you fool." Then he drew his sabre and thundered to the negroes, "Back, for your lives!" They hesitated and drew together. Miss Lou went di- rectly toward them and implored, "Go back. Go back. Do what I ask and perhaps I can help you. If you don't, no one can or will help you. See, the soldiers are coming." "We'll 'bey you, young mistis," said Uncle Lusthah, "but we uns lak ter hab 'splained des what we got ter 'spect. We kyant die but oncet, en ef we kyant eben bury de sogers dat die fer us — " "Silence!" shouted Whately. "Forward here, my men. Form line! Advance! Shoot the first one that resists." He then dashed forward, sought to encircle his cousin with his arm and draw her out of the way. She eluded him and turned swiftly toward the advancing line of men, crying, "Stop, if there is a drop of Southern blood in your veins." They halted and stared at her. She resumed, "You will have to walk over me before you touch these poor creatures. Uncle" (for Mr. Baron now stood aghast on the scene), "as you are a man, come herewith me and speak, explain to your people. That is all they ask. They have been told that they were free, and now Roe— IX— L 266 ^ ''MISS LOU" the oldest and best among them, who was doing my bid- ding, almost suffered brutal violence from a man not fit to live. Where is the justice, right, or sense in such a course ? Tell your people what you wish, what you expect, and that they will be treated kindly in obeying you." She recognized that every moment gained gave time for cooler thoughts and better counsels, also for the restraining presence of others who were gathering upon the scene. It was in the nature of her headlong cousin to precipitate trouble without thought of the consequences; but as she spoke she saw Surgeons Ackley and Borden running for- ward. Captain Maynard was already at her side, and Whately looked as if he could cut his rival down with the weapon in his hand. While Mr. Baron hesitated Mrs. Whately also reached her niece and urged, "Brother, I adjure you, go and speak to your people. They are your people and you should tell them what to expect before you begin to punish. Go with Surgeon Ackley and settle this question once for all. " "Yes, Mr. Baron," said Ackley sternly, "we must settle this question promptly. Such uproar and excitement are bad for my patients and not to be permitted for an instant." It was evident that the surgeon was terribly angry. He had been brought up in the old regular army, and anything like insubordination or injury to his patients were things he could not tolerate. Mr. Baron went forward with him and said in a low tone*. ' ' You are virtually in command here and all know it. A few words from you will have more effect than anything I can say." "Very well, then," responded the resolute surgeon, and he strode toward the negroes, not noticing that Miss Lou kept almost at his side. "Look here, you people," he began harshly, "do you think I will permit such disturbances ? They may be the death of brave men. Quit your nonsense at once. You are simply what you've always been. Yankee words don't TRUTH IF THE HEAVENS FALL 267 make you free any more than they make us throw down oar arms. What happened to the general who said you were free ? We fought him and drove him away. There is only one thing you can do and must do — go to work as before, and woe be to those who make trouble. That's all." "No," cried Miss Lou, "that surely cannot be all." "Miss Baron! What can you mean ?" "I mean that these poor creatures are looking to me, trusting in me, and I have promised to intercede in their behalf. Tell them at least this, you or uncle, that if they obey and work quietly and faithfully they shall not be treated harshly, nor subjected to the brutal spite of that overseer, Perkins. " "Truly, Miss Baron, you can scarcely expect me to interfere with your uncle's management of his property. The only thing I can and will do is to insist on absolute quiet and order on the place. In this case every one must obey the surgeon-in- charge. Do you understand that?" he concluded, turning to the negroes. "Neither you nor any one else can do anything to injure my patients. As you value your lives, keep quiet. I will not permit even a harsh, disturbing sound. Do not dare to presume on Miss Baron's kindness, mistaken in this crisis. This unruly, reckless spirit must be stamped out now. Your owner and master will tell you what he expects, and I will have the first man who disobeys shot. Miss Baron, you must come with me." ' ' Yes, sir, but not until I have spoken the truth about this affair. All your power, Dr. Ackley, cannot keep me dumb when I see such injustice. You are threatening and condemning without having heard a word of explanation. Uncle Lust hah and those with him were simply doing my bidding. Can you think I would stand by and see him cursed and beaten? These people have not shown any unruly, reckless spirit. They may well be bewildered, and they only asked what they must expect. God is my witness, 268 '*MISS LOU" I will cry out 'Shame!' with my last breath if they are treated brutally. They will be quiet, they will do their duty if treated kindly. They shall not appeal to me for justice and mercy in vain. My words may not help them, but I shall not stand tamely by like a coward, but will call any man on earth coward who butchers one of these un- armed negroes." She stood before them all possessed by one thought — justice. Her face was very pale, but stern, undaunted and noble in its expression. She was enabled to take her course from the courage, simplicity and unconventionality of her nature, becoming utterly absorbed by her impulse to defend those who looked to her, neither regarding nor fearing, in her strong excitement, the consequences to herself. Dr. Borden was hastening forward to remind Ackley of his promise concerning Yarry's grave, and to show the girl that he at least would stand with her; but his chief waved him back. The old surgeon of the regular army could ap- preciate courage, and the girl's words^ and aspect pierced the thick crust of his military and professional armor, touching to the quick the man within him. He saw in the brave young face defiance of him, of the whole world, in her sense of right, and he had the innate nobility of soul to respect her motive and acknowledge the justice of her action. Watching her attentively until she was through speaking he took off his hat, stepped forward and gave her his hand. "You are a brave girl," he said frankly. "You are doing what you think is right and I am proud of you. Tell these people yourself to go .back to their quarters, behave themselves and obey their rightful master. After your words in their behalf any one who does not obey deserves to be shot." She was disarmed and subdued at once. "Ah, doctor," she faltered, tears in her eye3, "now you've conquered me." Then turning toward the negroes she cried, "Do just as Dr. Ackley has said Go quietly to work and be patient. TRUTH IF THE HEAVENS FALL 269 Uncle Lusttiah, you know I told jou to do so before all this happened. I tell jou so again and shall expect you to use all your influence to keep perfect order." *'We *bey you, young mistis; we tank you fer speakin' up fer us, ^' and the old man led the way toward the quar- ters, followed by all his flock. Dr. Ackley gave his arm to the girl and led her to the house. Captain Maynard took off his hat in a very defer- ential manner as she passed; she walked on unheeding the salutation. Whately frowned at him and dropped his hand on the hilt of his sabre. At this pantomime Maynard smiled contemptuously as he walked away. In a few mo- ments the scene was as quiet and deserted as it had been crowded and threatening. On the way to the house Miss Lou explained more fully the circumstances relating to the dead soldier, Yarry, and Ackley said good-naturedly, *'I'll have Uncle Lusthah and two others detailed to dig the grave and you can carry out your intentions; but. Miss Baron, you must be careful in the future how you let your inexperience and enthusiasm involve you in conflict with all recognized authority. We are safely out of this scrape; I can't answer for anything more." "Believe me," she said earnestly, *'I don't wish to make trouble of any kind, and after your course toward me, I will seek to carry out your orders in every way. If I dared I would ask one favor. Uncle Lusthah is too old to work in the field and he is a kind, good old man. If you would have him detailed to wait on the wounded — " '*Yes, yes, I will. You are a brave, good-hearted girl and mean well. I shall rely on your promise to work cor- dially with me hereafter. Now go to your room and get calm and rested. You are trembling like a frightened bird. I'll see your uncle, cousin and Dr. Borden. You shall bury your chivalrous Yank just as you wish. Then all must go according to regulations." She smiled as she gave him her hand, saying, "You may 270 "MISS LOU" put me under arrest if I don't mind you in everything hereafter.'* "Well," muttered the surgeon, as he looked after her, *'to think that a girl should have a probe long and sharp enough to go straight to the heart of a man of my age! No wonder Maynard and Whately are over head and ears." 'ANGEL OF DEATH" 271 % CHAPTER XXIX IT would seem as if the brief tempest of the morning had cleared the air. Two strong natures had asserted them- selves. Surgeon Ackley's recognition of Miss Lou's spirit and the justice of her plea turned out to be as politic as it was sincere and unpremeditated. The slaves learned all they could hope from her or any one now in authority and were compelled to see the necessity of submission. Whately was taught another lesson concerning the beauties of headlong action, while even his egotism was not proof against the feeling that his cousin's straightforward fearless- ness would baffle all measures opposed to her sense of right As for Perkins, he began to fear as well as hate her, seeing her triumph again. The only reward of his zeal had been Whately' s words, "Get out of the way, you fool." There- after, with the exception of the girl's scathing words, he had been ignored. He had been made to feel that Ackley's threats had a meaning for him as well as for the negroes, and that if he needlessly provoked trouble again he would be confronted with the stern old army surgeon. Having known Whately from a boy he stood in little fear of him, but was convinced that he could not trifle with Ackley's patience an instant. He now recognized his danger. In his rage he had forgotten the wide difference in rank between the girl he would injure and himself. The courtesy promptly shown to her by Maynard and especially by the surgeon- in- chief taught him that one whom he had scarcely noticed as she grew up a repressed, brooding child and girl, possessed by birth the consideration ever shown to a Southern lady. 272 *'Miss LOU" He knew what that meant, even if he could not appre- ciate her conduct. Maynard had scowled upon him; Mrs. Whately bestowed merely a glance of cold contempt, while her son had failed him utterly as an ally. He therefore sullenly drove his malice back into his heart with the feel- ing that he must now bide his time. ^ Even Mr. Baron was curt and said briefly before he left the ground, "Be sure you're right before you go ahead. Hereafter give your orders quietly and let me know who disobeys." The old planter was at his wit's end about his niece, but even he was compelled to see that his former methods with her would not answer. New ideas were being forced upon him as if by surgical operations. Chief among them was the truth that she could no longer be managed or restrained by fear or mere authority on the part of any one. He would look at her in a sort of speechless wonder and ask himself if she were the child to whom he had supposed himself in- fallible so many years. His wife kept on the even tenor of her way more unswervingly than any one on the place. She was as incapable of Dr. Ackley's fine sentiment as she was of her nephew's ungovernable passion. She neither hoped nor tried to comprehend the "perversity" of her niece, yet, in the perplexed conditions of the time, she filled a most important and useful niche. Since the wounded men were to be fed, she became an admirable commissary general, preventing waste and exacting good wholesome cookery on the part of Aun' Suke and her assistants. Poor Yarry was buried quietly ai: last, Miss Lou, with Dr. Borden, Captain Hanfield and two or three of his com- rades standing reverently by the grave while Uncle Lusthah offered his simple prayer. Then the girl threw upon the mound some flowers she had gathered and returned to her duties as nurse. The remains of the old Confederate colonel were sent to his family, with the letter which Miss Lou had written for him. Every day the numbers in the hospital ''ANGEL OF DEATH'' 273 diminished, either by death or by removal of the stronger patients to the distant railroad town. Those sent away in ambulances and other vehicles impressed into the service were looked after by Surgeon Ackley with official thorough- ness and phlegm; in much the same spirit and manner Dr. Williams presided over the departure of others to the bourne from which none return, then buried them with all proper observance. Uncle Lusthah carried around by a sort of stealth his pearl of simple, vital, hope-inspiring faith, and he found more than one ready to give their all for it. The old man pointed directly to Him who "taketh away the sin of the world," then stood aside that dying eyes might look. With the best intentions Dr. Williams, with his religious formulas, got directly in the way, bewildering weak minds with a creed. Mrs. Whately and her son went and came from their plantation and were troubled over the condition of things there. The slaves were in a state of sullen, smouldering rebellion and several of them had disappeared. "I fear Madison has been too arbitrary," she admitted to her brother. Mr. Baron shrugged his shoulders and smoked in si- lence. Perhaps his preposterous niece had not been so crazy after all. Between Maynard and Whately there were increasing evidences of trouble, which the mother of the latter did her best to avert by remonstrances and entreaty. On one occasion Whately had said a little irritably, "1 say. Dr. Ackley, what's the use of Maynard's hanging around here? He is alnlost well enough for duty." *'It is chiefly out of consideration for you that I am keeping him," replied the surgeon gravely, in well-con- cealed mischief. "It is clear that he has entered the lists with you for your cousin's hand, and I could not further his suit better than by sending him away, especially if it were suspected that I did so at your instigation. He is doing well here, good-naturedly helps me in my writing and can 274 **MISS LOW soon go direct to his regiment. It seems to me that your cousin holds a pretty even balance between you, and all a man should want is a fair field. ' ' Whately walked frowningly away, more than ever con- vinced that the surgeon was too good a friend of his rival to interfere. At the close of the fourth day after the battle there was an arrival at The Oaks that greatly interested Miss Lou — a stately, white-haired old lady, . the mother of Lieutenant Waldo. She was very pale and it would have been hard for Surgeon Ackley to meet her agonized look, her shrink- ing as if from a blow, were he unable to hold out any hope. "Mrs. Waldo," he said gravely, "your son is living and there's a chance of his getting well. His cheerfulness and absolute quiet of mind may save him. If he had fretted or desponded he would have died before this." "Yes," replied his mother with a great sigh of relief, "I know." "Miss Baron, will you kindly prepare Waldo for his mother's visit? Meanwhile, 1 will tell her a little about his case and our management of it. He doesn't know that 1 sent for you, for I was not sure you could come." "Is this Miss Baron and one of my son's nurses ?" "Yes, and doing more for him than I — giving him all the bovine nectar and honeyed words he can take. ' ' "God bless you, my dear. Please let me kiss you." When Miss Lou entered Waldo's tent he whispered with a laugh, "It's four hours since you were here." "No, scarcely two. " "Well, I'm as hungry as if it were four houri^'* "That's fine.* You're getting right well. Will you be very good and quiet — not a bit excited, if I let some one else bring you your supper?" She beamed upon him so joyously that he exclaimed aloud, with a rush of tears, "Ah! mother?" The girl nodded and said, "Now remember, don't break her heart by being worse. ' ' ''ANGEL OF DEATH'' 275 "Oh, how sweet and lovely of her! Til get well now, sure." "That's a nice way to treat your old nurse." Smilingly he held out his hand and said, "You are al- most as pretty and good as she is, but you aren't mother." Then he added in strong sympathy, "Forgive me. You haven't any, have you ? You don't know about this mother love." "I know enough about it to have the heartache for its lack. Now you must save your strength till she comes. Good- by." From that hour he steadily gained, banishing the look of anxiety from his mother's face. Mrs. Whately sighed as she saw how her niece's heart warmed toward the stran- ger, and how strong an attachment was growing between them. "Louise is drifting away from us all," she thought, "yet I cannot see that she encourages Captain May- nard. ' ' A genuine friendship had also grown between the girl and Captain Hanfield, the Federal officer, and she was heartily sorry when he told her that he would be sent to the railroad town the next day. "My wound isn't doing well and I seem to be running down," he explained. "Dr. Borden has been able to keep me thus far, but I must go to-morrow. Perhaps it's best. He is trying to get me paroled. If I could only get home to my wife and children I'd rally fast enough. I'm all run down and this climate is enervating to me." She tried to hearten him by kind, hopeful words, and he listened to her with a wistful look on his handsome face. ' ' How I'd like you to meet my little girl !' ' he said. " Won' t I make her blue eyes open when I tell her about you!" Another bond of union between them was the captain's acquaintance with Scoville, and he soon observed that she listened very patiently and attentively when he spoke of the brave scout's exploits. "I declare," he had said, laughing, "I keep forgetting that you are a Southern girl and that 276 ''MISS LOW' , you may not enjoy hearing of the successes of so active an enemy." "Lieutenant Scoville is not a personal enemy," she had replied guardedly. "He showed us all very great kind- ness, me especially. 1 wish that both you and he were on our side." "Well, as you say down here, I reckon we are on your side any way," had been the captain's smiling reply. She spoke to Surgeon Ackley promptly about the pros- pects of a parole, but he said, "Impossible, Miss Baron. The question would at once arise, 'If granted to Hanfield, why not to others?' I reckon Borden has been trying to rally his friend by hopes even when knowing them baseless." This proved to be the case, and the following day brought the young girl a strange and very sad experience. Dr. Bor- den appeared at breakfast looking troubled and perplexed. Miss Lou immediately inquired about the captain. The doctor shook his head saying, "He isn't so well. I'd like to speak with you by and by." She was so depressed by the surgeon's aspect that she paid little heed to the conversation of her two admirers and soon left the table. Borden followed her, and when they were alone began sadly, "Miss Baron, perhaps I am going to ask of you far too much, but you have shown yourself to be an tinusually brave girl as well as a kind-hearted one. Hanfield is an old friend of mine and perhaps I've done wrong to mislead him. But I didn't and couldn't foresee what has happened, and I did hope to start him in genuine convalescence, feeling sure -that if he got well he would give up the hope of going home as a matter of course. So far from succeeding, a fatal disease has set in— tetanus, lock- jaw. He's dying and doesn't know it. I can't tell him. I've made the truth doubly cruel, for I've raised false hopes. He continually talks of home and his pleading eyes stab me. You can soften the blow to him, soothe and sus- tain him in meeting what is sure to come." "Oh, is there no hope?" ''ANQEL OF DEATH'' 277 "None at all. He can't live. If you feel that the ordeal would be too painful — I wouldn't ask it if I hadn't seen in you unexpected qualities." "Oh, I must help him bear it; yet how can I? how shall I?" "Well, I guess your heart and sympathy will guide you. I can't. 1 can only say you had better tell him the whole truth. He ought to know it for his own and family's sake now, while perfectly rational. Soften the truth as you can, but you can't injure him by telling it plainly, for he will die. God knows, were it my case, the tidings wouldn't seem so very terrible if told by a girl like you." "Oh, but the tidings are so terrible to speak, especially to such a man. Think of his beautiful wife and daughter, of his never seeing them again. Oh, it's just awful," and her face grew white at the prospect. "Yes, Miss Baron, it is. In the midst of all the blood and carnage of the war, every now and then a case comes up which makes even my calloused heart admit, 'It's just awful.' I'm only seeking to make it less awful to my poor friend, and perhaps at too great cost to you." "Well, he on his side, and others on ours, didn't count the cost; neither must I. I must not think about it or my heart will fail me. I will go at once." "Come then, and God help you and him." A straw- bed had been made up in a large, airy box-stall where the captain could be by himself. Uncle Lusthah was in attendance and he had just brought a bowl of milk. Borden had left Miss Lou to enter alone. The captain held out his hand and said cheerfully, "Well, it's an ill wind that blows nowhere. This one will blow me home all the sooner I trust, for it must be plainer now than ever that I need the home change which will put me on my feet again. You needn't look so serious, I feel only a little more poorly than 1 did — sore throat and a queer kind of stiffness in my jaws as if I had taken cold in them." "Do I look very serious?" she faltered. 278 ''MISS LOU'' "Yes, you look as if troubled about something. But there, see what an egotistic fellow I am! As if you hadn't troubles of your own! pretty deep ones, too, I fear. Our coming here has given you a wonderful experience, Miss Baron. No matter; you've met it like a soldier and will have much to remember in after years. You can never be- come a commonplace woman now and there are such a lot of 'em in the world. When I remember all you have done for us it makes me ill to think of some in our town — gig- gling, silly little flirts, with no higher ambition than to strut down the street in a new dress. ' ' "Oh, don't think of them or over-praise me. Perhaps if they had been here and compelled to face things they would have done better than I. A short time ago I didn't dream of these experiences, and then I would have said 1 couldn't possibly endure them. ' ' "Well, you have," resumed the captain, who was slightly feverish, excited and inclined to talk. "One of my dearest hopes now is to get back to my little girl soon and deepen her mind by making her ashamed of the silly things in a girl's life. Of course I wish her to be joyous and happy as a young thing should be, as I think you would be if yoa had the chance. By means of your story I can make her ashamed ever to indulge in .those picayune, contemptible feminine traits which exasperate men. I want her to be brave, helpful, sincere, like you, like her mother. How quickly poor Yarry recognized the spirit in which you came among us at first! Jove! I didn't think him capable of such feeling. I tell you. Miss Baron, the roughest of us reverence an unselfish woman — one who doesn't think of herself first and always. She mayn't be a saint, but if she has heart enough for sympathy and is brave and simple enough to bestow it just as a cool spring gushes from the ground, we feel she is the woman God meant her to be. Ah, uncle, that reminds me — another cup of that cold water. For some reason I'm awfully thirsty this morning." Miss Lou listened with hands nervously clasping and ''ANGEL OF DEATH" 279 unclasping, utterly at a loss to know how to tell the man, dreaming of home and planning for the future, that he must soon sleep beside poor Yarrj. She had already taken to herself the mournful comfort that his grave also should be where she could care for it and keep it green. '*I wish to tell you more about my little Sadie and my wife. Some day, when this miserable war is over, you will visit us. We' 11 give you a reception then which may turn even your head. Ha! ha! you thought we'd be worse than Indians. Well, I'll show you a lot of our squaws in full evening dress and you'll own that my wife is the prettiest in the tribe. Every day, until we started on this blasted raid, I received a letter from her. I knew about as well what was going on at home as if there. With my wife it was iove almost at first sight, but I can tell you that it' s not 'out of sight out of mind' with us. Time merely adds to the pure, bright flame, and such a pair of lovers as we shall be when gray as badgers will be worth a journey to you. ' ' Miss Lou could maintain her self-control no longer. She burst into tears and sobbed helplessly. "You poor little girl," exclaimed the captain in deep commiseration. "Here I've been talking like a garrulous fool when your heart is burdened with some trouble that perhaps you would like to speak to me about. Tell me, my child, just as little Sadie would. ' ' "My heart is burdened with trouble, captain; it feels as if it would break when I hear you talk so. Would to God little Sadie were here, and your beautiful wife too! Oh, what shall I say? How can I, how can I?" "Miss Baron!" he exclaimed, looking at her in vague alarm. "Oh, Captain Hanfield, you are a brave, unselfish man like Yarry. Don't make it too hard for me. Oh, I feel as if I could scarcely breathe. ' ' As he saw her almost panting at his side and tears streaming from her eyes, the truth began to dawn upon 280 ''MISS LOU" him. He looked at her steadily and silently for a moment, then reached out his hand as he said in an awed whisper, "Is it on account of me ? Did Borden send you here?" She took his hand, bowed her forehead upon it and wept speechlessly. She felt it tremble for a moment, then it was withdrawn and placed on her bowed head. "So you are the angel of death to me?" the officer faltered. Her tears were her only, yet sufficient answer. Both were silent, she not having the heart to look at him. At last he said in deep tones, "I wasn't expecting this. It will make a great change in" — and then he was silent again. She took his limp hand and bowed her forehead on it, as before feeling by some fine instinct that her unspoken sympathy was best. It was. The brave man, in this last emergency, did as he would have done in the field at the head of his company if subjected to a sudden attack. He promptly rearranged and marshalled all his faculties to face the enemy. There was not a moment of despairing, vain retreat. In the strong pressure upon his mind of those questions which must now be settled once for all, he forgot the girl by his side. He was still so long that she timidly raised her head and was awed by his stern, fixed expression of deep abstraction. She did not disturb him except as the stifled sobs of her deep, yet now passing agitation convulsed her bosom, and she began to give her attention to Uncle Lusthah, hitherto unheeded. The old man was on his knees in a dusky cor- ner, praying in low tones. "Oh, I'm so glad he's here," she thought. "I'm glad he's praying God to help us both." In the uncalculating sympathy and strength of her nature she had unconsciously entered into the dying man's experi- ence and was suffering with him. Indeed, her heart sank with a deeper dread and awe than he from the great change which he had faced so often as to be familiar with its thought. *' ANGEL OF DEATH'' 281 At last he seemed to waken to her presence and said compassionately, ''Poor little girl! so all your grief was about me. How pale you are!" "I do so wish you could go home," she breathed; "I am so very, very sorry. ' ' "Well, Miss Baron," he replied with dignity, "I'm no better than thousands of others. I always knew this might happen any day. You have learned why it is peculiarly hard for me — but that's not to be thought of now. If I've got my marching orders, that's enough for a soldier. It was scarcely right in Borden to give you this heavy task. I could have faced the truth from his lips." "He felt so dreadfully about it," she replied. "He said he had been giving you false hopes in trying to make you get well." "Oh, yes, he meant kindly. Well, if it hasn't been too much for you, I'm glad you told me. Your sympathy, your face, will be a sweet memory to carry, God only knows where. Since it can't be little Sadie's face or my wife's I'm glad it's yours. What am I saying? as if I should forget their dear faces through all eternity." "Ah! captain, I wish you could hear one of our soldiers, talk. Dying with him just means going to Heaven." The officer shook his head. I'm not a Christian," he said simply. "Neither am I," she replied, "but I've been made to feel that being one is very different from what I once thought it was." "Well, Miss Baron, what is it to be a Christian — what is your idea of it ? There has always seemed to me such a lot of conflictinng things to be considered — well, well, I haven't given the subject thought and it's too late now. I must give my mind to my family and — " Uncle Lusthah stepped before him with clasped hands and quivering lips. "Ef marse cap'n des list'n ter de ole man a minit. I ain't gwine ter talk big en long. I kyant. 1 des wanter say I hab 'spearance. Dat sump'n, marse 282 • ''MISS LOU" cap'n, you kyant say not'n agin — rale 'spearauce, sump'n I knows/ ^ "Well, you kind old soul, what do you know?" ''P'raps des what mars' r knows ef he ony tinks a lil. Let us git right down ter de root ob de marter, kaze I feared dere ain' time fer 'locutions." "Now you're right at least, uncle. I must set my house in order. I must write to my wife. ' ' "Marse cap'n, you gwine on a journey. Wa't yo' wife wish mo'n dat you git ready fer de journey? She tek dat journey tpo, bime by soon, en you bof be at de same deah home. ' ' "Ah, uncle, if that could be true, the sting of death- would be gone." "Sut'ny, marse cap'n. Didn't I know dat ar w'en I mek bole ter speak? Now des tink on hit, mars' r. Yere I is, an ole ign'rant slabe, kyant eben read de good Book. De worl' full ob poor folks lak me. Does you tink ef de Lawd mean ter sabe us 't all He'd do hit in some long rouner- bout way dat de wise people kyant mos' fin' out? No, bress He gret big heart. He des stan' up en say to all, 'Come ter me en I gib you res'." "Yes, uncle, but I haven't gone to Him. I don't know how to go, and what's more, I don't feel it's right to go now at the last minute as if driven by fear." "Now, cap'n, fergib de ole man fer say in' you all wrong. Haint young mistis been breakin' her lil gyurlish heart ober yo' trouble? Am de Lawd dat die fer us wuss'n a graven himage? Doan He feel fer you mo'n we kin? I reck'n you got des de bes' kin' of prep'ration ter go ter 'Im. You got trouble. How He act toward folks dat hab trouble — ev'y kin' ob trouble? Marse cap'n, Ides knows dat de Lawd wanter brung you en yo' wife en dat lil Sadie I year you talk 'bout all togeder whar He is. 1 des knows hit. Hit's 'spearance." "Miss Baron," said the captain calmly, "Isn't it wonder- ful? This old slave says he knows what, if true, is worth ''ANGEL OF DEATH" 283 more to me than all tke accumulated wisdom of the world. What do you think of it?" "It seems as if it ought to be true," she answered ear- nestly. "I never so felt before that it ought to be true. We never should have been born, or given such love as you have for your dear ones, if it isn't true. Oh, to be just snatched hopelessly away from such ties is horrible. My whole soul revolts at it. ' ' "See here, uncle," said the captain almost sternly, "I'm not going to groan, sigh, weep, and take on in any of your camp-meeting tactics. I am before the last great enemy and I know how to meet him like a man and soldier, if not a Christian. I'm willing to do anything not insincere or unmanly to meet my wife and children again. If my thought and feeling for them at this time isn't right, then I've been created wrong." "Marse cap'n, I'se seen de mos' po'ful feelin's en mis- eries ob de 'victed ones vaperate lak de maunin' dew en I'se larn in my ole age dat de sabin po'r ain' in we uns, ner in any ting we is ob oursefs ner in w'at we po' lil chil'n of yearth kin do. De Lawd say, He come ter seek en sabe de loss ; I wuz loss. De wuss ting He enemies cud speak agin 'Im wuz, Dis man 'ceiveth sinners: I wuz a sinner. I des arst 'Im ter sabe me, en He did. I des trus' 'Im fer life en death en does de bes' I kin. Dat's all. But hit's ^ spear ance, marse cap'n, en I knows hit. Now, marse cap'n, w'at fo' you go way in the de dark, you dunno whar? De bressed Lawd say, I go ter prepare a place fer you. Now you des let young mistis write ter yo' folks dat you gwine wid Jesus ter dat ar place en dat you gwine ter wait fer dem dar en welcome um home bime by des lak dey wud welcome you home way up Norf. Dat ud comf't em a heap, en hit's all true. I knows hit. Young mistis berry sens' ble w'en she say we neber orter be bawn ef hit ain' true." The officer looked fixedly at the tearful, wrinkled face for a few moments and then said firmly, "I'll soon find out if it's true. If I do this thing at all, I'll do it in the only 284 ''MISS LOW way I can. Miss Baron, you may write to my wife that I accept her faith. It's much the same as Uncle Lusthah's — too simple and unphilosophical, I used to think; but it meets my need now. I can't deal even with God in any other way than this. The mind he has endowed me with revolts at anything else as hypocritical. I can and do say that I will accept in grateful, downright sincerity the terms which Uncle Lusthah accepted, which my wife accepted. I submit myself to His will. I do this calmly, as I would give my hand and pledge my faith to a man, and I cannot do any more. Now He may do with me as He pleases. Miss Baron, you do the same and you'll be just as good — yes, a much better Christian than I, for I've done rough, bad things in my life. Don't you wait till you're in my extremity. I must say that I have a wretched sense of self- contempt that I am looking Heavenward with dying eyes. There's only one thing that reconciles me to it — the words 'Our Father.' God knows that I'd open my arms to my little Sadie under any possible circumstances. What the old man here says must be true, for to trifle with or mock a man in my position presupposes a degree of malignity inconceivable. I ask nothing better than that Christ will receive me as I would receive my child from world-wide wandering." "Ah, bress He big gret heart," cried Uncle Lusthah, dropping on his knees, "w'en yo' fader en yo' moder for- sook you den de Lawd took you up. ' ' "Miss Baron, I wish to think a while and learn from Borden just how much time I have left. You will come to me again?" "Yes, whenever you wish." "Well, then, good-by for a short time. Thank God for sending me such an angel of death. You stay with me, uncle, till I send you for Borden." GLIMPSES OF MOODS AND MINDS 285 CHAPTER XXX GLIMPSES OF MOODS AND MINDS DR. BORDEN'S predictions were verified in regard to his friend and patient, Captain Han field, but not before the officer had dictated calm, farewell letters to his wife and "little Sadie." To Miss Lou were left the serene, smiling likenesses, a grave to be cared for beside Yarry's, and a memory that could never be blotted out. She was kept from witnessing the terrible convulsions which began soon after her interview, but was present at his death and held his hand until it was cold and lifeless. Within two weeks after the battle very few patients were left, and all these were to go with Dr. Ackley on the follow- ing day, Lieutenant Waldo excepted. He was still too weak to be moved. His mother had become so skilful in the care of his wound that she would be competent, with the help of an aged resident practitioner, to carry him through his con- valescence. Mrs. Whately now spent most of the time on her plantation, her presence being needed there to remedy the effects, as far as possible, of the harsh measures at first adopted by her son. It was discouraging effort. The strong ebb tide in the old order of things had set in even far from the Union lines, and only the difficulty in reaching them prevented a general stampede of the negroes. As it was, two or three of her best hands would steal away from time to time, and run the gantlet of many dangers in their travel by night Northward. Her attempts to mollify and render her slaves contented were more than counterbalanced by 286 ''MISS LOU" the threats and severity of her son, who was too vacillating to adopt a fixed policy, and arbitrary by nature. Her chief hope for him still centred in Miss Lou, upon whom his thoughts were fixed with a steadfastness and ear- nestness which his mother fondly believed would win her eventually. "I'm sure," she reasoned, "Captain Maynard has made no deep impression. He is about to depart. All will soon be gone, and the old monotony of plantation life will be resumed. After what has happened Louise will not be able to endure this. Madison will return, older and wiser from experience and she, with nothing else to occupy her thoughts will react, like all impulsive natures, from her op- position. Next to winning her or her favor from the start, he has scored a success in waking a hostility far removed from fatal indifference." She maintained an affectionate manner toward her niece and never discussed the hope she entertained and expecta- tion of calling her daughter. In truth, she had won the girl's respect and goodwill in a very high degree. She had been a kind and successful nurse among the wounded, con- fining her efforts chiefly to the Confederates. She had also been a dignified lady in all the scenes they had passed through. Her weakness was her son, yet the girl was com- pelled to admit that it was the weakness of love. In seek- ing to bring about the detested union a motherly heart and feeling toward her had ever been apparent. The girl was already becoming depressed by a presenti- ment of the dull, stagnant days to come. Scoville had been lost in the great outside, unknown world completely. She was suffering from reaction after the strong excitements and fatigues of her experience. Her two lovers, remaining on the scene, possessed a sort of goading interest which com- pelled her to think of them, but she contemplated their near departure without regret. Nothing in her nature answered to their looks, words and evident desires. She felt that she would as soon marry one as the other, and that she would rather be buried beside Captain Hanfield and take the jour- GLIMPSES OF MOODS AND MINDS 287 ney of which Uncle Lusthah had quaintly spoken than wed either. Yet in her lassitude she feared that she could now be compelled to marry either or any one if enough active force was employed, so strangely had ebbed her old fearless spirit. It were with a kind of wondering pity that she looked at Maynard and saw the evidences of an honest, ardent attach- ment. "Why does he feel so ?" she asked herself. "I have done nothing for him, given no encouragement, and would not care if I never saw him again. I merely wish him well, as I do so many others. Why can't he see this, and just act on the truth ? He says he is coming to see me every chance he gets and tries to make me feel that he'll never give me up. Perhaps if I should let him speak plainly he would see how useless it all would be." Circumstances apparently favored the half-formed pur- pose. Languid from the heat of the day, she went out on the piazza after supper, sat down on the upper step and leaned against a rose-entwined pillar. Maynard was en- tranced by the picture she made and promptly availed him- self of the opportunity. Every one else had disappeared except Zany, of whom glimpses could be caught through the open windows of the supper- room; but she did not count. Sitting on a lower step so as to be in a measure at her feet Maynard began. "Miss Baron, I am thinking very sadly, if you are not, over the fact that I am to go away in the morning. ' ' "Yes," she replied, half -consciously ignoring his per- sonal view, "the old house and plantation will soon be as quiet and deserted as before." "Do you regret this ?" "I scarcely know. I am very tired and feel sad over all that has happened. Perhaps I'll feel differently by and by, when I've rested and had time to think." "Oh, Miss Baron, if you knew how earnestly I hope to be remembered in those thoughts, to give you something definite to think of." 288 ''MISS LOU" She had scarcely the energy to check him, the thought occurring more than once, "1 might just as well let him speak his mind and see how vain his hope is." "You have not given me encouragement," he resumed. "You have seemed too preoccupied, sad or weary; but this phase of your life will pass away. Our glorious cause must soon be crowned with success. If I survive, may I not hope that when I come again you will give me a hear- ing, a chance ? I can be patient, even though not patient by nature. 1 will do all that a man — " "Captain," interrupted the girl, at last, "I suppose, from the books I've read, I should make some fine speeches about the honor you are bestowing on me, and all that. I'm too tired and sad for anything conventional and appropriate. I'm just going to answer you like a simple, honest girl. One of my chief reasons for sadness is that you feel as you do. I see no reason for it. I'm glad you say I've given you no encouragement, I know I have not. Why should you care so for me when I do not and cannot respond at all ? I do sincerely wish you well, but it seems to me that it should be enough for a man when a girl listens to such words as yours in weary sadness only." "It may be hard indeed for a man to recognize this truth, Miss Baron, but I am not speaking of the present— of the future rather. There has been much to make you sad and weary. Your very youth and high spirit will soon lead you to react from your present depression. Let me speak of the future. Please let me fill that with hope for you and for me. ' ' "Oh, I don't know about the future. For some reason I dread even to think of it. ' ' At this instant Whately galloped to the piazza, threw the reins on the neck of his horse as he dismounted, evi- dently not caring in his perturbation where the animal wan- dered. He was in a bad mood, for things were not going smoothly at home. The attitude of his rival at his cousin's feet stung him into a jealous rage and he remarked bitterly GLIMPSES OF MOODS AND MINDS 289 as he strode past them, '* Don't let my inopportune arrival disturb this charming t^te-a-tete. In fact, I had no busi- ness to remain at my uncle's home at all, even at the call of duty, after Captain Maynard signified his intention of mak- ing it the long-continued field of his operations." Cut to the quick, Maynard sprang to his feet, but Miss Lou merely made a gesture of annoyance and went to her room. "Lieutenant Whately," began the captain in low, stern tones, "were I not in some sense a guest, even though an unwelcome one — " "You are no guest of mine, sir, nor indeed of anyone that I am aware of." "Thank you. I was haunted by some restraining con- sideration of Southern hospitality, but if I am free—" "You are perfectly free, sir," again interrupted Whately, dropping his hand on the hilt of his sabre. "Let me also add that a Southern gentleman would not have made South- ern hospitality a subterfuge for an opportunity to press a suit repugnant to the family concerned. We have never failed in hospitality to any invited guest." "Your words are offensive, sir." "I mean them to be so." "Very well; then I have but one answer. I chal- lenge you. Choose your weapons, hour and place of meeting. ' ' "Eevolvers, if you please. Meet me back of the grove yonder, at the right of the house, at daybreak." "I'll not fail you. There is no need of seconds in this affair, I take it, and we are to keep our purpose secret. Dr. Ackley would interfere and the family be distressed were our intentions known. ' ' "No one need know till our shots are heard and then it will be too late to interfere. I insist that we fight to the death." "Certainly, if that's your wish. Good-evening, sir." "Good-evening," and Whately went to his room to re- EoE— IX— M 290 ''MISS LOW move the dust of his ride and prepare for the late supper which his aunt had ordered for him. This lady, hearing his step in the hall, hastened down- stairs and called for Zany. "Yassum," came in quick re- sponse. The young woman emerged from the dining-room looking as stolid as a wooden image. "Attend to Lieutenant Whately's supper and see that he has the best you can get for him." "Yassum." Mrs. Baron then repaired to her husband's office, where he and Surgeon Ackley were closeted, making up the ac- counts relating to the occupation of the property for hos- pital purposes. Maynard lighted, his pipe, and strolled out into the grounds. He was in a cold, deadly mood of anger. There was just enough sting of truth in Whately's words to make th^ insult unendurable. Added to this was intense exasperation that he had been interrupted at a critical and^ as he believed, a hopeful, moment. He had seen that the girl was not ready for his suit or that of any one at present, but was quite sure he could have won permission to renew his addresses in the future. Now — well, he was ready enough to fight to the death and utterly oblivious of the still, serene beauty of the night. He appeared but a shadow as he walked quietly under the trees, but it was a shadow of death. An hour since and he was but a passionate youth, full of ardent love and longing, vaguely inspired, under the influence of his passion, toward all noble enthusiasms. At the touch of a few words his heart overflowed with bitter- ness, and a cold, vindictive hate rendered the hours intermi- nable till he could aim a bullet at his rival's heart, reckless meantime that another bullet was aimed at his. In his walk he passed the tent in which Lieutenant Waldo and his mother were talking quietly of their home and the prospects of maintaining it during the troublous times clearly foreseen. "Mother," said Waldo, "have you any definite idea as to the success of our arms?" GLIMPSES OF MOODS AND MINDS 291 '*No, Yincent, nor do I suppose we can at this remote plantation. We only know that there is heavy fighting at various points and great successes are claimed; but it seems very hard to get at the real truth. Our chief confidence must be in the sacredness and justness of our cause and in the prayers of so many sincere hearts to the God of justice. In giving you, my son, to our country, when you were scarcely more than a boy, you can understand why I feel that such sacrifices cannot be in vain. Now that I have watched beside you in your patient, heroic sufiiering, the feeling becomes a conviction that our sunny land must be enriched and blessed for all time by such blood as yours. ' ' "Well, mother, I do not begrudge my blood or my life. You have taught me that to die is gain; but almost hourly I pray for recovery that I may soon rejoin my regiment and do more toward achieving our liberty. How strange it is that men of the North should be animated by much the same spirit! Miss Baron has been showing me the lovely faces of the wife and daughter of a Federal officer who died heroically a few days ago. She says the war is all a dread- ful mystery to her." "I am beginning to understand her better," replied Mrs. Waldo musingly, "for to some extent she has given me her confidence. If she had been brought up as you have been she would feel as you do. I can see why her uncle and aunts have not won her sympathy, while her cousin's con- duct has been well calculated to alienate her. I can also understand why the negroes on the place have so enlisted her sympathy. I do not think they have been treated very harshly, but it is too clear that they are regarded simply as property, and Mr. Baron has allowed himself to be repre- sented among them by a brutal, coarse-fibred man. If she had been your sister and had witnessed the spirit in which our slaves are governed and cared for she would ^eel as you do, not vindictive hatred of the North — such feeling is not permissible toward any of the human race — but a stern, 292 ''MISS LOW lofty spirit of iudependence, sach as our fathers had in sep- arating from England." "Well, she is a brave, good girl, mother, and has been as kind to me as if I were her brother. ' ' "Very true, Vincent. She is a remarkably good girl for one brought up as she has been. She has lold me much about her past repressed, unhappy life. 1 hope she way visit us some day." Meantime, the subject of this conversation sat at her window looking out into the warm, fragrant, starlit night. The words of Maynard, the passionate resentment of her cousin toward the young captain merely added to the heavy burden of experience which had been crowded into the past few weeks. "Oh," she sighed longingly, "if I could only see Allan Scoville ! He is so strong, unselfish and restful. I could tell him everything. He would know just how weary and depressed I am, nor would he want me to do what 1 can't, what I'm not ready for. Oh, what a blessed thing it would be to have a friend near who wasn't always exacting or expecting or passionately urging something or other. I wouldn't need urging in his case, and would even know his hand would be^he first to restrain me for my own good. Where is he now? Oh, he'd be here if my thoughts could bring him, yet my two lovers would be eager to take his life. Lovers indeed! Well, it's a strange, tangled up world that I'm learning about." Meantime Zany, bursting with her secret, was unable to tell any one, and not yet sure she wished to tell. For one at her point of civilization her motives were a little complex and sophisticated. In a vicarious way she felt not a little the elation of many a high-born dame that two men were about to fight over her young mistress, regarding it as an undeniable compliment. She was also inclined to indulge the cynical thought that it might save Miss Lou, Scoville, Chunk — indeed, all in whom she was interested — further trouble if, as she phrased it, "Dat ar young cap'n gib Mad Whately he way onst too of'un. He des natchelly bawn GLIMPSES OF MOODS AND MINDS 293 ter mek folks trouble en I reck'n we git on wid he spook bettah ner hesel" Whately would not have relished his supper if he had divined the thoughts of his waitress. As it was, he had little appetite for it and paid his respects chiefly to his uncle's decanter. He felt no need of false courage, but was irritated and depressed over the general aspect of af- fairs, and here was an easy way of raising his spirits. By the time he was ready to dispense with Zany's services he was so affected by his potations that his aunt, who had ap- peared on the scene, hastened his retirement. He told the sergeant of the guard to have him called at daybreak and was soon asleep. The indomitable housekeeper, Mrs. Baron, kept the girl busy until everything was put away and the dining-room in perfect order. Meantime Zany concluded that she had better tell Miss Lou. Her young mistress might blame her severely if she did not, and keeping such a secret over night would also be a species of torture. When she was dismissed she watched her opportunity, whisked up to Miss Lou's room, and was glad to find the girl still awake. "Oh, Miss Lou," she whispered breathlessly, "I des got de orfulest, quarest news, en I darsn't kep hit eny longer. Marse cap'n en Mad Whately gwine ter fight 'bout you fo' sun-up." "What!" "Dey sut'ny is. Dey gwine ter fight one anoder 'bout you wid 'volvers — fight ter de deth dey said. I y eared dem troo de dine- room winders." "Oh, Zany! this is horrible!" "Hit mout be wuss. Yo' cousin hot fer hit. He say orful tings ter marse cap'n who didin't gib back a inch en sez, sez he, 'I challing you. Shoose yo' weapons en place ob meetin " Dem he berry words. Den yo' cousin shose 'volvers en de far side ob de grobe up dar en said 'we fight ter de deth. ' Deth useter seem orful. Miss Lou, but sech 294 ''MISS LOU** a heap ob mens die dat ef Mad Whately des set on dyin', w'y not let 'im hab he way? Dat orter suit 'im bes'. I reck'n he mek we uns en Marse Scoville en Chunk berry lil trouble arter he dead. ' ' "Zany, Zany, that's a dreadful way to look at it. You should know better. This meeting must be prevented. Where is my cousin ?' ' "He des sound a sleep ez a log," and she made it clear that there would be no use in trying to remonstrate with him. "Whereas Captain Maynard ?" "Dunno. Sleepin' in he tent too, s'pose. Hit too late now, Miss Lou, ter do anyting fo' mawnin'." The girl thought deeply a few moments and then mut- tered, "Shame on them both!" "Dar now, Miss Lou, you doan reckermember dey payin' you a big compelment. ' ' "I shall tell them to their faces how I regard this out- rage rather. Still, for their sakes, as well as my own, I will keep the affair quiet if I can. Zany, you must stay with me to-night and at the earliest dawn we must watch them and be on the ground as soon as they are." "Berry well. Miss Lou. I lak not'n bettah. " "Go to sleep, then. 1 won't sleep to-night.'* THE DUELLISTS VANQUISHED 295 CHAPTER XXXI THE DUELLISTS VANQUISHED ZANY'S tidings brought the spur of a great necessity to Miss Lou's jaded spirit, and as her waking thoughts dwelt on the proposed encounter, a slow, deep anger was kindled in her mind. "What right have they to do such a thing?" she asked herself over and over again. Even niore than at the barbarism of the act she revolted at its injustice. "I never wronged either of them," she re- peated, "and here they are recklessly bent on what would imbitter my life. The idea of being fought about! Two animals couldn't do worse." And so the long night was passed in bitter, painful thoughts. With the dawning the bird's innocent songs jarred on her overwrought senses. She looked out of the window by which she had kept her vigil, inhaled the dewy freshness of the air and then bathed her tired, hot eyes. "To think that men would disturb the peace of such a morning by their miserable, causeless hate! Where is Mad- ison's love for his mother? Why don't they remember the distress and horror that would follow their mad act ? Zany, wake up. It is time we were on the watch." Even as she spoke there was a heavy step in the outer hall, that of the sergeant coming to wake Lieutenant Whately. Miss Lou glanced from her window in time to see Captain Maynard striding from his tent toward the grove which would screen the combatants from observation. Waiting a few moments for the sergeant to retire she and Zany slipped down and out before Whately left his room. They reached the grove from the back entrance of the house, and conceal- 296 '\M1SS LOU" ing themselves in some copse- wood, watched for Whately's coming. He soon appeared, walking rapidly as if fearing to be behind time. He was in fact some moments late, hav- ing stopped to advise Perkins of the affair on hand. He passed so near his cousin's leafy screen that she could look into his flushed, troubled face and could hear him mutter, "Curse it all! I'm forever getting into scrapes." For the first time since Zany's news, pity overcame her anger and she murmured, "Poor spoiled boy! It's well for you and your mother that I'm here." Swiftly she followed him through the still dusky grove, keeping the boles of trees between herself and his form. Be- yond the grove was an open grassy field, facing the east, where the light was distinct. Clearly outlined against the rose-tinted horizon was the figure of Maynard standing with his arms folded and his back toward them, apparently lost in deep thought. "Well, sir," said Whately sternly, "I suppose I should asked your pardon for keeping you waiting." "I reckon there's plenty of time for the purpose of our meeting," replied Maynard coolly. "Since you are the challenged party and we have no seconds, arrange the mat- ter to suit yourself." Whately was about to pace off the ground when a girl's voice rang out clearly, "Stop that!" "Miss Baron!" cried Maynard, taking off his hat. Whately threw back his head proudly. This was better than he had dreamed, for now his cousin would be compelled to recognize his high and haughty spirit. A glance at the girl's pale, stern face as she stepped out between them was not altogether reassuring. She glanced coldly from one to the other for a moment and then said firmly, "I have some- thing to say about this affair." "Pardon me, Miss Baron," Maynard began, bowing, "if I am compelled to disabuse your mind. This is a little mat- ter between Lieutenant Whately and myself. I am surprised beyond measure that he has invited you to be present." THE DUELLISTS VANQUISHED 297 "That's a lie," thundered Whately, drawing his weapon from his belt. ' ' "Stop, both of you," cried the girl. "Captain Maynard, my cousin has not invited me. Your purpose of meeting was discovered by accident and revealed to me late last night — too late for me to do anything then. All the long night I have sat at my window that I might be in time to keep you from disgracing yourselves and me. ' ' "Great heavens! Miss Baron, you do me injustice," cried Maynard. "I have been insulted. I never thought of wronging you. Perish such a thought!" "Evidently neither of you has thought of me, nor cared for me or others. Yourselves, your own vindictive feelings have engrossed you wholly, yet I know I'm the innocent cause of this brutal encounter, and the world would know me to be the cause whether it believed me innocent or not. 1 tell you plainly that if you fight I shall brand you both unworthy the name of gentlemen and I shall proclaim to all your outrage to me. ' ' "Outrage to you, Miss Baron?" said* Maynard, with a bitter, incredulous laugh. "Yes," she replied, turning upon him fiercely. "What can you think of me when you fight about me like a wild beast?" "I am prepared to fight Lieutenant Whately on entirely different grounds," he replied, his face flushing hotly at her words. "You cannot do it, sir. I would know, and so would all, that I was the cause. What right, sir, have you to im- bitter my life, to fill my days and nights with horror ? I never wronged you." "But, Miss Baron, in all ages such encounters have been common enough when a man received ample provocation, as I have. ' ' "So much the worse for the ages then. I say that you both were about to commit a selfish, cowardly, unmanly act that would have been an outrage in its cruelty to an inno- 298 ''MISS LOU" cent girl, to whom you had been making false professions of regard. ' ' ''Now, by the God who made me, that's not true, Miss Baron." "Cousin Lou, you are beside yourself," cried Whately. "Miss Baron," said Maynard, coming to her side and speaking with great earnestness, "I can endure any charge better than your last. No man ever declared truer love than I to you." "I can tell you of a man who has declared truer love," she replied, looking him steadily in the eyes. "Who in God's name?" he asked savagely. " J.n?/ man who thought more of the girl than of him- self," she answered with passionate pathos in her tones, "any man who considered her before his own reckless, un- governable feelings, who would save her heart from sorrow rather than gratify his anger. Any man who asks. What is best for the woman I love? instead of What's my humor? what will please me? Suppose you both had carried out your savage impulses, and lay on this ground, wounded or dead, what would be said at the house there about me? What would be your mother's fate, Madison, that you might gratify a causeless spite ? Have you no home, Cap- tain Maynard, no kindred who would always curse my name ? If you had died like the brave men who lie in yonder graves your friends would ever speak your name proudly; but even I, all inexperienced, know the world well enough to be only too sure, they would hang their heads and say you flung away your life for a heartless girl who was amusing herself at your expense. Fight if you will, but if you do, I pledge you my word that I will never willingly look upon either of you again, living or dead!" She was about to turn away when Maynard rushed be- fore her exclaiming, "Miss Baron, I beg your pardon, I ask your forgiveness. I never saw this act in the light you place it. ' ' "There, cousin," added Whately with a sort of shame- THE DUELLISTS VANQUISHED 299 faced laugh, "I'm hanged if you aren't in the right and I in the wrong again. As you say, the bullet that killed me might do worse by mother, and I should have thought of that. As for you, we didn't think you'd look at it this way. There's plenty of girls who'd think it a big feather in their caps to have men fight about 'em." • "I can't believe it." "It's true, nevertheless," said Maynard earnestly. "What can I do to right myself in your eyes?" "If you wish to be men whose friendship I can value, shake hands and use your weapons for your country. If you truly care for my good opinion, forget yourselves long enough to find out what does please me and not rush head- long into action I detest. Consider the rights, feelings and happiness of others. ' ' "Well, Whately, what do you say?" asked Maynard with a grim laugh. "I am ready to obey Miss Baron as I would my superior officer," and he held out his hand. Whately took it with an answering laugh, saying, "There's nothing else left us to do. After her words, we could no more fight each other than shoot her." ' ' Thank you. I — I — Zany, ' ' she f al tered, turning deathly white. She would have fallen had not her cousin sprung to her aid, supporting her to a seat on a moss-grown log lying near. For a few moments the long strain and reaction proved too much for her, and she sat, pale and panting, her head resting against Zany, who had rushed from her covert. The young men were overwhelmed with compunction and alarm, but she retained and silenced them by a gesture. "I'll be — better — in a moment," she gasped. It proved but a partial giving way of her nervous force. In a few moments she added, "Please go back to the house by different ways. No one need know anything about this. No, don't call any one. I'll get better faster if left with Zany. I beg you do as I ask and then my mind will be at rest." 300 *'MISS LOU" "There, Miss Baron," said the remorseful Maynard, *'I pledge you my word I'll never fight a duel. I can prove my courage sufficiently against the enemy." She smiled, held out her hand, which he carried to his lips and reluctantly departed. "See here. Cousin Lou," said Whately impulsively, "I'm going to give you an honest, cousinly kiss. I'm not so* feather-headed as not to know you've got us both out of a devil of a scrape." He suited the action to his words, and strode off in time to intercept Perkins, who had the scent of a vulture for a battle. "We have arranged the affair for the present," said the young officer curtly, "and won't need any graves to-day« Keep mum about this." "I'll keep my mouth close enough till I kin begin ter bite on my own account," muttered the overseer as he sullenly followed. SAD TIDINGS 301 CHAPTER XXXII SAD TIDINGS THAT morning Miss Lou stood on the veranda and bade farewell, one after another, to those with whom she had been associated so strangely and unexpect- edly. There was an unwonted huskiness in Dr. Borden's voice, and Ackley, usually so grim and prompt, held the girl's hand lingeringly as he tried to make a joke about her defying him and the whole Confederacy. It was a dismal failure. Regarding him with her weary eyes, she said: "Doctor, you had wit enough and heart enough to under- stand and subdue me. Haven't I minded you since ?" ''I'm a little afraid you'd still get the upper hand if you often looked at me as you do now. I shall find out, how- ever, if you will obey one more order. Miss Baron, you must rest. Your pulse indicates unusual exhaustion. You have tried to do too much, and I expect those young men have been making such fierce and counter claims that you are all worn out. Ah, if I had been only twenty years younger I would have won you by a regular course of scien- tific love-making." "I don't know anything about science and wouldn't understand you. So it is better as it is, for I do understand what a good, kind friend you've been. You knew all the while that I was little more than an ignorant child, yet your courtesy was so fine that you treated me like a woman. I hope we shall meet again in brighter days. Yes, I will obey you, for I feel the need of rest. ' ' ''I shall come again and take my chances, " said Maynard in parting. 802 ''MISS LOU" Mercurial Whatelj, forgetting his various troubles and experiences in the excitement of change and return to ac- tive duty, bade her a rather boisterous and good- hearted farewell. His mind was completely relieved as to Maynard, and he did not dream of Scoville as a serious rival. "It's only a question of time," he thought, "and at present mother can do the courting better than I can. When I return Lou will be so desperately bored by her stupid life here as to be ready for any change. ' ' The remaining patients looked at her and Mrs. Whately very wistfully and gratefully, speaking reluctant adieus. When all were gone the girl, feeling that she had reached the limit of endurance, went to her room and slept till even- ing. It was the sleep of exhaustion, so heavy that she came down to a late supper weak and languid. But youth is elas- tic, the future full of infinite possibilities. Scoville's words haunted her like sweet refrains of music. No matter how weary, perplexed and sad she was, the certainty of her place in his thoughts and heart sustained her and was like a long line of light in the west, indicating a clearing storm. "He will come again," she often whispered to herself; "he said he would if he had to come on crutches. Oh, he does love me. He gave me his love that night direct, warm from his heart, because he couldn't help himself. He thought he loved me before — when, by the run, he tqld me of it so quietly, so free from all exaction and demands; but I didn't feel it. It merely seemed like bright sunshine of kindness and goodwill, very sweet and satisfying then. But when we were parting, when his tones trembled so, when over- come, he lost restraint and snatched me to his heart — then I learned that /, too, had a heart." If she had been given time this new heart- life, with thoughts and hopes springing from it like flowers, would have restored her elasticity. Scoville's manly visage, his eyes, so often mirthful, always kind, would have become so real to her fancy that the pallid, drawn features of the suffering, the dying and the dead, would have faded from SAD TIDINGS 803 her memory. So would have faded also the various as- pects of passion from which she had shrunk, frightened by its hot breath. Her days would have been filled with the beautiful, innocent dreams of a young girl's first love so inspired as to cast out fear. But the ruthless Moloch of war could not permit any- thing so ideal, so heavenly, as this. Mrs. Waldo came down from the apartment to which her son had been removed and joined the girl on the ve- randa. "Ah!" she exclaimed, *'I have taken solid comfort all day in the thought that you were sleeping, and now you are still resting. I want to see the color in your cheeks again, and the tired look all gone from your eyes before we go." "You don't know how I dread to have you go," replied Miss Lou. "From the first your son did more for me than I could do for him. The smile with which he always greeted me made me feel that nothing could happen beyond remedy, and so much that was terrible was happening. ' ' "Well, my child, that's the faith I am trying to cherish myself and teach my boy. It is impossible for you to know what a black gulf opened at my feet when my noble hus- band was killed early in the war. Such things, happily, are known only by experience, and many escape. Then our cause demanded my only son. I face death with him in every battle, every danger. He takes risks without a thought of fear, and I dare not let him know the agony of my fear. Yet in my widowhood, in the sore pressure of care and difficulty in managing a large plantation in these times, I have found my faith in God's love adequate to my need. I should still find it so if I lost my boy. I could not escape the suffering, but I would not sorrow as without hope." "How much I would give for the certainty of such a faith!" said Miss Lou sadly. "Sometimes, since Captain Hanfield died, I think I feel it. And then — oh, I don't know. Things might happen which 1 couldn't meet in your 304 ''MISS LOU'' spirit. If I had been compelled to marry my cousin I feel that I should have become hard, bitter and reckless." "You poor, dear little girl! Well, you were not com- pelled to marry him. Don't you see? We are saved from some things and given strength to bear what does happen. Don't you worry about yourself, my dear. Just look up and trust. Happily, the sun of God's love shines on just the same, unaffected by the passing clouds of oar feelings and experiences. He sees the end and knows all about the peaceful, happy eternity before us. You dear, worn-out little child! His love is ever about you like my arms at this mo- ment, ' ' and the old lady drew the girl to her in an impulse of motherly tenderness. "Oh, Mrs. Waldo, you make me feel what it is to have no mother," sobbed Miss Lou. "Well, my dear, that's your heavy cross. Sooner or later, in some form, a cross burdens every human soul, too often many crosses. All I ask of you is not to try to bear them alone. See how faith changed everything for Captain Hanfield in his extremity. He is now in the better home, waiting for his dear ones." "I can never forget what faith has done for you and your son, Mrs. Waldo. Surgeon Ackley said that your son's absolute quiet and cheerfulness of mind during the first critical days saved his life." "Yes, I know that," Mrs. Waldo replied with her low, sweet laugh. "Faith is often more useful in helping us to live than in preparing us to die. It saved my life, too, I'm sure, after my husband died, I had no right to die then, for Vincent and, far more, my daughters, still needed me. For a time they sat on the piazza steps in silence, the old lady keeping her arm caressingly about the girl, whose head drooped on the motherly bosom overflowing with sympathy. Only the semi-tropical sounds of night broke the stillness. The darkness was relieved by occasional flashes along the horizon from a distant thunder-shower. SAD TIDINGS 305 Miss Lou thought, *' Have I ever known a peace so deep and sweet as this?'* There was a hasty, yet stealthy step along the hall to the door, yet the girl had no presentiment of evil. The warm, brooding, fragrant darkness of the night was not more undisturbed than her mind. **Miss Lou," said Zany in a loud whisper. v > r - 1 r What a shock came with that brief utterance! A flash of lightning direct from the sky coald not have produced such sudden dread and presentiment of trouble. Truly, a woman listens more with her heart than her ears, and even in Zany's whisper there was detected a note of tragedy. After an instant Miss Lou faltered, *'What is it. Zany ?" *'Ef you gwine ter yo' room soon I des he'p you undress." How well the girl knew that the faithful slave meant other and less prosaic help I She rose at once, kissed Mrs. Waldo good-night and excused herself. When Zany had lighted the candle her scared, troubled face revealed at once that she had tidings of dire import. Miss Lou seized the girl with a grip which hurt her arm, demanding, "Have you heard anything about — about Lieu- tenant Scoville?" "Now, Miss Lou, you gotter be brabe en not look at me dat away. Kaze ef you does, w'at I gwine ter do? I kyant Stan' it nohow." **OhI oh!" Miss Lou gasped, **wait a moment, not yet — wait. I must get breath. I know, I know what's coming. Chunk is back and — and — O God, I can't bear it, I cannot, I cannot I" "Dar now. Miss Lou, des lis'n. P'raps tain ez bad ez you tink. P'raps w'en Chunk 'splain all you see tain ez bad. Hi! Miss Lou, you musn't took on so," for the girl was wringing her hands and rocking back and forth in agony. "Folks s'picion dat Chunk yere- en dat ud be de eend ob him, sho. He ain' seen Marse Scoville daid sho. He on'y see 'im fall. Chunk wan ter see you en he mighty 306 ''MISS LOU" skeery 'bout hit, kaze ef Perkins get on he track he done fer. He ain' see he granny yit en he darsn't come dar twel hit late. He larn ter toot lak a squinch-owl frum Marse Scoville en he tole me dat when he come agin he toot. I nigh on run my legs ofi follerin' up tootin's o' nights, fer dey wuz on'y pesky squinch-owls arter all. Dis eb'nin' I year a toot dat flutter my heart big en I knowed 'twuzn't no squinch-owl dis time, sho," and so Zany ran on in her canny shrewdness, for she perceived she was gaining Miss Lou's attention and giving time for recovery from the blow. Miss Lou had a despairing conviction that Chunk would not have returned alone unless his master was dead, but her mind quickly seized upon the element of uncertainty and she was eager to see the negro. "We mus' wait, we sut'ny mus', twel Chunk kin creep ter he granny's cabin." "1 can't wait. Zany. It wouldn't be best, either for me or Chunk. It's not very late yet, and I could visit Aun' Jinkey without exciting remark if you go with me. It's too dark for Chunk to be seen and I'd protect him with my life. I must get better ground for hope or my heart will break. Pretend I wish a glass of water and see if we can't slip out now." This Zany did, discovering that Mrs. Baron was with her husband in his office and that Mrs. Waldo had returned to her son's room. In a few moments Miss Lou was sitting by Aun' Jinkey and tremblingly telling her fears. Meanwhile Zany scouted around to insure immunity from observation. "You po', po' chile!" groaned Aun' Jinkey. "I wuz a-hopin' dat now you hab a time ob peace en quietness, en you des gwine ter be s'pended 'twixt hebin en yearth." *'0h, I fear he's dead, my heart tells me he's dead. Oh, mammy, mammy, how can God be so cruel ? I don't know who caused this war or who's to blame, but I feel now as if I could torture them. ' ' SAD TIDINGS 307 "I'se feared dat ain' de right speret, honey." "How can one have the right spirit when mocked by such a hope as I've had? It needn't have happened. Oh, Mrs. Waldo, I could tell you now I'm no Christian at all. I say it needn't have happened. And then think how Uncle Lusthah prayed!" "Chunk down dar by de run, Miss Lou," whispered Zany. "I lis'n wid all my years en eyes." "Miss Lou, I'se yere in de shadder ob dis bush," Chunk called softly. "Tell me everything." "Darsn't twel I feels mo' safe. Miss Lou. Kin on'y say now Marse Scoville des dote on you en he ax questions 'bout you sence you lil gyurl. Hun'erds ob times he say, 'Chunk, we go back some day, sho!' But he do he duty brabe. I go wid 'im ev'ywhar en onst, des on de aige ob night, he wuz ridin' long wid 'bout twenty ob he men en dis ting happen. We didn't tink any Kebs roun' en I'd been kep' back tryn' ter git a chicken fer mars' r's supper. Ez I riz a hill, ridin' right smart I see our folks goin' easy en car' less inter a woods. I seed 'em all ez plain ez eber see anybody, en Marse Scoville ride at de haid. Sudden dere was flash, flash, bang, bang, all troo de woods. Marse Scoville fell right off he hoss, he sut'ny did. Den lots ob Johnnies run in de road fore en hind our mens. I see dere wuz no chaince fer me ter do any ting but git away en lil chaince fer dat, fer two Rebs on horses come tarin' arter me. Ef hit hadn't come dark sudden en my hoss wuzn't a flyer I'se been cotched sho. 'Fo' de Lawd, Miss Lou, dat all I know." "He's dead," said the girl in a hoarse whisper. "I orful feared he is. Miss Lou," assented the matter- of-fact Chunk. "De Rebs so neah w'en dey fiah, en Marse Scoville sut'ny did go off he hoss sudden. I been a week gittin' yere en I neber git yere ef de cuUud people didn't he'p me long nights." The girl stood silent and motionless. Suddenly Zany 308 ''MISS LOV" grasped her hand and whispered, '*! yeared steps. Come ter de cabin. Be off, Chunk." They had scarcely reached Ann' Jinkey's door before a shadow approached and the harsh voice of Perkins asked, " What's goin' on yere?" "My young mistis des seein' her mammy 'bout her clos," replied the quick-witted Zany. "I thought I yeared voices down by the run." "Eeck'n you bettah go see," said Zany in rather high tones. "What the dev — what makes yer speak so loud? a warnin' ?" "Tain' my place ter pass wuds wid you, Marse Perkins. Dem I Serbs doan fin' fault." "I reckon Mr. Baron' 11 do mo'n find fault 'fore long. I bettah say right yere en now I've got my orders 'bout that nigger Chunk. Nobody kin save 'im ef caught. You've been followed before in your night-cruisin' en you're lookin* fer some one. Ef there's trouble, Miss Baron kyant say I didn't give warnin'. Now that the sogers is gone I'm held 'sponsible fer what goes on," and he stalked away. He did not wish to come into an open collision with Miss Lou again if he could help it — not at least while the Waldos remained. He had concluded that by a warning he might prevent trouble, his self-interest inclining him to be con- servative. Confederate scrip had so lost its purchasing power that in its stead he had recently bargained with Mr. Baron for a share in the crops. Thus it happened that the question of making a crop was uppermost in his mind. Until this object was secured he feared to array the girl openly against him, since her influence might be essential in controlling the negroes. If policy could keep them at work, well and good; if the harshest measures seemed best to him he was ready to employ them. Not only was he puzzled, but Zany also and Aun' Jinkey were sore perplexed at Miss Lou's silence. She had stood motionless and unheeding through the colloquy with the SAD TIDINGS 309 overseer, and now remained equally deaf and unresponsive to the homely expressions of sympathy and encouragement of the two women. They could not see her face, but quickly felt the dread which anything abnormal inspires in the simple-minded. Prone to wild abandon in the ex- pression of their own strong emotions, the silent, motion- less figure of the young girl caused a deeper apprehension than the most extravagant evidences of grief. "Auu' Jinkey," whispered Zany, "you mus' des he'p me git her to her room." She went with them without word or sign. Their alarm was deepened when they saw her deathly pale and almost rigid features by the light of her candle. "Miss Lou, honey, speak ter yo' ole mammy. You b»oke my heart w'en you look dat away." "1 tell you he's dead," whispered the girl. "Dis ter'ble," groaned the old woman. *' 'Fo' de Lawd I dunno w'at er do." Zany felt instinctively that the girl was beyond their simple ministrations and she was desperately afraid that if Mrs. Baron came Chunk's presence would be revealed by words spoken unconsciously. She and Aun' Jinkey promptly agreed that Mrs. Waldo was their only hope and Zany flew to summon her. Fortunately the lady had not retired and she came at once. "Louise, Miss Baron, what is the matter?" she asked in strong solicitude. "I tell you, he's dead," again whispered the girl, look- ing as if a scene of horror were before her eyes. "The Kebs were so near when they fired, and he fell off his horse sud- den. Ch— " Quick as light Zany's hand was over the girl's mouth. The scared face and trembling form of the young negress did not escape Mrs. Waldo's quick eye. "Zany, what are you concealing?" she asked, sternly. *'What does all this mean ?" "Dar now, misus," answered Aun' Jinkey with a certain 310 ''MISS LOU" simple dignity, **we mus' des trus you. I'se yea red you a lubin' serbent ob de Lawd. Ei you is, you ain' gwine ter bring mis'ry on mis'ry. We mus' brung Miss Lou roun' sudden 'fo' ole miss comes. He'p us git young mistis sens'ble en I tell you eberyting 1 kin. Dere ain' *not'n bade 'bout dis honey lam' ob mine." They undressed the girl as if she were a helpless child and put her to bed, and then Zany went downstairs to keep Mrs. Baron out of the way if possible, at the same time listening intently for any signs of trouble to Chunk. Miss Lou's over- taxed mind had given way, or rather was enchained by a spell of horror to the scenes presented all too vividly in Chunk's bald statement. Her nervous force had been too enfeebled and exhausted to endure the shock of an impression so tremendous in its tragic reality that her faculties had no power to go beyond it. Chunk's words had brought her to a darkening forest and her dead lover, and there she stayed. Seeing how unconscious she was Aun' Jinkey whispered enough in explanation to enable Mrs. Waldo to comprehend the girl's condition. ''We must make her sleep," said the lady decisively, and under her wise ministrations the stricken girl soon looked almost as if she were dead. Having kindly re- assured and dismissed Aun' Jinkey, Mrs. Waldo watched Miss Lou as she would have kept vigil with one of her own daughters. CONSPIRATORS 311 CHAPTER XXXIII CONSPIRATORS PERKINS was very ill at ease that night, from a haunt- ing suspicion that Chunk had returned. "Pesky nigger' 11 have a revolver, too, most likely, en be crazy ter use it! Haint been 'mong them cussed Yanks fer nothinM" There was therefore little disposition for a night hunt after one who knew every inch of the region besides being as stealthy and agile as a cat. The blow from which his head still ached had a warning significance. Coarse, ignorant and superstitious, he was an easy victim to the tormenting fears of his own bad conscience. The graves by the run and the extemporized cemetery further away had even greater terrors for him than for Aun' Jinkey. Even his whiskey jug could not inspire sufficient courage to drive him at night far from his own door. Though both hating and despising Whately, yet the ab- sence of the young officer and his force was now deeply re- gretted, as they had lent a sense of security and maintained the old order of existing authority. Now he was thrown chiefly on his own responsibility, for Mr. Baron was broken and enfeeled by what he had passed through. Avarice spurned Perkins to carry through the crops in which he had an interest, while his hope of revenge on Chunk, Sco- ville and Miss Lou also tended to keep him at a post which he foresaw would be one of difficulty and danger. He had no doubt that the Union officer and his freedman would return as soon as they could, and for the chance of wreaking his vengeance he was the more willing to remain in what he 312 ''MISS LOU"* feared would be a spook-infested region. **Onst squar with them, en crops realized," he muttered, *'I kin feel mo' comft'ble in other parts. To-morrer, ef Chunk en that scout's in these diggin's I'll know hit." He was aware that the few dogs left on the plantation would make no trouble for one they knew as well as they did Chunk, b*ut he could rely on the brute which he kept in his own quarters — a bloodhound, savage to every one except his master. "Grip will smell out the cussed nigger in the mawnin' ef lie's been around," he assured himself before beginning his nightly debauch. "What's mo', Miss Baron ain't so high en mighty now she knows I'm comin' to be the rale boss on the place. She didn't even squeak w'en I gin my warnin' ter night." Although Chunk knew his danger and was cautious, he was disposed on the first night of his arrival to take some serious risks in order to carry out the schemes dwelt upon during the long days of skulking home. Naturally fearless he had acquired much of Scoville's soldier-like and scout- ing spirit. The young officer had associated his dwarfish follower with the service rendered by Miss Lou and was correspondingly grateful. Chunk therefore received much consideration and good counsel by which he had profited. Especially had Scoville scoffed at the negro's superstitions, telling him that a fool afraid of spooks was neither fit to be a free man nor a soldier. Since Chunk had no imagination and believed absolutely in his master there were no more "spooks" for him, but he knew well the dread inspired by that word on the planta- tion, and it was his purpose to avail himself of these deep- rooted fears. He heard the colloquy between Zany and the overseer very distinctly, but so far from running away, dogged the latter home. Long knife and revolver were handy in his belt and a heavy club was carried also. Since no soldiers were around, Perkins was not to be dreaded in the night, when once his resting-place was known. Crouch- CONSPIRATORS 'SI'S ing a long time in tlie shadow of some cedars Chunk watched the overseer*s window, but the light was not extinguished. A sudden suspicion dawned on our watcher, causing him to chuckle low with delight. "Hi! he des feared of sleepin' in de dark, en dat can'le bu'n all night!" Gliding a few steps nearer brought to the quick ear a resounding snore, accompanied with a warning growl from the bloodhound. ''I des fix 'em bof fo' I froo," and the brawny hand clutched with greater force the heavy club it carried. "Nex', some dem fellers mus' be tole ter he'p," and Chunk crept away to the quarters. It was an easy task to waken and enlist Jute, well known to be one of the most disaffected and fearless among the hands. The two started off to a grove which none could approach without being seen, and had a long whispered consultation. As a result. Jute returned to the quarters and brought back three others whom he knew would enter into the schemes on foot. By midnight Chunk had six of the braver and more reckless spirits among the slaves bound to him by such uncouth oaths as he believed would hold them most strongly. Then they returned to their cabins while the chief conspirator (after again reconnoitring the overseer's cottage) sought the vicinity of his granny's home. With mistaken kindness and much shrewdness Chunk had resolved upon a course that would fill the old woman's life with terror. He adopted the policy of not letting her know anything of his plans, so that she could honestly say "I dunno" and prove the fact by her manner. He instinc- tively felt that it would have a very bad look if supersti- tious Aun' Jinkey remained composed and quiet through the scenes he purposed to bring about. Her sincere and very apparent fears were to be his allies. It was part of his scheme also that Zany should be very badly frightened and made eager to run away with him as soon as he and the others were ready for departure. By a preconcerted signal he summoned Aun' Jinkey who was much affected by the thought that she was bidding her Roe— IX— N S14 "MISS LOU"* grandson a good-by which might be final, but oppressed with fear, she was at the same time eager he should go. Putting into his hands a great pone of corn bread she urged, "Des light out, Chunk, light out sud'n. 'Twix de baid news en Miss Lou en w'at Perkins do ef he ootch you, I des dat trembly, I kyant stan'." "Perkins asleep, granny. I'se off now fer good, but I comin' back fer you some day. ' ' He disappeared, and too perturbed to think of sleep the old woman tottered back to her chimney-corner. A few moments later she shuddered at the hooting of a screech- owl, even though she surmised Chunk to be the bird. Not so Zany, who answered the signal promptly. In a tentative way Chunk sought to find if she was then ready to run away, but Zany declared she couldn't leave Miss Lou "lookin' ez if she wuz daid." Thinking it might be loDg indeed before she saw her suitor again, she vouchsafed him a very affectionate farewell which Chunk remorselessly pro- longed, having learned in his brief campaigning not to leave any of the goods the gods send to the uncertainties of the future. When at last he tore himself away, he mut- tered, "Speck she need a heap ob scarin' en she git all she wants. Bf dat ar gyurl doan light out wid me nex' time I ax her, den I eats a mule." And then Chunk apparently vanished from the scene. The next morning Miss Lou awoke feeble, dazed and ill. In a little while her mind rallied sufficiently to recall what had happened, but her symptoms of nervous prostration and lassitude were alarming. Mrs. Whately was sent for, and poor Mr. Baron learned, as by another surgical opera- tion, what had been his share in imposing on his niece too severe a strain. Mrs. Waldo whispered to Miss Lou, "Your mammy has told me enough to account for the shock you received and your illness. Your secret is safe with me." Meantime the good lady thought, "It will all turn out for the best for the poor child. Such an attachment could only end unhappily, and she will get over it all the sooner CONSPIRATORS 315 if she believes the Yankee officer dead. How deeply her starved nature must have craved sympathy and affection to have led to this in such a brief time and opportunity!" As may be supposed, Aun' Jinkey had been chary of details and had said nothing of Scoville's avowal. The mistress of the plantation looked upon her niece's illness as a sort of well earned "judgment for her perversity," but all the same, she took care that the strongest beef tea was made and administered regularly. Mrs. Whately arrived and became chief watcher. The stricken girl's physical weakness seemed equalled only by a dreary mental apathy. There was scarcely sufficient vital force left even for suffer- ing, a fact recognized by the aunt in loving and remorseful solicitude. By the aid of his bloodhound Perkins discovered that some one whom he believed to be Chunk had been about, and he had secret misgivings as he thought of the negro's close proximity. He had already learned what a blow Chunk could deal and his readiness to strike. Taking the dog and his gun he had cautiously followed the run into which the tracks led until satisfied that the man he was following had taken horse and was beyond pursuit. On his return he learned of Miss Lou's illness and so ventured to threaten Aun' Jinkey. "Yer do know 'bout that cussed grandson o' yourn. Kyaut fool Grip, en he' smelled out all the nigger's tracks. Now ef yer don't tell the truth I'll raise the kentry 'roun' en we'll hunt 'im to the eends of the yearth." "Well den, Marse Perkins," admitted the terror-stricken woman, "I des tell you de truf. Dat gran 'boy ob min' des come ter say good- by. Marse Scoville daid en Chunk mos' up Norf by dis time, he went away so sud'n." "That Yankee cuss dead ?" cried Perkins in undisguised exultation. "Marse Scoville daid, shot of'n he hoss long way f'um yere," replied Aun' Jinkey sorrowfully. "He kyant harm you ner you 'im no mo', ner Chunk neider." 316 *'MISS LOU" "Why the devil didn't you let us know Chunk was here las' night?" "He my gran 'son," was the simple reply. "Well he isn't Zany's grandson! Now I know w'at she was snoopin' round nights fer, en Mrs. Baron' 11 know, too, 'fore I'm five minutes older." Aun' Jinkey threw up her hands and sank back into her chair more dead than alive. She, too, had been taxed beyond endurance and all her power to act had ceased with her final effort to show that pursuit of Chunk would be useless. Perkins speedily obtained an audience with Mrs. Baron, who became deeply incensed and especially against Zany. The inexorable old lady, however, never acted from pas- sion. She nodded coldly to the overseer, saying, "I will inform Mr. Baron and he will give you your orders in re- gard to the offenders. ' ' Zany was too alert not to observe the interview and the omens of trouble in the compressed lips of "ole miss" and the steel-like gleam of her eyes. The moment Mrs. Baron was closeted with her husband the girl sped to the cabin, 'y) id you tell Perkins Chunk been yere?" she demanded fiercely. "Fo' de Lawd I des gwine all ter pieces," gasped Aun' Jinkey. "Hope ter grashus yer does, en de pieces neber come tergedder agin, ' ' said Zany in contemptuous anger and deep alarm. Under the spur of tremendous excitement she hastened back, thinking as she ran, "Miss Lou too sick ter do any- ting. I des got ter 'peal ter Miss Whately, er ole miss hab me whipped haf ter daith." When, in response to a timid knock Mrs. Whately peered out of her niece's room she found a trembling suppliant with streaming eyes. Noise- lessly shutting the door the matron said warningly: "Don't you know Miss Lou's life depends on quiet?" "How she gwine ter hab quiet w'en ole miss gwine ter hab Marse Perkins whip me'n Aun' Jinkey ter daith?" CONSPIRATORS 317 "Nonsense ! Why should either of you be pun- ished?" " Well missus, I 'fess ter you," sobbed Zany, '*kaze you got more feelin' fer us. Chunk come las' night ter say good-by ter he granny' n me, en den he put out fer good, en ain' comin' back no mo'. Perkins en he dog foun' hit out dis mawnin', en Aun' Jinkey tole 'im, too, I reck'n, slae all broke. up. Perkins been talkin' ter ole miss en she look lak she al'ways does w'en ders no let up. Hit ud des kill Miss Lou if she knew me'n Aun' Jinkey wuz bein' whipped." *'Zany," said Mrs. Whately in rising anger, "you both had full warning. You knew what Chunk had done. He stole my son's horse and one from his master also, beside doing other things that could not be forgiven." "Please reckermember, missus, dat Chunk en me is mighty sweet on each oder en he Aun' Jinkey gran'boy. Tain' dat we 'prove of his goin's on, but how cud we tell on 'im en see 'im daid, w'en he des come ter say good-by. Oh, ef Miss Lou on'y well she neber let dat ole Perkins tech us." "I will see your master before anything is done," said Mrs. Whately with troubled face. "Go to your work now. I will get Mrs. Waldo to watch in my place after a while." Mr. Baron was depressed physically and mentally by the trying events of the past few weeks, but the fact that Chunk had ventured on the place again and had been permitted to escape angered him deeply. He also accepted the view of his wife and overseer that all discipline among the slaves would soon be at an end if so serious an offence were over- looked. It would be a confession of weakness and fear they believed which would have a most demoralizing effect in the quarters. Chunk represented the worst offences of which the slaves could be guilty; the most solemn warnings had been given against aiding and abetting him in any way. To do nothing now would be a virtual permission of law- 818 "MISS LOU'* lessness. There was no thought of mercy for Zany, but Aun' Jinkey's age, feebleness, together with her relations to Chunk and Miss Lou, complicated matters. Husband and wife were still consulting when Mrs. Whately joined them. Mrs. Baron did not welcome her guest, feeling that this was purely a personal affair, and was in no mood to brook interference. "I can't be absent long," began Mrs. Whately, "Zany has told me everything and — ' ' "I think, sister, that Mr. Baron and I can manage this matter," interrupted Mrs. Baron coolly. "No doubt you can," Mrs. Whately replied with dignity. "I did not come down to interfere with your domestic affairs. There is one point on which I have a right to speak and must speak. You can't punish Aun' Jinkey and Zany now if knowledge of such punishment can in any way reach our niece. No matter how much they may deserve it, I say you cannot do it. I promised Zany nothing, held out no hope to her of escape, but to you I will speak plainly. If you should excite and disturb Louise now, you might easily cause her death. If you feel that you cannot overlook the offence (and I know how serious a one it is) wait till I can remove Louise to my own house. You will find that Dr. Pelton when he arrives will confirm my words. " Mr. Baron weakened. He had not the relentless will of his wife, who interposed with cutting emphasis, "There is no need of Louise's knowing anything about it till she is much better, and it would be well for her to learn then, as well as the slaves, that there is still a master and mistress." "It may be long before Louise is much better," Mrs. Whately replied gravely. "She has been subjected to a strain for which my conscience reproaches me, however it may be with yours. She is in a very critical state, and seemingly from some recent shock." "Can the news Chunk brought have had any such effect?" broke forth Mrs. Baron indignantly— "news of CONSPIRATORS 819 the death of that Yankee whom she met and treated as a social equal sorely against my will?" "Lieutenant Scoville dead!" exclaimed Mrs. Whately looking shocked and sad. "Yes, so Chunk told his granny." Mrs. Whately was troubled indeed. Perhaps there had been much more than she had suspected. If so, this fact would account for the girl's extreme prostration. To bring these tidings might have been one of Chunk's chief motives in venturing on his brief visit. Miss Lou might know all about the visit and even have seen Chunk herself. If this were true, punishment of those who were in a sense her ac- complices would be all the more disastrous. The perplexed matron felt that she must have more time to think and to acquire fuller knowledge of the affair. "Brother," she said finally, *'you are the guardian of Louise and in authority. She is now helpless and at pres- ent quiet. If quiet of mind and body can be maintained long enough she will no doubt get well. In a sense I am now her physician, and I say as Surgeon Ackley said of his patients, she cannot be disturbed. I positively forbid it. Dr. Pelton who must soon be here will take the same ground. Public opinion will support him and me in hold- ing you responsible if you order anything endangering your ward's life and health at this time. Mrs. Waldo and her son would be witnesses. How far the former is acquainted with affairs we do not know. She watched with Louise all last night. If you act hastily you may be sorry indeed. I am trying kindness and conciliation with my people and they are doing better. I fear your policy is mistaken. Chunk is gone and beyond punishment. It is asking much to ex- pect that his grandmother and the girl who loves him after her fashion would give information against him. It would seem that only the two slaves and Perkins know of this visit. Affairs are bad enough with you as it is and you can easily make them much worse. If you must punish for effect, take some stout field hand wno is insubordinate S20 '*MISS LOU" or lazy. At any rate I love Louise and hope some day to call her daughter, and I will not have her life endangered. That's all I have to say." Mr. Baron's flame of anger had died out. His views had not been changed by his harsh experience, but he had been compelled to see that there were times when he could not have his own way. So he said testily, "Well, well, we'll have to let the matter rest a while, I suppose." Mrs. Whately departed. Mrs. Baron put her thin lips together in a way which meant volumes, and went out on her housekeeping round, giving orders to Zany in sharper, more metallic tones than usual. The delinquent herself had overheard enough of the conversation to learn that the evil day had at least been put o£E and to get some clew as to the future. CHUNK PLAYS SPOOK 821 CHAPTEK XXXI 7 CHUNK PLAYS SPOOK SINCE Mr. Baron had yielded for the present, Mrs. Whately was glad nothing need be said to the phy- sician concerning their affairs. His positive injunc- tion of quiet was sufficient, and now that Mr. Baron was impressed with its need and had had time for sober second thought, he concluded that he had trouble enough on hand as it was. He felt that every quiet day gained was so much toward securing the absolutely essential crops. Perkins was therefore summoned and the situation in part explained. The overseer was in unusual good-humor over the death of Scoville, and if Chunk had escaped finally, there was compensation in the thought of having no more disturbance from that source. So, fortunately for poor Zany, avarice came to the fore and Perkins agreed that the best thing to do was to bend every energy to * 'making the crops," using severity only in the furtherance of this end. "Beg pardon, Mr. Baron, but I must have sump'n up and down clar. There's been so many bosses of late en my orders been knocked eendwise so of 'en that I don't know, en the hands don't know whether I've got any po'r or no. Ef this thing 'bout Chunk gits out, en nobody punished, the fiel'-hans natchelly think we darsn't punish. Mought es well give up then." "Punish as much as you think necessary to keep tfle quarter- hands at work. Then it is plain," replied Mr. Baron. Very seldom had Perkins been in so complacent and 822 **M1SS LOU"* exultant a mood as when he left the presence of Mr. Baron that morning. But his troubles began speedily. Jute had slept little the night before and was stupid and indifferent to his work in the afternoon. Finding threats had little effect, the overseer struck a blow with his cane. The negro turned fiercely but was confronted with a revolver. He re- sumed work doggedly, his sullen look spreading like the shadow of a cloud to the faces of the others. So many began to grow indifferent and reckless that to punish all was out of the question. Perkins stormed and threatened, striking some here and there, almost beside himself from increasing anxiety and rage. Whichever way he turned a dark vindictive face met his eyes. The slaves had enjoyed a brief sense and sweet hope of freedom; he was seeking to refasten the yoke with brutal hands and it galled as never before. Even his narrow arbitrary nature was impressed with the truth that a great change was taking place; that a proclamation issued hundreds of miles away was more potent than his heavy hand. He was as incapable of any policy other than force as was his employer of abandoning the grooves in which his thoughts had always run. The worrisome afternoon finally ended, leaving the harassed man free to seek consolation from his jug. Mr. Baron relapsed into his quiet yet bitter mental protest. "Ole miss" maintained inexorable discipline over the yard and house slaves, keeping all busy in removing every stain and trace of the hospital. She governed by fear also, but it was the fear which a resolute, indomitable will produces in weaker natures. Mrs. Waldo already felt uncomfortable. There was no lack of outward courtesy, but the two women had so little in common that there was almost a total absence of sympa- thy between them. The guests through the fortune of war resolved therefore to depart in a day or two, making the journey home by easy stages. Mrs. Whately was both polite and cordial, but she also felt that the family should be alone as soon as possible, that they were facing problems CHUNK PLAYS SPOOK 323 which could better be solved without witnesses. It was her hope now to nurse her charge back to health, and, by the utmost exercise of tact, gain such an ascendency over the girl as to win her completely. Granting thali the matron's effort was part of a scheme, it was one prompted by deep affection, a yearning to call her niece daughter and to pro- vide for the idolized son just the kind of wife believed to be essential to his welfare. Much pondering on the matter led her to believe that even if the tidings of Scoville's death had been the cause of the final prostrating shock, it was but the slight blow required to strike down one already feeble and tottering to her fall. "He probably made a strong, but necessarily a passing impression on the dear child's mind," she reasoned. "When she gets well she will think of him only as she does of the other Union soldiers who so inter- ested her." The object of this solicitude was docile and quiet, taking what was given her, but evidently exhausted beyond the power of thought or voluntary action. The night passed apparently without incident, but it was a busy one for Chunk. He again summoned Jute and his other confederates to a tryst in the grove to impress them with his plans. It was part of his scheme to permit a few nights to pass quietly so that disturbances would not be associated with him, he being supposed far away. In the depths of the adjacent forest he had found safe shelter for himself and horse, and here, like a beast in its lair, he slept by day. The darkness was as light to him about the famil- iar plantation, and he prowled around at night unmolested. During this second meeting he attempted little more than to argue his dusky associates out of their innate fear of spooks and to urge upon them patience in submitting to Perkins's rule a little longer. "I des tells you," he de- clared, "dey ain' no spooks fer us! Dere's spooks on'y fer dem w'at kills folks on de sly- like. Ef ole Perkins come rarin' en tarin' wid his gun en dawg, I des kill 'im ez I wud a rattler en he kyant bodder me no mo'^ but ef I steal on €^i ''MISS LOV 'im now en kill 'im in he sleep he ghos pester, me ter daith. Dat de conslomeration ob de hull business. I doan ax you ter do any ting but he'p me skeer' im mos' ter daith. He watchin' lak a 61e fox ter ke'p you en Zany yere. Ef you puts out, he riz de kentry en put de houn's arter you. We des got ter skeer 'im off fust. I'm studyin' how ter git dat dawg out'n de way. Des go on quiet few mo' days en ef you year quar noises up on de hill whar de sogers bur'ed you know hit me. Look skeered lak de oders but doan be fear'd en keep mum." The next few days and nights passed in quiet and all began to breathe more freely. Even Aun' Jinkey rallied under the soothing influence of her pipe and the privilege of watching part of each day with Miss Lou. Slowly the girl began to grow better. Hoping not even for tolerance of her feelings in regard to Scoville, it was her instinct to conceal them from her relatives. She knew Mrs. Waldo would not reveal what Aun' Jinkey had told her, and un- derstood the peculiar tenderness with which that lady often kissed her. She also guessed that while the stanch South- ern friend had deep sympathy for her there was not very strong regret that the affair had ended in a way to preclude further complications. "Remember, my dear," said Mrs. Waldo, in her affec- tionate parting, "that God never utterly impoverishes our lives. Only we ourselves can do that. You will get well and become happy in making others happy." On the evening of that day, even Mr. Baron's routine was completely restored. His larder was meagre compared with the past, but with the exception that Mrs. Whately oc- cupied the place of his niece at the table, and viands were fewer, all was as it had been. Zany's fears had subsided, leaving her inwardly chafing at the prospect of monotonous and indefinite years of work under "ole miss," with little chance of Chunk's return. Aun' Suke's taste of freedom had not been to her mind, so she was rather complacent than otherwise, and especially over the fact that there was CHUNK PLAYS SPOOK 32ft SO little to cook. The garden and Mr. Baron^s good credit would insure enough plain food till the crops matured and the impoverishment caused by the raid was repaired. It certainly seemed when the sun set that evening that the present aspect of affairs might be maintained indefinitely in the little community. Only one was not exactly at rest. Perkins felt as if something was in the air. There was a brooding, sullen quiet among the negroes which led him to suspect that they were waiting and hoping for something unknown to him. This was true of Uncle Lusthah and the majority. The crack of Union rifles was the "soun' f'um far away" they were listening for. By secret channels of communication tidings of distant battles were conveyed from plantfe.tion to plantation, and the slaves were often better informed that their masters. As for Perkins, he knew next to nothing of what was taking place, nor did he dream that he was daily addressing harsh words to conspirators against his peace. The time had come when Chunk was ready to act. On the night in question a hot wind arose which blew from the little burial-place on the hill toward the house. *'Hi! now's de charnce ter ^x dat ar bizness!" and he made his prepara- tions. Shortly before midnight he crept like a cat under the overseer's window. The heavy snoring rose and fell reassuringly, sweet as music to Chunk's ears. Not so tho angry, restless growling of the savage bloodhound chained within. "But you doan kotch me dis yere time fer all yer fuss, Marse Grip," the negro muttered. '*! done hab yer brekfus' ready fer yer! Dat'll settle yer hash,' and with deft hand a piece of poisoned meat was tossed close to the brute's feet as Chunk hastened away. Jute was next wakened and put on the watch. An hour later there came from the soldiers' cemetery the most doleful, unearthly sounds imaginable. No need for Jute and his confederates to arouse the other negroes in the quarters. A huddled frightened gang soon collected, Aun' Jinkey among them so scared she could not speak. 326 ''MISS LOW "Marse Perkins ought to know 'bout dis," cried Jute. The suggestion was enough. The whole terror-stricken throng rushed in a body to the overseer's cottage and began calling and shrieking, "Come out yere! come out yere!" Confused in his sudden waking and thinking he was mobbed, he shouted through the window, "I'll shoot a dozen of yer ef yer don't clar out." "Marse Perkins, des you lis'n," rose in chorus from those far beyond the- fear of mortal weapons. In the silence that followed the rushing wind bore down to them a weird, dismal howl that in Perkins's ears met every ghostly requirement. His teeth began to chatter like castanets, and snatching his jug of corn whiskey he swal- lowed great draughts. "We des tink you orter know 'bout dis," said Jute. "Cert'ny," cried Perkins in his sudden flame of false courage. "I'll light a lantern and take twenty o' you hands round that place. Ef thar's a cuss yonder makin' this 'stur banco we'll roast 'im alive." In a moment or two he dressed and came out with a light and his gun. Two revolvers were also stuck in his belt. As he appeared on the threshold there was a prolonged yell which curdled even his inflamed blood and sent some of the negro women into hysterics. "Come on," shouted the overseer hoarsely, "thirty of yer ef yer afraid. ' ' The crowd fell back. "We ain' gwine ter dat ar spook place, no mattah w'at you do to us." "Perkins, what is the matter?" Mr. Baron was heard shouting from the house. "Reckon you better come out yere, sir." "Are the hands making trouble?" "No sir, sump'n quar's gwine on, what we kyant mek out y it." Mr. Baron, wrapped in his dressing-gown, soon appeared on the scene, while Aun' Suke's domain contributed its quota also of agitated, half-dressed forms. Chunk could CHUNK PLAYS SPOOK BS^ not resist the temptation to be a witness to the scene and in a copse near by was grinning with silent laughter at his success. After learning what had occurred, Mr. Baron scoffed at their superstitions, sternly bidding all to go to their places and keep quiet. "Perkins, you've been drinking beyond reason," he warned his overseer in a low voice. "Get back to your room quick or you will be the laughing- stock of everybody! See here, you people, you have simply got into a panic over the howling of the wind, which happens to blow down from the graveyard to-night." "Neber yeared de win' howl dataway befo'," the negroes answered, as in a mass they drifted back to the quarters. ' Perkins was not only aware of his condition but was only too glad to have so good an excuse for not searching the cemetery. Scarcely had he been left alone, however, before he followed the negroes, resolved upon companion- ship of even those ia whom he denied a humanity like his own. In the darkness Chunk found an opportunity to sum- mon Jute aside and say, "Free er fo' ob you offer ter stay wid ole Perkins. Thet he'p me out." Perkins accepted the offer gladly, and they agreed to watch at his door and in the little hallway. "You mus' des tie up dat ar dawg obyourn," first stipu- lated Jute. "Why, whar in is the dog ? Hain't yeared a sound from 'im sence the 'sturbance begun." "Dwags kyant stan' spooks nohow," remarked Jute. "I've yeared that," admitted Perkins, looking around for the animal. "Thar he is, un'er yo' baid," said Jute, peeking through the doorway. The miserable man's hair fairly stood up when the brute was discovered stark and dead without a scratch upon him. Eecourse was again had to the jug, and oblivion soon followed. 828 ''MISS LOU CHAPTER XXXV A VISITATION THERE was no more sleep at tlie quarters that night, and never was the dawn more welcome. It only brought a respite, however, for the impression was fixed that the place was haunted. There was a settled aspect of gloom and anxiety on every dusky face in the morning. Mr. Baron found his overseer incapacitated for duty, but the hands were rather anxious to go to work and readily obeyed his orders to do so. They clung to all that was familiar and every-day-like, while their fears and troubled consciences spurred them to tasks which they felt might be a sort of propitiation to the mysterious powers abroad. Zany was now sorry indeed that she had not gone with Chunk, and poor Aun' Jinkey so shook and trembled all day that Mrs. Whately would not let her watch by Miss Lou. Knowing much of negro superstitions she believed, with her brother and Mrs. Baron, that the graves on the place, together with some natural, yet un- usual sounds, had started a panic which would soon die out. When at last Perkins, shaky and nervous, reported the mysterious death of his dog, Mr. Baron was perplexed, but nothing more. "You were in no condition to give a sane account of anything that happened last night," he said curtly. "Be careful in the future. If you will only be sensible about it, this ridiculous scare will be to our advan- tage, for the hands are subdued enough now and frightened into their duty." A VISITATION 329 Perkins remained silent. In truth, he was more fright- ened than any one else, for the death of his dog appeared to single him out as a special object of ghostly hostility. He got through the day as well as he could, but dreaded the coming night all the more as he saw eyes directed toward him, as if he, in some way, were the cause of the supernat- ural visitation. This belief was due to the fact that Aun' Jinkey in her terror had spoken of Scoville's death, al- though she would not tell how she knew about it. "Per- kins shoot at en try ter kill Marse Scoville, ' ' she had whis- pered to her cronies, ''en now he daid he spook comin' yere ter hant de oberseer. We neber hab no quiet nights till dat ar Perkins go way fer good. ' ' This rational explanation passed from lip to lip and was generally accepted. The coming night was looked forward to in deep apprehension, and by none more than by Per- kins. Indeed, his fears so got the better of him that when the hands quit work he started for the nearest tavern and there remained till morning. Chunk was made aware of this fact, and the night passed in absolute quiet. All the negroes not in the secret now hoped that the overseer was the sole prey of the spook, and that if they remained quietly in their places they would be unmolested. Chunk and a few of the boldest of his fellow conspirators had full scope therefore to perfect their final arrangements. In a disused room of one of the outbuildings the most ragged and blood- stained uniforms of the Union soldiers had been cast and forgotten. These were carried to a point near the burying- ground, tried on and concealed. Chunk found it was no easy task to keep even the reckless fellows he had picked up to the sticking point of courage in the grewsome tasks he had in view, but his scoff, together with their mutual aid and comfort, carried them through, while the hope of speedy freedom inspired them to what was felt to be great risks. On this occasion he dismissed them some little time be- fore midnight, for he wished them to get rested and in good 3B0 ''MISS LOV condition for what he hoped would be the final effort the following night. As he lingered in the still, starlit dark- ness he could not resist making an effort to see Zanj, and so began hooting like an owl down by the run, gradually approaching nearer till he reached the garden. Zany, wake- ful and shivering with nameless dread, was startled by the sound. Listening intently, she soon believed she detected a note that was Chunk's and not a bird's. Her first impres- sion was that her lover had discovered that he could not go finally away without her and so had returned. Her fear of spooks was so great that her impulse was to run away with Chunk as far from that haunted plantation as he would take her. Trembling like a wind-shaken leaf, she stole into the garden shrubbery and whispered, "Chunk?" "Hi! yerelis." There was no tantalizing coquetry in Zany's manner now. In a moment she was in Chunk's arms sobbing, "Tek me way off fum dis place. I go wid you now, dis berry minute, en I neber breve easy till we way, way off enywhar, I doan keer whar. Oh, Chunk, you doan know w'at been gwine on en I darsn't tell you twel we gits way off." "I isn't feared," replied Chunk easily. "Dat's kaze you doan know. I des been tremblin' stiddy sence las' night en I'se feared hit begin eny minute now." "Hit woan begin dis yere night," replied Chunk, sooth- ingly and incautiously. "How you know?" she asked quickly, a sudden suspi- cion entering her mind. "Wat's ter begin?" answered Chunk, now on his guard. "De night am still, nobody roun'. I hang roun' a few nights twel I study out de bes' plan ter git away." "Has you been hangin' roun* nights, Chunk?" Zany asked solemnly. "How you talks, Zany! Does you s'pects I dar stay roun' whar Perkins am ? He kill me. He done gone way to-night." A VISITATION 881 *'How you know dat?" ''One de fiel'-hans tole me." *' Chunk, ef you up ter shines en doan tole me I done wid you. Hasn't I hep you out'n in eberyting so fur ? Ef I fin' out you been skeerin me so wid eny doin's I des done wid you. I des feel hit in my bones you de spook. You kyant bamboozle me. I kin hep you — hab done hit afo' — en I kin hinder you, so be keerful. Dere's some dif'unce in bein' a spook yosef en bein' skeered ter death by a rale spook. Ef you try in' ter skeer en fool me I be wuss on you ner eny Voodoo woman dat eber kunjurd folks." The interview ended in Chunk's making a clean breast of it and in securing Zany as an ally with mental reserva- tions. The thought that he had fooled her rankled. Mr. Baron's expostulation and his own pressing interests induced Perkins to remain at home the following night. As Jute had seemed forgiving and friendly, the overseer asked him to bring two others and stay with him, offering some of the contents of the replenished jug as a reward. They sat respectfully near the door while Perkins threw himself on his bed with the intention of getting to sleep as soon as possible. "Are you shore ther wuz no 'sturbances last night?" he asked. "Well, Marse Perkins," replied Jute, "you didn't s'pect we out lookin'. We wuz po'ful sleepy en roll we haids en er blankets en den 'fo' we knowed, hit sun-up. Folks say en de quarters dat ar spook ain' arter us." ' ' Who the devil is hit arter then ?' ' was the angry response. "How we know, mars' r? We neber try ter kill eny- body." "But I tell you I didn't kill him," expostulated their nervous victim. "Didn't name no names, Marse Perkins. I on'y knows w'at I yeared folks tell 'bout spooks. Dey's mighty cur' us, spooks is. Dey des 'pear to git a spite agin some folks en dey ain' bodderin oder folks long ez dey ain' 'feered wid. I 'spect a spook dat wuz 'feered wid, get he dander up en *'MISS LOU'' slam roun' permiscus. I des tek a ole bull by de horns 'fo' I 'fere wid a spook," and Jute's companions grunted assent. "Wat's the good o' yer bein' yere then ?" Perkins asked, taking a deep draught. "Well, now, Marse Perkins, you mus'n be onreasonbul. Wat cud we do? We des riskin' de wool on we haids stay in' yere fer comp'ny. Ef de spook come, 'spose he tink we no business yere en des lay we out lak he kunjer yo' dawg? We des tank you, Marse Perkins, fer anoder lil drap ter kep we sperets out'n we shoon," and Jute shud- dered portentously. "Well," said Perkins, with attempted bravado, "I rammed a piece o' silver down on the bullat in my gun. 'Twix 'em both—" "Dar now, Marse Perkins, you des been 'posed on 'bout dat silber business. Ole Unc' Sampson w'at libed on de Simcoe place nigh on er hun'erd yeahs, dey say, tole me lots 'bout a spook dat boddered um w'en he a boy. Way back ole Marse Simcoe shot at de man dat hanker fer he darter. De man put out en get drownded, but dat doan make no dif 'rence, Unc' Sampson say, kaze ole Marse Sim- coe do he bes' ter kill der man. He sorter hab kill in he heart en Unc' Sampson low a spook know w'at gwine on in er man's in'erds, en dey des goes fer de man dat wanter kill um on de sly, en not dose dat kill in fa'r fight. Ole Unc' Sampson po'ful on spooks. He libed so long he get ter be sorter spook hesef, en dey say he talk ter um haf de time 'fo' he kiner des snuf out'n lak a can'l. " "He wuz a silly old fool," growled Perkins, with a per- ceptible tremor in his voice. "Spect he wuz 'bout some tings," resumed Jute, "but know spooks, he sut'ny did. He say ole Marse Simcoe useter plug lead en silver right froo dat man dat want he darter, en dar was de hole en de light shin'in' froo hit. But de spook ain' min'in' a lil ting lak dat, he des come on all de same snoopin' roun' arter de ole man's darter. Den one mawnin' de ole man lay stiS en daid in he baid, he eyes A VISITATION 833 starin^ open ez ef lie see sump'n he cudu't stan' no how. Dat wuz de las' ob dat ar spook, Unc' Sampson say, en he say spook's cur'us dat away. Wen dey sats'fy dere grudge dey lets up en dey doan foller de man dey down on kaze dey on'y po'r in de place whar de man 'lowed ter kill um." Perkins took a mental note of this very important limita- tion of ghostly persecution, and resolved that if he had any more trouble all the crops in the State would not keep him within the haunted limit. He whiled away the time by aid of his jug and Job-like comforters till it began to grow late and he drowsy. Suddenly Jute exclaimed, "Hi! Marse Perkins, w'at dat light dancin' up yon'er by de grabeyard ?" The overseer rose with a start, his hair rising also as he saw a fitful jack-o'-lantern gleam, appearing and disappear- ing on the cemetery hill. As had been expected, he obeyed his impulse, pouring down whiskey until he speedily ren- dered himself utterly helpless; but while his intoxication disabled him physically, it produced for a time an excited and disordered condition of mind in which he was easily imposed upon. Jute shook him and adjured him to get up, saying, "I years quar soun's comin' dis way." When satisfied that their victim could make no resist- ance, Jute and companions pretended to start away in ter- ror. Perkins tried to implore them to remain, but his lips seemed paralyzed. A few moments later a strange group entered the cottage— five figures dressed in Federal uni- forms, hands and faces white and ghastly, and two carry- ing white cavalry sabres. Each one had its finger on its lips, but Perkins was beyond speech. In unspeakable horror he stared vacantly before him and remained silent and motionless. The ghostly shapes looked at him fixedly for a brief time, then at one another, and solemnly nodded. Next, four took him up and bore him out, the fifth follow- ing with the jug. At the door stood an immovably tall form, surmounted by a cavalry hat and wrapped in a long army overcoat. 334 ''MISS LOU" '*Leftenanu Scoville!" gasped Perkins. The figure, as if the joints of its back were near the ground, made a portentous inclination of assent and then pointed with another white sabre to the hill, leading the way. Perkins tried to shout for help, but his tongue seemed powerless, as in fact it was, from terror and liquor combined. He felt himself carried swiftly and, as he thought, surely, to some terrible doom. At last his bearers stopped, and Perkins saw the mounds of the Union dead rising near. He now remembered in a confused way that one more grave had been dug than had proved necessary, and he uttered a low howl as he felt him- self lowered into it. Instantly the tall figure which ap- peared to direct everything theatened him with a ghostly sabre, and an utter paralysis of unspeakable dread fell upon him. For a few moments they all stood around and pointed at him with ghostly white fingers, then gradually receded until out of sight. After a time Perkins began to get his voice, when suddenly his tormentors appeared in terrible guise. Each white, ghostly face was lighted up as by a tongue of fire; terrible eyes gleamed from under wide- crowned cavalry hats and a voice was heard, in a sepul- chral whisper, "Nex' time we come fer you, we bury you!" At this instant came a flash of lightning, followed by a tremendous clap of thunder. The jaws of the figures dropped, the burning splinters of light- wood they carried dropping down into the grave, and on its half- lifeless occu- pant. The ghosts now disappeared finally — in fact took to their heels; all except Chunk, who secured the jug, nodded thrice portentously at Perkins and then retired also, not a little shaken in his nerves, but sufiiciently self-controlled to rally his panic-stricken followers and get them to remove their disguises before wrapping their heads in blankets. Having removed and hidden all traces of the escapade he hooted for the alert Zany, who had been tremblingly on the watch in spite of her knowledge of what was going on. As A VISITATION 385 she fled with Chunk before the coming storm she gasped between the gusts, "I declar, Chunk, sech doin's gwine ter brung a judgment." Even Chunk inclined to this view for a time, as the lightning blazed from sky to earth, and the thunder cracked and roared overhead. The rain poured in such torrents that he feared Perkins might be drowned in the grave where he had been placed. As for Aun' Jinkey, she stared at her unexpected visitors in speechless perplex- ity and terror until the fury of the tempest had passed and their voices could be heard. 336 *'MISS LOU" CHAPTER XXXVI UNCLE LUSTHAH EXHORTS THE heavy thunder shower which came and passed quickly, combined with a consciousness of their high-hanfded performances, so awed Chunk and Zany and oppressed them with misgivings that they were extremely reticent, even to Aun' Jinkey. Chunk appeared profoundly ignorant of the ghostly disturbances, trying to say unconcernedly, "I foun' hit a orful long en skeery trable ter de Dn'on lines en I says ter mysef, 'De Yanks fin' me down yere quicker ner I fin' dem up Norf. Dey be comin* dis away agin sho'." "I des tells you we all git whip nigh ter daith ef you ain' mo' keerful," said Aun' Jinkey, solemnly. "I kyant Stan' de goin's on. I gwine ter pieces ev'y day en nights git'n wusser'n de days. De gust ober en you bettah light out. Ef Zany missed dey come yere lookin' fer her." They needed no urging to depart, for Zany was now as scared as Chunk had ever wished her to be, but her terrors were taking a form which inclined her to cling to the old landmarks rather than risk she knew not what, in running away. As she and Chunk were stealing toward the kitchen a flash of lightning from the retiring storm revealed a start- ling figure — that of Perkins, drenched and bedraggled, his eyes almost starting from their sockets as he staggered to- ward his cottage. Chunk's courage at last gave way; he turned and fled, leaving Zany in the lurch. Frightened almost to the point of hysterics, she crept to her bed and shook till morning, resolving meanwhile to have done with UNCLE LUSTHAH EXHORTS 387 Chunk and all his doings. The next day Mrs. Baron found her the most diligent and faithful of servants. Perkins reached his door and looked into the dark en- trance, the gusts having blown out the light He shook his head, muttered something unintelligible, and then bent his uncertain steps to the tavern. The next morning Mr. Baron suspected where he was and went to see him. The overseer was found to be a pitiable spectacle, haggard trem- bling, nervous in the extreme, yet sullen and reticent and resolute in his purpose never to set foot on the plantation again. Mr. Baron then closed all business relations and sent over the man's belongings. Perkins became a perplexing problem to Mr. Baron and his household and a terrible tradi- tion to the negroes, who regarded him as a haunted man. Every day and night passed in quietness after his departure enabled them to breathe more freely and to become more assured that he "wuz de on'y one de spooks arter." Chunk felt that he had disgraced himself by running away and leaving Zany, and did not venture back till the second night after the culmination of his schemes. He found Jute and his associates scared, sullen and inclined to have little to do with him in their present mood. Then he hooted in vain for Zany. The girl heard him but made no sign, muttering, "Sence you runned away en lef me I'se done wid runnin' away. You tootin' lak a squinch-owl en kin kep comp'ny wid squinch-owls. " Only Aun' Jinkey gave him food and a sort of fearful welcome, and poor Chunk found himself at last a very un- happy and skulking outlaw. Mr. Baron gradually rallied under his increased respon- sibilities and resolved to be his own overseer. Although an exacting master, the negroes knew he was not a severe one if they did their work fairly well. The spook scare had given Uncle Lusthah renewed influence and he used it in behalf of peace and order. * ' Our f ren Miss Lou, sick, ' ' he urged. '*We mek her trouble en we mek oursefs trouble ef we doan go on peac'ble. What kin we do eny way at Rob— IX— 338 *'MISS LOW dis yer time ? De Norf fightin' fer us en hit all 'pen' on de Norf. We mus' kep a gwine ez we is till de times en sea- sons ob de Lawd is 'vealed." And so for a period, quiet again settled down on the old plantation. Mrs. Whately and Aun' Jinkey nursed Miss Lou into a slow, languid convalescence, till at last she was able to sit in an easy-chair on the piazza. This she would do by the hour, with a sad, apathetic look on her thin face. She was greatly changed, her old rounded outlines had shrunken and she looked frail enough for the winds to blow away. The old, fearless, spirited look in her blue eyes had departed utterly, leaving only an expression of settled sadness, varied by an anxious, expectant gaze, sug- gesting a lingering hope that some one might come or some- thing happen to break the dreadful silence which began, she felt, when Scoville fell from his horse in the darkening for- est. It remained unbroken, and her heart sank into more hopeless despondency daily. Aun' Jinkey and Zany were charged so sternly to say nothing to disturb the mind of their young mistress that they obeyed. She was merely given the impression that Perkins had gone away of his own will, and this was a relief. She supposed Chunk had returned to his Union friends, and this also became the gen- erally accepted view of all except Aun' Jinkey. Mrs. Whately came to spend part of the time at The Oaks and part on her own plantation, where her presence was needed. Her devotion would have won Miss Lou's whole heart but for the girl's ever-present consciousness of Mad Whately in the background. The mother now had the tact to say nothing about him except in a natural and general way, occasionally trying the experiment of reading extracts from his brief letters, made up, as they were, chiefly of ardent messages to his cousin. These Miss Lou received in silence and unfeigned apathy. The respite and quiet could not last very long in these culminating months of the war. Without much warning even to the negroes, who appeared to have a sort of tele- UNCLE LU8THAH EXHORTS 339 graphic communication throughout the region, a Union column forced its way down the distant railroad and made it a temporary line of communication. Mr. Baron suddenly woke up to the fact that the nearest town was occupied by the Federals and that his human property was in a ferment. A foraging party soon appeared in the neighborhood and even visited him, but his statement of what he had suffered and the evident impoverishment of the place led the Union officer to seek more inviting fields. Partly to satisfy her own mind as well as that of her niece, Mrs. Whately asked after Scoville, but could obtain no information. The troops in the vicinity were of a differ- ent organization, the leader of the party a curt, grizzled veteran, bent only on obtaining supplies. Miss Lou, sit- ting helplessly in her room, felt instinctively that she did not wish even to speak to him. To Chunk, this Union advance was a godsend. He im- mediately took his horse to the railroad town, sold it for a small sum, and found employment at the station, where his great strength secured him good wages. He could handle with ease a barrel akin to himself in shape and size. Uncle Lusthah suddenly found immense responsibility thrust upon him. In the opinion of the slaves the time and seasons he had predicted and asked his flock to wait for had come. Negroes from other and nearer plantations were thronging to the town, and those at The Oaks were rapidly forming the purpose to do likewise. They only waited the sanction of their religious teacher to go almost in a body. The old preacher was satisfied they would soon go any way, unless inducements and virtual freedom were offered. He therefore sought Mr. Baron and stated the case to him. The old planter would listen to nothing. He was too honorable to temporize and make false promises. "Bah!" he said, irritably, *'the Yanks will soon be driven off as they were before. I can't say you are free! I can't give you a share in the crops ! It's contrary to the law of the State and the whole proper order of things. I wouldn't do 840 ''MISS LOV it if I could. What would my neighbors think? What would I think of myself? What a fine condition I'd be in after the Yanks are all driven from the country! No, I shall stand or fall with the South and maintain the institu- tions of my fathers. If you people leave me now and let the crops go to waste you will soon find yourselves starv- ing. When you come whining back I'll have nothing to feed you with." Uncle Lusthah cast an imploring look on Miss Lou where she sat in her chair, with more interest expressed in her wan face than she had shown for a long time. "Uncle Lusthah," she said earnestly, "don't you leave me. As soon as 1 am able I'll buy you of uncle and set you free. Then you can always work for me. ' ' "I doan wanter lebe you, young mistis, I sut'ny doan, ner der ole place whar I al'ays libed. But freedom sweet, young mistis, en I wanter feel I free befo' I die." "You shall, Uncle Lusthah. You have earned your freedom, anyway." "Tut, tut, Louise, that's no way to talk," said her uncle testily. The old slave looked from one to the other sorrowfully, shook his head and slowly retired. "Eemember what I said," Miss Lou called after him, and then sank back in her chair. Uncle Lusthah had to relate the result of his conference, and the consequence was an immediate outbreak of a reck- less, alienated spirit. That afternoon the field hands paid no attention to Mr. Baron's orders, and he saw that slaves from other plantations were present. Uncle Lusthah sat at his door with his head bowed on his breast. His people would listen to him no more, and he himself was so divided in his feelings that he knew not what to say. "Hit may be de Lawd's doin's ter set He people free," he muttered, "but somehow 1 kyant brung mysef ter lebe dat po' sick chile. Ole mars' r en ole miss kyant see en woan see, en dat lil chile w'at stan' up fer us in de 'stremity UNCLE LU8THAH EXHORTS ^41 ob tribe rlation be lef * wid no one ter do fer her. I berry oie en stiff in my jints en I cud die peaceful ef I know I free; but hit 'pears that de Lawd say ter me, 'Uncle Lusthah, stay right yere en look arter dat lil sick lam'. Den I mek you free w'en de right time come.' " Uncle Lusthah soon had the peace of the martyr who has chosen his course. Mr. Baron also sat on his veranxia with head bowed upon his breast. He too had chosen his course, and now in consequence was sunk in more bitter and morose protest than ever. Events were beyond his control and he knew it, but he would neither yield nor change. This was the worst that had yet befallen him. Black ruin stared him in the face, and he stared back with gloomy yet resolute eyes. "I will go down with my old colors flying," he resolved, and that was the end of it. His wife was with him in sympathy, but her indomitable spirit would not be crushed. She was almost ubiquitous amoiig the house and yard slaves, awing them into a sub- mission which they scarcely understood and inwardly chafed at. She even went to the quarters and produced evident uneasiness by her stern, cutting words. None dared reply to her, but when the spell of her presence was removed all resumed their confused and exultant deliberations as to their future course. Aun' Jinkey, sitting with Miss Lou, scoffed at the idea of going away. "Long ez my chimly-corner en my pipe dar I dar too," she said. *'Dis freedom business so mux up I kyant smoke hit out nohow. ' ' Zany was in a terribly divided state of mind. Were it not for Miss Lou, she would have been ready enough to go, especially as she had heard that Chunk was at the railroad town. Her restless spirit craved excitement and freedom: a townfal of admirers, with Chunk thrown in, was an ex- ceedingly alluring prospect With all her faults, she had a heart, and the sick girl had won her affection unstintedly. When therefore Miss Lou summoned her and fixed her sad, pleading blue eyes upon her, the girl threw her apron over 342 ''MISS LOW lier head and began to cry. "Doan say a word, Miss Lou," she sobbed, *'doan ax me not ter go kase et you does I kyant go." "Sech foolisbness !" ejaculated Aun' Jinkey with a dis- dainful sniff. "She lebe you des lak a cat dat snoop off enywhar en arter enybody w'at got mo' vittles. Wat she keer?" Down came the apron, revealing black eyes blazing through the tears which were dashed right and left as Zany cried, "You ole himage, w'at you keer? You tink a hun'erd times mo' ob yer pipe ner Miss Lou. Long ez you kin smoke en projeck in dat ar ole cabin hole you woan lebe his 'less you turned out. 1 des gwine ter stay out'n spite en doan wan ter go a hun'erd mile ob dat gran' boy ob yourn." "There, Zany," said Miss Lou gently, holding out her hand. "I understand you and Aun' Jinkey both, and you both are going to stay out of love for me. I reckon you won't be sorry in the end." Up went the apron again and Zany admitted, "I kyant lebe you. Miss Lou, I des kyant," as she rushed away to indulge in the feminine relief of tears without stint. Mr. and Mrs. Baron passed a sleepless night, for even the question of food would be problematical if all the able- bodied men and women on the place went away. In the early dawn there were ominous sounds at the quarters, and as the light increased a spectacle which filled the old planter and his wife with rage was revealed. The quarters were empty and all were trooping toward the avenue with bundles containing their belongings. This was to be expected, but the act which excited the direst indignation was the hitch- ing of the only pair of mules left on the place that were worth anything to the old family carriage. Aun' Suke was waddling toward this with the feeling that a "char'ot wuz waitin' fer her now, sho!" Mr. and Mrs. Baron looked at each other in quick, com- prehensive sympathy, then hastily and partially dressed. UNCLE LUSTHAH EXHORTS 343 Mr. Baron took his revolver while "ole miss" snatched a sharp carving-knife from the dining-room. By the time they reached the scene, Aun' Suke filled the back seat of the carriage and the rest of the space was being filled with babies. "Stop that!" shouted Mr. Baron. "Before I'll let you take my mules I'll shoot 'em both." "Ole miss" wasted no time in threats — she simply cut the traces and there were Aun' Suke and the babies stranded. The negroes drew together on one side and master and mistress on the other. The faces of the latter were aglow with anger; on the countenances of the former were mingled perplexity and sullen defiance, but the old habit of deference still had its restraining influence. "Go and starve and leave us to starve, if you will," shouted Mr. Baron, "but you shall steal none of my property." Angry mutterings began among the negroes, and it were hard to say how the scene would have ended if old Uncle Lusthah had not suddenly appeared between the opposing parties, and held up his hand impressively. "I gib up my charnce ter be free," he began with simple dignity. "My body 'longs ter you yit, mars' r en misus; but not my speret. Out'n dat I gwine ter speak plain fer de fear ob man clean gone fum me. Mars'r, w'at 1 say ter you? Lak ole Pharo, you t'ink yo'sef bigger' n de Lawd. Ef you'd done spoke ter de hans en say 'des go home en dar de crops en shar' togeder' dey ud stayed en wucked fer you 'tented like, but you des talk lak ole Pharo. Now de people gwine en you kyant stop dem. We knowed 'bout de prokermation ob de gre't Linkum. We know we bin free dis long time. We al'ays know you no right ter keep us slabes. Dis yer Grod's worl'. Hit don't 'long ter you en misus. He ain't stoppin' ter 'suit you 'bout He doin's. Ef you s'mitted ter He will you'd a gwine 'long easy lak de crops grow in spring-time. Now hit des de same ez ef you plant de crops in de fall en 'spect de Lawd ter turn de winter S44 **MI8S LOW inter summer ter please you. I berry ole en liad 'spearance. I'se prayed all de long night en de Lawd's gib me ter see inter de futer. Lak Moses I may never git in de promised Ian' ob freedom, but hit dar en you kyant kep de people out'n hit. Ef yon doan bend ter He will, you breaks. Wen all de ban's gone en de fiel's is waste t'ink ober de trufe. De Lawd did'n mek dis yer worl' ter suit you en misus. P'raps He t'ink ez much ob dem po' souls dar (pointing at the negroes) ez ob yourn. Didn't I stan' wid dem w'at die ter mek us free ? Der blood wateh dis hull Ian' en I feels hit in my heart dat de Lawd' 11 brung up a crap dis Ian' neber saw befo'. Please reckermember, mars' r en misus, de gre't wuck ob de Lawd gwine right along des ez ef you ain' dar." Then the old man turned to the negroes and in his loud, melodious voice concluded, "I gibs you one mo' 'zortation. You is free, but ez I say so of'un you ain' free ter do fool- ishness. Tek yo' wibes en chil'un; dey yourn. Tek yo' clo'es; you arned um en much mo', but you kyant tek de mules en de ker'age: dey mars'r's. Gro en wuck lak men en wimmin fer hon'st wages en show you fit ter be free. Keckermember all I tole you so of'un. De Lawd go wid you en kep you in de way ob life everlas'in'." The better element among the negroes prevailed, for they felt that they had had a spokesman who voiced their best and deepest feelings. One after another came and wrung the hand of the old man and departed. To "Pharo" and his wife few vouchsafed a glance, for they had cut the cord of human sympathy. Many messages of affection, however, were left for Miss Lou. The mothers took the babies from the carriage, Aun' Suke was helped out and she sulkily waddled down the avenue with the rest. By the time she reached the main road her powers of locomotion gave out, causing her to drop, half- hysterical, by the wayside. Some counselled her to go back, saying they would come for her before long; but pride, shame and exhaustion made it al- most as difficult to go back as to go forward, and so she was UNCLE LUSTHAH EXHORTS 845 left lamenting. With stern, inflexible faces, master and mistress watched their property depart, then returned to the house, while Uncle Lusthah mended the harness tempo- rarily and took the carriage back to its place. Standing aloof, Zany had watched the scene, wavering between her intense desire to go and her loyalty to Miss Lou. The sick girl had conquered, the negress winning an heroic victory over herself. When she entered the back door of the man- sion, her face rigid from the struggle she had passed through, she was in no lamb-like mood. Neither was her mistress, who was angrier than she had ever been in her life. "Well," she said to Zany in cold, cutting tones, "what are you doing here? Looking around for something to carry off before you go also?" Stung to the quick by this implied charge and lack of appreciation of her great self-sacrifice, Zany replied hotly, "I done wid you, misus. I tek no mo' orders fum you. I stay fer sump'n you doan know not'n 'bout — lub, but lub fer Miss Lou. Ef she kyant 'tect em 'gin you den I go." 846 *'MISS LOU'' CHAPTER XXXVII A NEW ROUTINE IT certainly was a dismal, shrunken houseliold that Mrs. Baron presided over that morning. Ann' Jinkey came to the rescue and prepared a meagre breakfast. Miss Lou's room being on the side of the house furthest from the scenes of the early morning, she had slept on till Zany wakened her. She listened in a sort of dreary apathy to all that had occurred, feeling that she was too weak physically and too broken-spirited to interfere. She also had the im- pression that it would have been of no use — that her uncle and aunt were so fixed in their ways and views that nothing but harsh experience could teach them anything. In answer to Zany's appeal for protection against *'ole miss" Miss Lou said, "We won't say anything more about it now till you get over your hurt feelings, which are very natural. Of course my aunt can't punish you — that's out of the question now, but by and by I reckon you will do for her out of love for me when you see it will save me trouble. You have done a good, unselfish act in staying with me, and having begun so well, you will keep on in the same way. After all of the rest get free you will, too. What's more, when I come into my property I'll make free all who stand by me now." So Zany brought her up a nice little breakfast and was comforted. When at last the young girl with weak, uncertain steps came down to her easy-chair on the piazza, she found her A NEW ROUTINE 847 uncle gloomily smoking, and her aunt solacing her per- turbed mind with her chief resource — housekeeping affairs. Little was said beyond a formal greeting. As Miss Lou sat gazing vacantly and sadly down the avenue, a huge figure appeared, making slow, painful prog- ress toward the house. At last Aun' Suke was recognized, and the truth flashed across the girl's mind that the fat old cook had found she could not get away. Finally the woman sat down under a tree not far from the house, not only over- come by heat and fatigue, but also under the impression that she must open negotiations before she could expect to be received. "There," said Mr. Baron grimly, "is one of them coming back already. They'll be sneaking, whining back when the crops are spoiled and it's too late." Miss Lou rose feebly and got an old sunshade from the hall. "Louise, you are not able — I forbid it." The girl felt she had strength to get to the old woman but not enough to contend with her uncle, so she went slowly down the steps without a word. Mr. Baron growled, "I might as well speak to the wind as to anybody on the place any more." When Aun' Suke saw the girl coming to her she scram- bled to her feet, and holding up her hands ejaculated all sorts of remorseful and deprecatory comments. "Welcome back," said Miss Lou kindly, when in speak- ing distance. "There, don't go on so. Sit down and I'll sit down with you." She sank at the foot of the tree and leaned against it, panting. "I des feels ez ef de yeth ud op'n en swaller me," began the poor renegade, quivering with emotion. "Don't talk so, Aun' Suke. I'm not strong enough to stand foolishness. You will go back with me and stay with Uncle Lusthah and Aun' Jinkey and Zany. You will cook for us all just the same and by and by you will be as free as I am. ' ' 348 "MISS LOU'" **Well, Miss Lou, I comin' back lak de perdigous son, but ole miss aiu' got no fatted calf fer me, ner you neider, 1 reckon. I des feered on w'at ole miss say en do." "Aun' Suke," said the girl, taking the woman's great black hand, "you stand by me and I'll stand by you. When 1 get stronger we'll see what's best to be done. Now I can't think, I don't know. I only feel that we must help one another till all is clearer." Mrs. Baron accepted Aun' Suke's presence in the kitchen again in grim silence. She believed it the earnest of the speedy return of all the others, and resolved to bide her time when the Southern armies restored completely the old order of things. Mrs. Whately drove over during the day and was aghast at what had occurred. "I have kept the great majority of my hands by concilia- tion and promising them a share in the crops. Indeed, I had virtually to treat them as if free. It was either that or ruin." "Well," growled her brother, "you can't keep that pace and I wouldn't begin it." "I can only do the best I can, from day to day," sighed the lady, "and I've been almost distracted." After showing her affectionate solicitude for Miss Lou she returned, feeling that her presence at home was now hourly needed. Gradually the little household began to adjust itself to the new order of things, and day by day Mr. and Mrs. Baron were compelled to see that the few servants who ministered to them were kept at their tasks by an influence in which they had no part. Almost imperceptibly, Miss Lou regained her strength, yet was but the shadow of her former self. Uncle Lusthah gave his attention to the garden, already getting weed-choked. The best he could hope to do was to keep up a meagre supply of vegetables, and Zany in the cool of the day often gave him a helping hand. Late one afternoon Miss Lou, feeling a little stronger, A NEW ROUTINE 54V went to Aun' Jinkey's cabin and sat down on the door- step. ''Oh, mammy," she sighed, '*I'm so tired, I'm so tired; yet I can do nothing at all." "You po' lil chile,'' groaned Aun' Jinkey, *'how dif ernt you looks ner w'en you fus sot dar en wish sump'n happen." "Oh," cried the girl almost despairingly, "too much has happened! too much has happened! How can God let such troubles come upon us?" "Eben Uncle Lusthah hab ter say he dunno. He say he des gwine ter hole on twel de eend, en dat all he kin do." "Oh, mammy, I'm all at sea. I haven't any strength to hold on and there doesn't seem anything to hold on to. Oh, mammy, mammy, do you think he's surely dead?" "1 feared he is," groaned Aun' Jinkey. "Dey say he spook come arter Perkins en dat w'y de oberseer clared out." "Oh, horrible!" cried the girl. "If his spirit could come here at all would it not come to me instead of to that brutal wretch? Oh, mammy, I don't know which is worse, your religion or your superstition. You believe in a God who lets such things happen and you can think my noble friend would come back here only to scare a man like Perkins. It's all just horrible. Oh, Allan, Allan, are you so lost to me that you can never look goodwill into my eyes again ?" Tears rushed to her eyes for the first time since she heard the dreadful tidings, and she sobbed in her mammy's arms till exhausted. That outburst of grief and the relief of tears given by kindly nature was the decisive point in Miss Lou's conva- lescence. She was almost carried back to her room and slept till late the following day. When she awoke she felt that her strength was returning, and with it came the courage to take up the burdens of life. For weeks it was little more than the courage of a naturally brave, conscientious' nature which will not yield to the cowardice and weakness of inac- tion. The value of work, of constant occupation, to sustain and divert the mind, was speedily learned. Gradually she 350 ''MISS LOW took the helm of outdoor matters from her uncle's nerveless hands. She had a good deal of a battle in respect to Chunk. It was a sham one on the part of Zany, as the girl well knew, for Chunk's "tootin' " was missed terribly. Mr. and Mrs. Baron at first refused point-blank to hear of his returning. "Uncle," said his ward gravely, "is only your property at stake? 1 can manage Chunk, and through him perhaps get others. I am not responsible for changes which I can't help; I am to blame if 1 sit down idly and helplessly and do nothing better than fret or sulk. Your bitter words of protest are not bread and bring no money. For your sakes as well as my own you must either act or let me act." The honorable old planter was touched at his most sen- sitive point, and reluctantly conceded, saying, "Oh, well, if you think you can save any of your property out of the wreck, employ Chunk on your own responsibility." So Chunk was reinstated in his granny's cabin and given a share in all he could raise and secure of the crops. The negro was as shrewd as Jacob of old, but like the Hebrew patriarch could do much under the inspiration of his twofold affection for Zany and his young mistress. And so the summer and early fall wore away. The rail- road line of communication was maintained, and upon it drifted away Mr. Baron's former slaves and the great ma- jority of the others in the neighborhood. The region in which the plantation was situated was so remote and sparsely settled that it was a sort of border land, un- claimed and un visited by any considerable bodies from either party. Rev. Dr. Williams' congregation had shrunken to a handful. He officiated at one end of the church, and his plump, black-eyed daughter led the singing at the other, but it was observed that she looked discontented rather than devotional. She was keenly alive to the fact that there was not an eligible man left in the parish. Uncle Lusthah pa- tiently drove the mules every clear Sunday morning and Mr. and Mrs. Baron sat in the carriage whose springs Aun' Suke had sorely tried; but Miss Lou would not go with A NEW ROUTINE 351 them. After his readiness to marry her to her cousin she felt it would be worse than mockery to listen to Dr. Wil- liams again. But a deep, yet morbid spiritual change was taking place in the girl. As of old, she thought and brooded when her hands were busy, and during her long, solitary evenings on the piazza. Strange to say, she was drawing much of her inspiration from a grave — the grave of a rough, profane sol- dier whom she knew only as "Yarry." There was some- thing in his self-forgetful effort in her behalf, even when in the mortal anguish of death, which appealed to her most powerfully. His heroism, expecting, hoping for no re- ward, became the finest thing in her estimation she had ever witnessed. Her own love taught her why Scoville was attracted by her and became ready to do anything for her. ''That's the old, old story," she mused, "ever sweet and new, yet old as the world. Poor Yarry was actuated by a purely unselfish, noble impulse. Only such an im- pulse can sustain and carry me through my life. No, no, Mrs. Waldo, I can never become happy in making others happy. I can never be happy again. The bullet which killed Allan Scoville pierced my heart also and it is dead, but that poor soldier taught me how one can still live and suSer nobly, and such a life must be pleasing to the only God I can worship." All wondered at the change gradually taking place in the girl. It was too resolute, too much the offspring of her will rather than her heart to have in it much gentle- ness, but it was observed that she was becoming gravely and patiently considerate of others, even of their faults and follies. As far as possible, her uncle and aunt were allowed their own way without protest, the girl sacrificing her own feelings and wishes when it was possible. They at last began to admit that their niece was manifesting a becoming spirit of submission and deference, when in fact her management of their affairs was saving them from an impoverishment scarcely to be endured. '*MISS LOW For Mrs. Whately the girl now had a genuine and strong affection, chilled only by her belief that the plan in regard to the son was ever in the mother's mind. So indeed it was. The sagacious woman watched Miss Lou closely and with feelings of growing hope as well as of tenderness. The girl was showing a patience, a strength of mind, and, above all, a spirit of self-sacrifice which satisfied Mrs. Whately that she was the one of all the world for her son. "I do believe," she thought, "that if T can only make Louise think it will be best for us all as well as Madison, she will 3aeld. The spirit of self-sacrifice seems her su- preme impulse. Her sadness will pass away in time, and she would soon learn to love the father of her children. What's more, there is something about her now which would hold any man's love. See how her lightest wish controls those who work for her, even that harum-scarum Zany." In the late autumn a long-delayed letter threw Mrs. Whately into a panic of fear and anxiety. A surgeon wrote that her son had been severely wounded and had lost his left arm, but that he was doing well. Here the author laid down his pen. In Mr. Roe's jour- nal, under date of July 11, is an entry alluding to a conver- sation with a friend. That conversation concerned the con- clusion of this book, and was, in effect, substantially the same as the outline given by him in a letter, part of which is quoted as follows: "It is not my purpose to dwell further on incidents con- nected with the close of the war, as the book may be considered too long already. It only remains for me now to get all my people happy as soon as possible. Zany and Chunk 'make up,' and a good deal of their characteristic love-making will be worked in to relieve the rather sombre state of things at this stage. Whately returns with his empty sleeve, more A NEW ROUTINE 353 of a hero than ever in his own eyes and his mother's. Miss Lou thinks him strangely thoughtful and considerate in keeping away, as he does, after a few short visits at The Oaks. The truth is, he is wofully disappointed at the change in his cousin's looks. This pale, listless, hollow- eyed girl is not the one who set him to reading 'Taming of the Shrew. ' That her beauty of color and of outline could ever return, he does not consider; and in swift revulsion of feeling secretly pays court elsewhere. "Mrs. Whately, however, makes up for her son's defi- ciencies. Utterly ignorant how affairs are shaping, she works by her representations upon Miss Lou's sympathies until the weary consent is wrung from the poor girl — 'Noth- ing matters to me any more ! If it makes you all happy — why — then — But I must wait a year. ' She feels that her love for Allan Scoville will never be less, and that this period of time is little enough to devote to him in silent memory. "The delighted aunt hastens to report to her son, who stares rather blankly, for a lover, as he hears of this conces- sion on his cousin's part, and without answer, he orders his horse and rides furiously away. The ride is one that has been very frequently taken since the young man's return, and pretty soon he is in earnest conversation with the rosy- cheeked, black-eyed daughter of Dr. Williams. There seems to be very good understanding between the two, and later, just at the final scene, it will come out as e£fectively as can be portrayed the startling news of their secret marriage. "The days go on. One afternoon in the late autumn, Aun' Jinkey, smoking and 'projeckin' ' as usual in her cabin, has a vision which fairly sends her heart, as she will express it, 'right troo de mouf.' Was it a 'spook,' or had the dead really come back to life ? And I hear her ex- claim, throwing up her hands, 'Bress de Lawd, Marse Sco- ville, dat you? Whar you drap fum dis yere time? I doan almos' know you widout de un'fo'm I' "But the 'vision' will not stop to narrate to the old aunty 854 ''MISS LOW' of his capture, imprisonment and illness, his release and hur ried journey North. He catches sight of the slight figure or Miss Lou in the distance near the run, and in a moment is beside her. 'Only death could keep me from seeking you and living for you always, did I not tell you, my darling, my darling ?' "And here I will leave them. The reader's imagination will picture more if more is wished. It is better so." THE END DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN Copyright, 1885, By DODD, mead, & COMPAXsi¥o THIS VOLUME IS LOVINGLY DEDICATED TO ^'JOHNNIE" PREFACE M ONTHS since, with much doubt and diffidence, I began this simple story. I had never before written expressly for young people, and I knew that the honest little critics could not be beguiled with words which did not tell an interesting story. How far I have suc- ceeded, the readers of this volume, and of the "St. Nicholas" magazine, wherein the tale appeared as a serial, alone can answer. I have portrayed no actual experience, but have sought to present one which might be verified in real life. I have tried to avoid all that would be impossible or even improbable. The labors performed by the children in the story were not unknown to my own hands, in childhood, nor would they, form tasks too severe for many little hands now idle in the cities. The characters are all imaginary ; the scenes, in the main> are real : and I would gladly lure other families from tene- ment flats into green pastures. E. P. K. CORNWALL-ON-THE-HUDSON, August 10, 1886. « Rob— IX— F CONTENTS CHAPTEK I A Problem 13 CHAPTEK II I STATE THE CASE 19 CHAPTEE III JSFew Prospects . * ... . . 23 CHAPTEE IV A Momentous Expedition 26 CHAPTEE V A Country Christmas in a City Flat .... 28 CHAPTEE VI A Bluff Friend 32 CHAPTEE VII Mr. Jones Shows me the Place B6 CHAPTEE VIII Telling about Eden 41 CHAPTEE IX ^'Breaking Camp" 44 CHAPTEE X Scenes on the Wharf 47 CHAPTEE XI A Voyage up the Hudson 51 . ( ») 10 CONTENTS CHAPTER XII A March Evening in Eden 66 CHAPTEE XIII Rescued and at Home 61 CHAPTER X.IV Self-denial and its Reward 67 CHAPTER XV Our Sunny Kitchen 73 CHAPTER XYI Making a Place for Chickens 78 CHAPTER Xyil Good Bargains in Maple Sugar 82 CHAPTER X7III Butternuts and Bobsey's Peril ....... 85 CHAPTER XIX John Jones, Jun 90 CHAPTER XX Raspberry Lessons .95 CHAPTER XXI The "Yandoo" 100 CHAPTER XXII Early April GtArdening 105 CHAPTER XXIII A Bonfire and a Feast Ill CHAPTER XXIV *']Slo Blind Drifting" 117 CHAPTER XXV Owls and Antwerps 120 CONTENTS 11 CHAPTER XXYI A CouNTKY Sunday 123 CHAPTER XXYII Strawberry Visions and "Pertaters" . . . .126 CHAPTER XXVIII Corn, Color, and Music 130 CHAPTER XXIX We go a-Fishing. 1^^ CHAPTER XXX Weeds and Working for Dear Life . ... . 138 CHAPTER XXXI Nature Smiles and Helps 144 CHAPTER XXXII Cherries, Berries, and Berry-Thieves .... 149 CHAPTER XXXIII Given his Choice 154 : CHAPTER XXXIV G-iVEN A Chance 159 CHAPTER XXXV "We shall all earn our Salt" , 166 CHAPTER XXXVI A Thunderbolt 172 CHAPTER XXXVII Rallying from the Blow 175 CHAPTER XXXVIII August Work and Play 183 CHAPTER XXXIX A Trip to the Seashore 188 12 CONTENTS CHAPTER XL A Visit to Houghton Farm 193 CHAPTER XLI Hoarding for Winter 198 CHAPTER XLII Autumn Work and Sport 203 CHAPTER XLIII Thanksgiving Day 215 CHAPTER XLIV We can make a Living in Eden 218 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN CHAPTER I A PROBLEM 'W 7 HERE are the children r^ \/\ / "They can^t be far away/' replied my wife, ^ ▼ looking up from her preparations for supper. *'Bobsey was here a moment ago. As soon as my back's turned he's out and away. I haven't seen Merton since he brought his books from school, and I suppose Winnie is up- stairs with the Daggetts." "I wish, my dear, you could keep the children at home more," I said, a little petulantly. "I wish you would go and find them for me now, and to-morrow take my place — for just one day." "Well, well," I said, with a laugh that had no mirth in it ; "only one of your wishes stands much chance of being carried out. I'll find the children now if I can without the aid of the police. Mousie, do you feel stronger to-night?" These words were spoken to a pale girl of fourteen, who appeared to be scarcely more than twelve, so diminutive was her frame. ^'Yes, papa," she replied, a faint smile flitting like a ray of light across her features. She always said she was better, but never got well. Her quiet ways and tones had led to the household name of "Mousie." As I was descending the narrow stairway I was almost overthrown by a torrent of children pouring down from the flats above. In the dim light of a gas-burner I saw that 14 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN Bobsey was one of the reckless atoms. He had not heard my voice in the uproar, and before I could reach him, he with the others had burst out at the street door and gone tearing toward the nearest corner. It seemed that he had slipped away in order to take part in a race, and I found him "squar- ing off" at a bigger boy who had tripped him up. Without a word I carried him home, followed by the jeers and laughter of the racers, the girls making their presence known in the early December twilight by the shrillness of their voices and by manners no gentler than those of the boys. I put down the child — he was only seven years of age — in the middle of our general living-room, and looked at him. His little coat was split out in the back; one of his stockings, already well-darned at the knees, was past remedy; his hands were black, and one was bleeding; his whole little body was throbbing with excitement, anger, and violent exercise. As I looked at him quietly the defiant expression in his eyes began to give place to tears. 'There is no use in punishing him now," said my wife. "Please leave him to me and find the others." "I wasn't going to punish him," I said. "What are you going to do? What makes you look at him so?" "He's a problem I can't solve — with the given condi- tions." "O Robert, you drive me half wild. If the house was on fire you'd stop to follow out some train of thought about it all. I'm tired to death. Do bring the children home. When we've put them to bed you can figure on your prob- lem, and I can sit down." "As I went up to the Daggetts' flat I was dimly con- scious of another problem. My wife was growing fretful and nervous. Our rooms would not have satisfied a Dutch housewife, but if "order is heaven's first law" a little of Paradise was in them as compared to the Daggett-s' apart- ments. "Yes," I was told, in response to my inquiries; "Winnie is in the bed-room with Melissy." A PROBLEM 15 The door was locked, and after some hesitation the girls opened it. As we were going downstairs I caught a glimpse of a newspaper in my girFs pocket. She gave it to me reluctantly, and said ^^Melissy" had lent it to her. I told her to help her mother prepare supper while I went to find Merton. Opening the paper under a street lamp, I found it to be a cheap, vile journal, full of flashy pictures that so often offend the eye on news-stands. With a chill of fear I thought, "Another problem.'' The Daggett children had had the scarlet fever a few months before. "But here's a worse infection," I reflected. "Thank heaven, Winnie is only a child, and can't understand these pictures ;" and 1 tore the paper up and thrust it into its proper place, the gutter. "Now," I muttered, "I've only to find Merton in mis- chief to make the evening's experience complete." In mischief I did find him — a very harmful kind of mis- chief, it appeared to me. Merton was little over fifteen, and he and two or three other lads were smoking cigarettes which, to judge by their odor, must certainly have been made from the sweepings of the manufacturer's floor. "Can't you find anything better than that to do after school?" I asked, severely. "Well, sir," was the sullen reply, "I'd like to know what there is for a boy to do in this street." During the walk home I tried to think of an answer to his implied question. What would I do if I were in Merton's place ? I confess that I was puzzled. After sitting in school all day he must do something that the police would permit. There certainly seemed very little range of action for a grow- ing boy. Should I take him out of school and put him into a shop or an office ? If I did this his education would be sadly limited. Moreover he was tall and slender for his age, and upon his face there was a pallor which I dislike to see in a boy. Long hours of business would be very hard upon him, even if he could endure the strain at all. The problem which had been pressing on me for months — almost years — grew urgent. 16 - DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN With clouded brows we sat down to our modest little supper. Winifred, my wife, was hot and flushed from too near acquaintance with the stove, and wearied by a long day of toil in a room that would be the better for a gale of wind. Bobsey, as we called my little namesake, was absorbed — now that he was relieved from the fear of punishment — by the wish to "punch" the boy who had tripped him up. Winnie was watching me furtively, and wondering what had become of the paper, and what I thought of it. Merton was somewhat sullen, and a little ashamed of himself. I felt that my problem was to give these children something to do that would not harm them, for do something they cer- tainly would. They were rapidly attaining that age when the shelter of a narrow city flat would not answer, when the influence of a crowded house and of the street might be greater than any we could bring to bear upon them. I looked around upon the little group for whom I was responsible. My will was still law to them. While my little wife had positive ways of her own, she would agree to any decided course that I resolved upon. The children were yet under entire control, so that I sat at the head of the table, commander-in-chief of the little band. We called the nar- row flat we lived in "home." The idea ! with the Daggetts above and the Kicketts on the floor beneath. It was not a home, and was scarcely a fit camping-ground for such a family squad as ours. Yet we had stayed on for years in this long, narrow line of rooms, reaching from a crowded street to a little back-yard full of noisy children by day, and noisier cats by night. I had often thought of moving, but had failed to find a better shelter that was within my very limited means. The neighborhood was respectable, so far as a densely populated region can be. It was not very dis- tant from my place of business, and my work often kept me so late at the office that we could not live in the suburb. The rent was moderate for New York, and left me some money, after food and clothing were provided, for occasional little outings and pleasures, which I believe to be needed by both A PROBLEM 17 body and mind. While the children were little — so long as they would "stay put" in the cradle or on the floor — we did not have much trouble. Fortunately I had good health, and, as my wife said, was "handy with children.'' There- fore I could help her in the care of them at night, and she had kept much of her youthful bloom. Heaven had blessed us. We had met with no serious misfortunes, nor had any of our number been often prostrated by prolonged and dan- gerous illness. But during the last year my wife had been growing thin, and occasionally her voice had a sharpness which was new. Every month Bobsey became more hard to manage. Our living-room was to him like a cage to a wild bird, and slip away he would, to his mother's alarm; for he was almost certain to get into mischief or trouble. The effort to perform her household tasks and watch over him was more wearing than it had been to rock him through long hours at night when he was a teething baby. These details seem very homely no doubt, yet such as these largely make up our lives. Comfort or discomfort, happiness or unhappiness, springs from them. There is no crop in the country so im- portant as that of boys and girls. How could I manage my little home-garden in a flat ? I looked thoughtfully from one to another, as with chil- dren's appetites they became absorbed in one of the chief events of the day. "Well," said my wife, querulously, "how are you getting on with your problem ?" "Take this extra bit of steak and I'll tell you after the children are asleep," I said. "I can't eat another mouthful," she exclaimed, pushing back her almost untasted supper. "Broiling the steak was enough for me." "You are quite tired out, dear," I said, very gently. Her face softened immediately at my tone and tears came into her eyes. "I don't know what is the matter with me," she faltered. "I am so nervous some days that I feel as if I should fly to IS DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN pieces. I do try to be patient, but I know I'm growing cross F' ^^Oh now, mamma/' spoke up warm-hearted Merton; "the idea of your being cross." "She is cross/' Bobsey cried; "she boxed my ears this very day." "And you deserved it/' was Merton's retort. "It's a pity they are not boxed oftener." "Yes, Kobert, I did," continued my wife, sorrowfully. "Bobsey ran away four times, and vexed me beyond endur- ance, that is, such endurance as I have left, which doesn't seem to be very much." "I understand, dear," I said. "You are a part of my problem, and you must help me solve it." Then I changed the subject decidedly, and soon brought sunshine to our clouded household. Children's minds are easily diverted ; and my wife, whom a few sharp words would have greatly ir- ritated, was soothed, and her curiosity awakened as to the subject of my thoughts. I STATE MY CASE 19 CHAPTEK II I STATE THE CASE IPOISTDEEED deeply while my wife and Winnie cleared away the dishes and put Bobsey into his little crib. I felt that the time for a decided change had come, and that it should be made before the evils of our lot brought sharp and real trouble. How should I care for my household? If I had been living on a far frontier among hostile Indians I should have known better how to protect them. I could build a house of heavy logs and keep my wife and children always near me while at work. But it seemed to me that Melissa Daggett and her kin with their flashy papers, and the influence of the street for Merton and Bobsey, involved more danger to my little band than all the scalping Modocs that ever whooped. The children could not step outside the door without danger of meeting some one who would do them harm. It is the curse of crowded city life that there is so little of a natural and attractive sort for a child to do, and so much of evil close at hand. My wife asked me humorously for the news. She saw that I was not reading my paper, and my frowning brow and firm lips proved my problem was not of a trifling nature. She suspected nothing more, however, than that I was think- ing of taking rooms in some better locality, and she was wondering how I could do it, for she knew that my income now left but a small surplus above expenses. At last Winnie too was ready to go to bed, and I said to her, gravely : "Here is money to pay Melissa for that paper. 20 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN It was only fit for the gutter, and into the gutter I put it. I wish you to promise me never to look at such pictures again, or you can never hope to grow up to be a lady like mamma." The child flushed deeply, and went tearful and penitent to bed. Mousie also retired with a wistful look upon her face, for she saw that something of grave importance oc- cupied my mind. No matter how tired my wife might be, she was never satisfied to sit down until the room had been put in order, a green cloth spread upon the supper-table and the student lamp placed in its centre. Merton brought his school-books, and my wife took up her mending, and we three sat down within the circle of light. "Don't do any more work to-night," I said, looking into my wife's face, and noting for a few moments that it was losing its rounded lines. Her hands dropped wearily into her lap, and she began gratefully: "I'm glad you speak so kindly to-night, Rob- ert, for I am so nervous and out of sorts that I couldn't have stood one bit of fault-finding — I should have said things, and then have been sorry all day to-morrow. Dear knows, each day brings enough without carrying anything over. Come, read the paper to me, or tell me what you have been thinking about so deeply, if you don't mind Merton's hear- ing you. I wish to forget myself, and work, and everything that worries me, for a little while." "I'll read the paper first, and then, after Merton has learned his lessons, I will tell you my thoughts — my pur- pose, I may almost say. Merton shall know about it soon, for he is becoming old enough to understand the Vhy' of things. I hope, my boy, that your teacher lays a good deal of stress on the wky in all your studies." "Oh, yes, after a fashion." "Well, so far as I am your teacher, Merton, I wish you always to think why you should do a thing or why you shouldn't, and to try not to be satisfied with any reason but a good one." 1 STATE THE CASE ffl. Then I gleaned from the paper such items as I thought would interest mj wife. At last we were alone, with no sound in the room but the low roar of the city, a roar so deep as to make one think that the tides of life were breaking waves. I was doing some figuring in a note-book when my wife asked : '^Eobert, what is your problem to-night ? And what part have I in it ?" "So important a part that I couldn't solve it without you," I replied, smiling at her. "Oh, come now," she said, laughing slightly for the first time in the evening ; "you always begin to flatter a little when you want to carry a point." "Well, then, you are on your guard against my wiles. But believe me, Winifred, the problem on my mind is not like one of my ordinary brown studies; in those I often try to get back to the wherefore of things which people usually accept and don't bother about. The question I am consider- ing comes right home to us, and we must meet it. I have felt for some time that we could not put off action much longer, and to-night I am convinced of it." Then I told her how I had found three of the children en- gaged that evening, concluding : "The circumstances of their lot are more to blame than they themselves. And why should I find fault with you because you are nervous ? You could no more help being nervous and a little impatient than you could prevent the heat of the lamp from burning you, should you place your finger over it. I know the cause of it all. As for Mousie, she is growing paler and thinner every day. You know what my income is; we could not change things much for the better by taking other rooms and moving to another part of the city, and we might find that we had changed for the worse. I propose that we go to the country and get our living out of the soil." "Why, Kobert! what do you know about farming or gardening ?" "^N'ot very much, but I am not yet too old to learn; 22 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN and there would be something for the children to do at once, pure air for them to breathe, and space for them to grow healthfully in body, mind, and soul. You know I have but little money laid by, and am not one of those smart men who can push their way. I don't know much besides book- keeping, and my employers think I am not remarkably quick at that. I can't seem to acquire the lightning speed with which things are done nowadays; and while I try to make up by long hours and honesty, I don't believe I could ever earn much more than I am getting now, and you know it doesn't leave much of a margin for sickness or mis- fortune of any kind. After all, what does my salary give us but food and clothing and shelter, such as it is, with a little to spare in some years? It sends a cold chill to my heart to think what should become of you and the chil- dren if I should be sick or anything should happen to me. Still, it is the present welfare of the children that weighs most on my mind, Winifred. They are no longer little things that you can keep in these rooms and watch over; there is danger for them just outside that door. It wouldn't be so if beyond the door lay a garden and fields and woods. You, my overtaxed wife, wouldn't worry about them the moment they were out of sight, and my work, instead of being away from them all day, .could be with them. And all could do something, even down to pale Mousie and little Bobsey. Outdoor life and pure air, instead of that breathed over and over, would bring quiet to your nerves and the roses back to your cheeks. The children would grow sturdy and strong; much of their work would be like play to them; they wouldn't be always in contact with other children that we know nothing about. I am aware that the country isn't Eden, as we have imagined it — for I lived there as a boy — ^but it seems like Eden compared to this place and its surroundings ; and I feel as if I were being driven back to it by circumstances I can't control." NEW PROSPECTS ^ CHAPTER in NEW PEOSPECTS THERE is no need of dwelling further on the reasons for or against the step we proposed. We thought a great deal and talked it over several times. Fi- nally my wife agreed that the change would be wise and best for all. Then the children were taken into our con- fidence, and they became more delighted every day as the prospect grew clearer to them. "We'll all be good soon, won't we?'' said my youngest, who had a rather vivid sense of his own shortcomings, and kept them in the minds of others as well. "Why so, Bobsey?" "'Cause mamma says that God put the first people in a garden and they was very good, better'n any folks after- wards. God oughter know the best place for people." Thus Bobsey gave a kind of divine sanction to our proj- ect. Of course we had not taken so important a step without asking the Great Father of all to guide us; for we felt that in the mystery of life we too were but little chil- dren who knew not what should be on the morrow, or how best to provide for it with any certainty. To our sanguine minds there was in Bobsey's words a hint of something more than permission to go up out of Egypt. So it was settled that we should leave our narrow suit^ of rooms, the Daggetts and the Ricketts, and go to the coun- try. To me naturally fell the task of finding the land flow- ing with milk and honey to which we should journey in 24 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN the spring. Meantime we were already emigrants at heart, full of the bustle and excitement of mental preparation. I prided myself somewhat on my knowledge of human nature, which, in regard to children, conformed to compara- tively simple laws. I knew that the change would involve plenty of hard work, self-denial and careful managing, which nothing could redeem from prose; but I aimed to add to our exodus, so far as possible, the elements of adventure and mystery so dear to the hearts of children. The question where we should go was the cause of much discussion, the studying of maps, and the learning of not a little geography. Morton's counsel was that we should seek a region abounding in Indians, bears, and "such big game.'' His advice made clear the nature of some of his recent read- ing. He proved, however, that he was not wanting in sense by his readiness to give up these attractive features in the choice of locality. Mousie's soft black eyes always lighted up at the pros- pect of a flower-garden that should be as big as our sitting- room. Even in our city apartments, poisoned by gas and devoid of sunlight, she usually managed to keep a little house-plant in bloom, and the thought of placing seeds in the open ground, where, as she said, "the roots could go down to China if they wanted to," brought the first color I had seen in her face for many a day. Winnie was our strongest child, and also the one who gave me the most anxiety. Impulsive, warm-hearted, rest- less, she always made me think of an overfull fountain. Her - alert black eyes were as eager to see as was her inquisitive mind to pry into everything. She was sturdily built for a girl, and one of the severest punishments we could inflict was to place her in a chair and tell her not to move for an hour. We were beginning to learn that we could no more keep her in our sitting-room than we could restrain a mountain brook that foams into a rocky basin only to foam out again. Melissa Daggett was of a very different type — I could never see her without the word "sly" coming into NEW PROSPECTS 25 my mind — and her small mysteries awakened Winnie's curi- osity, l^ow that the latter was promised chickens, and rambles in the woods, Melissa and her secrets became insignificant, and the ready promise to keep aloof from her was given. As for Bobsey, he should have a pig which he could name and call his own, and for which he might pull weeds and pick up apples. We soon found that he was commun- ing with that phantom pig in his dreams. 26 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN CHAPTER IV A MOMENTOUS EXPEDITION BY the time Christmas week began we all had agreed to do without candy, toys, and knick-knacks, and to buy books that would tell us how to live in the country. One happy eyening we had an early supper and all went to a well-known agricultural store and publishing- house on Broadway, each child almost awed by the fact that I had fifteen dollars in my pocket which should be spent that very night in the purchase of books and papers. To the children the shop seemed like a place where tickets direct to Eden were obtained, while the colored pictures of fruits and vegetables could portray the products of Eden only, so different were they in size and beauty from the speci- mens appearing in our market stalls. Stuffed birds and ani- mals were also on the shelves, and no epicure ever enjoyed the gamy flavor as we did. But when we came to examine the books, their plates exhibiting almost every phase of country work and production, we felt like a long vista leading toward our unknown home was opening before us, illumined by alluring pictures. To Winnie was given a book on poultry, and the cuts representing the various birds were even more to her taste than cuts from the fowls themselves at a Christmas dinner. The Nimrod instincts of the race were awakened in Merton, and I soon found that he had set his heart on a book that gave an account of game, fish, birds, and mammals. It was a natural and wholesome longing. I myself had felt it keenly when a boy. Such country sport would bring sturdiness to his limbs and the right kind of color into his face. A MOMENTOUS EXPEDITION 27 ^'AU right, Merton," I said: "you shall have the book and a breech-loading shot-gun also. As for fishing-tackle, you can get along with a pole cut from the woods until you have earned money enough yourself to buy what you need.'' The boy was almost overwhelmed. He came to me, and took my hand in both his own. "O papa,'' he faltered, and his eyes were moist, "did you say a gun ?" "Yes, a breech-loading shot-gun on one condition — that you'll not smoke till after you are twenty-one. A growing boy can't smoke in safety." He gave my hand a quick, strong pressure, and was immediately at the farther end of the store, blowing his nose suspiciously. I chuckled to myself: "I want no better promise. A gun will cure him of cigarettes better than a tract would." Mousie was quiet, as usual; but there was again a faint color in her cheeks, a soft lustre in her eyes. I kept near my invalid child most of the time, for fear that she would go beyond her strength. I made her sit by a table, and brought the books that would interest her most. Her sweet, thin face was a study, and I felt that she was already enjoying the healing caresses of Mother Nature. When we started homeward she carried a book about flowers next to her heart. Bobsey taxed his mother's patience and agility, for he seemed all over the store at the same moment, and wanted everything in it, being sure that fifteen dollars would buy all and leave a handsome margin ; but at last he was content with a book illustrated from beginning to end with pigs. What pleased me most was to see how my wife enjoyed our little outing. Wrapped up in the children, she reflected their joy in her face, and looked almost girlish in her happi- ness. I whispered in her ear, "Your present shall be the home itself, for I shall have the deed made out in your name, and then you can turn me out-of-doors as often as you please." "Which will be every pleasant day after breakfast," she 28 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN said, laughing. "You know you are very safe in giving things to me." "Yes, Winifred," I replied, pressing her hand on the sly ; "I have been finding that out ever since I gave myself to you." I bought Henderson's "Gardening for Profit" and some other practical books. I also subscribed for a journal de- voted to rural interests and giving simple directions for the work of each month. At last we returned. Never did a jollier little procession march up Broadway. People were going to the opera and evening companies, and carriages rolled by, filled with elegantly dressed ladies and gentle- men; but my wife remarked, "itTone of those people are so happy as we are, trudging in this roundabout way to our country home." Her words suggested our course of action during the months which must intervene before it would be safe or wise for us to leave the city. Our thoughts, words, and ac- tions were all a roundabout means to our cherished end, and yet the most direct way that we could take under the cir- cumstances. Field and garden were covered with snow, the ground was granite-like from frost, and winter's cold breath chilled our impatience to be gone ; but so far as possible we lived in a country atmosphere, and amused ourselves by try- ing to conform to country ways in a city flat. Even Win- nie declared she heard the cocks crowing at dawn, while Bobsey had a different kind of grunt or squeal for every pig in his book. CHAPTER V A COUNTEY CHRISTMAS IN A CITY FLAT ON Christmas morning we all brought out our pur- chases and arranged them on a table. Merton was almost wild when he found a bright single- barrelled gun with accoutrements standing in the corner. Even Mousie exclaimed with delight at the bright-colored papers of flower-seeds on her plate. To Winnie were given A COUISTRY CHRISTMAS IN A CITY FLAT 29 half a dozen china eggs with which to lure the prospective biddies to lay in nests easily reached, and she tried to cackle over them in absurd imitation. Little Bobsey had to have some toys and candy, but they all presented to his eyes the natural inmates of the barn-yard. In the number of do- mestic animals he swallowed that day he equalled the little boy in Hawthorne's story of "The House of the Seven Gables," who devoured a ginger-bread caravan of camels and elephants purchased at Miss Hepzibah Pyncheon's shop. Our Christmas dinner consisted almost wholly of such vegetables as we proposed to raise in the coming summer. Never before were such connoisseurs of carrots, beats, onions, parsnips, and so on through almost the entire list of such win- ter stock as was to be obtained at our nearest green-grocery. We celebrated the day by nearly a dozen dishes which the children aided my wife in preparing. Then I had Merton figure the cost of each, and we were surprised at the cheap- ness of much of country fare, even when retailed in very small quantities. This brought up another phase of the problem. In many respects I was like the children, having almost as much to learn as they — with the advantage, however, of be- ing able to correct impressions by experience. In other words, I had more judgment; and while I should certainly make mistakes, not many of them would be absurd or often repeated. I was aware that most of the homely kitchen vegetables cost comparatively little, even though (having in our flat no good place for storage) we had found it better to buy what we needed from day to day. It was there- fore certain that, at wholesale in the country, they would often be exceedingly cheap. This fact would work both ways: little money would purchase much food of certain kinds, and if we produced these articles of food they would bring us little money. I will pass briefly over the period that elapsed before it was time for us to depart, assured that the little people who are following this simple history are as eager to get away 30 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN from the dusty city flat to the sunlight, breezy fields, brooks, and woods as were the children in my story. It is enough to say that, during all my waking hours not devoted to busi- ness, I read, thought, and studied on the problem of sup- porting my family in the country. I haunted Washington Market in the gray dawn and learned from much inquiry what products found a ready and certain sale at some price, and what appeared to yield to the grower the best profits. There was much conflict of opinion, but I noted down and averaged the statements made to me. Many of the market- men had hobbies, and told me how to make a fortune out of one or two articles; more gave careless, random, or ig- norant answers; but here and there was a plain, honest, sensible fellow who showed me from his books what plain, honest, sensible producers in the country were doing. In a few weeks I dismissed finally the tendency to one blunder. A novice hears or reads of an acre of cabbages or straw- berries producing so much. Then he figures, ^^if one acre yields so much, two acres will give 'twice as much," and so on. The experience of others showed me the utter folly of aU this; and I came to the conclusion that I could give my family shelter, plain food, pure air, wholesome work and play in plenty, and that not very soon could I provide much else with certainty. I tried to stick closely to com- mon-sense; and the humble circumstances of the vast ma- jority living from the soil proved that there was in these pursuits no easy or speedy road to fortune. Therefore we must part reluctantly with every penny, and let a dollar go for only the essentials to the modest success now ac- cepted as all we could naturally expect. We had explored the settled States, and even the Territories, in fancy; we had talked over nearly every industry from cotton and sugar- cane planting to a sheep-ranch. I encouraged all this, for it was so much education out of school-hours; yet all, even Merton, eventually agreed with me that we had better not go far away, but seek a place near schools, markets, churches, and well inside of civilization. A COUNTRY CHRISTMAS IN A CITY FLAT 31 "See here, youngsters, you forget the most important crop of all that I must cultivate," I said one evening. "What is that?'' they cried in chorus. "A crop of boys and girls. You may think that my mind is chiefly on corn and potatoes. Not at all. It is chiefly on you ; and for your sakes mamma and I decided to go to the country." At last, in reply to my inquiries and my answers to ad- vertisements, I received the following letter: — I had been to see two or three places that had been "cracked up" so highly that my wife thought it better to close the bargain at once before some one else secured the prize — and I had come back disgusted in each instance. "The soul of wit" was in John Jones's letter. There was also a downright directness which hit the mark, and I wrote that I would go to Maizeville in the course of the fol- lowing week. Ro«h-IX-Q 32 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN CHAPTER VI A BLUFF FRIEND THE almanac had announced spring; nature appeared • quite unaware of the fact, but, so far as we were concerned, the almanac was right. Spring was the era of hope, of change, and hope was growing in our hearts like "Jack's bean,'' in spite of lowering wintry skies. We were as eager as robins, sojourning in the south, to take our flight northward. My duties to my employers had ceased the 1st of March : I had secured tenants who would take possession of our rooms as soon as we should leave them; and now every spare moment was given to studying the problem of country living and to preparations for departure. I obtained il- lustrated catalogues from several dealers in seeds, and we pored over them every evening. At first they bewildered us with their long lists of varieties, while the glowing de- scriptions of new kinds of vegetables just being introduced awakened in us something of a gambling spirit. "How fortunate it is," exclaimed my wife, "that we are going to the country just as the vegetable marvels were discovered! Why, Robert, if half of what is said is true, we shall make our fortunes." With us, hitherto, a beet had been a beet, and a cab- bage a cabbage; but here were accounts of beets which, as Merton said, "beat all creation," and pictures of prodigious cabbage heads which well-nigh turned our own. With a blending of hope and distrust I carried two of the catalogues A BLUFF FRIEND \ 88 to a shrewd old fellow in Washington Market. He was a dealer in country produce who had done business so long at the same stand that among his fellows he was looked upon as a kind of patriarch. During a former interview he had replied to my questions with a blunt honesty that had in- spired confidence. The day was somewhat mild, and I found him in his shirt-sleeves, smoking his pipe among his piled-up barrels, boxes, and crates, after his eleven o'clock dinner. His day's work was practically over; and well it might be, for, like others of his calling, he had begun it long before dawn. Now his old felt hat was pushed well back on his bald head, and his red face, fringed with a grizzled beard, expressed a sort of heavy, placid content. His small gray eyes twinkled as shrewdly as ever. With his pipe he indicated a box on which I might sit while we talked. "See here, Mr. Bogart," I began, showing him the seed catalogues, "how is a man to choose wisely what vegetables he will raise from a list as long as your arm? Perhaps I shouldn't take any of those old-fashioned kinds, but go into these wonderful novelties which promise a new era in horti- culture." The old man gave a contemptuous grunt; then, remov- ing his pipe, he blew out a cloud of smoke that half obscured us both as he remarked, gruffly, " ^A fool and his money are soon parted.' " This was about as rough as March weather; but I knew my man, and perhaps proved that I wasn't a fool by not part- ing with him then and there. "Come now, neighbor," I said, brusquely, "I know some things that you don't, and there are affairs in which I could prove you to be as green as I am in this matter. If you came to me I'd give you the best advice that I could, and be civil about it into the bargain. I've come to you because I believe you to be honest and to know what I don't. When I tell you that I have a little family dependent on me, and that I mean if possible to get a living for them out of the 34 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN soil, I believe you are man enough both to fall in with my plan and to show a little friendly interest. If you are not, I'll go farther and fare better.'' As I fired this broadside he looked at me askance, with the pipe in the corner of his mouth, then reached out his great brown paw, and said, — "Shake." I knew it was all right now — that the giving of his hand meant not only a treaty of peace but also a friendly alliance. The old fellow discoursed vegetable wisdom so steadily for half an hour that his pipe went out. "You jest let that new-fangled truck alone," he said, "till you get more forehanded in cash and experience. Then you may learn how to make something out of them novelties, as they call 'em, if they are worth growing at all. Now and then a good penny is turned on a new fruit or vegetable; but how to do it will be one of -the last tricks that you'll learn in your new trade. Hand me one of them misleadin' books, and I'll mark a few solid kinds such as produce ninety- nine hundredths of all that's used or sold. Then you go to What-you-call-'em's store, and take a line from me, and you'll git the genuine article at market-gardeners' prices." "IN'ow, Mr. Bogart, you are treating me like a man and a brother." "Oh thunder! I'm treating you like one who, p'raps, may deal with me. Do as you please about it, but if you want to take along a lot of my business cards and fasten 'em to anything you have to sell, I'll give you all they bring, less my commission." "I've no doubt you will, and that's more than I can believe of a good many in your line, if all's true that I hear. You have thrown a broad streak of daylight into my future. So you see the fool didn't part with his money, or with you either, until he got a good deal more than he expected." Well, well, Mr. Durham, you'll have to get used to my rough ways. When I've anything to say, I don't beat about A BLUFF FRIEND 35 the bush. But you'll always find my checks good for their face." "Yes, and the face back of them is that of a friend to me now. We'll shake again. Good-by;" and I went home feeling as if I had solid ground under my feet. At supper I went over the whole scene, taking off the man in humorous pantomime, not ridicule, and even my wife grew hilarious over her disappointed hopes of the "new-fangled truck." I managed, however, that the children should not lose the lesson that a rough diamond is better than a smooth paste stone, and that people often do themselves an injury when they take offence too easily. "I see it all, papa," chuckled Merton; "if you had gone off mad when he the same as called you a fool, you would have lost all his good advice." "I should have lost much more than that, my boy, I should have lost the services of a good friend and an honest man to whom we can send for its full worth whatever we can't sell to better advantage at home. But don't mistake me, Merton, toadyism never pays, no matter what you may gain by it; for you give manhood for such gain, and that's a kind of property that one can never part with and make a good bargain. You see the old man didn't mean to be in- solent. As he said, it was only his rough, blunt way of say- ing what was uppermost in his mind." 86 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN CHAPTER Vn MR. JONES SHOWS ME THE PLACE THE next day, according to appointment, I went to Maizeville. John Jones met me at the station, and drove me in his box-sleigh to see the farm he had written of in his laconic note. I looked at him curiously as we jogged along over the melting snow. The day was unclouded for a wonder, and the sun proved its increasing power by turning the sleigh-tracks in the road into gleaming rills. The visage of my new acquaintance formed a decided contrast to the rubicund face of the beef -eating marketman. He was sandy even to his eyebrows and complexion. His scraggy beard suggested poverty of soil on his lantern jaws. His frame was as gaunt as that of a scare-crow, and his hands and feet were enormous. He had one redeeming feature, however — a pair of blue eyes that looked straight at you and made you feel that there was no "crookedness" be- hind them. His brief letter had led me to expect a man of few words, but I soon found that John Jones was a talker and a good- natured gossip. He knew every one we met, and was usu- ally greeted with a rising inflection, like this, "How are you, John?" We drove inland for two or three miles. "No, I didnH crack up the place, and I ain't a-goin' to," said my real-estate agent. "As I wrote you, you can see for yourself when we get there, and I'll answer all questions square. I've got the sellin' of the property, and I mean it shall be a good bargain, good for me and good for him who MR. JONES SHOWS ME THE PLACE 37 buys. I don't intend havin' any neighbors around blamin' me for a fraud ;'' and that is all he would say about it. On we went, over hills and down dales, surrounded by scenery that seemed to me beautiful beyond r.11 words, even in its wintry aspect. "What mountain is that standing off by itself ?'' I asked. "Schunemunk,'' he said. "Your place — well, I guess it will be yours before plantin'-time comes — faces that mountain and looks up the valley between it and the main highlands on the left. Yonder's the house, on the slope of this big round hill, that'll shelter you from the north winds,'* I shall not describe the place very fully now, preferring that it should be seen through the eyes of my wife and chil- dren, as well as my own. "The dwelling appears old," I said. "Yes; part of it's a good deal more'n a hundred years old. It's been added to at both ends. But there's timbers in it that will stand another hundred years. I had a fire made in the livin'-room this mornin', to take off the chill, and we'll go in and sit down after we've looked the place over. Then you must come and take pot-luck with us." At first I was not at all enthusiastic, but the more I examined the place, and thought it over, the more it grew on my fancy. When I entered the main room of the cot- tage, and saw the wide, old-fashioned fireplace, with its crackling blaze, I thawed so rapidly that John Jones chuckled. "You're amazin' refreshin' for a city chap. I guess I'll crack on another hundred to the price." "I thought you were not going to crack up the place at all." "Neither be I. Take that old arm-chair, and I'll tell you all about it. The place looks rather run down, as you have seen. Old Mr. and Mrs. Jamison lived here till lately. Last January the old man died, and a good old man he was. His wife has gone to live with a daughter. By the will I was app'inted executor and trustee. I've fixed on a fair price for the property, and I'm goin' to hold on till I get it. 88 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN There's twenty acres of plowable land and orchard, and a five-acre wood-lot, as I told you. The best part of the prop- erty is this. Mr. Jamison was a natural fruit-grower. He had a heap of good fruit here and wouldn't grow nothin' but the best. He was always a-speerin' round, and when he come across something extra he'd get a graft, or a root or two. So he gradually came to have the best there was a-goin' in these parts. Now I tell you what it is, Mr. Durham, you can buy plenty of new, bare places, but your hair would be gray before you'd have the fruit that old man Jamison planted and tended into bearing condition; and you can buy places with fine shade trees and all that, and a good show of a garden and orchard, but Jamison used to say that an apple or cherry was a pretty enough shade tree for him, and he used to say too that a tree that bore the biggest and best apples didn't take any more room than one that yielded what was fit only for the cider press. Now the p'int's just here. You don't come to the country to amuse yourself by developin' a property, like most city chaps do, but to make a livin'. Well, don't you see? This farm is like a mill. When the sun's another month higher it will start all the machinery in the apple, cherry, and pear trees and the small fruits, and it will turn out a crop the first year you're here that will put money in your pocket." Then he named the price, half down and the rest on mortgage, if I so preferred. It was within the limit that my means permitted. I got up and went all over the house, which was still plainly furnished in part. A large wood-house near the 'back door had been well filled by the provident old man. There was ample cellar room, which was also a safeguard against dampness. Then I went out and walked around the house. It was all so quaint and homely as to make me feel that it would soon become home-like to us. There was noth- ing smart to be seen, nothing new except a bam that had recently been built near one of the oldest and grayest struc- tures of the kind I had ever seen. The snow-clad moun* MB. JONES SHOWS ME THE PLACE 39 tains lifted themselves about me in a way that promised a glimpse of beauty every time I should raise my eyes from work. Yet after all my gaze lingered longest on the or- chard and fruit-trees that surrounded the dwelling. "That's sensible," remarked Mr. Jones, who followed me with no trace of anxiety or impatience. "Paint, putty, and pine will make a house in a few weeks, but it takes a good slice out of a century to build up an orchard like that." "That was just what I was thinking, Mr. Jones." "Oh, I knowed that. Well, I've got just two more things to say, then I'm done and you can take it or leave it. Don't you see ? The* house is on a slope facing the south-east. You get the morning sun and the southern breeze. Some people don't know what they're worth, but I, who've lived here all my life, know they're worth payin' for. Again, you see the ground slopes off to the crick yonder. That means good drainage. We don't have any malary here, and that fact is worth as much as the farm, for I wouldn't take a section of the garden of Eden if there was malary around." "On your honor now, Mr. Jones, how far is the corner around which they have the malaria?" "Mr. Durham, it ain't a mile away." I laughed as I said, "I shall have one neighbor, it seems, to whom I can lend an umbrella." "Then you'll take the place?" "Yes, if my wife is as well satisfied as I am. I want you to give me the refusal of it for one week at the price you named." "Agreed, and I'll put it in black and white." "jN'ow, Mr. Jones," I began with* an apologetic little laugh, "you grow one thing up here in all seasons, I fancy — an appetite. As I feel now, your pot-luck means good luck, no matter what is in it." "Now you talk sense. I was a-hankerin' myself. I take stock right off in a man or a critter with an appetite. They're always improvin'. Yes, sir; Maizeville is the place to grow an appetite, and what's more we can grow plenty to satisfy it." iO DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN Mrs. Jones made a striking contrast to her husband, for she first impressed me as being short, red, and round; but her friendly, bustling ways and hearty welcome soon added other and very pleasant impressions; and when she placed a great dish of fricasseed chicken on the table she won a good-will which her neighborly kindness has steadily in- creased. TELLING ABOUT EDEN 41 CHAPTER VIII TELLING ABOUT EDEN NEVER was a traveller from a remote foreign clime listened to with more breathless interest than I as I related my adventures at our late supper after my return. Mousie looked almost feverish in her excite- ment, and Winnie and Bobsey exploded with merriment over the name of the mountain that would be one of our nearest neighbors. They dubbed the place "Schunemunks^^ at once. Merton put on serious and sportsman-like airs as he questioned me, and it was evident that he expected to add largely to our income from the game he should kill. I did not take much pains to dispel his illusions, knowing that one day's tramp would do this, and that he would bring back increased health and strength if nothing else. No fairy tale had ever absorbed the children like the description of that old house and its surroundings; and when at last they were induced to retire I said to my wife, after explaining more in practical detail the pros and eons to be considered: "It all depends on you. If you wish I will take you up the first pleasant day, so that you can see for yourself before we decide. '^ She laughed as she said, "I decided two minutes after you arrived.'' "How is that?" "I saw you had the place in your eyes. La, Robert! I can read you like a book. You give in to me in little things, and that pleases a woman, you know. You must decide a question like this, for it is a question of support for 42 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN US all, and you can do better on a place that suits you than on one never quite to your mind. It has grown more and more clear to me all the evening that you have fallen in love with the old place, and that settles it." "Well, you women have a way of your own of deciding a question." My wife was too shrewd not to make a point in her favor, and she remarked, with a complacent nod, "I have a way of my own, but there are women in the world who would have insisted on a smart new house." "Little wife," I said, laughing, "there was another girl that I was a little sweet on before I met you. I'm glad you are not the other girl." She put her head a little to one side with the old roguish look which used to be so distracting when the question of questions with me was whether pretty Winnie Barlow would give half a dozen young fellows the go-by for my sake, and she said, "Perhaps the other girl is glad too." "I've no doubt she is," I sighed, "for her husband is getting rich. I don't care how glad she is if my girl is not sorry." "You do amuse me so, Robert! You'd like to pass for something of a philosopher, with your brown studies into the hidden causes and reasons for things, yet you don't half know yet that when a woman sets her heart on some- thing, she hasn't much left with which to long for any- thing else. That is, if she has a heart, which seems to be left out of some women." "I think it is, and others get a double allowance. I should be content, for I was rich the moment I won yours." "I've been more than content ; I've been happy — happy all these years in city flats. Even in my tantrums and bad days I knew I was happy, deep in my heart." "I only hope you will remain as blind about your plod- ding old husband who couldn't make a fortune in the city." "I've seen men who made fortunes, and I've seen their wives too." TELLING ABOUT EDEN 48 I thanked God for the look on her face — a look which had been' there when she was a bride, and which had sur- vived many straitened years. So we chose our country home. The small patrimony to which we had added but little — (indeed we had often denied ourselves in order not to diminish it) — ^was nearly all to be invested in the farm, and a debt to be incurred, besides. While yielding to my fancy, I believed that I had at the same time chosen wisely, for, as John Jones said, the mature fruit trees of the place would begin to bring re- turns very soon. 44 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN CHAPTEK IX WE were now all eager to get away, and the weather favored our wishes. A warm rain with a high south wind set in, and the ice disappeared from the river like magic. I learned that the afternoon boat which touched at Maizeville would begin its trips in the fol- lowing week. I told my wife about the furniture which still remained in the house, and the prices which John Jones put upon it. We therefore found that we could dispose of a number of bulky articles in our city apartments, and save a goodly sum in cartage and freight. Like soldiers short of ammuni- tion, we had to make every dollar tell, and when by thought and management we could save a little it was talked over as a triumph to be proud of. The children entered into the spirit of the thing with great zest. They were all going to be hardy pioneers. One evening I described the landing of the "Mayflower," and some of the New-England winters that followed, and they wished to come down to Indian meal at once as a steady diet. Indeed, toward the last, we did come down to rather plain fare, for in packing up one thing after another we at last reached the cooking utensils. On the morning of the day preceding the one of our departure I began to use military figures of speech. "Now we must get into marching order," I said, "and prepare to break camp. Soldiers, you know, when abouj to move, dispose of all their heavy baggage, cook several *' BREAKING CAMP " 45 days' provisions, pack up and load on wagons what they mean to take with them, and start. It is a trying time — one that requires the exercise of good soldierly qualities, such as prompt obedience, indifference to hardship and dis- comfort, and especially courage in meeting whatever hap- pens." Thus the children's imaginations were kindled, and our prosaic breaking up was a time of grand excitement. With grim satisfaction they looked upon the dismantling of the rooms, and with sighs of relief saw carts take away such heavy articles as I had sold. Winnie and Bobsey were inclined to take the children of neighbors into their confidence, and to have them around, but I said that this would not do at all — ^that when sol- diers were breaking camp the great point was to do every- thing as secretly and rapidly as possible. Thenceforward an air of mystery pervaded all our movements. Bobsey, however, at last overstepped the bounds of our patience and became unmanageable. The very spirit of mischief seemed to have entered his excited little brain. He untied bundles, placed things where they were in the way, and pestered the busy mother with so many questions, that I hit upon a decided measure to keep him quiet. I told him about a great commander who, in an important fight, was strapped to a mast, so that he could oversee everything. Then I tied the little fellow into a chair. At first he was much elated, and chattered like a magpie, but when he found he was not to be released after a few moments he began to howl for freedom. I then carried him, chair and all, to one of the back rooms. Soon his cries ceased, and tender- hearted Mousie stole after him. Returning she said, with her low laugh, "He'll be good now for a while; he's sound asleep." And so passed the last day in our city rooms. Except as wife and children were there, they had never appeared very homelike to me, and now they looked bare and com- fortless indeed. The children gloated over their appear- 46 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN ance, for it meant novelty to them. '^The old camp is about broken up," Merton remarked, with the air of a vet- eran. But my wife sighed more than once. "What troubles you, Winifred?'' "Kobert, the children were born here, and here IVe watched over them in sickness and health so many days and nights.'' "Well, my dear, the prospects are that in our new home you will not have to watch over them in sickness very much. Better still, you will not have to be so constantly on your guard against contagions that harm the soul as well as the body. I was told that there are rattle-snakes on Schunemunk, but greater dangers for Winnie and Merton lurk in this street — ^yes, in this very house;" and I exulted over the thought that we were about to bid Melissa Daggett a final good-by. "Oh, I know. I'm glad; but then—" "But then a woman's heart takes root in any place where she has loved and suffered. That tendency makes it all the more certain that you'll love your new home." "Yes ; we may as well face the truth, Kobert. We shall suffer in the new home as surely as in the old. There may be stronger sunshine, but that means deeper shadow." SCENES ON THE WHAEF 47 CHAPTEE X SCENES ON THE WHARF THE last night in the city flat was in truth like camp- the fatigues of the day brought us sound sleep, and ing out, and we looked and felt like emigrants. But in the morning we rose with the dawn, from our shake- downs on the floor, to begin eagerly and hopefully our final preparations for departure. In response to my letters John Jones had promised to meet us at the Maizeville Landing with his strong covered rockaway, and to have a fire in the old farmhouse. Load after load was despatched to the boat, for I preferred to deal with one trusty truckman. When all had been taken away, we said good-by to our neigh- bors and took the horse-car to the boat, making our quiet exit in the least costly way. I knew the boat would be warm and comfortable, and proposed that we should eat our lunch there. The prospect, however, of seeing the wharves, the boats, and the river destroyed even the children's appetites. We soon reached the crowded dock. The great steamer appeared to be a part of it, lying along its len^h with several gang- ways, over which boxes, barrels, and packages were being hustled on board with perpetual din. The younger children were a little awed at first by the noise and apparent con- fusion. Mousie kept close to my side, and even Bobsey clung to his mother's hand. The extended upper cabin had state-rooms opening along its sides, and was as com- fortable as a floating parlor with its arm and rocking chairs. Here, not far from the great heater, I established our head- 48 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN quarters. I made the children locate the spot carefully, and said: "From this point we^ll make excursions. In the first place, Merton, you come with me and see that all our house- hold effects are together and in good order. You must learn to travel and look after things like a man.'^ We spent a little time in arranging our goods so that they would be safer and more compact. Then we went to the captain and laughingly told him we were emigrants to Maizeville, and hoped before long to send a good deal of produce by his boat. We therefore wished him to "lump'' us, goods, children, and all, and deliver us safely at the Maizeville wharf for as small a sum as possible. He good-naturedly agreed, and I found that the chief stage of our journey would involve less outlay than I had ex- pected. Thus far all had gone so well that I began to fear that a change must take place soon, in order that our experience should be more like the common lot of humanity. When at last I took all the children out on the after-deck, to re- move the first edge of their curiosity, I saw that there was at least an ominous change in the weather. The morning had been mild, with a lull in the usual March winds. Now a scud of clouds was drifting swiftly in from the eastward, and chilly, fitful gusts began to moan and sigh about us. A storm was evidently coming, and my hope was that we might reach our haven before it began. I kept my fears to myself, and we watched the long lines of carts converging toward the gang-planks of our own and other steamboats. "See, youngsters," I cried, "all this means commerce. These loads and loads of things will soon be at stores and homes up the river, supplying the various needs of the people. To-morrow the residents along the river will bring what they have to sell to this same boat, and by daylight next morning carts will be carrying country produce and manufactured articles all over the city. Thus you see com- merce is made by people supplying themselves and each other with what they need. Just as soon as we can bring down a SCENES ON THE WHARF 49 crate of berries and send it to Mr. Bogart we shall be adding to the commerce of the world in the best way. We shall become what are called the ^producers/ and but for this class the world would soon come to an end." " 'Eah !" cried Bobsey, "I'm goin' to be a producer." He promised, however, to be a consumer for a long time to come, especially of patience. His native fearlessness soon asserted itself, and he wanted to go everywhere and see everything, asking questions about machinery, navigation, river craft, the contents of every box, bale, or barrel we saw, till I felt that I was being used like a town pump. I pulled him back to the cabin, resolving to stop his mouth for a time at least with the contents of our lunch-basket. Winnie was almost as bad^ — or as good, perhaps I should say; for, however great the drain and strain on me might be, I knew that these active little brains were expanding to receive a host of new ideas. Mousie was quiet as usual, and made no trouble, but I saw with renewed hope that this excursion into the world awakened in her a keen and natural interest. Ever since the project of country life had been decided upon, her list- less, weary look had been giving place to one of greater animation. The hope of flowers and a garden had fed her life like a deep, hidden spring. To Merton I had given larger liberty, and had said : "It is not necessary for you to stay with me all the time. Come and go on the boat and wharf as you wish. Pick up what knowledge you can. All I ask is that you will use good sense in keeping out of trouble and danger.'' I soon observed that he was making acquaintances here and there, and asking questions which would go far to make good his loss of schooling for a time. Finding out about what one sees is, in my belief, one of the best ways of get- ting an education. The trouble with most of us is that we accept what we see, without inquiry or knowledge. The children were much interested in scenes witnessed from the side of the boat farthest from the wharf. Her^ 50 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN in the enclosed water-space were several kinds of craft, but the most curious in their eyes was a group of canal-boats — '^queer travelling houses'^ Mousie called them; for it was evident that each one had a family on board, and the little entrance to the hidden cabin resembled a hole from which men, women, and children came like rabbits out of a bur- row. Tough, hardy, barefooted children were everywhere. While we were looking, one frowsy-headed little girl popped up from her burrow in the boat, and, with legs and feet as red as a boiled lobster, ran along the guards like a squirrel along a fence. ^^O dear!" sighed Mousie, 'Td rather live in a city flat than in such a house." ^^I think it would be splendid," protested Winnie, "to live in a travelling house. You could go all over and still stay at home." I was glad on our return to find my wife dozing in her chair. She was determined to spend in rest the hours on the boat, and had said that Mousie also must be quiet much of the afternoon. , Between three and four the crush on the wharf became very great. Horses and drays were so mixed up that to inexperienced eyes it looked as if they could never be un- tangled. People of every description, loaded dovTn with parcels, were hurrying on board, and it would seem from our point of view that American women shared with their French sisters an aptness for trade, for among the passengers were not a few substantial, matronly persons who appeared as if they could look the w©rld in the face and get the better of itt A VOYAGE UP THE HUDSON 51 CHAPTEK XI A VOYAGE UP THE HUDSON AS four p. M. approached, I took the children to a great glass window in the cabin, through which we could see the massive machinery. ^'JSTow," said I, ^Vatch the steel giant; he is motionless, but in a moment or two he will move.'' True enough, he appeared to take a long breath of steam, and then slowly lifted his polished arms, or levers, and the boat that had been like a part of the wharf began to act as if it were alive and were waking up. ^^ISTow,'' I asked, "shall we go to the after-deck and take our last look at the city, or forward and see the river and whither we are going?" "Forward! forward!'' cried all in chorus. "That's the difference between youth and age," I thought. "With the young it is always ^forward.' " But we found that we could not go out on the forward deck, for the wind would have carried away my light, frail Mousie, like a feather. Indeed it was whistling a wild tune as we stood in a small room with glass windows all round. The waves were crowned with foaming white-caps, and the small craft that had to be out in the gale were bobbing up and down, as if possessed. On the river was a strange and lurid ]ight, which seemed to come more from the dashing water than from the sky, so dark was the latter with skurrying clouds. Mousie clung timidly to my side, but I reassured her by saying: "See how steadily, how evenly and boldly, our great craft goes out on the wide river. In the same way^ 52 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN we must go forward, and never be afraid. These boats run every day after the ice disappears, and they are managed by men who know what to do in all sorts of weather." She smiled, but whispered, "I think I'll go back and stay with mamma ;" but she soon found much amusement in looking at passing scenes from the windows of the warm after-cabin — scenes that were like pictures set in oval frames. The other children appeared fascinated by the scene, especially Winnie, whose bold black eyes flashed with ex- citement. "I want to see everything and know everything," she said. ^'I wish you to see and know about things like these," I replied, "but not such things as Melissa Daggett would show you." "Melissy Daggett, indeed!" cried Winnie. "This beats all her stories. She tried to tell me the other day about a theatre at which a woman killed a man — " "Horrid! I hope you didn't listen?" "Only long enough to know the man came to life again, and danced in the next — " "That will do. Tm not interested in Melissa's vulgar stories. As you say, this, and all like this, is much better, and will never prevent you from becoming a lady like mamma." Winnie's ambition to become a lady promised to be one of my strong levers in uplifting her character. I confess that I did not like the looks of the sky or of the snow-flakes that began to whirl in the air, but the strong steamer plowed her way rapidly past the city and the villa- crowned shores beyond. The gloom of the storm and of early coming night was over all, and from the distant west- ern shores the Palisades frowned dimly through the ob- scurity. My wife came, and after a brief glance shivered and was turning away, when I said, "You don't like your first glimpse of the country, Winifred?" A VOYAGE UP THE HUDSON 58 "It will look different next June. The children will take cold here. Let them come and watch the machinery.'* This we all did for a time, and then I took them on ex- cursions about the enclosed parts of the boat. The lamps were already lighted, and the piled-up freight stood out in grotesque light and shadow. Before very long we were standing by one of the furnace rooms, and the sooty-visaged man threw open the iron doors of the furnace. In the glare of light that rushed forth everything near stood out almost as vividly as it would have done in a steady gleam of lightning. The fireman instantly became a startling silhouette, and the coal that he shovelled into what was like a flaming mouth of a cavern seemed sparkling black diamonds. The snow-flakes glimmered as the wind swept them by the wide-open window, and in the distance were seen the lights and the dim outline of another boat rushing toward the city. Clang! the iron doors are shut, and all is obscure again. "Now the boat has had its supper," said Bobsey. "O dear ! I wish I could have a big hot supper.'* The smoking-room door stood open, and we lingered near it for some moments, attracted first by a picture of a great fat ox, that suggested grassy meadows, plowing, juicy steaks, and other pleasant things. Then our attention was drawn to a man, evidently a cattle-dealer, who was holding forth to others more or less akin to him in their pursuits. "Yes," he was saying, "people in the country eat a mighty lot of cow-beef, poor and old at that. I was buying calves out near Shawangunk Mountains last week, and stopped at a small tavern. They brought me a steak and I tried to put my knife in it — thought the knife might be dull, but knew my grinders weren't. Jerusalem! I might have chawed on that steak till now and made no impression. I called the landlord, and said, ^See here, stranger, if you serve me old boot-leather for steak again I'll blow on your house.' — ^I vow,' he said, 'it's the best I kin get in these diggin's. You fellers from the city buy up every likely crit- 54 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN ter that's for sale, and we have to take what you leave.' You see, he hit me right between the horns, for it's about so. Bless your soul, if I'd took in a lot of cow-beef like that to Steers and Pinkham, Washington Market, they'd 'a taken my hide off and hung me up 'longside of my beef." "Grantin' all that," said another man, "folks in the country would be a sight better off if they'd eat more cow- beef and less pork. You know the sayin' about 'out of the frying-pan into the fire' ? Well, in some parts I've travelled they had better get out of the fryin'-pan, no matter where they fetch up." We went away laughing, and I said: "Don't you be troubled, Mousie; we won't go to the frying-pan altogether to find roses for your cheeks. We'll paint them red with strawberries and raspberries, the color put on from the inside." As time passed, the storm increased, and the air became so thick with driving snow that the boat's speed was slack- ened. Occasionally we "slowed up" for some moments. The passengers shook their heads and remarked, dolefully, "There's no telling when we'll arrive." I made up my mind that it would be good economy for us all to have a hearty hot supper, as Bobsey had suggested ; and when, at last, the gong resounded through the boat, we trooped down with the others to the lower cabin, where there were several long tables, with colored waiters in at- tendance. We had not been in these lower regions before, and the eyes of the children soon wandered from their plates to the berths, or sleeping-bunks, which lined the sides of the cabin. "Yes," I replied, in answer to their questions; "it is a big supper-room now, but by and by it will be a big bed- room, and people will be tucked away in these berths, just as if they were laid on shelves, one over the other." The abundant and delicious supper, in which steaks, not from cow-beef, were the chief feature, gave each one of us solid comfort and satisfaction. Bobsey ate until the pas- A VOYAGE UP THE HUDSON 56 sengers around him were laughing, but he, with superb in- difference, attended strictly to business. My wife whispered, "You must all eat enough to last a week, for I sha'n't have time to cook anything;" and I was much pleased at the good example which she and Mousie set us. Both before and after supper I conducted Bobsey to the wash-room, and he made the people laugh as he stood on a chair and washed his face. But he was a sturdy little fel- low, and only laughed back when a man said he looked as though he was going to dive into the basin. Mousie at last began to show signs of fatigue ; and learn- ing that it would be several hours still before we could hope to arrive, so severe was the storm, I procured the use of a state-room, and soon Bobsey was snoring in the upper berth, and my invalid girl smiling and talking in soft tones to her mother in the lower couch. Winnie, Merton, and I prowled around, spending the time as best we could. Occa- sionally we looked through the windows at the bow, and wondered how the pilot could find his way through the tempest. I confess I had fears lest he might not do this, and felt that I should be grateful indeed when my little band was safe on shore. The people in charge of the boat, however, knew their business. Roe— IX— R 66 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN CHAPTER XII A MARCH EVENING IN EDEN AT length we were fast at the Maizeville Landing, although long after the usual hour of arrival. I was anxious indeed to learn whether John Jone* would meet us, or whether, believing that we would not come in such a storm, and tired of waiting, he had gone home and left us to find such shelter as we could. But there he was, looking in the light of the lanterns as grizzled as old Time himself, with his eyebrows and beard full of snow-flakes. He and I hastily carried the three younger children ashore through the driving snow, and put them in a corner of the storehouse, while Merton followed with his mother. "Mr. Jones," I exclaimed, "you are a neighbor to be proud of already. Why didn^t you go home and leave us to our fate?" "Well," he replied, laughing, " ^twouldn't take you long to get snowed under to-night. No, no; when I catch fish I mean to land 'em. Didn't know but what in such a buster of a storm you might be inclined to stay on the boat and go back to the city. Then where would my bargain be ?" "No fear of that. We're in for it now — have enlisted for the war. What shall we do?" "Well, I vow I hardly know. One thing first, anyhow — we must get Mrs. Durham and the kids into the warm waiting-room, and then look after your traps." The room was already crowded, but we squeezed them in, white from scarcely more than a moment's exposure A MARCH EVENING IN EDEN 57 to the storm. Then we took hold and gave the deck-hands a lift with my baggage, Merton showing much manly spirit in his readiness to face the weather and the work. My effects were soon piled up by themselves, and then we held a council. "Mrs. Durham'll hardly want to face this storm with the children," began Mr. Jones. "Are you going home?'' I asked. "Yes, sir. I'd rather travel all night for the sake of being home in the morning." "To tell the truth I feel the same way," I continued, "but reason must hold the reins. Do you think you could protect Mrs. Durham and the children from the storm?" "Yes, I think we could tuck 'em in so they'd scarcely know it was snowin', and then we could sled your things up in the mornin'. 'Commodations on the landin' to-night will be pretty crowded." "We'll let her decide, then." When J explained how things were and what Mr. Jones had said, she exclaimed, "Oh, let us go home." How my heart jumped at her use of the word "home" in regard to a place that she had never seen. "But, Wini- fred," I urged, "do you realize how bad a night it is? Do you think it would be safe for Mousie?" "It isn't so very cold if one is not exposed to the wind and snow," she replied, "and Mr. Jones says we needn't be exposed. I don't believe we'd run as much risk as in going to a little hotel, the best rooms of which are already taken. Since we can do it, it will be so much nicer to go to a place that we feel is our own!" *T[ must say that your wishes accord with mine." "Oh, I knew that," she replied, laughing. "Mr. Jones," she added, sociably, "this man has a way of telling you what he wishes by his looks before asking your opinion." "I found that out the day he came up to see the place," chuckled my neighbor, "and I was half a mind to stick him for another hundred for being so honest. He don't know 58 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN how to make a bargain any more than one of the children there. Well, Til go to the shed and get the hosses, and we'll make a pull for home. I donH believe you'll be sorry when you get there." Mr. Jones came around to the very door with the rock- away, and we tucked my wife and children under the buf- falo robes and blankets till they could hardly breathe. Then we started out into the white, spectral world, for the wind had coated everything with the soft, wet snow. On we went at a slow walk, for the snow and mud were both deep, and the wheeling was very heavy. Even John Jones's loquacity was checked, for every time he opened his mouth the wind half filled it with snow. Some one ahead of us, with a lantern, guided our course for a mile or so through the dense obscurity, and then he turned off on another road. At first I hailed one and another in the black cavern of the rockaway behind me, and their muffled voices would answer, ^^All right." But one after another they ceased to answer me until all were fast asleep except my wife. She insisted that she was only very drowsy, but I knew that she was also very, very tired. Indeed, I felt myself, in a way that frightened me, the strange desire to sleep that overcomes those long exposed to cold and wind. I must have been nodding and swaying around rather loosely, when I felt myself going heels over head into the snow. As I picked myself up I heard my wife and children screaming, and John Jones shouting to his horses, "Git up," while at the same time he lashed them with his whip. My face was so plastered with snow that I could see only a dark object which was evidently being dragged violently out of a ditch, for when the level road was reached, Mr. Jones shouted, "Whoa!" "Robert, are you hurt?" cried my wife. "Ko, are you?" "Not a bit, but Tm frightened to death." Then John Jones gave a hearty guffaw and said: "I bet you our old shanghai rooster that you don't die." A MARCH EVEJSING IN EDEN 59 "Take you up/' answered my wife, half laughing and half crying. "Where are we ?" I asked. "I'm here. Haven't the remotest idea where you be," replied Mr. Jones. "You are a philosopher," I said, groping my way through the storm toward his voice. "I believe I was a big fool for tryin' to get home such a night as this ; but now. that we've set about it, we'd better get there. That's right. Scramble in and take the reins. Here's my mittens." "What are you going to do?" "I'm going to 'light and smell out the road. This is equal to any blizzard I've read of out West." "How far have we to go now?" "Half a mile, as nigh as I can make out;'' and we jogged on again. "Are you sure you are not hurt?" Mousie asked me. "Sure; it was like tumbling into a feather bed." "Stop a bit," cried Mr. Jones. "There's a turn in the road here. Let me go on a little and lay out your course." "Oh, I wish we had stayed anywhere under shelter," said my wife. "Courage," I cried. "When we get home, we'll laugh over this." "Now," shouted Mr. Jones, "veer gradually off to the left toward my voice — all right;" and we jogged on again, stopping from time to time to let our invisible guide explore the road. Once more he cried, "Stop a minute." The wind roared and shrieked around us, and it was growing colder. With a chill of fear I thought, "Could John Jones have mistaken the road?" and I remembered how four people and a pair of horses had been frozen within a few yards of a house in a Western snow-storm. "Are you cold, children?" I asked. W DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN "Yes, I'm freezing," sobbed Winnie. "I don't like the country one bit." "This is different from the Eden of which we have been dreaming," I thought grimly. Then I shouted, "How much farther, Mr. Jones?" The howling of the wind was my only answer. I shouted again. The increasing violence of the tempest was the only response. "Robert," cried my wife, "I don't hear Mr. Jones's voice." "He has only gone on a little to explore," I replied, although my teeth chattered with cold and fear. "Halloo — 00 !" I shouted. The answering shriek of the wind in the trees overhead chilled my very heart. "What has become of Mr. Jones?" asked my wife, and there was almost anguish in her tone, while Winnie and Bobsey were actually crying aloud. "Well, my dear," I tried to say, reassuringly, "even if he were very near to us we could neither see nor hear him." Moments passed which seemed like ages, and I scarcely knew w^hat to do. The absence of all signs of Mr. Jones filled me with a nameless and unspeakable dread. Could anything have happened to him? Could he have lost his way and fallen into some hole or over some steep bank? If I drove on, we might tumble after him and perish, maimed and frozen, in the wreck of the wagon. One im- agines all sorts of horrible things when alone and helpless at night. "Papa," cried Merton, "I'll get out and look for Mr. Jones." "You are a good, brave boy," I replied. "ISTo; you hold the reins, and I'll look for him and see what is just be- fore us." At that moment there was a glimmer of light off to the left of us. RESCUED AND AT HOME 01 CHAPTER XIII RESCUED AND AT HOME ALL that the poets from the beginning of time have written about light could not express my joy as I saw that glimmer approaching on the left. Before it appeared I had been awed by the tempest, benumbed with cold, shivering in my wet clothes, and a prey to many ter- rible fears and surmises; but now I cried, "Cheer up; here comes a light.'' Then in my gladness I shouted the greeting that met Mr. Jones everywhere, "How are YOU, JOHN?" A great guffaw of laughter mingled with the howl of the storm, and my neighbor's voice followed from the ob- scurity: "That's famous — keepin' up your courage like a soldier." "Oh, I won't brag about keeping up my courage." "Guess you didn't know what had beconie of'me?" • "You're right and we didn't know what was to become of us. Now aren't we nearly home? For we are all half frozen." "Just let me spy a bit with the lantern, and I'll soon tell you everything." He bobbed back and forth for a moment or two like a will-o'-the-wisp. "Now turn sharp to the left, and follow the light." A great hope sprung up in my heart, and I hushed Win- nie's and Bobsey's crying by saying, "Listen, and you'll soon hear some good news." Our wheels crunched through the deep snow for a few moments, and soon I saw a ruddy light shining from the 62 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN window of a dwelling, and then Mr. Jones shouted, "Whoa ! 'Light down, neighbors; you're at your own door." There was a chorus of delighted cries. Merton half tumbled over me in his eagerness to get down. A door opened, and out poured a cheerful glow. Oh the delicious sense of safety and warmth given by it already ! I seized Mousie, floundered through the snow up to my knees, and placed her in a big rocking-chair. Mr. Jones followed with Winnie, and Merton came in with Bobsey on his back. The little fellow was under such headway in crying that he couldn't stop at once, although his tears were rapidly giving place to laughter. I rushed back and car- ried in my wife, and then said, in a voice a little unsteady from deep feeling, "Welcome home, one and all." JSTever did the word mean more to a half -frozen and badly frightened family. At first safety, warmth, and com- fort were the uppermost in our thoughts, but as wraps were taken off, and my wife and children thawed out, eager- eyed curiosity began to make explorations. Taking Mousie on my lap, and chafing her hands, I answered questions and enjoyed to the full the exclamations of pleasure. Mr. Jones lingered for a few moments, then gave one of his big guffaws by way of preface, and said: "Well, you do look as if you was at home and meant to stay. This 'ere scene kinder makes me homesick ; so I'll say good-night, and I'll be over in the momin'. There's some lunch on the table that my wife fixed up for you. I must go, for I hear John junior hollerin' for me." His only response to our profuse thanks was another laugh, which the wind swept away. "Who is John junior?" asked Merton. "Mr. Jones's son, a boy of about your age. He was here waiting for lis, and keeping the fire up. When we ar- rived he came out and took the horses, and so you didn't see him. He'll make a good playmate for you. To use his father's own words, ^He's a fairish boy as boys go,' and that from John Jones means that he's a good fellow." RESCUED and' AT HOME 63 Oh, what a happy group we were, as we gathered around the great, open fire, on which I piled more wood! "Do you wish to go and look around a little?'^ I asked my wife. "No," she replied, leaning back in her rocking-chair: "let me take this in first. O Robert, I have such a sense of rest, quiet, comfort, and hominess that I just want to sit still and enjoy it all. The howling of the storm only makes this place seem more like a refuge, and I'd rather hear it than the Daggetts tramping overhead and the Ricketts children crying down-stairs. Oh, isn't it nice to be by our- selves in this quaint old room ? Turn the lamp down, Robert, so we can see the firelight flicker over everything. Isn't it splendid ? — just like a picture in a book." "No picture in a book, Winifred — no artist could paint a picture that would have the charm of this one for me," I replied, leaning my elbow on the end of the mantel-piece, and looking fondly down on the little group. My wife's face looked girlish in the ruddy light. Mousie gazed into the fire with unspeakable content, and declared she was "too happy to think of taking cold." Winnie and Bobsey were sitting, Turk-fashion, on the floor, their eyelids drooping. The long cold ride had quenched even their spirit, for after running around for a few moments they began to yield to drowsiness. Merton, with a boy's appetite, was casting wist- ful glances at the lunch on the table, the chief feature of which was a roast chicken. There seemed to be no occasion for haste. I wished to let the picture sink deep into my heart. At last my wife sprang up and said : — "I've been sentimental long enough. You're not of much account in the house, Robert" — with one of her saucy looks — "and I must see to things, or Winnie and Bobsey will be asleep on the floor. I feel as if I could sit here till morn- ing, but I'll come back after the children are in bed. Come, show me my home, or at least enough of it to let m© see where we are to sleep." 64 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN "We shall have to camp again to-night. Mrs. Jones has made up the one bed left in the house, and you and Mousie shall have that. We'll ^x Winnie and Bobsey on the lounge; and, youngsters, you can sleep in your clothes, just as soldiers do on the ground. Merton and I will doze in these chairs before the fire. To-m.orrow night we can all be very comfortable." I took the lamp and led the way — my wife, Mousie, and Merton following — first across a little hall, from which one stairway led to the upper chambers and another to the cellar. Opening a door opposite the living-room, I showed Winifred her parlor. Cosey and comfortable it looked, even now, through Mr. and Mrs. Jones's kind offices. A Morning Glory stove gave out abundant warmth and a rich light which blended genially with the red colors of the carpet. "Oh, how pretty I can make this room look !" exclaimed my wife. "Of course you can : you've only to enter it." "You hurt your head when you fell out of the agon, Robert, and are a little daft. There's no place to sleep here." "Come to the room over this, warmed by a pipe from this stove." "Ah, this is capital," she cried, looking around an apart- ment which Mrs. Jones had made comfortable. "Wasn't I wise when I decided to come home ? It's just as warm as toast. Now let the wind blow-— Why, I don't hear it any more." "!N^o, the gale has blown itself out. Finding that we had escaped, it got discouraged and gave up. Connected with this room is another for Mousie and Winnie. By leav- ing the door open much of the time it will be warm enough for them. So you see this end of the house can be heated with but little trouble and expense. The open fire in the living-room is a luxury that we can afford, since there is plenty of wood on the place. On the other side of the hall RESCUED AJSD AT HOME 65 there is a room for Merton. Now do me a favor: don't look, or talk, or think, any more to-night. It has been a long, hard day. Indeed' ' — looking at my watch — "it is already to-morrow morning, and you know how much we shall have to do. Let us go back and get a little supper, and then take all the rest we can." Winifred yielded, and Bobsey and Winnie waked up for a time at the word "supper.'' Then we knelt around our hearth, and made it an altar to God, for I wished the children never to forget our need of His fatherly care and help. "I will now take the children upstairs and put them to bed, and then come back, for I can not leave this wood fire just yet," remarked my wife. I burst out laughing and said, "You have never been at home until this night, when you are camping in an old house you never saw before, and I can prove it by one question — When have you taken the children upstairs to bed before ?" "Why — why — never." "Of course you haven't — city flats all your life. But your nature is not perverted. In natural homes for gei?- erations mothers have taken their children upstairs to bed, and, forgetting the habit of your life, you speak according to the inherited instinct of the mother-heart." "O Robert, you have so many fine-spun theories! Yet it is a little queer. It seemed just as natural for me to say upstairs as — " "As it was for your mother, grandmother, and great- grandmother." "Very well. We are in such an old house that I sup- pose I shall begin to look and act like my great-grandmother. But no more theories to-night — nothing but rest and the wood fire." She soon joined me at the hearth again. Merton mean- while had stretched himself on the rag-carpet, with his over- coat for a pillow, and was in dreamless sleep. My wife's eyes were full of languor. She did not sit down, but stood ^Q DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN beside me for a moment. Then, laying her head on my shoulder, she said, softly, ^^I haven't brains enough for theo- ries and such things, but I will try to make you all happy here." "Dear little wife!" I laughed; "when has woman hit upon a higher or better wisdom than that of making all happy in her own home ? and you half asleep, too." "Then I'll bid you good-night at once, before I say some- thing awfully stupid." Soon the old house was quiet. The wind had utterly ceased. I opened the door a moment, and looked on the white, still world without. The stars glittered frostily through the rifts in the clouds. Schunemunk Mountain was a shadow along the western horizon, and the eastern high- lands banked up and blended with the clouds. Nature has its restless moods, its storms and passions, like human life; but there are times of tranquillity and peace, even in March. How different was this scene from the aspect of our city street when I had taken my farewell look at a late hour the previous night 1 !No grand sweeping outlines there, no deep quiet and peace, soothing and at the same time uplifting the mind. Even at midnight there is an uneasy fretting in city life — some one not at rest, and disturbing the repose of others. I stole silently through the house. Here, too, all seemed in accord with nature. The life of a good old man had quietly ceased in this home; new, hopeful life was begin- ning. Evil is everywhere in the world, but it seemed to me that we had as safe a nook as could be found SELF-DENIAL AND ITS REWARD 67 CHAPTEK XIV SELF-DENIAL AND ITS REWARD IEEMEMBEE little that followed until I was startled out of my chair by a loud knocking. The sunlight was streaming in at the window and John Jones's voice was at the door. "I think we have all overslept," I said, as I admitted him. ^'Not a bit of it. Every wink you've had after such a day as yesterday is like money put in the bank. But the sleighing is better now than it will be later in the day. The sun'll be pretty powerful by noon, and the snow'll soon be slush. ^N'ow's your chance to get your traps up in a hurry. I can have a two-hoss sled ready in half an hour, and if you say so I can hire a big sleigh of a neighbor, and we'll have everything here by dinner-time. After you get things snug, you won't care if the bottom does fall out of the roads for a time. Well, you have had to rough it. Merton might have come and stayed with us." "Oh, I'm all right," said the boy, rubbing his eyes open as he rose from the floor, at the same time learning from stiff joints that a carpet is not a mattress. "Nothing would suit me better, Mr. Jones, than your plan of prompt action, and I'm the luckiest man in the world in having such a long-headed, fore-handed neighbor to start with. I know you'll make a good bargain for the other team, and before I sleep to-night I wish to square up for every- thing. I mean at least to begin business in this way at Maizeville." "Oh, go slow, go slow!" said Mr. Jones. "The town 68 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN will mob you if they find youVe got ready money in March. John junior will be over with a pot of coffee and a jug of milk in a few minutes, and we'll be off sharp." There was a patter of feet overhead, and soon Bobsey came tearing down, half wild with excitement over the novelty of everything. He started for the door as if he were going head first into the snow. I caught him, and said : "Do you see that chair ? Well, we all have a busy day before us. You can help a good deal, and play a little, but you can't hinder and pester according to your own sweet will one bit. You must either obey orders or else be put under arrest and tied in the chair." To go into the chair to-day would be torture indeed, and the little fellow was sobered at once. The others soon joined us, eager to see everything by the broad light of day, and to enter upon the task of getting settled. We had scarcely come together before John junior appeared with the chief features of our breakfast. The children scanned this probable playmate very curiously, and some of us could hardly repress a smile at his appearance. He was even more sandy than his father. Indeed his hair and eyebrows were nearly white, but out of his red and almost full-moon face his mother's black eyes twinkled shrewdly. They now expressed only good-will and bashful- ness. Every one of us shook hands with him so cordially that his boy's heart was evidently won. Merton, to break the ice more fully, offered to show him his gun, which he had kept within reach ever since we left the boat. It made him feel more like a pioneer, no doubt. As he took it from its stout cloth cover I saw John junior's eyes sparkle. Evidently a deep chord was touched. He said, excitedly: "To-day's your time to try it. A rabbit can't stir without leaving his tracks, and the snow is so deep and soft that he can't get away. There's rabbits on your own place.*' "O papa," cried my boy, fairly trembling with eager- ness, "can't I go?" SELF-DENIAL AND ITS REWARD 69 "I need you very much this morning.'' *^But, papa, others will be out before me, and I may lose my chance;'' and he was half ready to cry. "Yes," I said; "there is a risk of that. Well, you shall decide in this case," I added, after a moment, seeing a chance to do a little character-building. "It is rarely best to put pleasure before business or prudence. If you go out into the snow with those boots, you will spoil them, and very prob- ably take a severe cold. Yet you may go if you will. If you help me we can be back by ten o'clock, and I will get you a pair of rubber boots as we return." "Will there be any chance after ten o'clock?" he asked, quickly. "Well," said John junior, in his matter-of-fact way, "that depends. As your pa says, there's a risk." The temptation was too strong for the moment. "O dear!" exclaimed Merton, "I may never have so good a chance again. The snow will soon melt, and there won't be any more till next winter. I'll tie my trousers down about my boots, and I'll help all the rest of the day after I get back." "Very well," I said quietly: and he began eating his breakfast — the abundant remains of our last night's lunch — very rapidly, while John junior started o£F to get his gun. I saw that Merton was ill at ease, but I made a sign to his mother not to interfere. More and more slowly he finished his breakfast, then took his gun and went to the room that would be his, to load and prepare. At last he came down and went out by another door, evidently not wish- ing to encounter me. John junior met him, and the boys were starting, when John senior drove into the yard and shouted, "John junior, step here a moment." The boy returned slowly, Merton following. "You ain't said nothin' to me about goin' off with that gun," continued Mr. Jones, severely. "Well, Merton's pa said he might go if he wanted to, and I had to go along to show him." 70 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN "That first shot wasn't exactly straight, my young friend John. I told Merton that it wasn't best to put pleasure be- fore business, but that he could go if he would. I wished to let him choose to do right, instead of making him do right.'' "Oho, that's how the land lays. Well, John junior, you can have your choice, too. You may go right on with your gun, but you know the length and weight of that strap at home. Now, will you help me? or go after rabbits?" The boy grinned pleasantly, and replied, "If you had said I couldn't go, I wouldn't; but if it's choosin' between shootin' rabbits and a strappin' afterward — come along, Merton." "Well, go along then," chuckled his father; "you've made your bargain square, and I'll keep my part of it." "Oh, hang the rabbits! You shan't have any strapping on my account," cried Merton; and he carried his gun res- olutely to his room and locked the door on it. John junior quietly went to the old barn, and hid his gun. "Gruess I'll go with you, pa," he said, joining us. "Ha, ha, ha 1" laughed Mr. Jones. "It was a good bar- gain to back out of. Come now, let's all be off as quick as we can. Neighbor Kollins down the road will join us as we go along." "Merton," I said, "see if there isn't a barrel of apples in the cellar. If you find one, you can fill your pockets." He soon returned with bulging pockets and a smiling face, feeling that such virtue as he had shown had soon brought reward. My wife said that while we were gone she and the children would explore the house and plan how to arrange everything. We started in good spirits. "Here's where you thought you was cast away last night," Mr. Jones remarked, as we passed out of the lane. The contrast made by a few short hours was indeed won- derful. Then, in dense obscurity, a tempest had howled and shrieked about us; now, in the unclouded sunshine, a gemmed and sparkling world revealed beauty everywhere. For a long distance our sleighs made the first tracks, SELF-DENIAL AND ITS REWARD H and it seemed almost a pity to sully the purity of the white, drift-covered road. ^^What a lot of mud's hid under this snow!" was John Jones's prose over the opening vistas. "What's more, it will show itself before night. We can beat all creation at mud in Maizeville, when once we set about it.'' Merton laughed, and munched his apples, but I saw that he was impressed by winter scenery such as he had never looked upon before. Soon, however, he and John junior were deep in the game question, and I noted that the latter kept a sharp lookout along the roadside. Before long, while passing a thicket, he shouted, "There's tracks," and floun- dered out into the snow, Merton following. "Oh, come back," growled his father. "Let the boys have a few moments," I said. "They gave up this morning about as well as you could expect of boys. Would Junior have gone and taken a strapping if Merton hadn't returned?" "Yes, indeed he would, and he knows my strappin's are no make-believe. That boy has no sly, mean tricks to speak of, but he's as tough and obstinate as a mule sometimes, especially about shooting and fishing. See him now a-p'intin' for that rabbit, like a hound." True enough, the boy was showing good woodcraft. Re- straining Merton, he cautiously approached the tracks, which by reason of the lightness and depth of the snow were not very distinct. "He can't be far away," said Junior, excitedly. "Don't go too fast till I see which way he was a-p'intin'. We don't want to follow the tracks back, but for'ard. See, he came out of that old wall there, he went to these bushes and nibbled some twigs, and here he goes — here he went — here — here — yes, he went into the wall again just here. Kow, Merton, watch this hole while I jump over the other side of the fence and see if he comes out again. If he makes a start, grab him." John Jones and I were now almost as excited as the boys, 72 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN and Mr. Rollins, the neighbor who was following us, was standing up in his sleigh to see the sport. It came quickly; As if by gome instinct the rabbit believed Junior to be the more dangerous, and made a break from the wall almost at Merton's feet, with such swiftness and power as to dash by him like a shot. The first force of its bound over, it was caught by nature's trap — snow too deep and soft to admit of rapid running. John Jones soon proved that Junior came honestly by his passion for hunting. In a moment he was floundering through the bushes with his son and Merton. In such pur- suit of game my boy had the advantage, for he was as agile as a cat. But a moment or two elapsed before he caught up with the rabbit, and threw himself upon it, then rose, white as a snow-man, shouting triumphantly and holding the little creature aloft by its ears. "IN'ever rate Junior for hunting again," I said, laugh- ingly, to Mr. Jones. "He's a chip of the old block.'' "I rather guess he is," my neighbor acknowledged, with a grin. "I own up I used to be pretty hot on such larkin'. We all keep forgettin' we was boys once." As we rode on, Merton was a picture of exultation, and Junior was on the sharp lookout again. His father turned on him and said: "Now look a' here, enough's as good as a feast. I'll blindfold you if you don't let the tracks alone. Mrs. Durham wants her things, so she can begin to live. Get up there;" and a crack of the whip ended all further hopes on the part of the boys. But they felt well repaid for coming, and Merton assured Junior that he deserved half the credit, for only he knew how to manage the hunt. OUR SUNNY KITCHEN 73 CHAPTEK XV OUR SUNNY KITCHEN BEFOEE we reached the landing I had invested a goodly sum in four pairs of rubber boots, for I knew how hopeless it would be to try to keep Winnie and Bobsey indoors. As for Mousie, she would have to be •prudent until the ground should become dry and warm. There is no need of dwelling long on the bringing home of our effects and the getting to rights. We were back soon after ten, and found that Winnie and Bobsey, having exhausted the resources of the house, had been permitted to start at the front door, and, with an old fire-shovel and a piece of board, had well-nigh completed a path to the well, piling up the snow as they advanced, so that their over- shoes were a sufficient protection. After we had carried in the things I interceded with Mr. Jones and then told the boys that they could take their guns and be absent two or three hours if they would promise to help faithfully the rest of the day. I had bought at Maizeville Landing such provisions, tools, etc., as I should need immediately. Therefore I did not worry because the fickle March sky was clouding up again with the promise of rain. A heavy downpour now with snow upon the ground would cause almost a flood, but I felt that we could shut the door and find the old house a very comfortable ark. "A smart warm rain would be the best thing that could happen to yer," said Mr. Jones, as he helped me carry in furniture and put up beds; ^^it would take the snow off. 74 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN E'at'rally you want to get out on the bare ground, for there's alius a lot of clearin' up to be done in the spring and old man Jamison was poorly last year and didn't keep things up to the mark." "Yes," I replied, "I am as eager to get to work out- doors as the boys were to go after rabbits. I believe I shall like the work, but that is not the question. I did not come to the country to amuse myself, like so many city people. I don't blame them; I wish I could afford farming for fun. I came to earn a living for my wife and children, and I am anxious to be about it. I won't ask you for any- thing except advice. I've only had a city training, and my theories about farming would perhaps make you smile. But I've seen enough of you already to feel that you are inclined to be kind and neighborly, and the best way to show this will be in helping me to good, sound, practical, common-sense advice. But you mustn't put on airs, or be impatient with me. Shrewd as you are, I could show you some things in the city." "Oh, I'd be a sight queerer there than you here. I see your p'int, and if you'll come to me I won't let you make no blunders I wouldn't make myself. Perhaps that ain't saying a great deal, though." By this time everything had been brought in and either put in place or stowed out of the way, until my wife could decide where and how she would arrange things. "ISTow," I said, when we had finished, "carry out our agreement." Mr. Jones gave me a wink and drove away. Our agreement was this — ^first, that he and Mr. Kol- lins, the owner of the other team, should be paid in full before night; and second, that Mrs. Jones should furnish us our din- ner, in which the chief dish should be a pot-pie from the rabbit caught by Merton, and that Mr. Jones should bring everything over at one o'clock. My wife was so absorbed in unpacking her china, kitchen- utensils, and groceries that she was unaware of the flight of OUR SUNNY KITCHEN 75 time, but at last she suddenly exclaimed, "I declare it's din- ner-time !" ''E'ot quite yet," I said; "dinner will be ready at one." "It will? Oh, indeed! since we are in the country we are to pick up what we can, like the birds. You intend to invite us all down to the apple barrel, perhaps." "Certainly, whenever you wish to go; but we'll have a hot dinner at one o'clock, and a game dinner into the bar- gain." "I've heard the boys' guns occasionally, but I haven't seen the game, and it's after twelve now." "Papa has a secret — a surprise for us," cried Mousie; "I can see it in his eyes." "E'ow, Eobert, I know what you've been doing. You have asked Mrs. Jones to furnish a dinner. You are extrav- agant, for I could have picked up something that would have answered." "]^o; I've been very prudent in saving your time and strength, and saving these is sometimes the best economy in the world. Mousie is nearer right. The dinner is a secret, and it has been furnished chiefly by one of the family." "Well, I'm too busy to guess riddles to-day; but if my appetite is a guide, it is nearly time we had your secret." "You would not feel like that after half an hour over a hot stove. !N'ow you will be interrupted, in getting to rights, only long enough to eat your dinner. Then Mousie and Merton and Winnie will clear up everything, and be- fore night you will feel settled enough to take things easy till to-morrow." "I know your thoughtfulness for me, if not your secret," she said, gratefully, and was again putting things where, from housewifely experience, she knew they would be handy. Mr. and Mrs. Jamison had clung to their old-fashioned ways, and had done their cooking over the open fire, using the swinging crane which is now employed chiefly in pic- 76 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN tures. This, for the sake of the picture it made, we pro- posed to keep as it had been left, although at times it might answer some more prosaic purpose. At the eastern end of the house was a single room, added unknown years ago, and designed to be a bed-chamber. Of late it had been used as a general storage and lumber room, and when I first inspected the house, I had found little in this apartment of service to us. So I had asked Mr. Jones to remove all that I did not care for, and to have the room cleansed, satisfied that it would just suit my wife as a kitchen. It was large, having windows facing the east and south, and therefore it would be light and cheerful, as a kitchen ever should be, especially when the mistress of the house is cook. There Mr. Jones and I set up the excellent stove that I had brought from New York — one to which my wife was accustomed, and from which she could conjure a rare good dinner when she gave her mind to it. !Now as she moved back and forth, in such sunlight as the cloud- ing sky permitted, she appeared the picture of pleased con- tent. "It cheers one up to enter a kitchen like this," she said. "It is to be your garden for a time also," I exclaimed to Mousie. "I shall soon have by this east window a table with shallow boxes of earth, and in them you can plant some of your flower-seeds. I only ask that I may have two of the boxes for early cabbages, lettuce, tomatoes, etc. You and your plants can take a sun-bath every morning until it is warm enough to go out of doors, and you'll find the plants won't die here as they did in the dark, gas-poisoned city flat." "I feel as if I were going to grow faster and stronger than the plants," cried the happy child. Junior and Merton now appeared, each carrying a rab- bit. My boy's face, however, wasi clouded, and he said, a little despondently, "I can't shoot straight — missed every time ; and Junior shot 'em after I had fired and missed." "Pshaw!" cried Junior; "Merton's got to learn to take ; ' OUR SUNNY KITCHEN 77 a quick steady sight, like every one else. He gets too ex- cited/' "That's just it, my boy," I said. "You shall go down by the creek and fire at a mark a few times every day, and you'll soon hit it every time. Junior's head is too level to think that anything can be done well without practice. Now, Junior," I added, "run over home and help your father bring us our dinner, and then you stay and help us eat it." Eather and son soon appeared, well laden. Winnie and Bobsey came in ravenous from their path-making, and all agreed that we had already grown one vigorous rampant Maizeville crop — an appetite. The pot-pie was exulted over, and the secret of its ex- istence explained. Even Junior laughed till the tears came as I described him, his father, and Merton, floundering through the deep snow after the rabbit, and we all congratu- lated Merton as the one who had provided our first country dinner. 73 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN CHAPTEE XVI MAKING A PLACE FOR CHICKENS BEFOKE the meal was over, I said, seriously, "ITow, boys, there must be no more hunting until I find out about the game-laws. They should be obeyed, espe- cially by sportsmen. I don't think that we are forbidden to kill rabbits on our own place, particularly when they threaten to be troublesome; and the hunt this morning was so unexpected that I did not think of the law, which might be used to make us trouble. You killed the other rabbits on this place. Junior?" "Yes, sir, both of 'em." "Well, hereafter you must look after hawks, and other enemies of poultry. Especially do I hope you will never fire at our useful song-birds. If boys throughout the country would band together to protect game when out of season,, they would soon have fine sport in the autumn." In the afternoon we let Winnie and Bobsey expend their energy in making paths and lanes in every direction through the snow, which was melting rapidly in the south wind. By three o'clock the rain began to fall, and when darkness set in there was a gurgling sound of water on every side. Our crackling fire made the warmth and com- fort within seem tenfold more cheery. A hearty supper, prepared in our own kitchen, made us feel that our home machinery had fairly started, and we knew that it would run more and more smoothly. March was keeping up its bad name for storm and change. The wind was again roaring, but laden now with rain, and in MAKING A PLACE FOR CHICKENS 79 gusty sheets the heavy drops dashed against the windows. But our old house kept us dry and safe, although it rocked a little in the blasts. They soon proved a lullaby for our second night at home. After breakfast the following morning, with Merton, Winnie, and Bobsey, I started out to see if any damage had been done. The sky was still clouded, but the rain had ceased. Our rubber boots served us well, for the earth was like an over-full sponge, while down every little incline and hollow a stream was murmuring. The old barn showed the need of a good many nails to be driven here and there, and a deal of mending. Then it would answer for corn-stalks and other coarse fodder. The new barn had been fairly built, and the interior was dry. It still contained as much hay as would be needed for the keeping of a horse and cow until the new crop should be harvested. "Papa," cried Winnie, "where is the chicken place ?" "That is one of the questions we must settle at once," I replied. "As we were coming out I saw an old coop in the orchard. We'll go and look at it." It was indeed old and leaky, and had poultry been there the previous night they would have been half drowned on their perches. "This might do for a summer cottage for your chickens, Winnie," I continued, "but never for a winter house. Let us go back to the barn, for I think I remember a place that will just suit, with some changes." Now the new barn had been built on a hillside, and had an ample basement, from which a room extending well into the bank had been partitioned, thus promising all one could desire as a cellar for apples and roots. The entrance to this basement faced the east, and on each side of it was a win- dow. To the right of the entrance were two cow-stalls, and to the left was an open space half full of mouldy corn- stalks and other rubbish. "See here, Winnie and Merton," I said, after a little examination, "I think we could clear out this space on the Roe— IX—S 80 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN left, partition it off, make a door, and keep the chickens here. After that window is washed, a good deal of sun- light can come in. Tve read that in cold weather poultry need warmth and light, and must be kept dry. Here we can secure all these conditions. Having a home for ourselves, suppose we set to work to make a home for the chickens." This idea delighted Winnie, and pleased Merton almost as much as hunting rabbits. "Now," I resumed, "we will go to the house and get what we need for the work." "Winifred," I said to my wife, "can you let Winnie have a small pail of hot water and some old rags?" "What are you up to now?" "You know all about cleaning house; we are going to clean barn, and make a place for Winnie^s chickens. There is a window in their future bedroom — roost-room I suppose I should call it — that looks as if it had never been washed, and to get off the dust of years will be Winnie's task, while Merton, Bobsey, and I create an interior that should satisfy a knowing hen. We'll make nests, too, children, that will suggest to the biddies that they should proceed at once to business." "But where are the chickens to come from?" my wife asked, as she gave the pan to Merton to carry for his sister. "Oh, John Jones will put me in the way of getting them soon;" and we started out to our morning's work. Mousie looked after us wistfully, but her mother soon found light tasks for her, and she too felt that she was helping. "Re- member, Mousie," I said, in parting, "that I have three helpers, and surely mamma needs one;" and she was con- tent. Merton at first was for pitching all the old corn-stalks out into the yard, but I said: "That won't do. We shall need a cow as well as chickens, and these stalks must be kept dry for her bedding. We'll pile them up in the inner empty stall. You can help at that, Bobsey;" and we set ,to work. Under Winnie's quick hands more and more light came through the window. With a fork I lifted and shook up MAKING A PLACE FOB CHICKENS 81 the stalks, and the boys carried them to the empty stall. At last we came to rubbish that was so damp and decayed that it would be of no service indoors, so we placed it on a barrow and I wheeled it out to one corner of the yard. At last we came down to a hard earth floor, and with a hoe this was cleared and made smooth. "Merton," I said, "I saw an old broom upstairs. Run and get it, and we'll brush down the cobwebs and sweep out, and then we shall be ready to see about the partition." 82 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN CHAPTEK XVII GOOD BARGAINS IN MAPLE SUGAR BY eleven o'clock we had all the basement cleaned with litter; and Winnie had washed the windows, except the one cow-stall that was filled to the ceiling Then John Jones's lank figure darkened the doorway, and he cried, "Hello, neighbor, what ye drivin' at?" "Look around and see, and then tell us where to get a lot of chickens." "Well, I declare! How you've slicked things up! You're not goin' to scrub the dirt floor, are you? Well, well, this looks like business — ^just the place for chickens. Wonder old man Jamison didn't keep 'em here; but Ke didn't care for fowls. ISTow I think of it, there's to be a vandoo the first of the week, and there was a lot o' chickens printed on the poster." I smiled. "Oh, I don't mean that the chickens themselves was on the poster, but a statement that a lot would be sold at auction. I'll bid 'em in for you if they're a good lot. If you, a city chap, was to bid, some straw-bidder would raise 'em agin you. I know what they're wuth, and everybody there'll know I do, and they'll try no sharp games with me." "That will suit me exactly, Mr. Jones. I don't want any game-fowls of that kind." "Ha, ha! I see the p'int. Have you looked into the root-cellar ?" "Yes ; we opened the door and looked, but it was dark as a pocket." "Well, I don't b'lieve in matches around a barn, but I'll A BARGAIN IN MAPLE SUGAR 83 show you something;" and he opened the door, struck a match, and, holding it aloft, revealed a heap of turnips, another of carrots, five barrels of potatoes, and three of apples. The children pounced upon the last with appetites sharpened by their morning's work. ^*You see," resumed Mr. Jones, "these were here when old man Jamison died. If I hadn't sold the place I should have taken them out before long, and got rid of what I didn't want. Now you can have the lot at a low figure," which he named. *^I'll take them," I said, promptly. "The carrots make it look like a gold-mine," cried Merton. "Well, you're wise," resumed Mr. Jones. "You'll have to get a cow and a horse, and here's fodder for 'em handy. Perhaps I can pick 'em out for you, too, at the vandoo. You can go along, and if anything strikes your fancy I'll bid on it." "O papa," cried the children, in chorus, "can we go with you to the vandoo?" "Yes, I think so. When does the sale take place?" ^^Next Tuesday. That's a good breed of potatoes. Jami- son alius had the best of everything. They'll furnish you with seed, and supply your table till new ones come. I guess you could sell a barrel or so of apples at a rise." "I've found a market for them already. Look at these children ; and I'm good for half a barrel myself if they don't decay too soon. Where could we find better or cheaper food ? All the books say that apples are fattening." "That's true of man and beast^ if the books do say iU They'll keep in this cool, dark cellar longer than you'd things — longer than you'll let 'em, from the way they're disappear- in'. I guess I'll try one." "Certainly, a dozen, just as if they were still yours." "They wasn't mine — they belonged to the Jamison estate. I'll help myself now quicker'n r> would before. I might come it over a live man, you know, but not a dead one." 84 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN "Fd trust you with either.'^ While I was laughing at this phase of honesty, he re- sumed : "This is the kind of place to keep apples — cool, dry, dark, even temperature. Why, they're as crisp and juicy as if just off the trees. I came over to make a suggestion. There's a lot of sugar-maple trees on your place, down by the brook. Why not tap 'em, and set a couple of pots b'ilin' over your open fire? You'd kill two birds with one stone; the fire'd keep you warm, and make a lot of sugar in the bargain. I opinion, too, the children would like the fun." They were already shouting over the idea, but I said dubiously, "How about the pails to catch the sap?" "Well," said Mr. Jones, "I've thought of that. We've a lot of spare milk-pails and pans, that we're not usin'. Junior understands the business; and, as we're not very busy, he can help you and take his pay in sugar." The subject of poultry was forgotten; and the chil- dren scampered off to the house to tell of this new project. Before Mr. Jones and I left the basement, he said ; "You don't want any partition here at present, only a few perches for the fowls. There's a fairish shed, you remember, in the upper barnyard, and when 'tain't very cold or stormy the cow will do well enough there from this out. The weather'll be growin' milder 'most every day, and in rough spells you can put her in here. Chickens won't do her any harm. Law sakes ! when the main conditions is right, what's the use of havin' everything jes' so? It's more important to save your time and strength and money. You'll find enough to do without one stroke that ain't needful." Thus John Jones fulfilled his office of mentor. BUTTERNUTS AND BO BSE Y 8 PERIL 85 CHAPTER XVin BUTTERNUTS AND BOBSEY'S PERIL IEESTRAESTED the children until after dinner, which my wife hastened. By that time Junior was on hand with a small wagon-load of pails and pans. "Oh, dear, I wanted you to help me this afternoon," my wife had said, but, seeing the dismayed look on the chil- dren's faces, had added, ^'Well, there's no hurry, I suppose. We are comfortable, and we shall have stormy days when you can't be out." I told her that she was wiser than the queen of Sheba and did not need to go to Solomon. The horse was put in the barn, for he would have mired in the long spongy lane and the meadow which we must cross. So we decided to run the light wagon down by hand. Junior had the auger with which to bore holes in the trees. "I tapped 'em last year, as old Mr. Jamison didn't care about doin' it," said the boy, "an' I b'iled the pot of sap down in the grove ; but that was slow, cold work. I saved the little wooden troughs I used last year, and they are in one of the pails. I brought over a big kittle, too, which mother let me have, and if we can keep this and yours a-goin', we'll soon have some sugar. 'Away we went, down the lane, Junior and Merton in the shafts, playing horses. I pushed in some places, and held back in others, while Winnie and Bobsey picked their way between puddles and quagmires. The snow was so nearly gone that it lay only on the northern slopes. We had heard the deep roar of the Moodna Creek all the morning, and had meant to go and see it right after breakfast; but providing a chicken- 86 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN home had proved a greater attraction to the children, and a better investment of time for me. J^ow from the top of the last hillside we saw a great flood rushing by with a hoarse, surging noise. ^ ^Winnie, Bobsey, if you go near the water without me you march straight home/' I cried. They promised never to go, but I thought Bobsey pro- tested a little too much. Away we went down the hill, skirting what was now a good-sized brook. I knew the trees, from a previous visit; and the maple, when once known, can be picked out anywhere, so genial, mellow, and gener- ous an aspect has it, even when leafless. The roar of the creek and the gurgle of the brook made genuine March music, and the children looked and acted as if th«re were nothing left to be desired. When Junior showed them a tree that appeared to be growing directly out of a flat rock, they expressed a wonder which no museum could have excited. But scenery, and even rural marvels, could not keep their attention long. All were intent on sap and sugar, and Junior was speedily at work. The moment he broke the brittle, juicy bark, the tree's life-blood began to flow. "See," he cried, "they are like cows wanting to be milked." As fast as he inserted his little wooden troughs into the trees, we placed pails and pans under them, and began har- vesting the first crop from our farm. This was rather slow work, and to keep Winnie and Bob- sey busy I told them they could gather sticks and leaves, pile them up at the foot of a rock on a dry hillside, and we would have a fire. I meanwhile picked up the dead branches that strewed the ground, and with my axe trimmed them for use in summer, when only a quick blaze would be needed to boil the supper kettle. To city-bred eyes wood seemed a rare luxury, and although there was enough lying about to supply us for a year, I could not get over the feeling that it must all be cared for. BUTTERNUTS AND BOBSEY'S PERIL 87 To children there are few greater delights than that of building a fire in the woods, and on that cloudy, chilly day our blaze against the rock brought solid comfort to us all, even though the smoke did get into our eyes. Winnie and Bobsey, little bundles of energy that they were, seemed un- wearied in feeding the flames, while Merton sought to hide his excitement by imitating Junior's stolid, business-like ways. Finding him alone once, I said: "Merton, don't you re- member paying to me once, ^I'd like to know what there is for a boy to do in this street'? Don't you think there's something for a boy to do on this farm?" "O papa!" he cried, "I'm just trying to hold in. So much has happened, and I've had such a good time, that it seems as if I had been here a month ; then again the hours pass like minutes. See, the sun is low already." "It's all new and exciting now, Merton, but there will be long hours — ^yes, days and weeks — when you'll have to act like a man, and to do work because it ought to be done and must be done." "The same would be true if we stayed in town," he said. Soon I decided that it was time for the younger children to .return, for I meant to give my wife all the help I could, before bedtime. We first hauled the wagon back, and then Merton said he would bring what sap had been caught. Junior had to go home for a time to do his evening "chores," but he promised to return before dark to help carry in the sap. "There'll be frost to-night, and we'll get the biggest run in the morning," was hia encouraging remark, as he made ready to depart. Mrs. Jones had been over to see my wife, and they prom- ised to become good friends. I set to work putting things in better shape, and bringing in a good pile of wood. Mer- ton soon appeared with a brimming pail. A kettle was hung on the crane, but before the sap was placed over the fire all must taste it, just as it had been distilled by nature. And 88 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN all were quickly satisfied. Even Mousie said it was "too watery,'^ and Winnie made a face as she exclaimed, "I de- clare, Merton, I believe you filled the pails from the brook !" "Patience, youngsters; sap, as well as some other things, is better for boiling down." "Oh what a remarkable truth !" said my wife, who never lost a chance to give me a little dig. I laughed, and then stood still in the middle of the floor^ lost in thought. "A brown study! What theory have you struck now, Kobert?" "I was thinking how some women kept their husbands in love with them by being saucy. It's an odd way, and yet it seems effective." "It depends upon the kind of sauce, Kobert," she said with a knowing glance and a nod. By the time it was dark, we had both the kettles boiling and bubbling over the fire, and fine music they made. With Junior for guest, we enjoyed our supper, which consisted principally of baked apples and milk. '"Bubble, bubble,' 'Toil' and no 'trouble'—' ' "Yet, worth speaking of," said my wife; "but it must come, I suppose." "We won't go half-way to meet it, Winifred." . When the meal was over. Junior went out on the porch and returned with a mysterious sack. "Butternuts!" he ejaculated. Junior was winning his way truly, and in the children's eyes was already a good genius, as his father was in mine. "O papa !" was the general cry, "can't we crack them on the hearth?" "But you'll singe your very eyebrows off," I said. "Mine's so white 'twouldn't matter," said Junior; "no- BUTTERNUTS AND BOBSEV'S PERIL 89 body'd miss 'em. Give me a hammer, and 111 keep you goin\" And he did, on one of the stones of the hearth, with such a lively rat-tat-snap! that it seemed a regular rhythm. "Cracked in my life well-nigh on to fifty bushel, I guess," he explained, in answer to our wonder at his skill. And so the evening passed, around the genial old fire- place; and before the children retired they smacked their lips over sirup sweet enough to satisfy them. The following morning — Saturday — I vibrated between the sugar-camp and the barn and other out-buildings, giving, however, most of the time to the help of my wife in getting the house more to her mind, and in planning some work that would require a brief visit from a carpenter ; for I felt that I must soon bestow nearly all my attention on the outdoor work. I managed to keep Bobsey under my eye for the most part, and in the afternoon I left him for only a few mo- ments at the sugar-bush while I carried up some sap. A man called to see me on business, and I was detained. Knowing the little fellow's proneness to mischief, and forgetfulness of all commands, I at last hastened back with a half guilty and worried feeling. I reached the brow of the hill just in time to see him throw a stick into the creek, lose his balance, and fall in. With an exclamation of terror, his own cry forming a faint echo, I sprang forward frantically, but the swift cur- rent caught and bore him away. 00 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN CHAPTEK XIX JOHN JONES, JUN MY agonized shout as I saw Bobsey swept away by the swollen current of the Moodna Creek was no more prompt than his own shrill scream. It so happened, or else a kind Providence so ordered it, that Junior was further down the stream, tapping a maple that had been overlooked the previous day. He sprang to his feet, whirled around in the direction of the little boy's cry, with the quick- ness of thought rushed to the bank and plunged in with a headlong leap like a Newfoundland dog. I paused, spell- bound, to watch him, knowing that I was much too far away to be of aid, and that all now depended on the hardy country lad. He disappeared for a second beneath the tide, and then his swift strokes proved that he was a good swimmer. In a moment or two he caught up with Bobsey, for the current was too swift to permit the child to sink. Then, with a wis- dom resulting from experience, he let the torrent carry him in a long slant toward the shore, for it would have been hope- less to try to stem the tide. Running as I never ran before, I followed, reached the bank where there was an eddy in the stream, sprang in up to my waist, seized them both as they ap- proached and dragged them to solid ground. Merton and Winnie meanwhile stood near with white, scared faces. Bobsey was conscious, although he had swallowed some water, and I was soon able to restore him, so that he could stand on his feet and cry : "I — I — I w-won't d-do so any — any more." Instead of punishing him, which he evidently expected, I JOHN JONES, JUN. 91 clasped him to my heart with a nervous force that almost made him cry out with pain. Junior, meanwhile, had coolly seated himself on a rock, emptied the water out of his shoes, and was tying them on again, at the same time striving with all his might to maintain a stolid composure under Winnie's grateful embraces and Morton's interrupting hand-shakings. But when, having be- come assured of Bobsey's safety, I rushed forward and em- braced Junior in a transport of gratitude, his lip began to quiver and two great tears mingled with the water that was dripping from his hair. Suddenly he broke away, took to his heels, and ran toward his home, as if he had been caught in some mischief and the constable were after him. I believe that he would rather have had at once all the strappings his father had ever given him than to have cried in our pres- ence. I carried Bobsey home, and his mother, with many ques- tionings and exclamations of thanksgiving, undressed the little fellow, wrapped him in flannel, and put him to bed, where he was soon sleeping as quietly as if nothing had happened. Mrs. Jones came over, and we made her rubicund face beam and grow more round, if possible, as we all praised her boy. I returned with her, for I felt that I wished to thank Junior again and again. But he saw me coming, and slipped out at the back door. Indeed, the brave, bashful boy was shy of us for several days. When at last my wife got hold of him, and spoke to him in a manner natural to mothers, he pooh-poohed the whole affair. "I've swum in that crick so often that it was nothin' to me. I only had to keep cool, and that was easy enough in snow water, and the swift current would keep us both up. I wish you wouldn't say anything more about it. It kinder makes me feel — I don't know how — all over, you know." But Junior soon learned that we had adopted him into our inmost hearts, although he compelled us to show our good-will after his own off-hand fashion. 92 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN Sunday was ushered in with another storm, and we spent a long, quiet, restful day, our hearts full of thankfulness that the great sorrow, which might have darkened the be- ginning of our country life, had been so happily averted. On Sunday night the wind veered around to the north, and on Monday morning the sky had a clear metallic hue and the ground was frozen hard. Bobsey had not taken cold, and was his former self, except that he was somewhat chast- ened in spirit and his bump of caution was larger. I was resolved that the day should witness a good beginning of our spring work, and told Winnie and Bobsey that they could help me. Junior, although he yet avoided the house, was ready enough to help Merton with the sap. Therefore soon after breakfast we all were busy. Around old country places, especially where there has been some degree of neglect, much litter gathers. This was true of our new home and its surroundings. All through the garden were dry, unsightly weeds, about the house was shrubbery that had become tangled masses of unpruned growth, in the orchard the ground was strewn with fallen branches, and I could see dead limbs on many of the trees. Therefore I said to my two little helpers: ^^Here in this open space in the garden we will begin our brush-pile, and we will bring to it all the refuse that we wish to burn. You see that we can make an immense heap, for the place is so far away from any buildings that, when the wind goes down, we can set the pile on fire in safety, and the ashes will do the garden good.'^ During the whole forenoon I pruned the shrubbery, and raked up the rubbish which the children carried by arm- fuls to our prospective bonfire. They soon wished to see the blaze, but I told them that the wind was too high, and that I did not propose to apply the match until we had a heap half as big as the house; that it might be several days before we should be ready, for I intended to have a tre- mendous fire. Thus with the lesson of restraint was given the hope of JOHN JONES, JUN 93 something wonderful. For a long time they were pleased with the novelty of the work, and then they wanted to do something else, but I said : "No, no ; you are gardeners now, and I'm head gardener. You must both help me till dinner- time. After that you can do something else, or play if you choose; but each day, even Bobsey must do some steady work to earn his dinner. We didn't come to the country on a pic- nic, I can tell you. All must do their best to help make a living ;" and so without scruple I kept my little squad busy, for the work was light, although it had become monotonous. ^ Mousie sometimes aided her mother, and again watched us from the window with great interest. I rigged upon the barrow a rack, in which I wheeled the rubbish gathered at a distance ; and by the time my wife's mellow voice called, "Come to dinner" — how sweet her voice and summons were after long hours in the keen March wind! — we had a pile much higher than my head, and the place began to wear a tidy aspect. Such appetites, such red cheeks and rosy noses as the outdoor workers brought to that plain meal! Mousie was much pleased with the promise that the bonfire should not be lighted until some still, mild day when she could go out and stand with me beside it. Merton admitted that gathering the sap did not keep him busy more than half the time ; so after dinner I gave him a hatchet, and told him to go on with the trimming out of the fallen branches in our wood lot — a task that I had begun — and to carry all wood heavy enough for our fireplace to a spot where it could be put into a wagon. "Your next work, Merton, will be to collect all your refuse trimmings, and the brush lying about, into a few great heaps ; and by and by we'll burn these, too, and gather up the ashes carefully, for I've read and heard all my life that there is nothing better for fruit then wood-ashes. Some day, I hope, we can begin to put money in the bank; for I intend to give all a chance to earn money for them- selves, after they have done their share toward our general 94 ' DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN effort to live and thrive. The next best thing to putting money in the bank is the gathering and saving of every- thing that will make the ground richer. In fact, all the papers and books that IVe read this winter agree that as the farmer's land grows rich he grows rich.'' RASPBERRY LESSONS 95 CHAPTEE XX RASPBERRY LESSONS IT must be remembered that I had spent all my leisure during the winter in reading and studying the prob- lem of our country life. Therefore I knew that March was the best month for pruning trees, and I had gained a fairly correct idea how to do this work. Until within the last two or three years of his life, old Mr. Jamison had at- tended to this task quite thoroughly; and thus little was left for me beyond sawing away the boughs that had recently died, and cutting out the useless sprouts on the larger limbs. Before leaving the city I had provided myself with such tools as I was sure I should need; and finding a ladder under a shed, I attacked the trees vigorously. The wind had almost died out, and I knew I must make the most of all still days in this gusty month. After playing around for a time, Winnie and Bobsey concluded that gathering and pil- ing up my prunings would be as good fun as anything else; and so I had helpers again. By the middle of the afternoon Mr. Jones appeared, and I was glad to see him, for there were some kinds of work about which I wanted his advice. At one end of the garden were several rows of blackcap raspberry bushes, which had grown into an awful snarl. The old canes that had borne fruit the previous season were still standing, ragged and unsightly; the new stalks that would bear the coming sfeason sprawled in every direction ; and I had found that many tips of the branches had grown fast in the ground. I took my neighbor to see this briery wilderness, and asked his advice. 96 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN "Have you got a pair of pruning-nippers ?'' he asked. Before going to the house to get them, I blew a shrill whistle to summon Merton, for I wished him also to hear all that Mr. Jones might say. I carried a little metallic whistle one blast on which was for Merton, two for Winnie, and three for Bobsey. When they heard this call they were to come as fast as their feet could carry them. Taking the nippers, Mr. Jones snipped off from one- third to one-half the length of the branches from one of the bushes and cut out the old dead cane. "I raise these berries myself for home use," he said; "and I can tell you they go nice with milk for a July sup- per. You see, after taking off so much from these long branches the canes stand straight up, and will be self-support- ing, no matter how many berries they bear; but here and there's a bush that has grown slant-wise, or is broken off. Kow, if I was you, I'd take a crow-bar 'n' make a hole 'long- side these weakly, and slantin' fellers, put in a stake, and tie 'em up strong. Then, soon as the frost yields, if you'll get out the grass and weeds that's started among 'em, you'll have a dozen bushel or more of marketable berries from this 'ere wilderness, as you call it. Give Merton a pair of old gloves, and he can da most of the job. Every tip that's fast in the ground is a new plant. If you want to set out another patch, I'll show you how later on." "I think I know pretty nearly how to do that." "Yes, yes, I know. Books are a help, I s'pose, but after you've seen one plant set out right, you'll know more than if you'd 'a' read a month." "Well, now that you're here, Mr. Jones, I'm going to make the most of you. How about those other raspberries off to the southeast of the house?" "Those are red ones. Let's take a look at 'em." Having reached the patch, we found almost as bad a tangle as in the blackcap patch, except that the canes were more upright in their growth and less full of spines or briers. RASPBERRY LESSONS 97 *^It^s plain enough," continued Mr. Jones, ^^that old man Jamison was too poorly to take much care of things last year. You see, these red raspberries grow different from those black ones yonder. Those increase by the tips of the branches takin' root; these by suckers. All these young shoots comin' up between the rows are suckers, and they ought to be dug out. As I said before, you can set them out somewhere else if you want to. Dig 'em up, you know ; make a trench in some out-of-the-way place, and bury the roots till you want 'em. Like enough the neighbors will buy some if they know you have 'em to spare. Only be sure to cut these long canes back to within six inches of the ground." "Yes," I said, "that's all just as I have read in the books," "So much the better for the books, then. I haven't lived in this f ruit-growinr' region all my life without gettin' some ideas as to what's what. I give my mind to farmin'; but Jamison and I were great cronies, and I used to be over here every day or two, and so it's natural to keep comin'." "That's my good Inck." "Well, p'raps it'll turn out so. J^ow Merton's just the right age to help you in all this work. Jamison, you see, grew these raspberries in a continuous bushy row; that is, say, three good strong canes every eighteen inches apart in the row, and the rows five feet apart, so he could run a horse-cultivator between. Are you catchin' on, Merton?" "Yes, sir," said the boy, with much interest. "Well, all these suckers and extra plants that are swamp- in' the ground are just as bad as weeds. Dig 'em all out, only don't disturb the roots of the bearin' canes you leave in the rows much." "How about trimming these ?" I asked. "Well, that depends. If you want early fruit, you'll let 'em stand as they be ; if you want big berries, you'll cut 'em back one-third. Let me see. Here's five rows of High- land Hardy; miserable poor-tastin' kind; but they come so early that they often pay the best. Let them stand with 98 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN their whole length of cane,, and if you can scatter a good top-dressin' of fine manure scraped up from the barnyard, you'll make the berries larger. Those other rows of Cuth- bert, Keliance, and Turner, cut back the canes one-third, and you'll get a great deal more fruit than if you left more wood on 'em. Cuttin' back'll make the berries big; and so they'll bring as much, p'raps, as if they were early." ^'Well, Merton, this all accords with what I've read, only Mr. Jones makes it much clearer. I think we know how to go to work now, and surely there's plenty to do." "Yes, indeed," resumed Mr. Jones ; "and you'll soon find the work crowdin' you. IlQ^ow come to the big raspberry patch back of the barn, the patch where the canes are all laid down, as I told you. These are Hudson River Antwerps. Most people have gone out of 'em, but Jamison held on, and he was makin' money on 'em. So may you. They are what we call tender, you see, and in November they must be bent down close to the ground and covered with earth, or else every cane would be dead from frost by spring. About the first week in April, if the weather's mild, you must uncover 'em, and tie 'em to stakes durin' the month." "Now, Mr. Jones, one other good turn and we won't bother you any more to-day. All the front of the house is covered by two big grape-vines that have not been trimmed, and there are a great many other vines on the place. I've read and read on the subject, but I declare I'm afraid to touch them." "Now, you're beyond my depth. I've got a lot of vines home, and I trim 'em in my rough way, but I know I ain't scientific, and we have pretty poor, scraggly bunches. They taste just as good, though, and I don't raise any to sell. There's a clever man down near the landin' who has a big vineyard, and he's trimmed it as your vines ought to have been long ago. I'd advise you to go and see him, and he can show you all the latest wrinkles in prunin'. Now, I'll tell you what I come for, in the first place. You'll remember that I said there'd be a vandoo to-morrow. I've been over and f RASPBERRY LESSON^ 99 looked at the stock offered. There's a lot of chickens, as I told you; a likely-looking cow with a calf at her side; a fairish and quiet old horse that ought to go cheap, but he'd answer well the first year. Do you think you'll get more'n one horse to start with ?" "No; you said I could hire such heavy plowing as was needed at a moderate sum, and I think we can get along with one horse for a time. My plan is to go slow, and, I hope, sure." "That's the best way, only it ain't common. I'll be around in the mornin' for you and such of the children as you'll take." "On one condition, Mr. Jones. You must let me pay you for your time and trouble. Unless you'll do this in giving me my start, I'll have to paddle my own canoe, even if I sink it," "Oh, I've no grudge against an honest penny turned in any way that comes handy. You and I can keep square as we go along. You can give me what you think is right, and if I ain't satisfied, I'll say so." I soon learned that my neighbor had no foolish sensitive- ness. I could pay him what I thought the value of his ser- vices, and he pocketed the money without a word. Of course, I could not pay him what his advice was really worth, for his hard common-sense stood me in good stead in many wavs. 100 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN CHAPTEK XXI THE THE next morning at about eight o'clock Mr. Jones arrived in a long farm-wagon on springs, with one seat in it; but Junior had half filled its body with straw, and he said to Merton, "I thought that p'raps, if you and the children could go, you'd like a straw-ride." . The solemnity with which Winnie and Bobsey promised to obey orders gave some hope of performance; so I tossed them into the straw, and we drove away, a merry party, leav- ing Mousie consoled with the hope of receiving something from the vendue. ^^There's allers changes and breakin's up in the spring," said Mr. Jones, as we drove along; ^^and this family's goin' out West. Everything is to be sold, in doors and out." The farmhouse in question was about two miles away. By the time we arrived, all sorts of vehicles were con- verging to it on the muddy roads, for the weather had be- come mild again. Stylish-looking people drove up in top- buggies, and there were many heavy, springless wagons driven by rusty-looking countrymen, whose trousers were thrust into the top of their cowhide boots. I strolled through the house before the sale began, thinking that I might find something there which would please Mousie and my wife. The rooms were already half filled with the housewives from the vicinity; red-faced Irish women, who stalked about and examined everything with great freedom; placid, peach- cheeked dames in Quaker bonnets, who softly cooed to- gether, and took every chance they could to say pleasant THE VANDOO'' 101 words to the flurried, nervous family that was being thrust out into the world, as it were, while still at their own hearth. I marked with my eye a low, easy sewing-chair for my wife, and a rose geranium, full of bloom, for Mousie, purpos- ing to bid on them. I also observed that Junior was exam- ining several pots of flowers that stood in the large south window. Then giving Merton charge of the children, with directions not to lose sight of them a moment, I went to the barn-yard and stable, feeling that the day was a critical one in our fortunes. True enough, among the other stock there was a nice-looking cow with a calf, and Mr. Jones said she had Jersey blood in her veins. This meant rich, creamy milk. I thought the animal had a rather ugly eye, but this might be caused by anxiety for her calf, with so many strangers about. We also examined the old bay horse and a market wagon and harness. Then Mr. Jones and I drew apart and agreed upon the limit of his bids, for I proposed to act solely through him. Every one knew him and was aware that he would not go a cent beyond what a thing was worth. He had a word and a jest for all, and "How are YOU, JOHN ?" greeted him wherever he went. At ten o'clock the sale began. The auctioneer was a rustic humorist, who knew the practical value of a joke in his business. Aware of the foibles and characteristics of the people who flocked around and after him, he provoked many a ripple and roar of laughter by his telling hits and droll speeches. I found that my neighbor, Mr. Jones, came in for his full share, but he always sent back as good a-s he re- ceived. The sale, in fact, had the aspect of a country merry- making, at which all sorts and conditions of people met on common ground, Pat bidding against the best of the landed gentry, while boys and dogs innumerable played around and sometimes verged on serious quarrels. Junior, I observed, left his mark before the day was over. He was standing, watching the sale with his usual impassive expression, when a big, hulking fellow leered into his face and cried, 102 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN "Tow-head, white-head, Thick-head, go to bed." The last word was scarcely out of his mouth before Junior's fist was between his eyes, and down he went. ^'Want any more?" Junior coolly asked, as the fellow got up. Evidently he didn't, for he slunk off, followed by jeers and laughter. At noon there was an immense pot of coffee with crackers and cheese, placed on a table near the kitchen door, and we had a free lunch. To this Bobsey paid his respects so indus- triously that a great, gawky mountaineer looked down at him and said, with a grin, '^I say, young 'un, you're gettin' outside of more fodder than any critter of your size I ever knowed." '^'Tain't your fodder," replied Bobsey, who had learned, in the streets, to be a little pert. The day came to an end at last, and the cow and calf, the old bay horse, the wagon, and the harness were mine. On the whole, Mr. Jones had bought them at reasonable rates. He also bid in for me, at one dollar per pair, two cocks and twenty hens that looked fairly well in their coop. For my part, I had secured the chair and blooming ge- ranium. To my surprise, when the rest of the flowers were sold. Junior took part in the bidding for the first time, and, as a result, carried out to the wagon several other pots of house-plants. "Why, Junior," I said, "I didn't know you had such an eye for beauty." He blushed, but made no reply. The chickens and the harness were put into Mr. Jones's conveyance, the wagon I had bought was tied on behind, and we jogged homeward, the children exulting over our new possessions. When I took in the geranium bush and put it on the table by the sunny kitchen window, Junior followed with an armful of his plants. THE ^^VANDOO"* 103 "They're for Mousie," he said; and before the delighted child could thank him, he darted out. Indeed, it soon became evident that Mousie was Junior's favorite. She never said much to him, but she looked a great deal. To the little invalid girl he seemed the em- bodiment of strength and cleverness, and, perhaps because he was so strong, his sympathies went out toward the feeble child. The coop of chickens was carried to the basement that we had made ready, and Winnie declared that she meant to "hear the first crow and get the first Qgg.^^ The next day the horse and the cow and calf were brought over, and we felt that we were fairly launched in our country life. "You have a bigger family to look after outdoors than I have indoors," my wife said, laughingly. I was not long in learning that some of my outdoor family were anything but amiable. The two cocks fought and fought until Junior, who had run over before night, showed Merton that by ducking their heads in cold water their belligerent spirit could be partially quenched. Then he proceeded to give me a lesson in milking. The calf was shut up away from the cow, which was driven into a corner, where she stood with signs of impatience while Junior, seated on a three-legged stool, essayed to obtain the nectar we all so dearly loved. At first he did not succeed very well. "She won't let it down — she's keepin' it for the calf," said the boy. But at last she relented, and the white streams flowed. "Now," said Junior to me, "you see how I do it. You try." As I took his place, I noticed that Brindle turned on me a vicious look. No doubt I was awkward and hurt her a little, also ; for the first thing I knew the pail was in the air, I on my back, and Brindle bellowing around the yard, switching her tail. Junior and Merton meanwhile roaring with laughter. I got up in no amiable mood and said, roughly, to the boys, "Quit that nonsense." Roe — ^IX — X 104 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN But they couldn't obey, and at last I had to join in the laugh. "Why, she's ugly as sin," said Junior. "I'll tell you what to do. Let her go with her calf now, and in the morning we'll drive her down to one of the stalls in the basement of the barn and fasten her by the head. Then we can milk her without risk. After her calf is gone she'll be a great deal tamer." This plan was carried out, and it worked pretty well, although it was evident that, from some cause, the cow was wild and vicious. One of my theories is, that all animals can be subdued by kindness. Mr. Jones advised me to dispose of Brindle, but I determined to test my theory first. Several times a day I would go to the barn-yard and give her a carrot or a whisp of hay from my hand, and she gradually became accustomed to me, and would come at my call. A week later I sold her calf to a butcher, and for a few days she lowed and mourned deeply, to Mousie's great distress. But carrots consoled her, and within three weeks she would let me stroke her, and both Merton and I could milk her without trouble. I believe she had been treated harshly by her former owners. EARLY APRIL OABDENINQ 106 CHAPTEK XXn EARLY APRIL GARDENING SPKIE'G wag coming on apace, and we all made the most of every pleasant hour. The second day after Ibhe auction proved a fine one; and leaving Winnie and Merton in charge of the house, I took my wife, with Bobsey and Mousie, who was well bundled up, to see the scientific grape-grower, and to do some shopping. At the same time we assured ourselves that we were having a pleasure-drive; and it did me good to see how the mother and daughter, who had been kept indoors so long, enjoyed them- selves. Mr. Jones was right. I received better and clearer ideas of vine-pruning in half an hour from studying work that had been properly done, and by asking questions of a practical man, than I could ever have obtained by reading. We found that the old bay horse jogged along, at as good a gait as we could expect, over the muddy road, and I was satisfied that he was quiet enough for my wife to drive him after she had learned how, and gained a little confidence. She held the reins as we drove home, and, in our own yard, I gave her some lessons in turning around, backing, etc. "Some day," I said, "you shall have a carriage and a gay young horse." When we sat down to supper, I was glad to see that a little color was dawning in Mousie's face. The bundles we brought home supplemented our stores of needful articles, and our life began to take on a regular routine. The carpenter came and put up the shelves, and 106 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN made such changes as my wife desired; then he aided me in repairing the out-buildings. I finished pruning the trees, while Merton worked manfully at the raspberries, for we saw that this was a far more pressing task than gathering wood, which could be done to better advantage in the late autumn. Every morning Winnie and Bobsey were kept steadily busy in carrying our trimmings to the brush heap, which now began to assume vast proportions, especially as the refuse from the grape-vine and raspberry bushes was added to it. As the ground became settled after the frost was out, I began to set the stakes by the side of such raspberry canes as needed tying up ; and here was a new light task for the two younger children. Bobsey's little arms could go around the canes and hold them close to the stake, while Winnie, a sturdy child, quickly tied them with a coarse, cheap string that I had bought for the purpose. Even my wife came out occasionally and helped us at this work. By the end of the last week in March I had all the fruit-trees fairly pruned and the grape-vines trimmed and tied up, and had given Merton much help among the raspberries. In shallow boxes of earth on the kitchen table, cabbage, lettuce, and tomato •eeds were sprouting beside Mousie^s plants. The little girl hailed with delight every yellowish green germ that ap- peared above the soil. The hens had spent their first few days in inspecting their quarters and becoming familiar with them; but one morning there was a noisy cackle, and Winnie soon came rushing in with three fresh-laid eggs. A week later we had all we could use, and my wife began to put some by for the first brooding biddies to sit upon. The first day of April promised to be unusually dry and warm, and I said at the breakfast table : "This is to be a great day. We^ll prove that we are not April-fools by beginning our garden. I was satisfied yesterday that a certain warm slope was dry enough to dig and plant with hardy vegetables, and IVe read and studied over and over again which to plant first, and how to plant them. I suppose I shall make EARLY APRIL GARDENING 107 mistakes, but I wish you all to see how I do it, and then by next spring we shall have learned from experience how to do better. 'No doubt, some things might have been planted before, but we've all been too busy. Now, Merton, you go and harness old Bay to the cart I bought with the place, and I'll get out my treasure of seeds. Mousie, by ten o'clock, if the sun keeps out of the clouds, you can put on your rubbers and join us." Soon all was bustle and excitement. Among my seeds were two quarts of red and two of white onion sets, or little bits of onions, which I had kept in a cool place, so that they should not sprout before their time. These I took out first. Then with Merton I went to the barn-yard and loaded up the cart with the finest and most decayed manure we could find, and this was dumped on the highest part of the slope that I meant to plant. "ISfow, Merton, I guess you can get another load, while I spread this heap and begin to dig;" and he went off with the horse and cart, having an increased idea of his impor- tance. I marked a long strip of the sunny slope, fifteen feet wide, and spread the manure evenly and thickly, for I had read, and my own sense confirmed the view, that a little ground well enriched would yield more than a good deal of poor land. I then dug till my back ached ; and I found that it began to ache pretty soon, for I was not accustomed to such toil. ^'After the first seeds are in," I muttered, "I'll have the rest of the garden plowed." When I had dug down about four feet of the strip, I con- cluded to rest myself by a change of labor ; so I took the rake and smoothed off the ground, stretched a garden line across it, and, with a sharp-pointed hoe, made a shallow trench, or drill. "Now, Winnie and Bobsey," I said, "it is time for you to do your part. Just stick these little onions in the trench about four inches apart;" and I gave each of them a little stick of the right length to measure the distance; for they 108 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN had vague ideas of four inches. ^^Be sure/' I continued, "that you get the bottom of the onion down. This is the top, and this is the bottom. Press the onion in the soil just enough to make it stand firm, so. That's right. Oh, you're learning fast. Now I can rest, you see, while you do the planting." In a few moments they had stuck the fifteen feet of shallow trench, or drill, full of onions, which I covered with earth, packing it lightly with my hoe. I then moved the line fourteen inches further down and made another shallow drill. In this way we soon had all the onion sets in the ground. Merton came back with his load in time to see how it was done, and nodded his head approvingly. I now felt rested enough to dig awhile, and Merton started off to the barn-yard again. We next sowed, in even shallower drills, the little onion seed that looked like gunpowder, for my garden book said that the earlier this was planted the better. We had completed only a few rows when Mr. Jones appeared, and said : "Plantin' onions here ? Why, neighbor, this ground is too dry and light for onions." "Is it? Well, I knew I'd make mistakes. I haven't used near all my onion seed yet, however." "Oh, well, no great harm's done. You've made the ground rich, and, if we have a moist season, like enough they'll do well. P'raps it's the best thing, after all, 'spe- cially if you've put in the seed thick, as most people do. Let 'em all grow, and you'll have a lot of little onions, or sets, of your own raisin' to plant early next spring. Save the rest of your seed until you have some rich, strong, deep soil ready. I came over to say that if this weather holds a day or two longer I'll plow the garden; and I thought I'd tell you, so that you might get ready for me. The sooner you get your early pertaters in the better." "Your words almost take the ache out of my back," I said. "I fear we shouldn't have much of a garden if I had to dig it all, but I thought I'd make a beginning with a few early vegetables." EARLY APRIL GARDENING 109 "That's well enough, but a plow beats a fork all hollow. You'll know what I mean when you see my plow going down to the beam and loosenin' the ground from fifteen to twenty inches. So burn your big brush-pile, and get out what manure you're goin' to put in the garden, and I'll be ready when you are." "All right. Thank you. I'll just plant some radishes, peas, and beans." "iifot beans yet, Mr. Durham. Don't put those in till the last of the month, and plant them very shallow when you do." "How one forgets when there's not much experience to fall back upon ! I now remember that my book said that beans, in this latitude, should not be planted until about the 1st of May." "And lima beans not till the 10th of May," added Mr. Jones. "You might put in a few early beets here, although the ground is rather light for 'em. You could put your main crop somewhere else. Well, let me know when you're ready. Junior and me are drivin' things, too, this mornin';" and he stalked away, whistling a hymn-tune in rather lively time. I said : "Youngsters, I think I'll get my garden book and be sure I'm right about sowing the radish and beet seed and the peas. Mr. Jones has rather shaken my confidence." When Merton came with the next load I told him that he could put the horse in the stable and help us. As a re- sult, we soon had several rows of radishes and beets sown, fourteen inches apart. We planted the seed only an inch deep, and packed the ground lightly over it. Mousie, to her great delight, was allowed to drop a few of the seeds. Merton was ambitious to take the fork, but I soon stopped him, and said : "Digging is too heavy work for you, my boy. There is enough that you can do without overtaxing yourself. We must all act like good soldiers. The campaign of work is just opening, and it would be very foolish for any of us to disable ourselves at the start. We'll plant only half a dozen 110 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN rows of these dwarf peas this morning, and then this after- noon we'll have the bonfire and get ready for Mr. Jones's plow." At the prospect of the bonfire the younger children set up shouts of exultation, which cheered me on as I turned over the soil with the fork, although often stopping to rest. My back ached, but my heart was light. In my daily work now I had all my children about me, and their smaller hands were helping in the most practical way. Their voices were as joyous as the notes of the robins, song-sparrows, and blue- birds that were singing all about us. A soft haze half ob- scured the mountains, and mellowed the sunshine. From the springing grass and fresh-turned soil came odors sweet as those which made Eden fragrant after ^^a mist went up from the earth and watered the whole face of the ground.'' All the children helped to plant the peas, which we placed carefully and evenly, an inch apart, in the row, and covered with two inches of soil, the rows being two feet distant one from another. I had decided to plant chiefly McLean's Little Gem, because they needed no stakes or brush for support. We were almost through our task when, hap- pening to look toward the house, I saw my wife standing in the doorway, a framed picture. '^Dinner," she called, in a voice as sweet to me as that of the robin singing in the cherry-tree over her head. The children stampeded for the house, Winnie crying: *^Hurry up, mamma, for right after dinner papa will set the great brush-pile on fire, and we're going to dance round it like Indians. You must come out, too." A BONFIRE AND A FEAST 111 CHAPTER XXIII A BONFIRE AND A FEAST IT amused and interested me to see upon the children's faces such an eager expectancy as they hurried through our midday meal. E'othing greater than a bonfire was in prospect, yet few costly pleasures could have afforded them such excitement. I found myself sharing in their anticipa- tion to a degree that surprised me, and was led to ask myself why it is that outdoor pursuits often take so strong a hold upon the fancy. I recalled traits shown by one of my former employers. He was a gray-headed man, possessing great wealth and an elegant city home, while his mind was occupied by a vast and complicated business. When he learned that I was going to the country, he would often come to me, and, with kindling eyes and animated tones, talk of his chick- ens, cows, fruit-trees and crops. He proved that the best product of his farm was the zest it brought him into his life — a zest that was failing in his other occupations and interests. What was true of him I knew to be equally so of many others to whom wealth brings no greater luxury than the ability to indulge in expensive farming. A lifetime in the city does not destroy the primal instinct which leads men to the soil nor does a handsome dividend from stocks give the un- alloyed pleasure awakened by a basket of fresh eggs or fruit. This love of the earth is not earthiness, but has been the char- acteristic of the best and greatest minds. Washington would turn from the anxieties of a campaign and the burdens of state to read, with absorbing interest, the reports of the 112 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN agent who managed his plantation, and to write out the minutest details for the overseer's guidance. In mj limited way and sphere I was under the influence of the same impulses; and, as I looked around the table at those so dear to me, I felt that I had far more at stake. I had not come back to Nature merely to amuse myself or to gratify a taste, but to co-work with her in fulfilling the most sacred duties. With the crops of the coming years these children must be nourished and fitted for their part in life, and I felt that all my faculties must be employed to produce the best results from my open-air toil. Therefore, why should not I also be interested in the prospective bonfire? It would transmute the unsightly rubbish of the place into fertilizing ashes, and clear the ground for the plow. The mellow soil would produce that which would give brain and muscle — life to those whose lives were dear. He who spreads his table with food secured by his own hands direct from nature should feel a strong incentive to do his best. The coarse, unvaried diet, common to many farmers' homes, is the result of stolid minds and plodding ways. A better manhood and womanhood will be devel- pped when we act upon the truth that varied and healthful sustenance improves blood and brain, and therefore char- acter. I was growing abstracted, when my wife remarked, ^ ^Robert, will you deign to come back from a remote region of thought and take some rice pudding ?" "You may all fare the better for my thoughts," I replied. The children, however, were bolting their pudding at railroad speed, and I perceived that the time demanded ac- tion. Winnie and Bobsey wished me to light the fire at once, but I said : "Ko, not till mamma and Mousie are ready to come out. You must stay and help them clear away the things. When all is ready, you two shall start the blaze." Very soon we were all at the brush-pile, which towered above our heads, and I said : "Merton, it will burn better if A BONFIRE AND A FEAST 113 ♦ we climb over it and trample it down a little. It is too loose now. While we do this, Winnie and Bobsej can gather dry grass and weeds that will take fire quickly. Kow which way is the wind?'' "There isn't any wind, papa," Merton replied. "Let us see. Put your forefingers in your mouths, all of you, then hold them up and note which side feels the coolest." "This side I" cried one and another. "Yes; and this side is toward the west; therefore, Win- nie, put the dry grass here on the western side of the heap, and what air is stirring will carry the blaze through the pile." Little hands that trembled with eagerness soon held lighted matches to the dry grass; there was a yellow flicker in the sunshine, then a blaze, a crackle, a devouring rush of flames that mounted higher and higher until, with the sur- rounding column of smoke, there was a conflagration which, at night, would have alarmed the country-side. The chil- dren at first gazed with awe upon the scenes as they backed farther away from the increasing heat. Our beacon-fire drew Junior, who came bounding over the fences toward us; and soon he and Merton began to see how near they could dash in toward the blaze without being scorched. I soon stopped this. "Show your courage, Merton, when there is need of it," I said. "Kash venturing is not bravery, but foolishness, and often costs people dear." When the pile sank down into glowing embers, I turned to Bobsey, and added : "I have let you light a fire under my direction. Never think of doing anything of the kind with- out my permission, for if you do, you will certainly sit in a chair, facing the wall, all day long, with nothing to cheer you but bread and water and a sound whipping. There is one thing which you children must learn from the start, and that is, you can't play with fire except under my eyes." At this direful threat Bobsey looked as grave as his 114 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN round little face permitted, and, with the memory of his peril in the creek fresh in mind, was ready enough with the most solemn promises. A circle of unburned brush was left around the embers. This I raked in on the hot coals, and soon all was consumed. "Kow I have a suggestion," cried my wife. "We'll have some roast potatoes, for here are lots of hot coals and ashes." Away scampered Winnie to the cellar for the tubers. Our bonfire ended in a feast, and then the ashes were spread far and wide. When the exciting events were past, Winnie and Bobsey amused themselves in other ways, Mousie ventur- ing to stay with them while the sun remained high. Merton and I meanwhile put the horse to the cart and covered all the ground, especially the upper and poorer portions, with a good dressing from the barnyard. In the evening Junior gave Merton a good hint about angle- worms. "Follow the plow," he said, "and pick 'em up and put 'em in a tight box. Then sink the box in a damp place and nearly fill it with fine earth, and you always have bait ready when you want to go a-fishing. After a few more warm days the fish will begin to bite first-rate." Early the next morning Mr. Jones was on hand with his stout team, and, going twice in every furrow, he sunk his plow to the beam. "When you loosen the soil deep in this style," he said, "ye needn't be afraid of dry weather unless it's an amazin' long spell. Why, bless you, Mr. Durham, there's farmers around here who don't scratch their ground much deeper than an old hen would, and they're always groanin' over droughts. If I can get my plow down eighteen inches, and then find time to stir the surface often in the growin' season, I ain't afraid of a month of dry weather." We followed Mr. Jones for a few turns around the garden, I inhaling the fresh wholesome odors of the soil with pleasure, and Merton and the two younger children picking up angle-worms. Our neighbor soon paused and resumed: "I guess I'll give you a hint that'll add bushels of pertaters to yer crop. A BONFIRE AND A FEAST 115 After I've plowed the garden, I'll furrow out deep a lot of rows, three feet apart. Let Merton take a hoe and scrape up the fine old manure in the barnyard. Don't use any other kind. Then sprinkle it thickly in the furrows, and draw your hoe through 'em to mix the fertilizer well with the soil. Drop your seed then, eight inches apart in the row, and cover with four inches of dirt. One can't do this very handy by the acre, but I've known such treatment to double the crop and size of the pertaters in a garden or small patch." I took the hint at opce, and set Merton at work, saying that Winnie and Bobsey could gather all the worms he wanted. Then I went for . a half -bushel of early potatoes, and Mr. Jones showed me how to cut them so as to leave at least two good "eyes" to each piece. Half an hour later it occurred to me to see how Merton was getting on. I found him perspiring, and almost panting with fatigue, and my conscience smote me. "There, my boy," I said, "this is too hard work for you. Come with me and I'll show you how to cut the potatoes. But first go into the house, and cool off while you drink a glass of milk." "Well, papa," he replied, gratefully, "I wouldn't mind a change like that. I didn't want you to think I was shirk- ing, but, to tell the truth, I was getting played out." "Worked out, you mean. It's not my wish that you should ever be either played or worked out, nor will you if you take play and work in the right degree. Remember," I added, seriously, "that you are a growing boy, and it's not my intention to put you at anything beyond your strength. If, in my inexperience, I do give you too hard work, tell me at once. There's plenty to do that won't overtax you." So we exchanged labors, and by the time the garden was plowed and the furrows were made I had scraped up enough fine material in the barnyard to give my tubers a great start. I varied my labor with lessons in plo^ving, for run- ning in my head was an "old saw" to the effect that "he who would thrive must both hold the plow and drive." The fine weather lasted long enough for us to plant 116 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN our early potatoes in the most approved fashion, and then came a series of cold, wet days and frosty - nights. Mr. Jones assured us that the vegetable seeds already in the ground would receive no harm. At such times as were suit- able for work we finished trimming and tying up the hardy raspberries, cleaning up the barnyard, and carting all the fertilizers we could find to the land that we meant to cul- tivate. *'N0 BLIND DRIFTING" 117 CHAPTER XXIV OKE long, stormy day I prepared an account-book. On its left-hand pages I entered the cost of the place and all expenses thus far incurred. The right-hand pages were for records of income, as yet small indeed. They consisted only of the proceeds from the sale of the calf, the eggs that Winnie gathered, and the milk measured each day, all valued at the market price. I was resolved that there should be no blind drifting toward the breakers of failure — that at the end of the year we should know whether we had made progress, stood still, or gone backward. My system of keeping the accounts was so simple that I easily explained it to my wife, Merton, and Mousie, for I believed that, if they followed the effort at country liv- ing understandingly, they would be more willing to practice the self-denial necessary for success. Indeed, I had Merton write out most of the items, even though the record, as a re- sult, was not very neat. I stopped his worrying over blots and errors, by saying, "You are of more account than the account-book, and will learn by practice to be as accurate as any one." My wife and Mousie also started another book of house- hold expenses, that we might always know just where we stood and what our prospects were. Weeks would elapse before our place would be food- producing to any great extent. In the meantime we must draw chiefly on our capital in order to live. Winifred ftnd I resolved to meet this necessity in no careless way, feeling 118 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN that not a penny should be spent which might be saved. The fact that I had only my family to support was greatly in our favor. There was no kitchen cabinet, that ate much and wasted more, to satisfy. Therefore, our revenue of eggs and milk went a long way toward meeting the problem. We made out a list of cheap, yet wholesome, articles of food, and found that we could buy oatmeal at four cents per pound, Indian meal at two and a half cents, rice at eight cents, samp at four, mackerel at nine, pork at twelve, and ham at fif- teen cents. The last two articles were used sparingly, and more as relishes and for flavoring than as food. Flour hap- pened to be cheap at the time, the best costing but seven dollars a barrel; of vegetables, we had secured abundance at slight cost; and the apples still added the wholesome ele- ment of fruit. A butcher drove his wagon to our door three times a week and, for cash, would give us, at very reasonable rates, certain cuts of beef and mutton. These my wife conjured into appetizing dishes and delicious soups. Thus it can be seen that we had a varied diet at a sur- prisingly small outlay. Such details may appear to some very homely, yet our health and success depended largely upon thoughtful attention to just such prosaic matters. The children were growing plump and ruddy at an expense less than would be incurred by one or two visits from a fashion- able physician in the city. In the matter of food, I also gave more thought to my wife's time and strength than to the little people's wishes. While we had variety and abundance, we did not have many dishes at any one meal. "We shall not permit mamma to be over the hot range any more than is necessary,'' I said. "She and Mousie must give us, from day to day, what costs little in time as well as money." Fortunately, plain, wholesome food does not require much time in preparation. There would be better health in many homes if there was more economy in labor. For in- stance, the children at first clamored for griddle-cakes, but *'N0 BLIND DRIFTING"* IIB I said, "Isn't it nicer to have mamma sit down quietly with us at breakfast than to see her running back and forth from the hot stove?'' and even Bobsey, though rather ruefully, voted against cakes, except on rare occasions. The wash-tub I forbade utterly, and the services of a stout Irishwoman were secured for one day in the week. Thus, by a little management, my wife was not overtaxed. Indeed, she had so much leisure that she and Mousie began giving Winnie and Bobsey daily lessons, for we had decided that the children should not go to school until the coming autumn. Early in April, therefore, our country life was passing into a quiet routine, not burdensome, at least within doors; and I justly felt that if all were well in the citadel of home, the chances of the outdoor campaign were greatly im- proved. 120 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN CHAPTER XXV OWLS AND ANTWERPS EACH day at dawn, unless it was stormy, Merton pa- trolled the place with his gun, looking for hawks and other creatures which at this season he was per- mitted to shoot. He had quite as serious and important an air as if he were sallying forth to protect us from deadlier foes. For a time he saw nothing to fire at, since he had promised me not to shoot harmless birds. He always in- dulged himself, however, in one shot at a mark, and was be- coming sure in his aim at stationary objects. One evening, however, when we were almost ready to retire, a strange sound startled us. At first it reminded me of the half- whining bark of a young dog, but the deep, guttural trill that followed convinced me that it was a screech-owl, for I remembered having heard these birds when a boy. The moment I explained the sound, Merton darted for his gun, and my wife exclaimed: ^^O dear! what trouble is coming now ? Mother always said that the hooting of an owl near a house was a bad omen." I did not share in the superstition, although I disliked the uncanny sounds, and was under the impression that all owls, like hawks, should be destroyed. Therefore, I followed Merton out, hoping that he would get a successful shot at the night prowler. The moonlight illumined everything with a soft, mild radiance; and the trees, with their tracery of bough and twig, stood out distinctly. Before we could discover the creature, it flew with noiseless wing from a maple near the door to another perch up the lilne, and again uttered its weird notes. OWLS AND ANTWERPS 12 1 Merton was away like a swift shadow, and, screening himself behind the fence, stole upon his game. A moment later the report rang out in the still night. It so happened that Merton had fired just as the bird was about to fly, and had only broken a wing. The owl fell to the ground, but led the boy a wild pursuit before he was captured. Merton's hands were bleeding when he brought the creature in. Un- less prevented, it would strike savagely with its beak, and the motions of its head were as quick as lightning. It was, indeed, a strange captive, and the children looked at it in wondering and rather fearful curiosity. My wife, usually tender-hearted, wished the creature, so ill-omened in her eyes, to be killed at once, but I granted Morton's request that he might put it in a box and keep it alive for a while. "In the morning," I said, "we will read all about it, and can examine it more carefully." My wife yielded, and I am not sure but that she thought we might avert misfortune by showing mercy. Among my purchases was a recent work on natural his- tory. But our minds had been engrossed with too many practical questions to give it much attention. Next morning we consulted it, and found our captive variously described as the little red, the mottled, or the screech owl. Then fol- lowed an account of its character and habits. We learned that we had made war upon a useful friend, instead of an ill-boding, harmful creature. We were taught that this species is a destroyer of mice, beetles, and vermin, thus ren- dering the agriculturist great services, which, however are so little known that the bird is everywhere hunted down without mercy or justice. "Surely, this is not true of all owls," I said, and by read- ing further we learned that the barred, or hoot owl, and the great horned owl, were deserving of a surer aim of Merton's gun. They prey not only upon useful game, but also in- vade the poultry-yard, the horned species being especially de- etructive. Instances were given in which these freebooters had killed every chicken upon a farm. As they hunt only 122 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN at night, they are hard to capture. Their notes and natures are said to be in keeping with their deeds of darkness; for their cry is wild, harsh, and unearthly, while in temper they are cowardly, savage, and untamable, showing no affection even for each other. A female has been known to kill and eat the male. "The moral of this owl episode," I concluded, "is that we must learn to know our neighbors, be they birds, beasts, or human beings, before we judge them. This book is not only full of knowledge, but of information that is practical and useful. I move that we read up about the creatures in our vicinity. What do you say, Merton ? wouldn't it be well to learn what to shoot, as well as how to shoot ?" Protecting his hands with buckskin gloves, the boy ap- plied mutton suet to our wounded owl's wing. It was eventu- ally healed, and the bird was given its liberty. It gradually became sprightly and tame, and sociable in the evening, affording the children and Junior much amusement. By the 7th of April there was a prospect of warmer and more settled weather, and Mr. Jones told us to lose no time in uncovering our Antwerp raspberries. They had been bent down close to the ground the previous winter and cov- ered with earth. To remove this without breaking the canes, required careful and skilful work. We soon acquired the knack, however, of pushing and throwing aside the soil, then lifting the canes gently through what remained, and shaking them clear. "Be careful to level the ground evenly," Mr. Jones warned us, "for it won't do at all to leave hummocks of dirt around the hills ;" and we followed his instructions. The canes were left until a heavy shower of rain washed them clean; then Winnie and Bobsey tied them up. We gave steady and careful attention to the Antwerps, since thej^ would be our main dependence for income. I also raked in around the hills of one row a liberal dressing of wood ashei^ intending to note its effect. A COUNTRY SUNDAY 123 CHAPTEK XXYI A COUNTRY SUNDAY HITHEKTO the Sabbaths had been stormy and the roads bad, and we had given the days to rest and family sociability. But at last there came a mild, sunny morning, and we resolved to find a church-home. I had heard that Dr. Lyman, who preached in the nearest vil- lage, had the faculty of keeping young people awake. There- fore we harnessed the old bay-horse to our market-wagon, donned our "go-ter-meetin's," as Junior called his Sunday clothes, and started. Whatever might be the result of the sermon, the drive promised to do us good. The tender young grass by the roadside, and the swelling buds of trees, gave forth delicious odors; a spring haze softened the outline of the mountains, and made them almost as beautiful as if clothed with foliage; robins, song-sparrows, and other birds were so tuneful that Mousie said she wished they might form the choir at the church. Indeed, the glad spirit of Spring was abroad, and it found its way into our hearts. We soon learned that it entered largely also into Dr. Lyman^s sermon. We were not treated as strangers and intruders, but welcomed and shown to a pew in a way that made us feel at home. I discovered that I, too, should be kept awake and given much to think about. We remained until Sunday-school, which followed the service, was over, and then went home, feeling that life both here and hereafter was something to be thank- ful for. After dinner, without even taking the precaution of locking the door, we all strolled down the lane and the steeply sloping meadow to our wood lot and the banks of the 124 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN Moodna Creek. My wife had never seen this portion of our place before, and she was delighted with its wild beauty and seclusion. She shivered and turned a little pale, however, as she saw the stream, still high and swift, that had carried Bobsey away. Junior joined us, and led the children to a sunny bank, from which soon came shouts of joy over the first wildflowers of the season. I placed my wife on a rock, and we sat quietly for a time, inhaling the fresh woody odors, and listening to the murmurs of the creek and the song of the birds. Then I asked : ^^Isn't this better than a city flat and a noisy street ? Are not these birds pleasanter neighbors than the Dag- getts and the Kicketts ?" Her glad smile was more eloquent than words could have been. Mousie came running to us, holding in her hand, which trembled from excitement, a little bunch of liverworts and anemones. Tears of happiness actually stood in her eyes, and she could only. falter, ^^O mamma! just look!'' and then she hastened away to gather more. 'That child belongs to nature,'' I said, ''and would always be an exile in the city. How greatly she has improved in health already!" The air grew damp and chill early, and we soon returned to the house. Monday was again fair, and found us absorbed in our busy life, each one having plenty to do. When it was safe to uncover the raspberries, Merton and I had not lost a moment in the task. At the time of which I write we put in stakes where they were missing, obtaining not a few of them from the wood lot. We also made our second planting of po- tatoes and other hardy vegetables in the garden. The plants in the kitchen window were thriving, and during mild, still days we carried them to a sheltered place without, that they might become inured to the open air. Winnie already had three hens sitting on their nests full of eggs, and she was counting the days until the three weeks of incubation should expire, and the little chicks break their shells. One of the hens proved a fickle biddy, and left her A COUJSTRY SUNDAY 125 nest, much to the child's anger and disgust. But the others were faithful, and one morning Winnie came bounding in, saying she had heard the first "peep.'' I told her to be pa- tient and leave the brood until the following day, since I had read that the chicks were stronger for not being taken from the nest too soon. She had treated the mother hens so kindly that they were tame, and permitted her to throw out the empty shells, and exult over each new-comer into a brief existence. Our radishes had come up nicely; but no sooner had the first green leaves expanded than myriads of little flea-like beetles devoured them. A timely article in my horticultural paper explained that if little chickens were allowed to run in the garden they would soon destroy these and other in- sects. Therefore I improvised a coop by laying down a bar- rel near the radishes and driving stakes in front of it to con- fine the hen, which otherwise, with the best intentions, would have scratched up all my sprouting seeds. Hither we brought her the following day, with her downy brood of twelve, and they soon began to make themselves useful. Winnie fed them with Indian-meal and mashed potatoes and watched over them with more than their mother's solicitude, while Merton renewed his vigilance against hawks and other enemies. With this new attraction, and wildflowers in the woods, the tying up of raspberries became weary prose to Win- nie and Bobsey; but I kept them at it during most of the forenoon of every pleasant day and if they performed their task carelessly, I made them do it over. I knew that the time was coming when many kinds of work would cease to be play to us all, and that we might as well face the fact first as last. After the morning duties were over, and the after- noon lessons learned, there was plenty of time for play, and the two little people enjoyed it all the more. Merton, also, had two afternoons in the week and he and Junior began to bring home strings of sweet little sunfish and winfish. Boys often become disgusted with country life be- cause it is made hard and monotonous for them. 126 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN CHAPTEE XXVn STRAWBERRY VISIONS AND " PERTATERS " I HAD decided that I would not set out any more rasp- berries until I had learned the comparative value of those already on the place. After I had seen my vari- eties in bearing and marketed the crop, I should be better able to make a wise selection. ^^Why not plant only the best and most profitable ?" I reasoned. At Mr. Jones's suggestion I had put up notices at public resorts, and inserted a brief adver- tisement in a local paper, stating that I had plants for sale. Asa result, I sold, at a low price, it is true, the greater part of the young plants that had been trenched in, and the ready money they brought was very acceptable. From the first, my mind had often turned toward strawberries as one of our chief crops. They promised well for several reasons, the main one being that they would afford a light and useful form of labor for all the children. Even Bobsey could pick the fruit almost as well as any of us, for he had no long back to ache in getting down to it. The crop, also, could be gathered and sold before the raspberry season began, and this was an important fact. We should also have another and earlier source of income. I had read a great deal about the cultivation of. the strawberry, and I had visited a Maizeville neighbor who grew them on a large scale, and had obtained his views. To make my knowledge more com- plete, I wrote to my Washington-Market friend, Mr. Bogart, and his prompt letter in reply was encouraging. "Don't go into too many kinds," he advised, "and don't set too much ground. A few crates of fine berries will pay you better than bushels of small, soft, worthless trash. Steer clear of high-priced novelties and fancy sorts, and begin with 8TEAWBEBBY VISIONS AND ''PERTATERS" 127 only those known to pay well in your region. Try Wilson's (they're good to sell if not to eat) and Duchess for early, and Sharpless and Champion for late. Set the last two kinds out side by side, for the Champions won't bear alone. A cus- tomer of mine runs on these four sorts. He gives them high culture, and gets big crops and big berries, which pay big. When you want crates, I can furnish them, and take my pay out of the sales of your fruit. Don't spend much money for plants. Buy a few of each kind, and set 'em in moist ground and let 'em run. By winter you'll have enough plants to cover your farm." I found that I could buy these standard varieties in the vi- cinity; and having made the lower part of the garden very rich, I procured, one cloudy day, two hundred plants of each kind and set them in rows, six feet apart, so that by a little watchfulness I could keep them separate. I obtained my whole stock for ^ye dollars; therefore, counting our time and everything, the cost of entering on strawberry culture was slight. A rainy night followed, and every plant started vigorously. In spite of occasional frosts and cold rains, the days grew longer and warmer. The cherry, peach, plum, and pear buds were almost ready to burst into bloom, but Mr. Jones shook his head over the orchard. ^^This ain't apple year," he said. "Well, no matter. If you can make it go this season, you will be sure of better luck next year." He had come over to aid me in choosing a two-acre plot of ground for corn and potatoes. This we marked out. from the upper and eastern slope of a large meadow. The grass was running out and growing weedy. "It's time it was turned over," my neighbor remarked; "and by fall it'll be in good condition for fruit." I proposed to extend my fruit area gradually, with good reason, fearing that much hired help would leave small profits. That very afternoon Mr. Jones, with his sharp steel plow, Roe— IX— U 128 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN began to turn over clean, deep, even furrows; for we had selected the plot in view of the fact that it was not stony, as Was the case with other portions of our little farm. When at last the ground was plowed, he said : ^^I wouldn^t harrow the part meant for corn till you are ready to plant it, say about the tenth of next month. We'd better get the pertater ground ready and the rows furrowed out right off. Early plantin' is the best. How much will ye give to 'em V "Half the plot," I said. •'Why , Mr. Durham, that's a big plantin' for pertaters." "Well, I've a plan, and would like your opinion. If I put Early Rose potatoes right in, when can I harvest them ?" "Say the last of July or early August, accordin' to the season." "If we keep the ground clean and well worked the sod will then be decayed, won't it?" "Yes, nigh enough. Ye want to grow turnips or fodder corn, I s'pose ?" "No, I want to set out strawberries. I've read more about this fruit than any other, and, if the books are right, I can set strong plants on enriched ground early in August and get a good crop next June. Won't this pay better than planting next spring and waiting over two years from this time for a crop?" "Of course it will, if you're right. I ain't up on straw- berries." "Well," I continued, "it looks reasonable. I shall have my young plants growing right here in my own garden. Merton and I can take them up in the cool of the evening and in wet weather, and they won't know they've been moved. I propose to get these early potatoes out of the ground as soon as possible, even if I have to sell part of them before they are fully ripe; then have the ground plowed deep and marked out for strawberries, put all the fertilizers I can scrape together in the rows and set the plants as fast as pos- sible. I've read again and again that many growers regard this method as one of the best." STEAWBERRY VISIOJSS AND ''PERTATERS" 129 ".Well, you're comin' on for a beginner. I'm kind o' shy of book-plans, though. But try it. I'll come over, as I used to when old man Jamison was here, and sit on the fence and make remarks." Planting an acre of potatoes was no light task for us, even after the ground was plowed and harrowed, and the furrows for the rows were marked out. I also had to make a half -day's journey to the city of Newtown to buy more seed, since the children's appetites had greatly reduced the stock in the root-cellar. For a few days we worked like beavers. Even Winnie helped Merton to drop the seed; and in the evening we had regular potato-cutting "bees," Junior com- ing over to aid us, and my wife and Mousie helping also. Songs and stories enlivened these evening hours of labor. Indeed, my wife and Mousie performed, during the day, a large part of this task, and they soon learned to cut the tubers skilfully. I have since known this work to be done so carelessly that some pieces were cut without a single eye upon them. Of course, in such cases there is nothing to grow. One Saturday night, the last of April, we exulted over the fact that our acre was planted and the seed well covered. Many of the trees about the house, meantime, had clothed themselves with fragrant promises of fruit. All, especially Mousie, had been observant of the beautiful changes, and, busy as we had been, she, Winnie and Bobsey had been given time to keep our table well supplied with wildfiowers. iN'ow that they had come in abundance,* they seemed as essential as our daily food. To a limited extent I permitted blooming sprays to be taken from the fruit-trees, thinking, with Mousie, that "cherry blossoms are almost as nice as cherries." Thus Nature graced our frugal board, and suggested that, as she accompanied her useful work with beauty and fragrance, so we also could lift our toilsome lives above the coarse and sordid phase too common in country homes. 130 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN CHAPTEK XXVIII CORN, COLOR, AND MUSIC IN early May the grass was growing lush and strong, and Brindle was driven down the lane to the meadow, full of thickets, which bordered on the creek. Here she could supply herself with food and water until the late autumn. With the first days of the month we planted, on a part of the garden slope, where the soil was dry and warm, very early, dwarf sweet corn, a second early variety. Burros Mam- moth, and Stowell's Evergreen. ^These several kinds,'' I said, "will give us a suc- cession of boiling ears for weeks together. When this plant- ing is up a few inches high, we will make another, for, by so doing, my garden book says we may have this delicious vegetable till frost comes." After reading and some inquiry during the winter I had decided to buy only McLean's Gem peas for seed. This low-growing kind required no brush and, therefore, far less labor. By putting in a row every ten days till the last of June, we should enjoy green peas of the sweet, wrinkled sort till tired, if that were possible. We also planted early dwarf wax-beans, covering the seed, as directed, only two inches deep. It was my ambition to raise a large crop of Lima beans, having read that few vegetables yield more food to a small area than they. So, armed with an axe and a hatchet, Merton and I went into some young growth on the edge of our wood lot and cut thirty poles, lopping off the branches ao as to leave little crotches on which the vines could rest CORN, COLOR, AND MUSIC 181 for support. Having sharpened these poles we set them firmly in the garden, four feet apart each way, then dug in some very fine and decayed manure around each pole, and left the soil for a day or two to grow warm and light. My book said that, if the earth was cold, wet, or heavy the beans would decay instead of coming up. The 10th of the month being fine and promising, I pressed the eye or germ side of the beans into the soil and covered them only one inch deep. In the evening we set out our cabbage and cauliflower plants where they should be allowed to mature. The tomato plants, being more tender than their companions started in the kitchen window, were set about four inches apart in a shel- tered place. We could thus cover them at night and protect them a little from the midday sun for a week or two longer. Nor were Mousie's flowering plants forgotten. She had watched over them from the seed with tireless care, and now we made a bed and helped the happy child to put her little nurslings in the open ground where they were to bloom. The apple-trees made the air fragrant, and some of the deli- cate pink of their blossoms was in Mousie's cheeks. "Truly," I thought, as I looked into her sparkling eyes, "if we can but barely live in the country, I am glad we came.'' The next morning Merton and I began our great under- taking — the planting of the other acre of ground, next to the potatoes, with field corn. Mr., Jones had harrowed it comparatively smooth. I had a light plow with which to mark out the furrows four feet apart each way. At the in- tersection of these furrows the seed was to be dropped. I found I could not drive our old bay straight across the field to save my life, and neighbor Jones laughed till his sides ached at the curves and crooks I first left behind me. "Here, Merton," I cried, nothing daunted, "we must work together again. Get a pole and stand it on the farther side of the plot four feet in from the edge of the sod. That's right. "Now come here ; take old Bay by the head, and, with your eyes fixed on the pole, lead him steadily toward it." A furrow was now made of which Mr. Jones himself 132 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN need not have been ashamed; and he laughed as he said, at parting "You'll do. I see you've got enough Yankee in you to try more ways than one." We kept at work manfully, although the day was warm, and by noon the plot was furrowed one way. After dinner we took an hour's partial rest in shelling our corn and then resumed our work, and in the same manner began furrowing at right angles with the first rows. The hills were thus about four feet apart each way. Merton dropped the corn after we had run half a dozen furrows. "Drop five kernels," I said; for Mr. Jones had told us that four stalks were enough and that three would do, but had added : "I plant five kernels, for some don't come up, and the crows and other vermints take others. If all of 'em grow, it's easier to pull up one stalk at the first hoeing than to plant over again." We found that putting in the corn was a lighter task than planting the potatoes even though we did our own fur- rowing; and by the middle of May we were complacent over the fact that we had succeeded with our general spring work far better than we had hoped, remembering that we were novices who had to take so much counsel from books and from our kind, practical neighbor. The foliage of the trees was now out in all its delicately shaded greenery, and midday often gave us a foretaste of summer heat. The slight blaze kindled in the old fireplace, after supper, was more for the sake of good cheer than for needed warmth, and at last it was dispensed with. Thrushes and other birds of richer and fuller song had come, and morning and evening we left the door open that we might enjoy the varied melody. Our first plantings of potatoes and early vegetables were now up and looked promising. So a new phase of labor — that of cultivation — began. ITew broods of chickens were coming off, and Winnie had many families to look after. ^Nevertheless, although there was much to attend to, the season was bringing a short breathing-spell, and I resolved COR]^, COLOR, AND MUSIC 133 to take advantage of it. So I said one Friday evening: "If to-morrow is fair, we'll take a vacation. What do you say to a day's fishing and sailing on the river ?" A jubilant shout greeted this proposal, and when it had subsided, Mousie asked, "Can't Junior go with us ?" "Certainly," I replied; "I'll go over right after supper, and make sure that his father consents." Mr. Jones said, "Yes," and Merton and Junior were soon busy with their preparations, which were continued until the long twilight deepened into dusk. t 134 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN CHAPTEK XXIX WE GO AFISHING THE following day, happily, proved all that we could desire. The children were up with the dawn, and Junior was not long in joining us. By eight o'clock we had finished breakfast and the morning work, our lunch-basket was packed, and the market-wagon stood at the door. Mr. Jones had good-naturedly promised to take a look at the premises occasionally to see that all was right. I had put but one seat in the wagon for my wife and myseK, since the young people decided that a straw-ride to the river would be "more fun than a parlor-car." My wife entered into the spirit of this little outing with a zest which gave me deep content. Her face indicated no regretful thoughts turning toward the Egypt of the city ; her mother love was so strong that she was happy with the children. The robins, of which there seemed no end about the house, gave us a tuneful and hilarious send-off ; the grown people and children whom we met smiled and cheered, fol- lowing us with envious eyes. Each of the children held a pole aloft, and Merton said that "the wagon looked as if our Lima-bean patch was off on a visit." In the village we increased our stock of lines and hooks, and bought a few corks for floats. We soon reached the mouth of the Moodna Creek, where stood a weather-beaten boat-house, with a stable adjoining, in which old Bay could enjoy himself in his quiet, prosaic way. [A good-sized boat was hired, and, as the tide was in, we at first decided to go up the creek as far as possible and float down with the ebb. WE QO A-FISHWO 135 This, to the children, was like a voyage of discovery, and there was a general airing of geography, each little bay, point, and gulf receiving some noted name. At last we reached a deep, shaded pool, which was eventually dubbed "Bobsey's Luck;" for he nearly fell into it in his eagerness to take off a minnow that had managed to fasten itself to his hook. Merton and Junior, being more experienced anglers, went ashore to make some casts on the ripples and rapids of the stream above, and secured several fine "winfish." The rest of us were content to take it easy in the shade and hook an occasional cat and sun fish. At last the jounger children wanted variety, so I permitted them to land on the wooded bank, kindle a little fire, and roast some clams that we had bought at the boat-house. The smoke and the tempting odors lured Merton and Junior, who soon proved that boys^ appetites can always be depended upon. Time passed rapidly, and I at last noticed that the tide had fallen to such a degree as to fill me with alarm. "Come, youngsters," I cried, "we must go back at once, or we shall have to stay here till almost night." They scrambled on board, and we started down-stream, but soon came to shallow water, as was proved by the swift cur- rent and the ripples. A moment later we were hard aground. In vain we pushed with the oars ; the boat would not budge. Then Junior sat down and coolly began to take off shoes and stockings. In a flash Merton followed his example. There was no help for it, and we had no time to lose. Over they splashed, lightening the boat, and taking the "painter," or tie-rope, at the bow, they pulled manfully. Slowly at first, but with increasing progress, the keel grated over the stones, and at last we were again afloat. A round of applause greeted the boys as they sprung back into the boat, and away we went, cautiously avoiding shoals and sand-bars, until we reached Plum Point, where we expected to spend the re- mainder of the day. Here, for a time, we had excellent sport, and pulled up sunfish and white perch of a very fair size. Bobsey caught so large a specimen of the former 186 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN variety that he had provided himself with a supper equal even to his capacity. The day ended in unalloyed pleasure, and never had the old farm-house looked so like home as when it greeted us again in the evening glow of the late spring sun. Merton and Junior divided the finny spoils to their satisfaction, while Winnie and I visited the chicken-coops and found that there had been no mishaps during our absence. I told my boy that I would milk the cow while he cleaned the fish for supper, and when at last we sat down we formed a tired, hilarious, and hungry group. Surely, if fish were created to be eaten, our enjoyment of their browned sweetness must have rounded out their existence completely. "O papa!" exclaimed Merton, at the breakfast table, on Monday morning; "we haven't planted any musk and water melons !'' "That is true,'' I replied. "I find that I overlooked melons in making out my list of seeds. Indeed, I passed them over, I imagine, as a luxury that we could dispense with the first year." "I'll take care of 'em if you will only let us have some/' persisted the boy; and the other children joined in his re- quest. "But the garden is all filled up," I said, thoughtfully; "and I fear it is too late to plant now." Looks of disappointment led me to think further and I got one of my seed catalogues. "Here are some early kinds named and perhaps they would mature; but where shall we put them?" "Seems to me we had better have a little less corn, if room can be made for melons," was Merton's suggestion. "I'll tell you what we'll do," I continued. "We've had such good fortune in accomplishing our early work, and you have helped so nicely, that you shall try your hand at melons. Drive your mother and Mousie down to the village this morning, and get some seeds of the nutmeg musk-melon and Phinney's early watermelon. I'll take two rows in the WE 00 A'FISHINO 137 early com on the warm garden slope, pull up every third hill, and make, in their places, nice, warm, rich beds for the seed which we will plant as soon as you come back. I don't believe the corn will shade the melon vines too much; and as soon as we have taken off the green ears we will cut away the stalks. Thus we shall get two crops from the same ground." This plan was carried out, and the melon seed came up in a very promising way. 138 DRIVEN BACK TO UiDEN CHAPTER XXX WEEDS AND WORKING FOR DEAR LIFE THE beautiful transition period of spring passing into summer would have filled us with delight had we not found a hostile army advancing on us — annual weeds. When we planted the garden, the soil was brown and clean. The early vegetables came up in well-defined green rows, the weeds appearing with them, too few and scattered to cause anxiety. Now all was changed. Weeds seemed created by magic in a night. The garden was becoming evenly green throughout; and the vegetables, in some cases, could* scarcely be distinguished from the ranker growth of crowding, unknown plants among and around them. I also saw that our corn and potato field would soon become, if left alone, as verdant as the meadow beyond. I began to fear that we could not cope with these myriads of foes, little now, but growing while we slept, and stealing a march on us in one part of the place while we destroyed them in another. With something like dismay I called Mr. Jones's at- tention to these silent forces, invading, not only the garden and fields, but the raspberries and, indeed, all the ground now devoted to fruit. He laughed and said: "The Philistines are on you, sure enough. Pm busy whackin' them over myself, but I guess I'll have to come and give you a lift, for you must get these weeds well under before hayin' and raspberry- pickin'-time comes. It's warm to-day, and the ground's mid- dlin' dry. I'll show you what can be done in short metre. By the way, I'll give you a little wrinkle worth knowin'. WEEDS AND WORKING FOR DEAR LIFE 139 IVe observed that you didn't bring the children to the coun- try to be like weeds — just ter grow and run ter seed, ye know. It's 'stonishin' how soon weeds, whether they're people or pusley, get seedy. Well, now, call the children and come with me to the garden." We were all soon there, including my wife, who shared my solicitude. ^^You see," resumed Mr. Jones, "that these weakly little rows of carrots, beets, and onions would soon be choked by these weeds, not an inch high yet. The same is true of the corn and peas and other sass. The pertaters are strong enough to take care of themselves for a time, but not long. I see you and Merton have been tryin' to weed and hoe them out at the same time. Well, you can't keep up with the work in that way. Take now this bed of beets; the weeds are gettin' even all over it, and they're thicker, if anywhere, right in the row, so that it takes a good eye to see the beets. But here they are, and here they run across the bed. Now look at me. One good showin' is worth all the tellin' and readin' from now to Christmas. ' You see, I begin with my two hands, and pull out all the weeds on each side of the little row, and I pull 'em away from the young beets so as not to disturb them, but to leave 'em standin' straight and saucy. Careless hands will half pull out the vegetables at the same time with the weeds. I had to strap Junior once before he learned that fact, and it was amazin' how I helped his eyesight and trained his fingers through his back. Well, now, you see, I've cleared out this row of beets half across the bed and the ground for an inch or two on each side of it. I drop the weeds right down in the spaces between the rows, for the sun will dry 'em up before dinner-time. Now I'll take another row." By this time Merton and I were following his example, and in a few moments a part of three more rows had been treated in the same way. "Now," continued Mr. Jones, "the weeds are all out of the rows that we've done, and for a little space on each side 140 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN of 'em. The beets have a chance to grow unchoked, and to get ahead. These other little green varmints in the ground, between the rows, are too small to do any harm yet. Prac- tically the beets are cleaned out, and will have all the ground they need to themselves for three or four days; but these weeds between the rows would soon swamp everything. JSTow, give me a hoe, and I'll fix them. " He drew the useful tool carefully and evenly through the spaces between the rows, and our enemies were lying on their sides ready to wither away in the morning sun. "You see after the rows are weeded out how quickly you can hoe the spaces between 'em," my neighbor con- cluded. "Now the children can do this weedin'. Your and Morton's time's too valyble. When weeds are pulled from right in and around vegetables, the rest can stand without harm for a while, till you can get around with the hoe and cultivator. This weedin' out business is 'specially impor- tant in rainy weather, for it only hurts ground to hoe or work it in wet, showery days, and the weeds don't mind it a bit. Warm, sunny spells, when the soil's a little dry, is the time to kill weeds. But you must be careful in weedin' then, or you'll so disturb the young, tender sass that it'll dry up, too. See, I'll pull some weeds carelessly. Now obsarve that the beets are half jerked up also. Of course that won't an- swer. I'll come over this afternoon with my cultivator, and we'll tackle the corn and pertaters, and make such a swath among these green Philistines that you'll sleep better to-night. But ye're goin' to come out right, mind, I tell ye so; and I've seen mor'n one city squash come to the country with the idee that they were goin' to beat us punkins all holler." And he left us laughing and hopeful. "Come, Winnie and Bobsey, begin here on each side of me. I'll show you this morning and then I trust you can be left to do the weeding carefully by yourselves to-morrow. Pressing as the work is, you shall have your afternoons until the berries are ripe." WEEDS AND WORKING FOR DEAR LIFE 141 "Can't I help, too V asked Mousie. I looked into her eager, wistful face, but said, firmly: "IsTot now, dear. The sun is too hot. Toward night, per- haps, I'll let you do a little. By helping mamma in the house you are doing your part." We made good progress, and the two younger children speedily learned the knack of working carefully, so as not to disturb the little vegetables. I soon found that weeding was back-aching work for me, and therefore "spelled" myself by hoeing out the spaces between the rows. By the time the music of the dinner-bell sounded, hosts of our enemies were slain. Mr. Jones, true to his promise, was on hand at one o'clock with his cultivator, and began with the corn, which was now a few inches high. Merton and I followed with hoes, uncovering the tender shoots on which earth had been thrown, and dressing out the soil into clean flat hills. As our neighbor had said, it was astonishing how much work the horse-cultivator performed in a short time. I saw that it would be wise for us, another year, to plant in a way that would permit the use of horse-power. Even in the garden this method should be followed as far as possible. Mr. Jones was not a man of half-way measures. He remained helping us, till he had gone through the corn, once each way, twice between the long rows of potatoes, then twice through all the raspberry rows, giving us two full days of his time altogether. I handed him a dollar in addition to his charge, saying that I had never paid out money with greater satisfaction. "Well," he said, with a short, dry laugh, "I'll take it this time, for my work is sufferin' at home, but I didn't want you to get discouraged. Now, keep the hoes flyin', and you're ahead once more. Junior's at it early and late, I can tell ye." "So I supposed, for we've missed him." "Good reason. When I'm through with him he^s ready enough to crawl into his little bed." 142 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN So were we for a few days, in our winning fight with the weeds. One hot afternoon, about three o'clock, I saw that Merton was growing pale, and beginning to lag, and I said, decidedly: ^'Do you see that tree there? Go and lie down under it till I call you/' ^^I guess I can stand it till night,'' he began, his pride a little touched. "Obey orders! I am captain." In five minutes he was fast asleep. I threw my coat over him, and sat down, proposing to have a half-hour's rest myself. My wife came out with a pitcher of cool but- ter-milk and nodded her head approvingly at us. ''Well, my thoughtful Eve," I said, "I find that our modern Eden will cost a great many back-aches." "If you will only be prudent like this, you may save me a heart-ache. Eobert, you are ambitious, and unused to this kind of work. Please don't ever be so foolish as to for- get the comparative value of vegetables and yourselves. Honestly now" (with one of her saucy looks), "I'd rather do with a few bushels less, than do without you and Merton;" and she sat down and kept me idle for an hour. Then Merton got up, saying that he felt as "fresh as if he had had a night's rest," and we accomplished more in the cool of the day than if we had kept doggedly at work. I found that Winnie and Bobsey required rather different treatment. For a while they got on very well, but one morn- ing I set them at a bed of parsnips about which I was par- ticular. In the middle of the forenoon I went to the garden to see how they were getting on. Shouts of laughter made me fear that all was not well, and I soon discovered that they were throwing lumps of earth at each other. So absorbed were they in their untimely and mischievous fun that I was not noticed until I found Bobsey sitting plump on the vege- tables, and the rows behind both the children very shabbily cleaned, not a few of the little plants having been pulled up with the weeds. Without a word I marched thjBm into the house, then WEEDS AND WORKING FOR DEAR LIFE 143 said: "Under arrest till night. Winnie, you go to your room. I shall strap Bobsey in his chair, and put him in the parlor by himself." The exchange of the hot garden for the cool rooms seemed rather an agreeable punishment at first, although Winnie felt the disgrace somewhat. When, at dinner, nothing but a cup of water and a piece of dry bread was taken to them, Bobsey began to howl, and Winnie to look as if the affair was growing serious. Late in the afternoon, when she found that she was not to gather the eggs or feed her beloved chickens, she, too, broke down and sobbed that she "wouldn't do so any more.'' Bobsey also pleaded so piteously for release, and promised such saint-like behavior, that I said: "Well, I will remit the rest of your punishment and put you on trial. You had no excuse for your mischief this morn- ing, for I allow you to play the greater p^rt of every after- noon, while Merton must stand by me the whole of the week." My touch of discipline brought up the morale of my little squad effectually for a time. The next afternoon even the memory of trouble was banished by the finding of the first wild strawberries. Exultation and universal interest pre- vailed as clusters of green and red berries were handed around to be smelled and examined. "Truly," my wife re- marked, "even roses can scarcely equal the fragrance of the wild strawberry." From that day forward, for weeks, it seemed as if we entered on a diet of strawberries and roses. The old-fash- ioned bushes of the latter, near the house, had been well trimmed, and gave large, fine buds in consequence, while Mousie, Winnie, and Bobsey gleaned every wild berry that could be found, beginning with the sunny upland slopes and following the aromatic fruit down to the cool, moist borders of the creek. "Another year," I said, "I think you will be tired even of strawberries, for we shall have to pick early and late." 144 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN CHAPTER XXXI NATURE SMILES AND HELPS THE Saturday evening which brought us almost to the middle of June was welcomed indeed. The days preceding had been filled with hard, yet successful labor, and the weeds had been slaughtered by the million. The greater part of our crops had come up well and were growing nicely. In hoeing the corn, we had planted over the few missing hills, and now, like soldiers who had won the first great success of the campaign, we were in a mood to enjoy a rest to the utmost. This rest seemed all the more delightful when we awoke on the following morning, to the soft patter of rain. The preceding days had been unusually dry and warm, so that the grass and tender vegetables were beginning to suffer. I was worrying about the raspberries also, which were passing out of blossom. The cultivator had been through them, and Merton and I, only the evening before, had finished hoeing out the sprouting weeds and surplus suckers. I had observed, with dread, that just as the fruit was forming, the earth, especially around the hills, was getting dry. Now, looking out, I saw that the needful watering was not coming from a passing shower. The clouds were leaden from horizon to horizon; the rain fell with a gentle steadi- ness of a quiet summer storm, and had evidently been falling some hours already. The air was so fragrant that I threw wide open the door and windows. It was a true June in- cense, such as no art could distil, and when, at last, we all sat down to breakfast, of which crisp radishes taken a few NATURE SMILES AND HELPS 145 moments before from our own garden formed a part, we felt that nature was carrying on our work of the past week in a way that filled our hearts with gratitude. The air was so warm that we did not fear the dampness. The door and windows were left open that we might enjoy the delicious odors and listen to the musical patter of the rain, which fell so softly that the birds were quite as tuneful as on other days. The children joined me in the porch, and my wife came out laughing, and put her hand on my shoulder as she said, ^^You are not through with July and August yet." Mousie held her hands out in the warm rain, saying : "I feel as if it would make me grow, too. Look at the green cherries up there, bobbing as the drops hit them." "Rain isn't good for chickens," Winnie remarked, doubt- fully. "It won't hurt them," I replied, "for I have fed them so well that they needn't go out in the wet for food." The clouds gave us a more and more copious downfall as the day advanced, and I sat on the porch, resting and ob- serving with conscious gratitude how beautifully nature was furthering all our labor, and fulfilling our hopes. This rain would greatly increase the hay-crops for the old horse and tlie cow; it would carry my vegetables rapidly toward matur- ity; and, best of all, would soak the raspberry ground so thoroughly that the fruit would be almost safe. What was true of our little plot was equally so of neighbor Jones's farm, and thousands of others. My wife sat with me much of the day, and I truly think that our thoughts were accept- able worship. By four in the afternoon the western horizon lightened, the clouds soon broke away, and the sun shone out briefly in undiminished splendor, turning the countless raindrops on foliage and grass into gems, literally, of the purest water. The bird-songs seemed almost ecstatic, and the voices of the children, permitted at last to go out of doors, vied with them in gladness. "Let July and August — ^yes, and bleak January — bring 146 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN what they may/' I said to my wife, "nevertheless, this is Eden/' In spite of the muddy walks, we picked our way around the garden, exclaiming in pleased wonder at the growth made by our vegetable nurslings in a few brief hours, while, across, the field, the corn and potato rows showed green, strong outlines. I found that Brindle in the pasture hadn't minded the rain, but only appeared the sleeker for it. When at last I came in to supper, I gave my wife a handful of berries, at which she and the children exclaimed. I had permitted a dozen plants of each variety of my garden strawberries to bear, that I might get some idea of the fruit. The blos- soms on the other plants had been picked off as soon as they appeared, so that all the strength might go toward forming new plants. I found that a few of the berries of the two early kinds were ripe, also that the robins had been sampling them. In size, at least, they seemed wonderful compared with the wild fruit from the field, and I said : "There will be lively times for us when we must get a dozen bushels a day, like these, off to Mr. Bogart." The children, then, thought it would be the greatest fun in the world. By the time supper was over, Mr. Jones and Junior appeared, and my neighbor said in hearty good- will : "You got your cultivatin' done in the nick of time, Mr. Durham. This rain is a good hundred dollars in your pocket and mine, too." I soon perceived that our enemies, the weeds, had mil- lions in reserve, and on Monday — the day after the rain — with all the children helping, even Mousie part of the time, we went at the garden again. To Mousie, scarcely an invalid any longer, was given the pleasure of picking the first green peas and shelling them for dinner. We had long been en- joying the succulent lettuce and the radishes, and now I said to Winnie: "To-morrow you can begin thinning out the beets, leaving the plants three inches apart. What you pull up can be cooked as spinach, or 'greens/ as country NATURE SMILES AND HELPS 147 people say. Our garden will soon enable us to live like princes.'^ As the ground dried after the rain, a light crust formed on the surface, and in the wetter portions it was even inclined to bake or crack. I was surprised at the almost magical effect of breaking up the crust and making the soil loose and mellow by cultivation. The letting in of air and light caused the plants to grow with wonderful vigor. On Wednesday morning Merton came running in, ex- claiming, "O papa ! there's a green worm eating all the leaves off the currant and gooseberry bushes.'' I followed him hastily, and found that considerable mis- chief had already been done, and I went to one of my fruit books in a hurry to find out how to cope with this new enemy. As a result, I said: "Merton, mamma wishes to go to the village. You drive her and Mousie down, and at the drug-store get two pounds of white hellebore, also a pound of Paris green, for I find that the potato bugs are getting too thick to be managed by hand. Kemember that these are poisons, the Paris green a deadly one. Have them care- fully wrapped up, and keep them from everything else. "When you return I'll take charge of them. Also, get a new large watering-can." That afternoon I mixed a heaping tablespoonful of the hellebore through the contents of the watering-can, on which I had painted the word "Poison." With this infusion I sprinkled thoroughly every bush on which I could find a worm, and the next morning we had the pleasure of find- ing most of these enemies dead. But some escaped or new ones were hatched, and we found that we could save our cur- rants only by constant vigilance. Every evening, until the fruit was nearly ripe, we went over the bushes, and gave the vile little pests a dose wherever we found them. Our other can I also labelled "Poison," with dashes under it to show that it was to be used for Paris green alone. A teaspoonf ul of this deadly agent was enough, according to my book, for 148 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN the amount of water held by the ordinary wooden pail. I kept this poison out of Bobsey's reach, and, indeed, where no one but myself could get at it, and, by its aid, destroyed the potato beetles and their larvae also. Whatever may be true in other parts of the world, in our region, certainly, success can be secured only by prompt, intelligent effort. CHERRIES, BERRIES, AND BERRY-THIEVES 149 CHAPTER XXXII CHERRIES, BERRIES, AND BERRY-THIEVE3 AN evening or two after this we were taught that not even in our retired nook had we escaped the dangers of city life. Winnie and Bobsey,in their rambles after strawberries, had met two other children, and, early in the acquaintance, fortunately brought them to the house. The moment I saw the strange girl, I recognized a rural type of Melissa Daggett, while the urchin of Bobsey's age did not scruple to use vile language in my hearing. I doubt whether the poor little savage had any better vernacular. I told them kindly but firmly that they must not come on the place again without my permission. After supper I went over and asked Mr. Jones about these children, and he replied, significantly, looking around first to make sure that no one heard him : "Mr. Durham, steer clear of those people. You know there are certain varmints on a farm to which we give a wide berth and kill 'em when we can. Of course we can't kill off this family, although a good contribution could be taken up any day to move 'em a hundred miles away. Still about everybody gives 'em a wide berth, and is civil to their faces. They'll rob you more or less, and you might as well make up your mind to it, and let 'em alone," "Suppose I don't let them alone?" "Well — remember, now, this is wholly between our- selves — there's been barns burned around here. Every- body's satisfied who sot 'em afire, but nothin' can be proved. 150 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN Your cow or horse, too, might suddenly die. There's no tellin' what accidents would happen if you got their ill-will." "I can't take the course you suggest toward this family," I said, after a little thought. "It seems to me wrong on both sides. On one hand, they are treated as outlaws, and that would go far to make ihem such ; on the other, they are per- mitted to levy a sort of blackmail and commit crime with impunity. Of course I must keep my children away from them ; but, if the chance offers, I shall show the family kind- ness, and if they molest me I shall try to give them the law to the utmost." "Well," concluded Mr. Jones, with a shrug, "I've warned you, if they git down on yer, yer'll find 'em snakes in the grass." Eeturning home, I said nothing to Winnie and Bobsey against their recent companions, but told them that if they went with, them again, or made the acquaintance of other strangers without permission, they would be put on bread and water for an entire day — that all such action was posi- tively forbidden. It was evident, however, that the Melissa Daggett ele- ment was present in the country, and in an aggravated form. That it was not next door, or, rather, in the next room, was the redeeming feature. Residents in the country are usu- ally separated by wide spaces from evil association. It must not be thought that my wife and children had no society except that afforded by Mr. Jones's family. They were gradually making pleasant and useful acquaintances, especially among those whom we met at church; but as these people have no material part in this simple history, they are not mentioned. The most important activities of the season were now drawing very near. The cherries were swelling fast; the currants were growing red, and were already pronounced "nice for pies;" and one morning Merton came rushing in with a red raspberry from the Highland Hardy variety. I was glad the time was at hand when I should begin to re- CHERRIES, BERRIESy AND BERRY-THIEVES 151 ceive something besides advice from Mr. Bogart; for, care- ful as we had been, the drain on my capital had been long and steady, and were eager for the turn of the tide. I had bought a number of old Mr. Jamison's crates, had painted out his name and replaced it with mine. I now wrote to Mr. Bogart for packages best adapted to the ship- ping of cherries, currants, and raspberries. For the first he sent me baskets that held about a peck. These baskets were so cheap that they could be sold with the fruit. For cur- rants, crates containing twenty-four quart baskets were forwarded. These, he wrote, would also do for black-caps this season, and for strawberries next year. For the red raspberries he sent me quite different crates, filled with lit- tle baskets holding only half a pint of fruit. Limited sup- plies of these packages were sent, for he said that a telegram would bring more the same day. The corn and potatoes were becoming weedy again. This time I made use of a light plow, Merton leading old Bay as at first. Then, with our hoes, we gave the rows a final dressing out. By the time we had finished, some of our grass was fit to cut, the raspberries needed a careful picking over, and the cherries on one tree were ready for market. The children and robins had already feasted, but I was hungry for a check from !N^ew York. I had long since decided not to attempt to carry on hay- ing alone at this critical season, but had hired a man, too aged to hold his own among the harvesters on the neighboring farms. Mr. Jones had said of him: "He's a careful, trusty old fellow, who can do a good day's work yet if you don't hurry him. Most of your grass is in the meadow, some parts fit to cut before the others. Let the old man begin and mow what he can, every day. Then you won't have to cure and get in a great lot of hay all at once, and perhaps, too, when your raspberries most need pickin'." So, during the last days of June, old Mr. Jacox, who came at moderate wages, put in his scythe on the uplands. I spread the grass and raked it up when dry, and, with the Roe— IX— V 152 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN aid of Merton and a rude, extemporized rack on the market- wagon, got the hay gradually into the barn. This labor took only part of the day; the rest of the time was employed in the garden and in picking fruit. On the last day of June we gathered a crate of early raspberries and eight baskets of cherries. In the cool of the afternoon, these were placed in the wagon, and with my wife and the three younger children, I drove to the Maize- ville Landing with our first shipment to Mr. Bogart. "We are ^p'oducers,' at last, as Bobsey said,'' I cried, joyously. "And I trust that this small beginning will end in such big loads as will leave us no room for wife and chil- dren, but will eventually give them a carriage to ride in." Merton remained on guard to watch our precious ripen- ing fruit. After our departure he began a vigilant patrol of the place, feeling much like a sentinel left on guard. About sun-down, he told me, as he was passing through the rasp- berry field, he thought he caught a glimpse of an old straw hat dodging down behind the bushes. He bounded toward the spot, a moment later confronting three children with tin pails. The two younger proved to be Winnie's objection- able acquaintances that I had told to keep off the place. The eldest was a boy, not far from Merton's age, and had justly won the name of being the worst boy in the region. All were the children of the dangerous neighbor against whom Mr. Jones had warned me. The boy at first regarded Merton with a sullen, defiant look, while his brother and sister coolly continued to steal the fruit. "Clear out," cried Merton. "We'll have you put in jail if you come here again." "You shut up and clear out yerself," said the boy, threateningly, "or I'll break yer head. Yer pap's away, and we ain't afraid of you. What's more, we're goin' ter have some cherries before — " Now Merton had a quick temper, and at this moment CHERRIES, BERRIES, AND BERRY-THIEVES 153 sprang at the fellow who was adding insult to injury, so quickly that he got in a blow that blackened one of the thief's eyes. Then they clinched, and, although his antagonist was the heavier, Merton thinks he could have whipped him had not the two younger marauders attacked him, tooth and nail, like cats. Finding himself getting the worst of it, he in- stinctively sent out a cry for his stanch friend Junior. Fortunately, this ally was coming along the road toward our house, and he gave an answering halloo. The vagrants, apparently, had a wholesome fear of John Jones, junior, for, on hearing his voice, they beat a hurried retreat; but knowing that no one was at the house, and in the spirit of revengeful mischief, they took their flight in that direction. Seeing Mousie's flower-bed, they ran and jumped upon that, breaking down half the plants, then dashed off through the coops, releasing the hens, and scatter- ing the broods of chickens. Merton and Junior, who for a few moments had lost sight of the invaders in the thick raspberry bushes, were now in hot pursuit, and would have caught them again, had they not seen a man coming up the lane, accompanied by a big dog. Junior laid a hand on headlong Merton, whose blood was now at boiling heat, and said, "Stop." 154 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN CHAPTER XXXIII GIVEN HIS CHOICE JUNIOR had good reason for bringing Merton to a sud- den halt in his impetuous and hostile advance. The man coming up the lane, with a savage dog, was the father of the ill-nurtured children. He had felt a little un- easy as to the results of their raid upon our fruit, and had walked across the fields to give them the encouragement of his presence, or to cover their retreat, which he now did effectually. It took Junior but a moment to explain to my boy that they were no match "for the two brutes," as he expressed himself, adding, "The man is worse than the dog." Merton, however, was almost reckless from anger and a sense of unprovoked wrong, and he darted into the house for his gun. "See here, Merton," said Junior, firmly, "shoot the dog if they set him on us, but never fire at a human being. You'd better give me the gun; I am cooler than you are." They had no occasion to use the weapon, however. The man shook his fist at them, while his children indulged in taunts and coarse derision. The dog, sharing their spirit and not their discretion, started for the boys, but was re- called, and our undesirable neighbors departed leisurely. (All this was related to me after nightfall, when I re- turned with my wife and younger children from the Maize- ville Landing. I confess that I fully shared Merton's an- ger, although I listened quietly. "You grow white, Robert, when you are angry," said GIVEN HIS CHOICE 155 my wife. "I suppose that's the most dangerous kind of heat — white-heat. Don't take the matter so to heart. We can't risk getting the ill-will of these ugly people. You know what Mr. Jones said about them." "This question shall be settled in twenty-four hours!" I replied. "That man and his family are the pest of the neighborhood, and everyone lives in a sort of abject dread of them. Now, the neighbors must say 'yes' or 'no' to the question whether we shall have decency, law, and order, or not. Merton, unharness the horse. Junior, come with me ; I'm going to see your father." I found Mr. Jones sleepy and about to retire, but his blue eyes were soon wide open, with an angry fire in them. "You take the matter very quietly, Mr. Durham;" he said; "more quietly than I could." "I shall not fume about the affair a moment. I prefer to act. The only question for you and the other neighbors to decide is, Will you act with me ? I am going to this man Bagley's house to-morrow, to give him his choice. It's either decency and law-abiding on his part, now, or prose- cution before the law on mine. You say that you are sure that he has burned barns, and made himself generally the terror of the region. Now, I won't live in a neighborhood infested by people little better than wild Indians. My feel- ings as a man will not permit me to submit to insult and in- jury. What's more, it's time the people about here abated this nuisance." "You are right, Robert Durham!" said Mr. Jones, springing up and giving me his hand. "I've felt mean, and so have others, that we've allowed ourselves to be run over by this rapscallion. If you go to-morrow, I'll go with you, and 90 will Rollins. His hen-roost was robbed t'other night, and he tracked the thieves straight toward Bagley's house. He says his patience has given out. It only needs a leader to rouse the neighborhood, but it ain't very credit- able to us that we let a new-comer like you face the thing first." 156 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN "Very well," I said, "it's for you and your neighbors to show now how much grit and manhood you have. I shall start for Bagley's house at nine to-morrow. Of course I shall be glad to have company, and if he sees that the people will not stand any more of his rascality, he'll be more apt to behave himself or else clear out." "He'll have to do one or the other," said Mr. Jones, grimly. "I'll go right down to KoUins's. Come, Junior, we may want you." At eight o'clock the next morning, a dozen men, includ- ing the constable, were in our yard. My wife whispered, "Do be prudent, Robert." She was much reassured, how- ever, by the largeness of our force. We soon reached the dilapidated hovel, and were so for- tunate as to find Bagley and all his family at home. Al- though it was the busiest season, he was idle. As I led my forces straight toward the door, it was evident that he was surprised and disconcerted, in spite of his attempt to main- tain a sullen and defiant aspect. I saw his evil eye resting on one and another of our group, as if he was storing up grudges to be well paid on future dark nights. His eldest son stood with the dog at the corner of the house, and as I approached, the cur, set on by the boy, came toward me with a stealthy step. I carried a heavy cane, and just as the brute was about to take me by the leg, I struck him a blow on the head that sent him howling away. The man for a moment acted almost as if he had been struck himself. His bloated visage became inflamed, and he sprang toward me. "Stop!" I thundered. My neighbors closed around me, and he instinctively drew back. "Bagley," I cried, "look me in the eye." And he fixed upon me a gaze full of impotent anger. "N^ow," I resumed, "I wish you and your family to understand that you've come to the end of your rope. You must become decent, law- abiding people, like the rest of us, or we shall put you where you can't harm us. I, for one, am going to give you a last GIVEN HIS CHOICE 157 chance. Your children were stealing my fruit last night, and acting shamefully afterward. You also trespassed, and you threatened these two boys; you are idle in the busiest time, and think you can live by plunder. N'ow, you and yours must turn the sharpest corner you ever saw. Your two eldest children can come and pick berries for me at the usual wages, if they obey my orders and behave themselves. One of the neighbors here says he'll give you work, if you try to do it well. If you accept these terms, I'll let the past go. If you don't, I'll have the constable arrest your boy at once, and I'll see that he gets the heaviest sentence the law allows, while if you or your children make any further trouble, I'll meet you promptly in every way the law permits. But, little as you deserve it, I am going to give you and your family one chance to reform, before pro- ceeding against you. Only understand one thing, I am not afraid of you. I've had my say." "I haven't had mine," said KoUins, stepping forward excitedly. "You, or your scapegrace boy there, robbed my hen-roost the other night, and you've robbed it before. There isn't a man in this region but believes that it was you who burned the barns and hay-stacks. We won't stand this nonsense another hour. You've got to come to my hay- fields and work out the price of those chickens, and after that I'll give you fair wages. But if there's any more trouble, we'll clean you out as we would a family of weasels." "Yes, neighbor Bagley," added Mr. Jones, in his dry, caustic way, "think soberly. I hope you are sober. I'm not one of the threatenin', barkin' sort, but I've reached the p'int where I'll bite. The law will protect us, an' the hull neighborhood has resolved, with Mr. Durham here, that you and your children shall make no more trouble than he and his children. See?" "Look-a-here," began the man, blusteringly, "you needn't come threatenin' in this blood-and-thunder style. The law'll protect me as well as — " 168 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN Ominous murnmrs were arising from all my neighbors, and Mr. Jones now came out strong. "JSTeighbors/' he said, "keep cool. The time to act hasn't come jet. See here, Bagley, it's hayin' and harvest. Our time's vallyble, whether yours is or not. You kin have just three minutes to decide whether you'll take your oath to stop your maraudin' and that of your children;" and he pulled out his watch. "Let me add my word," said a little man, stepping for- ward. "I own this house, and the rent is long overdue. Follow neighbor Jones's advice or we'll see that the sheriff puts your traps out in the middle of the road." "Oh, of course,'' began Bagley. "What kin one feller do against a crowd?" "Sw'ar, as I told you," said Mr. Jones, sharply and em- phatically. "What do you mean by hangin' fire so ? Do you s'pose this is child's play and make-believe? Don't ye know that when quiet, peaceable neighbors git riled up to our pitch, they mean what they say? Sw'ar, as I said, and be mighty sudden about it." "Don't be a fool," added his wife, who stood trembling behind him. "Can't you see ?" "Very well, I sw'ar it," said the man, in some trepidation. "I^ow, Bagley," said Mr. Jones, putting back his watch, "we want to convert you thoroughly this mornin'. The first bit of mischief that takes place in this borough will bring the weight of the law on you ;" and, wheeling on his heel, he left the yard, followed by the others. GIVEN A CHANGE 169 CHAPTER XXXIV GIVEN A CHANCE ^^ /'•^ OME in, Mr. Bagley/' I said, "and bring the chil- I dren. I want to talk with you all. Merton, you V-^ go home with Junior." ''But, papa — '' he objected. "Do as I bid you," I said, firmly, and I entered the squalid abode. The man and the children followed me wonderingly. I sat down and looked the man steadily in the eye for a moment. "Let us settle one thing first," I began. "Do you think I am afraid of you ?" "'S'pose not, with sich backin' as yer got," was the some- what nervous reply. "I told Mr. Jones after I came home last night that I should fight this thing alone if no one stood by me. But you see that your neighbors have reached the limit of for- bearance. INTow, Mr. Bagley, I didn't remain to threaten you. There has been enough of that, and from very reso- lute, angry men, too. I wish to give you and yours a chance. You've come to a place where two roads branch; you must take one or the other. You can't help yourself. You and your children won't be allowed to steal or prowl about any more. That's settled. If you go away and begin the same wretched life elsewhere, you'll soon reach the same result ; you and your son will be lodged in .jail and put at hard labor. Would you not better make up your mind to work for yourself and family, like an honest man ? Look at 160 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN these children. How are you bringing them up? — Take the road to the right. Do your level best, and I'll help you. I'll let bygones be bygones, and aid you in becoming a respectable citizen." "Oh, Hank, do be a man, now that Mr. Durham gives you a chance," sobbed his wife; "you know we've been liv- ing badly." "That's it, Bagley. These are the questions you must decide. If you'll try to be a man, I'll give you my hand to stand by you. My religion, such as it is, requires that I shall not let a man go wrong if I can help it. If you'll take the road to the right and do your level best, there's my hand." The man showed his emotion by a slight tremor only, and after a moment's thoughtful hesitation he took my hand and said, in a hoarse, choking voice : "You've got a claim on me now which all the rest couldn't git, even if they put a rope around my neck. I s'pose I have lived like a brute, but I've been treated like one, too." "If you'll do as I say, I'll guarantee that within six months you'll be receiving all the kindness that a self-respecting man wants," I answered. Then, turning to his wife, I asked, "What have you in the house to eat?" "Next to nothin'," she said, drying her eyes with her apron, and then throwing open their bare cupboard. "Put on your coat, Bagley, and come with me," I said. He and his wife began to be profuse with thanks. "No, no!" I said, firmly. "I'm not going to give you a penny's worth of anything while you-^re able to earn a living. You shall have food at once ; but I shall expect you to pay for it in work. I am going to treat you like a man and a woman, and not like beggars." ' A few minutes later, some of the neighbors were much surprised to see Bagley and myself going up the road to- gether. GIVEN A CHANCE 161 My wife, Merton, and tender-hearted Mousie were at the head of the lane watching for me. Keassured, as we approached, they returned wonderingly to the house, and met us at the door. "This is Mrs. Durham,'* I said. "My dear, please give Mr. Bagley ten pounds of flour and a piece of pork. After youVe had your dinner, Mr. Bagley, I shall expect you, as we've agreed. And if you'll chain up that dog of yours, or, better still, knock it on the head with an axe, Mrs. Dur- ham will go down and see your wife about fixing up your children." Winifred gave me a pleased, intelligent look, and said, "Come in, Mr. Bagley;" while Merton and I hastened away to catch up with neglected work. "Your husband's been good to me," said the man, ab- ruptly. "That's because he believes you are going to be good to yourself and your family," was her smiling reply. "Will you come and see my wife ?" he asked. "Certainly, if I don't have to face your dog," replied Winifred. "I'll kill the critter soon's I go home," muttered Bagley. "It hardly pays to keep a big, useless dog," was my wife's practical comment. In going to the cellar for the meat, she left him alone for a moment or two with Mousie; and he, under his new impulses, said : "Little gal, ef my children hurt your flowers agin, let me know, and I'll thrash 'em !" The child stole to his side and gave him her hand, as she replied, "Try being kind to them." Bagley went home with some new ideas under his tattered old hat. At half-past twelve he was on hand, ready for work. "That dog that tried to bite ye is dead and buried," he said, "and I hope I buried some of my dog natur' with 'im," "You've shown your good sense. But I haven't time to talk now. The old man has mown a good deal of grass. DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN I want you to shake it out, and, as soon as he says it's dry enough, to rake it up. Toward night I'll be out with the wagon, and we'll stow all that's fit into the barn. To-morrow I want your two eldest children to come and pick berries." "I'm in fer it, Mr. Durham. You've given me your hand, and I'll show yer how that goes furder with me than all the blood-and-thunder talk in Maizeville," said Bagley, with some feeling. "Then you'll show that you can be a man like the rest of us," I said, as I hastened to our early dinner. My wife beamed and nodded at me. "I'm not going to say anything to set you up too much," she said. "You are great on problems, and you are solving one even better than I hoped." "It isn't solved yet," I replied. "We have only started Bagley and his people on the right road. It will require much patience and good management to keep them there. I rather think you'll have the hardest part of the problem yet on your hands. I have little time for problems now, however, except that of making the most of this season of rapid growth and harvest. I declare I'm almost bewil- dered when I see how much there is to be done on every side. Children, we must all act like soldiers in the middle of a fight. Every stroke must tell. ISTow, we'll hold a council of war, so as to make the most of the afternoon's work. Merton, how are the raspberries ?" "There are more ripe, papa, than I thought there would be." "Then, Winnie, you and Bobsey must leave the weeding in the garden and help Merton pick berries this after- noon." "As soon as it gets cooler," said my wife, "Mousie and I are going to pick, also." "Very well," I agreed. "You can give us raspberries and milk to-night, and so you will be getting supper at the same time. Until the hay is ready to come in, I shall keep on hoeing in the garden, the weeds grow so rapidly. To- GIVEN A CHANCE 163 morrow will be a regular fruit day all around, for there are two more cherry-trees that need picking." Our short nooning over, we all went to our several tasks. The children were made to feel that now was the chance to win our bread for months to come, and that there must be no shirking. Mousie promised to clear away the things while my wife, protected by a large sun-shade, walked slowly down to the Bagley cottage. Having seen that Merton and his little squad were filling the baskets with raspberries prop- erly, I went to the garden and slaughtered the weeds where they threatened to do the most harm. At last I became so hot and wearied that I thought I would visit a distant part of the upland meadow, and see how Bagley was progressing. He was raking manfully, and had accomplished a fair amount of work, but it was evident that he was almost exhausted. He was not accustomed to hard work, and had rendered himself still more unfit for it by dissipation. "See here, Bagley," I said, "you are doing well, but you will have to break yourself into harness gradually. I don't wish to be hard upon you. Lie down under this tree for half an hour, and by that time I shall be out with the wagon." "Mr. Durham, you have the feelin's of a man for a fel- ler," said Bagley, gratefully. "I'll make up the time arter it gets cooler." Keturning to the raspberry patch, I found Bobsey almost asleep, the berries often falling from his nerveless hands. Merton, meanwhile, with something of the spirit of a mar- tinet, was spurring him to his task. I remembered that the little fellow had been busy since breakfast, and decided that he also, of my forces, should have a rest. He started up when he saw me coming through the bushes, and tried to pick with vigor again. As I took him up in my arms, he began, apprehensively, "Papa, I will pick faster, but I'm so tired!" I reassured him with a kis& which left a decided rasp- 164 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN berry flavor on my lips, carried him into the barn, and, tossing him on a heap of hay, said, ^^Sleep there, my little man, till you are rested/' He was soon snoring blissfully, and when I reached the meadow with the wagon, Bagley was ready to help with the loading. "Well, well!'' he exclaimed, "a little breathin'-spell does do a feller good on a hot day." "No doubt about it," I said. "So long as you are on the right road, it does no harm to sit down a bit, because when you start again it's in the right direction." After we had piled on as much of a load as the rude, extemporized rack on my market wagon could hold, I added, "You needn't go to the barn with me, for I can pitch the hay into the mow. Kake up another load, if you feel able." "Oh, I'm all right now," he protested. By the time I had unloaded the hay, I found that my wife and Mousie were among the raspberries, and that the number of full, fragrant little baskets was increasing rapidly. "Winifred, isn't this work, with your walk to the Bagley cottage, too much for you ?" "Oh, no," she replied, lightly. "An afternoon in idle- ness in a stifling city flat would 'have been more exhausting. It's growing cool now. What wretched, shiftless people those Bagleys are! But I have hopes of them. I'm glad Bobsey's having a nap." "You shall tell me about your visit to-night. We are making good progress. Bagley is doing his best. Winnie," I called, "come here." She brought her basket, nearly filled, and I saw that her eyes were heavy with weariness also. "You've done well to-day, my child. Now go and look after your chickens, big and little. Then your day's work is done, and you can do what you please;" and I started for the meadow again. By six o'clock, we had in the barn three loads of hay, GIVEN A CHANCE 165 and Merton had packed four crates of berries ready for market. , Bobsey was now running about, as lively as a cricket, and Winnie, with a child's elasticity, was nearly as sportive. Bagley, after making up his half-hour, came up the lane with a rake, instead of his ugly dog as on the even- ing before. A few moments later, he helped me lift the crates into the market wagon; and then, after a little awk- ward hesitation, began: "I say, Mr. Durham, can't ye give a feller a job yerself ? I declar' to you, I want to brace up ; but I know how it'll be down at Rollins's. He'll be savage as a meat-axe to me, and his men will be a-gibin'. Give me a job yerself, and I'll save enough out o' my wages to pay for his chickens, or you kin keep 'nuff back to pay for 'em." I thought a moment, and then said, promptly : "I'll agree to this if Kollins will. I'll see him to-night." "Did yer wife go to see my wife?" "Yes, and she says she has hopes of you all. You've earned your bread to-day as honestly as I have, and you've more than paid for what my wife gave you this morning. Here's a quarter to make the day square, and here's a couple of baskets of raspberries left over. Take them to the chil- dren." "Well, yer bring me right to the mark," he said, em- phasizing his words with a slap on his thigh. "I've got an uphill row to hoe, and it's good ter have some human crit- ters around that'll help a feller a bit." I laughed as I clapped him on the shoulder, and said: "You're going to win the fight, Bagley. I'll see Rollins at once, for I find I shall need another man awhile." "Give me the job then," he said, eagerly, "and give me what you think I'm wuth;" and he jogged off home with that leaven of all good in his heart — ^the hope of better things. 166 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN CHAPTEE XXXV RASPBEKKIES and milk, with bread and butter and a cup of tea, made a supper that we all relished, and then Merton and I started for the boat-landing. I let the boy drive and deliver the crates to the freight agent, for I wished him to relieve me of this task occasion- ally. On our way to the landing I saw Rollins, who readily agreed to Bagley's wish, on condition that I guaranteed pay- ment for the chickens. Stopping at the man's cottage fur- ther on, I told him this, and he, in his emphatic way, de- clared: "I vow ter you, Mr. Durham, ye shan't lose a feather's worth o' the chickens." Returning home, poor Merton was so tired and drowsy that he nearly fell off the seat. Before long I took the reins from his hands, and he was asleep with his head on my shoulder. Winifred was dozing in her chair, but bright- ened up as we came in. A little judicious praise and a bowl of bread and milk strengthened the boy wonderfully. He saw the need of especial effort at this time, and also saw that he was not being driven unfeelingly. As I sat alone with my wife, resting a few minutes be- fore retiring, I said: "Well, Winifred, it must be plain to you by this time that the summer campaign will be a hard one. How are we going to stand it ?" "I'll tell you next fall," she replied, with a laugh. "No problems to-night, thank you." "I'm gathering a queer lot of helpers in my effort to live in the country," I continued. "There's old Mr. Jacox, *'WE SHALL ALL EARN OUR SALT'' 167 who is too aged to hold his own in other harvest-fields. Bag- ley and his tribe — " "And a city wife and a lot of city children," she added. "And a city greenhorn of a man at the head of you all/' I concluded. "Well," she replied, rising with an odd little blending of laugh and yawn, "I'in not afraid but that we shall all earn our salt." Thus came to an end the long, eventful day, which pre- pared the way for many others of similar character, and suggested many of the conditions of our problem of country living. Bagley appeared bright and early the following morning with his two elder children, and I was now confronted with the task of managing them and making them useful. Upon one thing I was certainly resolved — there should be no quix- otic sentiment in our relations, and no companionship be- tween his children and mine. Therefore, I took him and his girl and boy aside, and said: "I'm going to be simple and outspoken with you. Some of my neighbors think I'm a fool because I give you work when I can get others. I shall prove that I am not a fool, for the reason that I shall not permit any nonsense, and you can show that I am not a fool by doing your work well and quietly. Bagley, I want you to understand that your children do not come here to play with mine. 'No mat- ter whom I employed, I should keep my children by them- selves. Xow, do you understand this?" They nodded affirmatively. "Are you all willing to take simple, straightforward di- rections, and do your best ? I'm not asking what is unreason- able, for I shall not be more strict with youjhan with my own children." "No use o' beatin' around the bush, Mr. Durham," said Bagley, good-naturedly; "we've come here to 'arn our livin', and to do as you say." 168 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN ^'I can get along with you, Bagley, but your children will find it hard to follow my rules, because they are children, and are not used to restraint. Yet they must do it, or therein be trouble at once. They must work quietly and steadily while they do work, and when I am through with them, they must go straight home. They mustn't lounge about the place. If they will obey, Mrs. Durham and I will be good friends to them, and by fall we will fix them up so that they can go to school.'' The little arabs looked askance at me and made me think of two wild animals that had been caught, and were intelligent enough to understand that they must be tamed. They were submissive, but made no false pretences of enjoying the prospect. "I shall keep a gad handy," said their father, with a significant nod at them. ^^Well, youngsters," I concluded, laughing, ^^perhaps you'll need it occasionally. I hope not, however. I shall keep no gad, but I shall have an eye on you when you least expect it; and if you go through the picking-season well, I shall have a nice present for you both. Now, you are to receive so much a basket, if the baskets are properly filled, and therefore it will depend on yourselves how much you earn. You shall be paid every day. So now for a good start toward becoming a man and a woman." I led them to one side of the raspberry patch and put them under Merton's charge saying, ^'You must pick exactly as he directs." Winnie and Bobsey were to pick in another part of the field, Mousie aiding until the sun grew too warm for the delicate child. Bagley was to divide his time between hoe- ing in the garden and spreading the grass after the scythe of old Mr. Jacox. From my ladder against a cherry-tree, I was able to keep a general outlook over my motley forces, and we all made good progress till dinner, which, like the help we employed, we now had at twelve o'clock. Bagley and *'WE SHALL ALL EARN OUR SALT** 169 his children sat down to their lunch under the shade of an apple-tree at Some distance, yet in plain view through our open door. Their repast must have been meagre, judging from the time in which it was despatched, and my wife said, "Can't I send them something V^ "Certainly; what have you to send?" - "Well, Tve made a cherry pudding; I don't suppose there is much more than enough for us, though." "Children," I cried, "let's take a vote. Shall we share our cherry pudding with the Bagleys?" "Yes," came the unanimous reply, although Bobsey's voice was rather faint. Merton carried the delicacy to the group under the tree, and it was gratefully and speedily devoured. "That is the way to the hearts of those children," said my wife, at the same time slyly slipping her portion of the pudding upon Bobsey's plate. I appeared very blind, but asked her to get me some- thing from the kitchen. While she was gone, I exchanged my plate of pudding, untouched as yet, for hers, and gave the children a wink. We all had a great laugh over mamma's well-assumed surprise and perplexity. How a little fun will freshen up children, especially when, from necessity, their tasks are long and heavy ! We were startled from the table by a low mutter of thunder. Hastening out, I saw an ominous cloud in the west. My first thought was that all should go to the rasp- berries and pick till the rain drove us in; but Bagley now proved a useful friend, for he shambled up and said: "If I was you, I'd have those cherries picked fust. You'll find that a thunder-shower'll rot 'em in one night. The wet won't hurt the berries much." His words reminded me of what I had seen when a boy — a tree full of split, half -decayed cherries — and I told him to go to picking at once. I also sent his eldest boy and Merton into the trees. Old Jacox was told to get the grass he had 170 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN cut into as good shape as possible before the shower. My wife and Mousie left the table standing, and, hastening to the raspberry field, helped Winnie and Bobsey and the other Bagley child to pick the ripest berries. We all worked like beavers till the vivid flashes and great drops drove us to shelter. Fortunately, the shower came up slowly, and we nearly stripped the cherry-trees, carrying the fruit into the house, there to be arranged for market in the neat peck-baskets with coarse bagging covers which Mr. Bogart had sent me. The little baskets of raspberries almost covered the barn floor by the time the rain began, but they were safe. At first, the children were almost terrified by the vivid light- ning, but this phase of the storm soon passed, and the clouds seemed to settle down for a steady rain. "'Tisn't goin' to let up," said Bagley, after a while. ^^We might as well jog home now as any time." ^^But you'll get wet/' I objected. ^^It won't be the fust time," answered Bagley. ^^The children don't mind it any more'n ducks." ^'Well, let's settle, then," I said. ^^You need some money to buy food at once." ^^I reckon I do," was the earnest reply. ^There's a dollar for your day's work, and here is what your children have earned. Are you satisfied?" I asked. "I be, and I thank you, sir. I'll go down to the store this evenin'," he added. "And buy food only," I said, with a meaning look. "Flour and pork only, sir. I've given you my hand on't;" and away they all jogged through the thick-falling drops. We packed our fruit for market, and looked vainly for clearing skies in the west. "There's no help for it," I said. "The sooner I start for the landing the better, so that I can return before it becomes very dark." *'WE SHALL ALL EARN OUR SALT" 171 My wife exclaimed against this, but I added: "Think a moment, my dear. By good management we have here, safe and in good order, thirty dollars' worth of fruit, at least. Shall I lose it because I am afraid of a summer shower? Facing the weather is a part of my business; and I'd face a storm any day in the year if I could make thirty dollars. '^ Merton wished to go also, but I said, "No; there must be no risks of illness that can possibly be avoided.'' I did not find it a dreary expedition, after all, for I solaced myself with thoughts like these, "Thirty dollars, under my wife's good management, will go far toward pro- viding warm winter clothing, or paying the interest, or something else." Then the rain was just what was needed to increase and prolong the yield of the raspberry bushes, on which there were still myriads of immature berries and even blossoms. Abundant moisture would perfect these into plump fruit; and upon this crop rested our main hope. 172 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN CHAPTEE XXXVI A THUNDERBOLT FROM the experiences just related, it can be seen how largely the stress and strain of the year centred in the month of July. Nearly all our garden crops needed attention; the grass of the meadow had to be cured into hay, the currants and cherries to be picked, and fall crops, like winter cabbages, turnips, and celery, to be put in the ground. Of the latter vegetable, I set out only a few short rows, regarding it as a delicious luxury to which not very much time could be given. Mr. Jones and Junior, indeed all our neighbors, were working early and late, like ourselves. Barns were being filled, conical hay-stacks were rising in distant meadows, and every one was busy in gathering nature's bounty. We were not able to make much of the Fourth of July. Bobsey and Winnie had some firecrackers, and, in the even- ing, Merton and Junior set off a few rockets, and we all said, ^^AhP' appreciatively, as they sped their brief fiery course; but the greater part of the day had to be spent in gathering the ripening black-caps and raspberries. By some manage- ment, however, I arranged that Merton and Junior should have a fine swim in the creek, by Brittle Rock, while Mousie, Winnie, and Bobsey waded in sandy shallows, further down the stream. They all were promised holidays after the fruit season was over, and they submitted to the necessity of almost constant work with fairly good grace. The results of our labor were cheering. Our table was supplied with delicious vegetables, which, In the main. A THUNDERBOLT 173 it was Mousie's task to gather and prepare. The children were as brown as little Indians, and we daily thanked God for health. Checks from Mr. Bogart came regularly, the fruit bringing a fair price under his good management. The outlook for the future grew brighter with the beginning of each week ; for on Monday he made his returns and sent me the proceeds of the fruit shipped previously. I was able to pay all outstanding accounts for what had been bought to stock the place, and I also induced Mr. Jones to receive the interest in advance on the mortgage he held. Then we began to hoard for winter. The Bagleys did as well as we could expect, I sup- pose. The children did need the "gad" occasionally and the father indulged in a few idle, surly, drinking days; but, convinced that the man was honestly trying, I found that a little tact and kindness always brought him around to renewed endeavor. To expect immediate reform and unvaried well- doing would be asking too much of such human fiature as theirs. As July drew to a close, my wife and I felt that we were succeeding better than we had had reason to expect. In the height of the season we had to employ more children in gathering the raspberries, and I saw that I could increase the yield in coming years, as I learned the secrets of cultivation. I also decided to increase the area of this fruit by a fall- planting of some varieties that ripened earlier and later, thus extending the season and giving me a chance to ship to market for weeks instead of days. My strawberry plants were sending out a fine lot of new runners, and our hopes for the future were turning largely toward the cultivation of this delicious fruit. Old Jacox had plodded faithfully over the meadow with his scythe, and the bam was now so well filled that I felt our bay horse and brindle cow were provided for during the months when fields are bare or snowy. Late one afternoon, he was helping me gather up almost the last load down by the creek, when the heavy roll of 174 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN thunder warned ns to hasten. As we came up to the high ground near the house, we were both impressed by the omi- nous blackness of a cloud rising in the west. I felt that the only thing to do was to act like the captain of a vessel before a storm, and make everything "snug and tight." The load of hay was run in upon the barn floor, and the old horse led with the harness on him to the stall below. Bagley and the children, with old Jacox, were started off so as to be at home before the shower, doors and windows were fastened, and all was made as secure as possible. Then we gathered in our sitting-room, where Mousie and my wife had prepared supper; but we all were too op- pressed with awe of the coming tempest to sit down quietly, as usual. There was a death-like stillness in the sultry air, broken only at intervals by the heavy rumble of thunder. The strange, dim twilight soon passed into the murkiest gloom, and we had to light the lamp far earlier than our usual hour. I had never seen the children so affected before. Winnie and Bobsey even began to cry with fear, while Mousie was pale and trembling. Of course, we laughed at them and tried to cheer them ; but even my wife was nervously apprehensive, and I admit that I felt a dis- quietude hard to combat. Slowly and remorselessly the cloud approached, until it began to pass over us. The thunder and lightning were simply terrific. Supper remained untasted on the table, and I said: "Patience and courage! A few moments more and the worst will be over!" But my words were scarcely heard, so violent was the gust that burst upon us. For a few moments it seemed as if everything would go down before it, but the old house only shook and rocked a little. "Hurrah !" I cried. "The bulk of the gust has gone by, and now we are all right !" At that instant a blinding gleam and an instantaneous crash left us stunned and bewildered. But as I recovered my senses, I saw flames bursting from the roof of our barn. RALLYING FROM THE BLOW 175 CHAPTEK XXXVn RALLYING FROM THE BLOW OUE. house was far enough from the barn to prevent the shock of the thunderbolt from disabling us be- yond a moment or two. Merton had fallen off his chair, but was on his feet almost instantly ; the other children were soon sobbing and clinging to my wife and myself. In tones that I sought to render firm and quiet, I said: "No more of this foolish fear. We are in God's hands, and He will take care of us. Winifred, you must rally and soothe the children, while Merton and I go out and save what we can. All danger to the house is now over, for the worst of the storm has passed." In a moment my wife, although very pale, was reassuring the younger children, and Merton and I rushed forth. "Lead the horse out of the barn basement, Merton," I cried, "and tie him securely behind the house. If he won't go readily, throw a blanket over his eyes." I spoke these words as we ran through the torrents of rain precipitated by the tremendous concussion which the lightning had produced. I opened the barn doors and saw that the hay was on fire. There was not a second to lose, and excitement doubled my strength. The load of hay on the wagon had not yet caught. Although nearly stifled with sulphurous smoke, I seized the shafts and backed the wagon with its burden out into the rain. Then, seizing a fork, I pushed and tossed off the load so that I could draw our useful market vehicle to a safe Roe— IX— W 176 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN distance. There were a number of crates and baskets in the barn, also some tools, etc. These I had to let go. Hasten- ing to the basement, I found that Merton had succeeded in getting the horse away. There was still time to smash the window of the poultry-room and toss the chickens out of doors. Our cow, fortunately, was in the meadow. By this time Mr. Jones and Junior were on the ground, and they were soon followed by Rollins, Bagley, and others. There was nothing to do now, however, but to stand aloof and witness the swift destruction. After the first great gust had passed, there was fortunately but little wind, and the heavy downpour prevented the flames from spreading. In this we stood, scarcely heeding it in the excitement of the hour. After a few moments I hastened to assure my trem- bling wife and crying children that the rain made the house perfectly safe, and that they were in no danger at all. Then I called to the neighbors to come and stand under the porch- roof. From this point we could see the great pyramid of fire and smoke ascending into the black sky. The rain-drops glittered like fiery hail in the intense light and the still vivid flashes from the clouds. "This is hard luck, neighbor Durham,'' said Mr. Jones, with a long breath. "My wife and children are safe,'' I replied, quietly. Then we heard the horse neighing and tugging at his halter. Bagley had the good sense and will to jerk off his coat, tie it around the animal's eyes, and lead him to a dis- tance from the fatal fascination of the flames. In a very brief space of time the whole structure, with my summer crop of hay, gathered with so much labor, sunk down into glowing, hissing embers. I was glad to have the ordeal over, and to be relieved from fear that the wind would rise again. !N^ow I was assured of the extent of our loss, as well as of its certainty. "Well, well," said the warm-hearted and impulsive Rol- lins, "when you are ready to build again, your neighbors will RALLYING FROM THE BLOW 177 give you a lift. By converting Bagley into a decent fellow, you've made all our barns safer, and v^e owe you a good turn. He was worse than lightning.'' I expressed my thanks, adding, "This isn't as bad as you think; I'm insured." "Well, now, that's sensible," said Mr. Jones. "I'll sleep better for that fact, and so will you, Kobert Durham. You'll make a go of it here yet." "I'm not in the least discouraged," I answered; "far worse things might have happened. I've noticed in my paper that a good many barns have been struck this summer, so my experience is not unusual. The only thing to do is to meet such things patiently and make the best of them. As long as the family is safe and well, outside matters can be remedied. Thank you, Bagley," I continued, addressing him, as he now led forward the horse. "You had your wits about you. Old Bay will have to stand under the shed to- night." "Well, Mr. Durham, the harness is still on him, all 'cept the head-stall; and he's quiet now." "Yes," I replied, "in our haste we didn't throw off the harness before the shower, and it has turned out very well." "Tell ye what it is, neighbors," said practical Mr. Jones; "'tisn't too late for Mr. Durham to sow a big lot of fodder corn, and that's about as good as hay. We'll turn to and help him get some in." This was agreed to heartily, and one after another they wrung my hand and- departed, Bagley jogging in a compan- ionable way down the road with Rollins, whose chickens he had stolen, but had already paid for. I looked after them and thought : "Thank Heaven I have not lost my barn as some thought I might at one time ! As Rollins suggested, I'd rather take my chances with the light- ning than with a vicious neighbor. Bagley acted the part of a good friend to-night." Then, seeing that we could do nothing more, Merton and I entered the house. 178 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN I clapped the boy on the shoulder as I said: "You acted like a man in the emergency, and I'm proud of you. The bringing out a young fellow strong is almost worth the cost of a barn." My wife came and put her arm around my neck and said : "You bear up bravely, Robert, but I fear you are dis- couraged at heart. To think of such a loss, just as we were getting started !'' and there were tears in her eyes. "Yes," I replied, "it will be a heavy loss for us, and a great inconvenience, but it might have been so much worse ! All sit down and I'll tell you something. You see my train- ing in business led me to think of the importance of insur- ance, and to know the best companies. As soon as the property became yours, Winifred, I insured the buildings for nearly all they were worth. The hay and the things in the barn at the time will prove a total loss; but it is a loss that we can stand and make good largely before winter. I tell you honestly that we have no reason to be discouraged. We shall soon have a better barn than the one lost ; for, by good planning, a better one can be built for the money that I shall receive. So we will thank God that we are all safe ourselves, and go quietly to sleep." With the passing of the storm, the children had become quiet, and soon we lost in slumber all thought of danger and loss. In the morning the absence of the barn made a great gap in our familiar outlook, and brought many and serious thoughts; but with the light came renewed hopefulness. All the scene was flooded with glorious sunlight, and only the blackened ruins made the frightful storm of the previous evening seem possible. Nearly all the chickens came at Win- nie's call, looking draggled and forlorn indeed, but practi- cally unharmed, and ready to resume their wonted cheerful- ness after an hour in the sunshine. We fitted up for them the old coop in the orchard, and a part of the ancient and dilapi- dated barn which was to have been used for corn-stalks only. The drenching rain had saved this and the adjoining shed RALLYING FROM THE BLOW 179 from destruction, and now in our great emergency they proved useful indeed. The trees around the site of the barn were blackened^ and their foliage was burned to a crisp. Within the stone foundations the smoke from the still smouldering debris rose sluggishly. I turned away from it all, saying : "Let us worry no more over that spilled milk. Fortunately the greater part of our crates and baskets were under the shed. Take the children. Merton, and pick over the raspberry patches carefully once more, while I go to work in the garden. That has been helped rather than injured by the storm, and, if we will take care of it, will give us plenty of food for winter. Work there will revive my spirits." The ground was too wet for the use of the hoe, but there was plenty of weeding to be done, while I answered the questions of neighbors who came to offer their sympathy. I also looked around to see what could be sold, feeling the need of securing every dollar possible. I found much that was hopeful and promising. The Lima-bean vines had covered the poles, and toward their base the pods were filling out. The ears on our early corn were fit to pull; the beet^ and onions had attained a good size; the early peas had given place to turnips, winter cabbages, and celery; there were plenty of green melons on the vines, and more cucumbers than we could use. The remaining pods on the first planting of bush-beans were too mature for use, and I resolved to let them stand till sufficiently dry to be gathered and spread in the attic. All that we had planted had done, or was doing, fairly well, for the season had been moist enough to ensure a good growth. We had been using new potatoes since the first of the month, and now the vines were so yellow that all in the garden could be dug at once and sold. They would bring in some ready money, and I learned from my garden book that strap-leaved turnips, sown on the cleared spaces, would have time to mature. After all, my strawberry beds gave me the most hope. 180 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN There were hundreds of young plants already rooted, and still more lying loosely on the ground ; so I spent the greater part of the morning in weeding these out and pressing the young plants on the ends of the runners into the moist soil, having learned that with such treatment they form roots and become established in a very few days. After dinner Mr. Jones appeared with his team and heavy plow, and we selected an acre of upland meadow where the sod was light and thin. ''This will give a fair growth of young corn-leaves,^' he said, "by the middle of September. By that time you'll have a new barn up, I s'pose; and after you have cut and dried the corn, you can put a little of it into the mows in place of the hay. The greater part will keep better if stacked out- doors. A horse will thrive on such fodder almost as well as a cow, 'specially if ye cut it up and mix a little bran-meal with it. We'll sow the corn in drills a foot apart, and you can spread a little manure over the top of the ground after the seed is in. This ground is a trifle thin ; a top-dressin' will help it 'mazin'ly." Merton succeeded in getting several crates of raspberries, but said that two or three more pickings would finish them. Since the time we had begun to go daily to the landing, we had sent the surplus of our vegetables to a village store, with the understanding that we would trade out the proceeds. We thus had accumulated a little balance in our favor, which we could draw against in groceries, etc. On the evening of this day I took the crates to the land- ing, and found a purchaser for my garden potatoes, at a dollar a bushel. I also made arrangements at a summer boarding-house, whose proprietor agreed to take the largest of our spring chickens, our sweet corn, tomatoes, and some other vegetables, as we had them to spare. Now that our income from raspberries was about to cease, it was essential to make the most of everything else on the place that would bring money, even if we had to deny ourselves. It would not do for us to say, "We can use this or that ourselves." RALLYING FROM THE BLOW 181 The question to be decided was, whether, if such a thing were sold, the proceeds would not go further toward our support than the things themselves. If this should be true of sweet corn, Lima-beans, and even the melons on which the children had set their hearts, we must be chary of con- suming them ourselves. This I explained in such a way that all except Bobsey saw the wisdom of it, or, rather, the necessity. As yet, Bobsey's tendencies were those of a con- sumer, and not of a producer or saver. Rollins and one or two others came the next day, and with Bagley's help the corn was soon in the ground. Then I set Bagley to work with the cart spreading upon the soil the barn-yard compost that had accumulated since spring. There was not enough to cover all the ground, but that I could not help. The large pile of compost that I had made near the poultry-house door could not be spared for this purpose, since it was destined for my August planting of strawberries. Perhaps I may as well explain about these compost heaps now as at any other time. I had watched their rapid growth with great satisfaction. Some may dislike such homely de- tails, but since the success of the farm and garden depend on them I shall not pass them over, leaving the fastidious reader to do this for himself. It will be remembered that I had sought to prepare myself for country life by much reading and study during the pre- vious winter. I had early been impressed with the impor- tance of obtaining and saving everything that would enrich the soil, and had been shown that increasing the manure-pile was the surest way to add to one's bank account. Therefore all rakings of leaves had been saved. At odd times Merton and L had gone down to the creek with the cart and dug a quantity of rich black earth from near its bank. One pile of this material had been placed near the stable door, and another at the entrance to the poultry-room in the basement of our vanished barn. The cleanings of the horse-stable had been spread over a layer of this black soil. When the layer 182 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN of such cleanings was about a foot thick, spread evenly, an- other layer of earth covered all from sun and rain. Thus I had secured a pile of compost which nearly top-dressed an acre for fodder corn. In the poultry-room we managed in this fashion. A foot of raked-up leaves and rich earth was placed under the perches of the fowls. Every two or three weeks this layer was shov- elled out and mixed thoroughly, and was replaced by a new layer. As a result I had, by the 1st of August, a large heap of fertilizer almost as good as guano, and much safer to use, for I had read that unless the latter was carefully managed it would burn vegetation like fire. I believe that this com- post-heap by the poultry-room window would give my young strawberry plantation a fine start, and, as has been shown, we were making great calculations on the future fruit. I also resolved that the burning of the barn should add to our success in this direction. All the books said that there was nothing better for strawberries than wood ashes, and of these there was a great heap within the foundations of the destroyed building. At one time I proposed to shovel out these ashes and mix them with the compost, but fortunately I first consulted my book on fertilizers, and read there that this would not do at all — that they should be used separately. AUGUST WORK AND FLAY 183 CHAPTER XXXVIII AUGUST WORK AND PLAY I WAS now eager to begin the setting of the strawberry plants in the field where we had put potatoes, but the re- cent heavy shower had kept the latter still green and growing. During the first week in August, however, I found that the tubers had attained a good size, and I began to dig long rows on the upper side of the patch, selling in the village three or four barrels of potatoes a week for immediate use. By this course I soon had space enough cleared for ten rows of strawberries; and on the 6th of August Mr. Jones came and plowed the land deeply, going twice in a furrow. Then I harrowed the ground, and, with a corn-plow, marked out the space with shallow furrows three feet apart. Through five of these furrows Merton sprinkled a good dressing of the poultry compost, and in the remaining five drills we scattered wood ashes. Thus we should learn the comparative value of these fertilizers. Then I made a rude tray with two handles, so that it could be carried between Merton and myself. When the sun declined, we went to the strawberry bed, and having selected the Duchess variety to set out first, soaked with water a certain portion of the ground that was thick with plants. Half an hour later, we could dig up these plants with a ball of earth attached to their roots. These were carried carefully on the tray to the field, and set out in the furrows. We levelled the ground first, so that the crown of the plant should be even with the surrounding surface. We set the plants a foot apart in the rows, and by dusk had three rows out. Early the next morning we gave these 184 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN plants a good soaking in their new starting place, and, al- though the weather was now dry and warm, not a leaf with- ered, and all began to grow as if they had not been moved. It seemed slow work, but I believed it would pay in the end, especially as Merton, Winnie, and I performed nearly all the labor. We had now dispensed with Bagley's services, a good word from me having secured him work elsewhere. I found that I could not make arrangements for rebuilding the barn before the last of August, and we now began to take a little much-needed rest. Our noonings were two or three hours long. Merton and Junior had time for a good swim every day, while the younger children were never weary of wading in the shallows. I insisted, however, that they should not remain long in the water on any one occasion, and now and then we each took a grain or two of quinine to fortify our systems against any malarial influences that might be lurk- ing around at this season. The children were also permitted to make expeditions to mountain-sides for huckleberries and blackberries. As a result, we often had these wholesome fruits on the table, while my wife canned the surplus for winter use. A harvest apple tree also began to be one of the most popular resorts, and delicious pies made the dinner-hour more welcome than ever. The greater part of the apples were sold, however, and this was true also of the Lima-beans, sweet corn, and melons. We all voted that the smaller ears and melons tasted just as good as if we had picked out the best of every- thing, and my account-book showed that our income was still running well ahead of our expenses. Bobsey and Winnie had to receive another touch of dis- cipline and learn another lesson from experience. I had marked with my eye a very large, perfect musk-melon, and had decided that it should be kept for seed. They, too, had marked it; and one morning, when they thought them- selves unobserved, they carried it off to the seclusion of the raspberry bushes, proposing a selfish feast by themselves. AUGUST WORK AND PLAY 185 Merton caught a glimpse of the little marauders, and fol- lowed them. They cut the melon in two, and found it green and tasteless as a pumpkin. He made me laugh as he de- scribed their dismay and disgust, then their fears and fore- bodings. The latter were soon realized; for seeing me in the distance, he beckoned. As I approached, the children stole out of the bushes, looking very guilty. Merton explained, and I said : "Very well, you shall have your melon for dinner, and little else. I intend you shall enjoy this melon fully. So sit down under that tree and each of you hold half the melon till I release you. You have already learned that you can feast your eyes only." There they were kept, hour after hour, each holding half of the green melon. The dinner-bell rang, and they knew that we had ripe melons and green corn; while nothing was given them but bread and water. Bobsey howled, and Win- nie sobbed, but my wife and I agreed that such tendencies toward dishonesty and selfishness merited a lasting lesson. At supper the two culprits were as hungry as little wolves; and when I explained that the big melon had been kept for seed, and that if it. had been left to ripen they should have had their share, they felt that they had cheated themselves completely. "Don't you see, children," I concluded, "that acting on the square is not only right, but that it is always best for us in the end ?" Then I asked, "Merton, what have the Bagley chil- dren been doing since they stopped picking raspberries for usT "I'm told they've been gathering blackberries and huckle- berries in the naountains, and selling them." "That's promising. E^ow I want you to pick out a good- sized water-melon and half a dozen musk-melons, and I'll leave them at Bagley's cottage to-morrow night as I go down to the village. In old times they would have stolen our crop ; now they shall share in it." When I carried the present on the following evening. 1B6 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN the children indulged in uncouth cries and gambols over the gift, and Bagley himself was touched. "ril own up ter yer," he said, "that yer melon patch was sore temptin' to the young uns, but I tole 'em that I'd thrash 'em if they teched one. IN^ow yer see, youngsters, ye've got a man of feel in' ter deal with, and yer've got some melons arter all, and got 'em squar', too." "I hear good accounts of you and your children," I said, "and I'm glad of it. Save the seeds of these melons and plant a lot for yourself. See here, Bagley, we'll plow your garden for you this fall, and you can put a better fence around it. If you'll do this, I'll share my garden seeds with you next spring, and you can raise enough on that patch of ground to half feed your family." "I'll take yer up," cried the man, "and there's my hand on it ag'in." "God bless you and Mrs. Durham!" added his wife. "We're now beginning to live like human critters." I resumed my journey to the village, feeling that never before had melons been better invested. The Moodna Creek had now become very low, and not more than half its stony bed was covered with water. At many points, light, active feet could find their way across and not be wet. Junior now had a project on hand, of which he and Merton had often spoken lately. A holiday was given to the boys and they went to work to construct an eel weir and trap. With trousers well rolled up, they selected a point on one side of the creek where the water was deepest, and here they left an open passage-way for the current. On each side of this they began to roll large stones, and on these placed smaller ones, raising two long obstructions to the natural flow. These continuous obstructions ran obliquely up-stream, directing the main current to the open passage, which was only about two feet wide, with a post on either side, narrow- ing it still more, In this they placed the trap, a long box made of lath, sufficiently open to let the water run through it, and having a peculiar opening at the upper end where the AOOUST WORK AND PLAY 187 current began to rush down the narrow passage-way. The box rested closely on the gravelly bottom, and was fastened to the posts. Short, close-fitting slats from the bottom and top of the box, at its upper end, sloped inward, till they made a narrow opening. All its other parts were eel-tight. The eels coming down with the current which had been directed toward the entrance of the box, as has been explained, passed into it, and there they would remain. They never had the wit to find the narrow aperture by which they had entered. This turned out to be useful sport, for every morning the boys lifted their trap and took out a goodly number of eels ; and when the squirmers were nicely dressed and browned, they proved delicious morsels. 188 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN CHAPTER XXXIX A TRIP TO THE SEASHORE IN the comparative leisure which the children enjoyed dur- ing August, they felt amply repaid for the toil of the pre- vious months. We also managed to secure two great gala- days. The first was spent in a trip to the seashore ; and this was a naomentous event, marred by only one slight drawback. The "Mary Powell," a swift steamer, touched every morning at the Maizeville Landing. I learned that, from its wharf, in New York, another steamer started for Coney Island, and came back in time for us to return on the "PowelP' at 3.30 P.M. Thus we could secure a delightful sail down the river and bay, and also have several hours on the beach. My wife and I talked over this little outing, and found that if we took our lunch with us, it would be inexpensive. I saw Mr. Jones, and induced him and his wife, with Junior, to join us. Then the children were told of our plan, and their hurrahs made the old house ring. Now that we were in for it, we proposed no half-way measures. Four plump spring chickens were killed and roasted, and to these were added so many ham sandwiches and hard-boiled eggs, that I declared that we were provisioned for a week. My wife nodded at Bobsey, and said, "Wait and see !'' Whom do you think we employed to mount guard during our absence? No other than Bagley. Mr. Jones said that it was like asking a wolf to guard the flock, for his prejudices yielded slowly ; but I felt sure that this proof of trust would do the man more good than a dozen sermons. Indeed, he did seem wonderfully pleased with his task, A TRIP TO THE SEASHORE and said, "Ye'll find I've 'arned my dollar when ye git back.'' The children scarcely slept in their glad anticipation, and were up with the sun. Mr. and Mrs. Jones drove down in their light wagon, while Junior joined our children in an- other straw-ride, packed in between the lunch-baskets. We had ample time after reaching the landing to put our horses and vehicles in a safe place, and then we watched for the ^Towell." Soon we saw her approaching Newtown, four miles above, then speeding toward the wharf, and rounding into it, with the ease and grace of a swan. We scrambled aboard, smiled at by all. I suppose we did not form, with our lunch-baskets, a very stylish group, but that was the least of our troubles. I am satisfied that none of the elegant peo- ple we brushed against were half so happy as we were. We stowed away our baskets and then gave ourselves up to the enjoyment of the lovely Highland scenery, and to watching the various kinds of craft that we were constantly passing. Winnie and Bobsey had been placed under bonds for good behavior, and were given to understand that they must exercise the grace of keeping moderately still. The sail down the river and bay was a long, grateful rest to us older people, and I saw with pleasure that my wife was en- joying every moment, and that the fresh salt breeze was fan- ning color into her cheeks. Plump Mrs. Jones dozed and smiled, and wondered at the objects we passed, for she had never been much of a traveller; while her husband's shrewd eyes took in everything, and he often made us laugh by his quaint remarks. Junior and Merton were as alert as hawks. They early made the acquaintance of deck-hands who good- naturedly answered their numerous questions. I took the younger children on occasional exploring expeditions, but never allowed them to go beyond my reach, for I soon learned that Bobsey 's promises sat lightly on his conscience. At last we reached the great Iron Pier at Coney Island, which we all traversed vdth wondering eyes. We established ourselves in a large pavilion, fitted up 190 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN for just such picnic parties as ours. Beneath us stretched the sandy beach. We elderly people were glad enough to sit down and rest, but the children forgot even the lunch- baskets, so eager were they to run upon the sand in search of shells. All went well until an unusually high wave came rolling in. The children scrambled out of its way, with the excep- tion of Bobsey, who was caught and tumbled over, and lay kicking in the white foam. In a moment I sprang down the steps, picked him up, and bore him to his mother. He was wet through; and now what was to be done? After inquiry and consultation, I found that I could procure for him a little bathing-dress which would answer during the heat of the day, and an old colored woman promised to have his clothing dry in an hour. So the one cloud on our pleas- ure proved to have a very bright lining, for Bobsey, since he was no longer afraid of the water, could roll in the sand and the gentle surf to his hearths content. Having devoured a few sandwiches to keep up our cour- age, we all procured bathing-dresses, even Mrs. Jones having been laughingly compelled by her husband to follow the gen- eral example. When we all gathered in the passage-way leading to the water, we were convulsed with laughter at our ridiculous appearance; but there were so many others in like plight that we were scarcely noticed. Mrs. Jones's dress was a trifle small, and her husband's immensely large. He re- marked that if we could now take a stroll through Maize ville, there wouldn't be a crow left in town. Mrs. Jones could not be induced to go beyond a point where the water was a foot or two deep, and the waves rolled her around like an amiable porpoise. Merton and Junior were soon swimming fearlessly, the latter wondering, mean- while, at the buoyant quality of the salt water. My wife, Mousie, and Winnie allowed me to take them beyond the breakers, and soon grew confident. In fifteen minutes I sounded recall, and we all emerged, lank Mr. Jone^ now mak- ing, in very truth, an ideal scarecrow. Bobsey's dry gar- A TRIP TO THE SEASHORE 191 ments were brought, and half an hour later we were all clothed, and, as Mr. Jomes remarked, "For a wonder, in our right minds/' The onslaught then made on the lunch-baskets was never surpassed, even at that place of hungry excursionists. In due time we reached home, tired, sleepy, yet content with the fact that we had filled one day with enjoyment and added to our stock of health. The next morning proved that Bagley had kept his word. Everything was in order, and the amount of work accom- plished in the garden showed that he had been on his mettle. Hungry as we had been, we had not emptied our lunch- baskets, and my wife made up a nice little present from what remained, to which was added a package of candy, and all was carried to the Bagley cottage. Juvenile experiences had not exactly taught the Bagley children that "the way of the transgressor is hard," — they had not gone far enough for that, — and it certainly was our duty to add such flowers as we could to the paths of virtue. The month of August was now well advanced. We had been steadily digging the potatoes in the field and selling them in their unripened condition, until half the acre had been cleared. The vines in the lower half of the patch were now growing very yellow, and I decided to leave them, until the tubers should thoroughly ripen, for winter use. By the 20th of the month we had all the space that had been cleared, that is, half an acre, filled with Duchess and Wilson straw- berries ; and the plants first set were green and vigorous, with renewed running tendencies. But the runners were promptly cut off, so that the plants might grow strong enough to give a good crop of fruit in the following June. I now began to tighten the reins on the children, and we all devoted more hours to work. During the month we gathered a few bushels of plums on the place. My wife preserved some, and the rest were sold at the boarding-houses and village stores, for Mr. Bogart had written that when I could find a home market for small 192 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN quantities of produce, it would pay me better than to send them to the city. I kept myself informed as to city prices, and found that he had given me good and disinterested ad- vice. Therefore, we managed to dispose of our small crop of early pears and peaches as we had done with the plums. Every day convinced me of the wisdom of buying a place already stocked with fruit; for, although the first cost was greater, we had immediately secured an income which prom- ised to leave a margin of profit after meeting all expenses. During the last week of August the potatoes were fully ripe, and Merton, Winnie, Bobsey, and I worked manfully, sorting the large from the small, as they were gathered. The crop turned out very well, especially on the lower side of the field, where the ground had been rather richer and moister than in the upper portion. I did not permit Merton to dig continuously, as it was hard work for him; but he seemed to enjoy throwing out the great, smooth, white-coated fellows, and they made a pretty sight as they lay in thick rows behind us, drying, for a brief time, in the sun. They were picked up, put into barrels, drawn to the dry, cool shed, and well covered from the light. Mr. Jones had told me that as soon as potatoes had dried off after digging, they ought to be kept in the dark, since too much light makes them tough and bitter. ISTow that they were ripe, it was important that they should be dug promptly, for I had read that a warm rain is apt to start the new potatoes to growing, and this spoils them for table use. So I said : "We will stick to this task until it is finished, and then we shall have another outing. I am almost ready to begin rebuilding the barn; but before I do so, I wish to visit Houghton Farm, and shall take you all with me. I may obtain some ideas which will be useful, even in my small out- lay of money." A VISIT TO HOUGHTON FARM 193 CHAPTER XL A VISIT TO HOUGHTON FARM HOUGHTON FARM, distant a few miles, is a magnifi- cent estate of about one thousand acres, and the outbuildings upon it are princely in comparison with anything I could erect. They had been constructed, however, on practical and scientific principles, and I hoped that a visit might suggest to me some useful points. Sound principles might be applied, in a modest way, to even such a structure as would come within my means. At any rate, a visit to such a farm would be full of interest and pleasure. So we dug away at the potatoes, and worked like ants in gathering them, until we had nearly a hundred bushels stored. As they were only fifty cents a bushel, I resolved to keep them until the following winter and spring, when I might need money more than at present, and also get better prices. Then, one bright day toward the end of August, we all started, after an early dinner, for the farm, Junior going with us as usual. We had been told that the large-minded and liberal owner of this model farm welcomed visitors, and so we had no doubts as to our reception. Nor were we dis- appointed when, having skirted broad, rich fields for some distance, we turned to the right down a long, wide lane, bordered by beautiful shrubbery, and leading to the great buildings, which were numbered conspicuously. We were courteously met by Major Alvord, the agent in charge of the entire estate. I explained the object of my visit, and he kindly gave us a few moments, showing us through the different barns and stables. Our eyes grew large with won- 194 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN der as we saw tbe complete appliances for carrying on an immense stock-farm. The summer crops Had been gathered, and we exclaimed at the hundreds of tons of hay, fodder, and straw stored in the mows. "We use a ton of hay daily, after the pasture season is over, ' ' remarked our guide. When we came to look at the sleek Jersey cows and calves, with their fawn-like faces, our admiration knew no bounds. We examined the stalls in which could stand thirty-four cows. Over each was the name of the occu- pant, all blood animals of the purest breed, with a pedigree which might put to shame many newly rich people display- ing coats-of-arms. The children went into ecstasies over the pretty, innocent faces of the Jersey calves, and Mousie said they were "nice enough to kiss." Then we were shown the great, thick-necked, black-headed Jersey bull, and could scarcely believe our ears when told that he, his mother, and six brothers represented values amounting to about a hun- dred thousand dollars. We next visited a great Norman mare, as big as two ordi- nary horses, and the large, clumsy colt at her side; then ad- mired beautiful stallions with fiery eyes and arching necks; also the superb carriage-horses, and the sleek, strong work animals. Their stalls were finely finished in Georgia pine. Soon afterward, Bobsey went wild over the fat little Essex pigs, black as coals, but making the whitest and sweetest of pork. "Possessyour soul in patience, Bobsey," I said. "With our barn, I am going to make a sty, and then we will have some pigs." I had had no good place for them thus far, and felt that we had attempted enough for beginners. Moreover, I could not endure to keep pigs in the muddy pens in ordinary use, feeling that we could never eat the pork produced under such conditions. The milk-house and dairy were examined, and we thought of the oceans of milk that had passed through them. A VISIT TO HOUGHTON FARM 195 than anything else. A mountain stream had been dammed so as to make an island. On the surrounding waters were fleets of water- fowl, ducks and geese of various breeds, and, chief in interest, a flock of Canada wild-geese, domesticated. Here we could look closely at these great wild migrants that, spring and fall, pass and repass high up in the sky, in flocks, flying in the form of a harrow or the two sides of a triangle, meanwhile sending out crios that, in the distance, sound strange and weird. Leaving my wife and children admiring these birds and their rustic houses on the island, I went with Major Alvord to his offices, and saw the fine scientific appliances for carrying on agricultural experiments designed to extend the range of accurate and practical knowledge. Not only was the great farm planted and reaped, blood stock grown and improved by careful breeding, but, accompanying all this labor, was maintained a careful system of experiments tending to develop and establish that supreme science — the successful culture of the soil. Major Alvord evidently de- served his reputation for doing the work thoroughly and intelligently, and I was glad to think that there were men in the land, like the proprietor of Houghton Farm, who are willing to spend thousands annually in enriching the rural classes by bringing within their reach the knowledge that is power. After a visit to the sheep and poultry departments, each occupying a large farm by itself, we felt that we had seen much to think and talk over. It was hard to get Winnie away from the poultry- houses and yards, where each celebrated breed was kept scrupu- lously by itself. There were a thousand hens, besides in- numerable young chickens. We were also shown incu- bators, which, in spring, hatch little chickens by hundreds. "Think of fifteen hundred eggs at a sitting, Winnie!" I cried; *' that's quite a contrast to the number that you put under one of your biddies at home." 196 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN "I don't care," replied the child; "we've raised over a hundred chickens since we began." "Yes, indeed," I said. "That for you — for you have seen to it all chiefly — is a greater success than anything here. ' ' I was thoughtful as we drove home, and at last my wife held out a penny. "No," I said, laughing; "my thoughts shall not cost you even that. What I have seen to-day has made clearer what 1 have" believed before. There are two distinct ways of securing success in outdoor work. One is ours, and the other is after the plan of Houghton Farm. Ours is the only one possible for us — that of working a small place and performing the labor, as far as possible, ourselves. If 1 had played 'boss,' as Bagley sometimes calls me, and hired the labor which we have done ourselves, the children mean- while idle, we should soon come to a disastrous end in our country experiment. The fact that we have all worked hard, and wisely, too, in the main, and have employed extra help only when there was more than we could do, will explain our account- book; that is, the balance in our favor. I believe that one of the chief causes of failure on the part of people in our circumstances is, that they employ help to do what they should have done themselves, and that it doesn't and can't pay small farmers and fruit- growers to attempt much beyond what they can take care of, most of the year, with their own hands. Then there's the other method — that of large capital carrying things on as we have seen to-day. The farm then becomes like a great factory or mercantile house. There must be at the head of everything a large organizing brain capable of introducing and enforcing thorough system, and of skilfully directing labor and investment, so as to secure the most from the least outlay. - A farm such as we have just seen would be like a bottomless pit for money in bungling, careless hands. ' ' "I'm content with our own little place and modest A VISIT TO HOUGHTON FARM 197 ways," said my wife. "I never wish our affairs to grow so large that we. can't talk them over every night, if so inclined." "Well," I replied, "I feel as yon do. I never should have made a great merchant in town, and I am content to be a small farmer in the country, sailing close to shore in snug canvas, with no danger of sudden wreck keeping me awake nights. The insurance money will be available in a few days, and we shall begin building at once." The next day Merton and I cleared away the rest of the debris in and around the foundations of the barn, and before night the first load of lumber arrived from the carpenter who had taken the contract. This forerunner of bustling workmen, and all the mys- tery of fashioning crude material into something looking like the plan over which we had all pored so often, was more interesting to the children than the construction of Solomon's temple. "To-morrow the stone-masons come, " I said at supper, **and by October we are promised a new barn." 198 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN CHAPTER XLl HOARDING FOR WINTER AS was Stated early in this simple history the original barn was built on a hillside, the rear facing the southeast; and since the foundations were still in a fair condition, and the site was convenient, I determined to build on the same spot, somewhat modifying the old plan. I had read of the importance of keeping manure under cover, and now arranged that by a trap door the cleanings of the horse and cow stable should be thrown into the base- ment, which, by a solid brick partition, should be so divided as to leave ample room for a dark cellar in which to store roots and apples. Through this trap door in the stable rich earth and muck from the banks of the creek could be thrown down also, covering the manure, and all could be worked over and mixed on rainy days. By this method I could make the most of my fertilizers, which may be regarded as the driving-wheel of the farm. I had decided that the poultry-house and pigsty should form an extension to the barn, and that both should be built in the side of the bank also. They would thus have an exposure to the south, and at the same time, being formed in part by an excavation, would be cool in summer. The floor of the sty should have a slight downward slope, and be cemented. Therefore it could be kept perfectly clean. This residence of Bobsey's future pets should be at the extreme end of the extension, and above it should be a room in which I could store picked-up apples, corn, and other food adapted to their needs, also a conduit by which swill could be poured into the trough below without HOARDING FOR WINTER 199 the necessity of entering the pen. I proposed to keep only two or three pigs at a time, buying them when young from neighboring farmers, and fattening them for our own use aocording to my own ideas. The poultry- house, between the barn and sty, was to be built so that its side, facing the south, should be chiefly of glass. It was so constructed as to secure the greatest amount of light and warmth. Eggs in winter form the most profitable item in poultry keeping, and these depend on warmth, food, shelter, and cleanliness, with the essential condition that the hens are young. All the pullets of Winnie's early broods therefore had been kept, and only the young cockerels eaten or sold. We had the prospect of wintering about fifty laying hens; and the small potatoes we had saved would form a large portion of their food. Indeed, for some weeks back, such small tubers, boiled and mashed with meal, had formed the main feed of our grow- ing chickens. 1 learned that Bagley was out of work, and employed him to excavate the bank for these new buildings. We saved the surface earth carefully for compost purposes, and then struck some clean, nice gravel, which was carted away to a convenient place for our roads and walks. On a hill- side near the creek were large stones and rocks in great quantity, and some of these were broken up for the founda- tions. Along the edge of the creek we also found some ex- cellent sand, and therefore were saved not a little expense in starting our improvements. It did not take the masons long to point up and strengthen the old foundations, and early in September everything was under full headway, the sound of hammer, saw, and plane resounding all day long. If was Winnie's and Bobeey's task to gather up the shavings and refuse bits of lumber, and carry them to the woodhouse. ''The ease and quickness with which we can build fires next winter," I said, ''is a pleasant thing to think of." Meanwhile the garden was not neglected. The early Roe — ^IX — ^X 200 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN flight of summer-boarders had greatly reduced the demand for vegetables, and now we began to hoard them for our own use. The Lima- beans were allowed to dry on the vines; the matured pods of the bush- beans were spread in the attic; thither also the ripened onions were brought and placed in shallow boxes. As far as possible we had saved our own seed, and I had had a box made and covered with tin, so as to be mouse-proof, and in this we placed the difierent varieties, carefully labelled. Although it was not "apple year," a number of our trees were in bearing. The best of the windfalls were picked up, and, with the tomatoes and such other vegetables as were in demand, sent to the village twice a week. As fast as crops matured, the ground was cleared, and the refuse, such as contained no injurious seeds, was saved as a winter covering for the strawberry plants. Our main labor, however, after digging the rest of the potatoes, was the setting of the remaining half-acre in the later varieties of the strawberry. Although the early part of September was very dry and warm, we managed to set out, in the manner I have described, two or three rows nearly every afternoon. The nights had now grown so long and cool that one thorough watering seemed to establish the plants. This was due chiefly to the fact that nearly every plant had a ball of earth attached to the roots, and had never been allowed to wilt at all in the transition. About the middle of the month there came a fine rain, and we filled the remainder of the ground in one day, all the children aiding me in the task. The plants first set out were now strong and flourishing. Each had a bunch of foliage six inches in diameter. Thus, with helping on the new barn and other work, September saw a renewal of our early-summer activity. "The winds in the trees are whispering of winter," I said to the children, "and all thrifty creatures — ants, bees, and squirrels — are laying up their stores. So must we." I had watched our maturing corn with great satisfaction. HOARDING FOR WINTER 201 For a long time Merton bad been able to walk through it without his straw hat being seen above the nodding tassels* One day, about the 20th of the month, Mr. Jones came over with some bundles of long rye straw in his wagon, and said, '*Yer can't guess what these are fer." *'Some useful purpose, or you wouldn't have brought them," I replied. " We'll see. Come with me to the corn patch." As we started he took a bundle under his arm, and 1 saw that he had in his hand a tool called a corn- knife. Going through the rows he occasionally stripped down the husks from an ear. Finally he said: *' Yes, it's ready» Don't yer see that the kernels are plump and glazed ? Junior and I are going to tackle our corn ter-morrow, and says I to myself, 'If ourn is ready to cut, so is neighbor Durham's,' The sooner it's cut after it's ready, the better. The stalks are worth more for fodder, and you run no risk from an early frost, which would spile it all. You and Merton pitch in as yer allers do, and this is the way ter do it. " With his left hand gathering the stalks of a hill together above the ears, he cut them all otf with one blow of the corn-knife within six inches of the ground, and then leaned them against the stalks of an uncut hill. This he continued to do until he had made what he called a ''stout," or a bunch of stalks as large as he could conveniently reach around, the uncut hill of stalks forming a support in the centre. Then he took a wisp of the rye-straw, divided it evenly, and putting the ends together, twisted it speedily into a sort of rope. With this he bound the stout tightly above the ears by a simple method which one showing made plain to me. "Well, you are a good neighbor!" I exclaimed. "Pshaw! What does this amount to? If a man can't do a good turn when it costs as little as this, he's a mighty mean feller. You forget that I've sold you a lot of rye- straw, and so have the best of yer after all." 202 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN "I don't forget anything, Mr. Jones. As you say, I be- lieve we shall 'make a go' of it here, but we alwlays remem- ber how much we owe to you and Junior. You've taken my money in a way that saved my self-respect, and made me feel that I could go to you as often as I wished; but you have never taken advantage of me, and you have kept smart people from doing it. Do you know, Mr. Jones, that in every country village there are keen, weasel-like people who encourage new-comers by bleeding their pocket-books at every chance ? In securing you as a neighbor our battle was half won, for no one needs a good practical friend more than a city man beginning life in the country." "Jerusalem! how you talk! I'm goin' right home and tell my wife to call me Saint Jones. Then I'll get a tin halo and wear it, for my straw hat is about played out;" and away he went, chuckling over his odd conceits, but pleased, as all men are, when their goodwill is appreciated. If there is one kind of meanness that disgusts average human-nature more than another it is a selfish, unthankful reception of kindness, a swinish return for pearls. After an early supper I drove to the village with what I had to sell, and returned with two corn- hooks. At dusk of the following day, Bagley and I had the corn cut and tied up, my helper remarking more than once, "Tell you what it IS, Mr. Durham, there hain't a better eared-out patch o' corn in Maizeville. " On the following day I helped Bagley sharpen one of the hooks, and we began to cut the fodder-corn which now stood, green and succulent, averaging two feet in height throughout the field. AUTUMN WORK AND SPORT 203 CHAPTER XLII AUTUMN WORK AND SPORT THE barn was now up, and the carpenters were roofing it in, while two days more of work would complete the sty and poultry- house. Every stroke of the hammer told rapidly now, and we all exulted over our new and better appliances for carrying out our plan of country life. Since tbe work was being done by contract, I con- tented myself with seeing that it was done thoroughly. Meanwhile Merton was busy with the cart, drawing rich earth from the banks of the creek. I determined that the making of great piles of compost should form no small part of my fall and winter labor. The proper use of fertilizers during the present season had given such a marked increase to our crops that it became clear that our best prospect of growing rich was in making the land rich. During the last week of September the nights were so cool as to suggest frost, and I said to Mousie: "I think we had better take up your geraniums and other window plants, and put them in pots or boxes. We can then stand them under a tree which would shelter them from a slight frost. Should there be serious danger it would take us only a few minutes to bring them into the house. You have taken such good care of them all summer that I do not intend that you shall lose them now. Take your flower book and read what kind of soil they grow best in during the winter, and then Merton can help you get it." The child was all solicitude about her pets, and after dinner she and Merton, the latter trundling a wheelbarrow, 204 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN went down to the creek and obtained a lot of fine sand and some leaf-mould from under the trees in the woods. These ingredients we carefully mixed with rich soil from the flower-bed and put the compound in the pots and boxes around the roots of as many plants as there was room for on the table by the sunny kitchen window. Having watered them thoroughly, we stood them under a tree, there to re- main until a certain sharpness in the air should warn us to carry them to their winter quarters. The Lima- beans, as fast as the pods grew dry, or even yellow, were picked and spread in the attic. They could be shelled at our leisure on stormy winter days. Early in September my wife had begun to give Mousie, Winnie, and Bobsey their lessons again. Since we were at some distance from a schoolhouse we decided to continue this arrangement for the winter with the three younger chil- dren. I felt that Merton should go to school as soon as possible, but, he pleaded hard for a reprieve until the last of October, saying that he did not wish to begin before Junior. As we still had a great deal to do, and as the boy had set his heart on some fall shooting, I yielded, he promis- ing to study all the harder when he began. I added, however: "The evenings have grown so long that you can write for half an hour after supper, and then we will review your arithmetic together. It will do me good as well as you." During the ensuing weeks we carried out this plan par- tially, but after a busy day in the open air we were apt to nod over our tasks. We were both taught the soundness of the principle that brain-work should precede physical exercise. The 1st day of October was bright, clear, and mild, and we welcomed the true beginning of fall in our latitude most gladly. This month competes with May in its fitness for ideal country life. The children voted it superior to all other months, feeling that a vista of unalloyed delights was opening before them. Already the butternuts were -falling AUTUMN WORK AND SPORT 205 from several large trees on the place, and the burrs on the chtestnuts were plump with their well-shielded treasures. Winnie and Bobsey began to gather these burrs from the lower limbs of an immense tree, eighteen feet in circumfer- ence, and to stamp out the half-brown nuts within. "One or two frosts will ripen them and open the burrs," I said, and then the children began to long for the frost which I dreaded. While I still kept the younger children busy for a few hours every clear morning in the garden, and especially at clipping the runners from the strawberry plants in the field, they were given ample time to gather their winter hoards of nuts. This pursuit afforded them endless items for talk, Bobsey modestly assuring us that he alone would gather about a million bushels of butternuts, and almost as many chestnuts and walnuts. "What will the squirrels do then ?" I asked. "They must do as I do," he cried; "pick up and carry off as fast as they can. They'll have a better chance than me, too, for they can work all day long. The little scamps are already taking the nuts off the trees — I've seen 'em, and I wish Merton would shoot 'em all." "Well, Merton," said I, laughing, "I suppose that squir- rels are proper game for you; but I hope that you and Junior won't shoot robins. They are too useful a bird to kill, and I feel grateful for all the music they've given us during the past summer. I know the law permits you to shoot them now, but you and Junior should be more civilized than such a law." "If we don't get 'em, everybody else will, and we might as well have our share," he replied. I knew that there was no use in drawing the reins too tight, and so I said: "I have a proposition to make to you and Junior. I'd like you both to promise not to shoot robins except on the wing. That will teach you to be ex- pert and quick-eyed. A true sportsman is not one who tries to kill as much game as possible, but to kill scientifically, 206 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN skilfully. There is more pleasure in giving your game a chance, and in bringing it down with a fine long shot, tlfan in slaughtering the poor creatures like chickens in a coop. Anybody can shoot a robin, sitting on a bough a few yards off, but to bring one down when in rapid flight is the work of a sportsman. Never allow yourself to be known as a mere 'pot-hunter.' For my part, I had rather live on pork than on robins or any useful birds," He readily agreed not to fire at robins except when flying, and to induce Junior to do likewise. I was satisfied that not many of my little favorites would suffer. "Very well," I said, "I'll coax Mr. Jones to let Junior off to-morrow, and you can have the entire day to get your hands in. This evening you can go down to the village and buy a stock of ammunition." The boy went to his work happy and contented. * ' Papa, where can we dry our butternuts ?' ' Winnie asked. "I'll fix a place on the roof of the shed right away," I said. "Its slope is very gradual, and if I nail some slats on the lower side you can spread the millions of bushels that you and Bobsey will gather." Now Bobsey had a little wagon, and, having finished his morning stint of work, he, with Mousie and Winnie, started off to the nearest butternut-tree; and during the remainder of the day, with the exception of the time devoted to les- sons, loads came often to the shed, against which I had left a ladder. By night they had at least one of the million bushels spread and drying. As they brought in their last load about five o'clock in the afternoon I said to them, "Come and see what I've got." I led the way to the sty, and there were grunting three half-grown pigs. Now that the pen was ready I had waited no longer, and, having learned from Eollins that he was will- ing to sell some of his stock, had bought three sufficiently large to make good pork by the 1st of December. The children welcomed the new-comers with shouts; but AUTUMN WORK AND SPORT 207 I said: "That won't do. You'll frighten them so that they'll try to jump out of the pen. Eun now and pick up a load of apples in your wagon and throw them to the pigs. They'll understand and like such a welcoming better;" and so it proved. At supper 1 said: "Children, picking up apples, which was such fun this evening, will hereafter be part of your morning work, for a while. In the room over the sty is a bin which must be filled with the fallen apples before any nuts can be gathered. ' ' Even Bobsey laughed at the idea that this was work; but 1 knew that it would soon become so. Then Mousie exclaimed, "Papa, do you know that the red squirrels are helping us to gather nuts?" "If so, certainly without meaning it. How?" "Well, as we were coming near one of the trees we saw a squirrel among the branches, and we hid behind a bush to watch him. We soon found that he was tumbling down the nuts, for he would go to the end of a limb and bite clus- ter after cluster. The thought that we would get the nuts so tickled Bobsey that he began to laugh aloud, and then the squirrel ran barking away." "You needn't crow so loud, Bobsey," 1 said. "The squirrel will fill many a hole in hollow trees before winter, in spite of you." "I'll settle his business before he steals many more of our nuts," spoke up Merton. "You know the squirrel wasn't stealing, my boy. The nuts grew for him as truly as for you youngsters. At the same time 1 suppose he will form part of a pot-pie before long." "I hate to think that such pretty little creatures should be killed," said Mousie. *'I feel much the same," I admitted; "and yet Merton will say we cannot indulge in too much sentiment. You know that we read that red squirrels are mischievous in the main. They tumble little birds out of their nests, carry off 208 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN corn, and I have seen them gnawing apples for the sake of the seeds. It wouldn't do for them to become too plentiful. Moreover, game should have its proper place as food, and as a means of recreation. We raise chickens and kill them. Under wise laws, well enforced, nature would fill the woods, fields, and mountains with partridges, quail, rabbits, and other wholesome food. Eemember what an old and thickly settled land England is, yet the country is alive with game. There it is protected on great estates, but here the people must agree to protect it for themselves." "Junior says," Merton explained, "that the partridges and rabbits in the mountains are killed oft by foxes and wild-cats and wood-choppers who catch them in traps and snares." "I fancy the wood-choppers do the most harm. If I had my way, there would be a big bounty for the destruction of foxes, and a heavy fine for all trappers of game. The coun- try would be tenfold more interesting if it were full of wild, harmless, useful creatures. I hope the time will come when our streams will be again thoroughly stocked with fish, and our wild lands with game. If hawks, foxes, trappers, and other nuisances could be abolished, there would be space on yonder mountains for partridges to flourish by the million. I hope, as the country grows older, that the people will in- telligently co-work with nature in preserving and increasing all useful wild life. Every stream, lake, and pond could be crowded with fish, and every grove and forest afford a shel- ter and feeding-ground for game. There should be a wise guardianship of wild life, such as we maintain over our poultry-yards, and skill exercised in increasing it. Then nature would supplement our labors, and furnish a large amount of delicious food at little cost." "Well, papa, I fear 1 shall be gray before your fine ideas are carried out. From what Junior says, I guess that Bagley and his children, and others like them, will get more game this winter than we will, and without firing a shot They are almost as wild as the game itself, and know just AUTUMN WORK AND SPOET 209 where to set their snares for it. 1 can't afford to wait until it's all killed off, or till that good time comes of which you speak, either. 1 hope to shoot enough for a pot-pie at least to-morrow, and to have very good sport while about it. " ''I have good news about the Bagley children," said my wife. '*! was down there to-day, and all the children begin school next Monday. Between clothes which our children have outgrown, and what Mrs. Bagley has been able to buy and make, all three of the young Bagleys make a very re- spectable appearance. I took it upon myself to tell the chil- dren that if they went to school regularly we would make them nice Christmas presents." "And I confirm the bargain heartily," I cried. "Mor- ton, look out for yourself, or the Bagley boy will get ahead of you at school." He laughed and, with Junior, started for the village, to get their powder and shot. The next morning after preparing a good lot of cartridges before breakfast, the two boys started, and, having all day before them, took their lunches with the intention of explor- ing Schunemunk Mountain. The squirrels, birds, and rab- bits near home were reserved for odd times when the lads could slip away for a few hours only. Our new barn, now about completed, gave my wife and me as much pleasure as the nuts and game afforded the chil- dren. I went through it, adding here and there some finish- ing touches and little conveniences, a painter meanwhile giving it a final coat of dark, cheap wash. Our poultry- house was now ready for use, and 1 said to Winnie, "To-night we will catch the chickens and put them in it." The old horse had already been established in the stable, and 1 resolved that the cow should come in from this time. In the afternoon I began turning over the fodder corn, and saw that a very tew more days would cure it. Although 1 decided not to begin the main husking until after the middle of the month, 1 gathered enough ears to start the pigs on the 210 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN fattening process. Toward night I examined the apples, and determined to adopt old Mr. Jamison's plan of picking the largest and ripest at once, leaving the smaller and greener fruit to mature until the last of the month. The dark cellar was already half filled with potatoes, but the space left for such apples as we should pick was ready. From time to time when returning from the village 1 had brought up empty barrels; and in some of these, earlier kinds, like fall pippins and greenings, had been packed and shipped to Mr. Bogart. By his advice 1 had resolved to store the later varieties and those which would keep well, disposing of them gradually to the best advantage. I made up my mind that the morrow should see the beginning of our chief labor in the orchard. I had sold a number of barrels of windfalls, but they brought a price that barely repaid us. My exami- nation of the trees now convinced me that there should be no more delay in taking off the large and fine-looking fruit. With the setting sun Merton and Junior arrived, scarcely able to drag their weary feet down the lane. Nevertheless their fatigue was caused by efforts entirely after their own hearts, and they declared that they had had a "splendid time." Then they emptied their game-bags. Each of the boys had a partridge, Merton one rabbit, and Junior two. Merton kept up his prestige by showing two gray squirrels to Junior's one. Eed squirrels abounded, and a few robins, brought down on the wing as the boys had promised. I was most interested in the rattles of the deadly snake which Junior had nearly stepped on and then shot. "Schunemunk is full of rattlers," Junior said. *' Please don't hunt there any more then," I replied. "No, we'll go into the main Highlands to the east'ard next time." Merton had also brought down a chicken hawk; and the game, spread out on the kitchen table, suggested much interesting wild life, about which I said we should read during the coming winter, adding: "Well, boys, you have more than earned your salt in your sport to-day, for each AUTUMN WORK AND SPORT 211 of you has supplied two game dinners. We shall live like aldermen now, I suppose." *'Yes, " cried Merton, ''whether you call me 'pot-hunter* or not, I mean my gun to pay its way. ' ' "I've no objections to that," was my laughing answer, **as long as you shoot like a sportsman, and not like a butcher. Your guns, boys, will pay best, however, in making you strong, and in giving you some well -deserved fun after your busy summer. I feel that you have both earned the right to a good deal of play this month, and that you will study all the harder for it by and by." "I hope you'll talk father into that doctrine," said Junior, as he sat down to supper with us. The boys were drowsy as soon as they had satisfied their keen appetites, and Mousie laughed at them, saying that she had been reading how the boa-constrictor gorged him- self and then went to sleep, and that they reminded her of the snake. "I guess I'll go home after that," said Junior. "Now you know I was only poking a little fun," said Mousie, ruefully, as she ran into the kitchen and gathered up his game for him, looking into his face so archly and coaxingly that he burst out: "You beat all the game in the country. I'll shoot a blue jay, and give you its wings for your hat, see if I don't;" and with this compliment and promise he left the child happy. Merton was allowed to sleep late the next morning, and was then set to work in the orchard, I dividing my timo between aiding in picking the apples and turning over the fodder corn. "You can climb like a squirrel, Merton, and I must de- pend on you chiefly for gathering the apples. Handle them like eggs, so as not to bruise them, and then they will keep better. After we have gone over the trees once and. have stacked the fodder corn you shall have a good time with your gun." For the next few days we worked hard, and nearly 212 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN finished the first picking of the apples, also getting into shocks the greater part of the corn. Then came a storm of wind and rain, and the best of the apples on one tree, which we had neglected, were soon lying on the ground, bruised and unfit for winter keeping. "You see, Merton," I said, "that we must manage to attend to the trees earlier next year. Live and learn. " The wind came out of the north the day after the storm, and Mr. Jones shouted, as he passed down the road, "Hard frost to-night!" Then indeed we bustled around. Mousie's flowers were carried in, the Lima- bean poles, still hanging full of green pods more or less filled out, were pulled up and stacked together under a tree, some tomato-.vines, with their green and partially ripe fruit, were taken up by the roots and hung under the shed, while over some other vines a cover- ing was thrown toward night. "We may thus keep a supply of this wholesome vege- table some weeks longer, ' ' I said. Everything that we could protect was looked after; but our main task was the gathering of all the grapes except those hanging against the sides of the house. These I be- lieved would be so sheltered as to escape injury. We had been enjoying this delicious fruit for some time, carrying out our plan, however, of reserving the best for the market. The berries on the small clusters were just as sweet and luscious, and the children were content. Sure enough, on the following morning white hoar-frost covered the grass and leaves. "No matter," cried Winnie, at the breakfast- table; "the chestnut burrs are opening." By frequent stirring the rest of the corn-fodder was soon dried again, and was stacked like the rest. Then we took up the beets and carrots, and stored them also in the root cellar. We had frost now nearly every night, and many trees were gorgeous in their various hues, while others, like the butternuts, were already losing their foliage. AUTUMN WORK AND SPORT 213 The days were filled with delight for the children. The younger ones were up with the sun to gather the nuts that had fallen during the night, Merton accompanying them with his gun, bringing in squirrels daily, and now and then a robin shot while flying. His chief exploit however was the bagging of half a dozen quails that unwarily chose the ^ lower part of our meadow as a resort. Then he and Junior took several long outings in the Highlands, with fair suc- cess; for the boys had become decidedly expert. "If we only had a dog," said Merton, "we could do wonders." "Both of you save your money next summer, and buy one," I replied; "I'll give you a chance, Merton." By the middle of the month the weather became dry and warm, and the mountains were almost hidden in an Indian summer haze. "Now for the corn- husking," I said, "and the planting of the ground in raspberries, and then we shall be through with our chief labors for the year." Merton helped me at the husking, but I allowed him to keep his gun near, and he obtained an occasional shot which enlivened his toil. Two great bins over the sty and poultry-house received the yellow ears, the longest and fair- est being stored in one, and in the other the "nubbin's," speedily to be transformed into pork. Part of the stalks were tied up and put in the old "corn-stalk barn," as we called it, and the remainder were stacked near. Our cow certainly was provided for. Brindle now gave too little milk for our purpose, whereas a farmer with plenty of fodder could keep her over the win- ter to advantage. I traded her off to a neighboring farmer for a new milch cow, and paid twenty dollars to boot. We were all great milk-topers, while the cream nearly supplied us with butter. Having removed the corn, Mr. Jones plowed the field deeply, and then Merton and I set out the varieties of rasp- berries which promised best in our locality, making the 214 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN hills four feet apart in the row, and the rows five feet from one another. 1 followed the instructions of my fruit book closely, and cut back the canes of the plants to six inches, and sunk the roots so deep as to leave about four inches of soil above them, putting two or three plants in the hill. Then over and about the hills we put on the surface of the ground two shovelfuls of compost, finally covering the plants beneath a slight mound of earth. This would protect them from the severe frost of winter. These labors and the final picking of the apples brought us to the last week of the month. Of the smaller fruit, kept clean and sound for the purpose, we reserved enough to make two barrels of cider, of which one should go into vinegar, and the other be kept sweet, for our nut-crackings around the winter fire. Bobsey's dream of "millions of bushels" of nuts had not been realized, yet enough had been dried and stored away to satisfy even his eyes. Not far away an old cider-mill was running steadily, and we soon had the barrels of russet nectar in our cellar. Then came Saturday, and Merton and Junior were given one more day's outing in the mountains with their guns. On the following Monday they trudged off to the nearest public school, feeling that they had been treated liberally, and that brain- work must now begin in earnest. Indeed from this time forth, for months to come, school and les- sons took precedence of everything else, and the proper growing of boys and girls was the uppermost thought. THAJNKSQIVINO DAY 215 OHAPTEK XLIII THANKSGIVING DAY NOVEMBEB weather was occasionally so blustering and stormy that I turned schoolmaster in part, to relieve my wife. During the month, however, were bright, genial days, and others softened by a smoky haze, which gave me opportunity to gather and store a large crop of turnips, to trench in my celery on a dry knoll, and to bury, with their heads downward, all the cabbages for which I could not find a good market. The children still gave me some assistance, but, lessons over, they were usually permitted to amuse themselves in their own way. Winnie, however, did not lose her interest in the poultry, and Merton regularly aided in the care of the stock and in looking after the evening supply of fire-wood. 1 also spent a part of my time in the wood lot, but the main labor there was reserved for December. The chief task of the month was the laying down and covering of the tender raspberries; and in this labor Bagley again gave me his aid. Thanksgiving Day was celebrated with due observance. In the morning we all heard Dr. Lyman preach, and came home with the feeling that we and the country at large were prosperous. Mr. and Mrs. Jones, with Junior, dined with us in great state, and we had our first four-course dinner since arriving in Maizeville, and at the fashionable hour of six in the evening. I had protested against my wife's purpose of staying at home in the morning, saying we would ''browse around during the day and get up appetites, while in the afternoon we could all turn cooks and help 216 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN her." Merton was excepted, and, after devouring a hasty cold lunch, he and Junior were off with their guns. As for Bobsej, he appeared to browse steadily after church, but seemed in no wise to have exhausted his capacity when at last he attacked his soup, turkey drum-stick, and the climax of a pudding. Our feast was a very informal affair, seasoned with mirth and sauced with hunger. The viands, however, under my wife's skill, would compare with any eaten in the great city, which we never once had regretted leaving. Winifred looked after the transfers from the kitchen at critical moments, while Mousie and Winnie were our waitresses. A royal blaze crackled in the open fireplace, and seemed to share in the sparkle of our rustic wit and unforced mirth, which kept plump Mrs. Jones in a perpetual quiver, like a form of jelly. Her husband came out strong in his comical resumj6 of the past year's experience, concluding: "Well, we owe you and Mrs. Durham a vote of thanks for reforming the Bagley tribe. That appears to me an orthodox case of convar- sion. First we gave him the terrors of the law. Tell yer what it is, we was a-smokin' in wrath around him that mornin', like Mount Sinai, and you had the sense to bring, in the nick of time, the gospel of givin' a feller a chance. It's the best gospel there is, I reckon." "Well," I replied, becoming thoughtful for a moment with boyish memories, "my good old mother taught me that it was God's plan to give us a chance, and help us make the most of it. ' ' "I remembered the Bagleys to-day," Mrs. Jones re- marked, nodding to my wife. "We felt they ought to be encouraged." "So did we," my wife replied, sotto voce. We afterward learned that the Bagleys had been pro- visioned for nearly a month by the good- will of neighbors, who, a short time since, had been ready to take up arms against them. By eight o'clock everything was cleared away, Mrs. Jones THANKSOIVING DAY 217 assisting my wife, and showing that she would be hurt if not permitted to do so. Then we all gathered around the glowing hearth, Junior's rat-a-tat-snap! proving that our final course of nuts and cider would be provided in the usual way. How homely it all was! how free from any attempt at display of style! yet equally free from any trace of vulgar- ity or ill-natured gossip. Mousie had added grace to the banquet with her blooming plants and dried grasses; and, although the dishes had been set on the table by my wife's and children's hands, they were daintily ornamented and inviting. All had been within our means and accomplished by ourselves; and the following morning brought no regret- ful thoughts. Our helpful friends went home, feeling that they had not bestowed their kindness on unthankful people whose scheme of life was to get and take, but not to return. 218 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN CHAPTEE XLIY WB CAN MAKE A LIVING IN EDEN WELL, our first year was drawing to a close. The 1st of December was celebrated by an event no less momentous than the killing of our pigs, to Winnie's and Bobsey's intense excitement. In this affair my wife and I were almost helpless, but Mr. Jones and Bagley were on hand, and proved themselves veterans, while Mrs. Jones stood by my wife until the dressed ani- mals were transformed into souse, head-cheese, sausage, and well-salted pork. The children feasted and exulted through all the processes, especially enjoying some sweet spareribs. . I next gave all my attention, when the weather per- mitted, to the proper winter covering of all the strawberries, and to the cutting and carting home of old and dying trees from the wood lot. The increasing cold brought new and welcome pleasures to the children. There was ice on the neighboring ponds, and skates were bought as premature Christmas presents. The same was true of sleds after the first fall of snow. This white covering of the earth enabled Merton and Junior to track some rabbits in the vicinity, which thus far had eluded their search. By the middle of the month we realized that winter had begun in all its rather stern reality; but we were sheltered and provided for. We had so far imitated the ants that we had abundant stores until the earth should again yield its bounty. WE CAN MAKE A LIVING IN EDEN 219 Christmas brought us more than its wonted joy, and a better fulfilment of the hopes and anticipations which we had cherished on the same day of the previous year. We were far from regretting our flight to the country, although it had involved us in hard toil and many anx- ieties. My wife was greatly pleased by my many hours of rest at the fireside in her companionship, caused by days too cold and wintry for outdoor work; but our deepest and most abiding content was expressed one evening as we sat alone after the children were asleep. "You have solved the problem, Robert, that was worry- ing you. There is space here for the children to grow, and the Daggetts and the Kicketts and all their kind are not so near as to make them grow wrong, almost in spite of us. A year ago we felt that we were virtually being driven to the country. I now feel as if we had been led by a kindly and divine hand." I had given much attention to my account-book of late, and had said, "On New Year's morning I will tell you all the result of our first year's effort." At breakfast, after our greetings and good wishes for the New Year, all looked expectantly at me as I opened our financial record. Carefully and clearly as possible, so that even Winnie might understand in part, I went over the different items, and the expense and proceeds of the differ- ent crops, so far as I was able to separate them. Bobsey's attention soon wandered, for he had an abiding faith that breakfast, dinner, and supper would follow the sun, and that was enough for him. But the other children were pleased with my confidence, and tried to understand me. "To sum up everything," I said, finally, "we have done, by working all together, what I alone should probably have accomplished in the city — we have made our living, I have also taken an inventory or an account of stock on hand and paid for; that is, 1 have here a list on which are named the horse, wagon, harness, cow, crates and baskets, tools, poultry, and pigs. These things are paid for, and we are 220 DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN SO much ahead. Now, children, which is better, a living in the city, I earning it for you all ? or a living in the country toward which even Bobsey can do his share?" **A living in the country," was the prompt chorus. "There is something here for a fellow to do without being nagged by a policeman," Merton added. "Well, children, mamma and I agree with you. What's more, there wasn't much chance for me to get ahead in the city, or earn a large salary. Here, by pulling all together, there is almost a -certainty of our earning more than a bare living, and of laying up something for a rainy day. The chief item of profit from our farm, however, is not down in my account- book, but we see it in your sturdier forms and in Mousie's red cheeks. More than all, we believe that you are better and healthier at heart than you were a year ago. "Now for the New Year. Let us make the best and most of it, and ask God to help us. " And so my simple history ends in glad content and hope. THE END UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY BERKELEY Return to desk from which borrowed. This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 29lan52YW 25!an5A- 30Apr'60RT IN STACKS 'v >^jOfi ^f fee? 'AUT0.DISCIMR13 '87 LD 21-95m-ll,'50(2877sl6)476 GENERAL LIBRARY - U.C. BERKELEY BDDDfl"=)aMM7 IV1119744 hi'fe' ii THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY