M OF TUG OLDCST JUL16T WILBOR TOMI/iS w/ "Where do you come in?" he wanted to know AT THE SIGN of THE OLDEST HOUSE T^o omance BY JULIET WiLBOR Author of Pleasures and Palaces, The Seed of the Righteous, etc. Illustrated by EDWARD L. CHASE INDIANAPOLIS THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY PUBLISHERS "i 9 COPYRIGHT 1917 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY miss or BRAUNWOHTH ft CO. fOOK MANUFACTURERS BROOKLYN. N. Y. ANN SETON HER BOOK CONTENTS CHAPTER I PANSY ARRIVES II THE GEORGE WASHINGTON CRADLE III THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH . IV THE WISHING RING . . . V THE CONTINENTAL SWORD . VI THE PHILOBIBLON . -.-.- VII THE BRIDE CHAIR PAGE 1 10 45 78 114 148 183 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE PANSY ARRIVES THE walls showed the original stone, massive oblong blocks, porous with age, un der a roof of gray and rotting shingles, shapeless as some old bit of felt that has once been a hat. The casement windows of both stories were modern, but the great, black, hand-hewn door, held together by iron bands, needed no proof of authenticity. Though the component parts were so large, the house itself was tiny, and might have stood at a meeting of English lanes. Over the door hung a shabby sign : OLDEST HOUSE IN AMERICA Curios Valuable Antiques Paintings AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE Tourists drifted in by twos and threes, pausing just inside the door to enjoy the mellow brown pleasantness of the raftered room, the rich lights given out by massed glass and china, gold and bronze and old dull jewels, inlaid woods and paintings grown mysteriously black. At first they were scarcely aware of a small elderly woman who took a quarter from every one over twelve, and turned a darkly suspicious stare on any one who claimed to be under that age. She allowed them to browse hap pily among the treasures, keeping on them the eye of a Yankee schoolmistress who watches her class room fill, but letting them imagine themselves free until a dozen or more had collected; then she suddenly un locked her lips and released her tale. "La's and gen'm, this sword with the 2 PANSY ARRIVES 'grave' gol' scabbard 'nlaid with for-ty- sev-en precious stone 'nclud' di's, rub's, sapph's, was p'sented Gen' La-fay-ette on the 'casion of his last vis't to 'Mer'ca in rec'nition 'fis dis-tin-guished services to 'r coun'ry. This dull black weap'n, of no grace or beauty, carr' by a cont'nental sol dier Gen' Israel Putnam's c'mand " and so on in a steady drone that filled every cor ner of the room and permitted no escape. How she managed to keep up her unbroken recital, collect fresh quarters, guard the treasures while she herded her flock up stairs as well as down, would have been a wonder to an inquiring spirit. But the tour ists only found her funny or terrifying or a nuisance; not one ever thought about her side of it. When the closing hour drove the last vis- 3 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE itor to the threshold, she was still nursing her arms with a truculent alertness, but sometimes the final closing of the door seemed to clap the strength out of her, leav ing her a little bent old shell of a woman, almost too tired to brew her cup of tea. Yet the spirit never got so far down that a touch on the knocker could not bring it up again, militant. Few but Mr. Angus came, for this was the loneliest little crooked street in the world, though it was but ten minutes long, and the main business of the city streamed past its lower end. At the joining, the black iron sign of Angus MacDonald, Antiques and Reproductions, hung from a quaintly plastered and gabled front that ignored a plain American clapboarded rear. Perhaps Mr. Angus himself presented a little the 4 PANSY ARRIVES same combination. He was a stooping young man with a poetic face, older than his twenty-eight years warranted, though undoubtedly not so old as it had once been for eighteen. But, though his dark eyes dreamed and his sparse black hair clung to an artist's skull, his skilful hands could make or mend anything, and his apprecia tion of the Jacobean and Georgian periods did not prevent him from being an extraor dinarily good business man in the era of Woodrow Wilson. He had been sketching some lovely old Tudor carving for the past fortnight, and so, coming up the lane nearly every night, he perhaps saw more than the oaken fruits and garlands. "Mrs. Sparks, when is that granddaugh ter coming?" he kept suggesting. "What do I want of a girl about under 5 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE my feet?" was the spirited answer. "There's work enough in this place now." "But mightn't she be helpful?" "She might." There was grim humor in the admission. "Yes, I dare say she might be a girl of eighteen with her head full of nonsense. She wants to 'see life,' she writes me. That's why she's eager to come down here and rub up the brass. H'h!" And Mrs. Sparks, taking one of Daniel Webster's and irons into her lap, polished it with a relent- lessness that made one glad it was not a grandchild. Mr. Angus spoke absently, his eyes on his sketch: "You can see life anywhere you look for it, can't you?" "Well, I guess Pansy'd be looking on Main Street somewheres between the movies and the soda fountains. Pansy!" 6 PANSY ARRIVES Mrs. Spark's nose made visible and audible comment. "Of all the foolish names to start a girl out with and my daughter's a real sensible woman, too. Pansy's what we named the cows, back where I was raised." "Has the name influenced her?" Mr. Angus wanted to know. "How can I tell? I haven't seen her for a dozen years. And I don't mean to. I'd like to see my daughter " the busy hands faltered, the eyes fixed on things distant and past; then Daniel Webster was set down with a reproving bump. "But I don't want any Pansys here, and I'm going to write and tell them so," she concluded crisply. "They needn't to worry about me. I guess I can manage a few years yet." She put away her polishes, moving painfully, her hand occa sionally pressed against her hip. "It's time 7 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE to close up the house," she added, and he rose in some haste. She had been sending him home ever since he 'was a lanky boy, mooning over the treasures instead of play ing ball and making a healthy noise. Mr. Angus put his sketches under his arm and opened the great door; then, his good night swallowed, he dropped back until the long carved table stopped him. He looked startled, yet dubious, as though he had seen such things before and they had always turned out to be illusions. The door had swung wide, and framed against the blackness without stood youth incarnate, the radiant young womanhood of a free country, shy yet unafraid, gallantly planted on two sturdy feet. The light of the old room poured over that one spot, leaving the man and the old woman in 8 "Granny, I'm Pansy!" she said, as one who tells glorious news PANSY ARRIVES shadow. Eyes like excited corn-flowers shone on them out of a rosy face, broad and deeply curving over a throat as soft as a bird's. Health, wealth, happiness all the good wishes seemed to have come to the threshold of the Oldest House. The three waited in silent suspense, as though they recognized the size of this moment in their histories. Then the girl spoke in a clear young voice that bubbled over with the fun of life: "Granny, I'm Pansy!" she said, as one who tells glorious news. II THE GEORGE WASHINGTON CRADLE THE door of the Oldest House in Amer ica was swinging back with a new energy. Tourists were greeted now by a rosy maid, dressed in an old-time costume, who took their quarters and made them register in the visitors' book with a suppressed air of finding it fun. The lifted face under the Elizabethan cap, the print gown and scarlet stockings played their ancient part so de lightfully that the tourists would have ex pressed their appreciation according to their kind, but the doorkeeper was strictly business, and would give no response beyond 10 THE GEORGE WASHINGTON CRADLE that effect of firmly crushed dimples. The only conversation was the custodian's relent less tale. "La's and gen'm, this gen-u-ine Chippen dale highboy, 'riginally made for King George II, was brought o'er in Mayflower by 'nancestor Tho's Jefferson, and was 'n use by the grea' statesman till's death. The solid Sheffield snuffers and tray that you see You come with us, and I'll tell you the beginning later," she interrupted her self, speaking with some sharpness to a couple that had just entered. She might have been marking them "tardy" in her class book. They were a properous, even an im posing young couple, the stalwart man car rying an air of college honors, the girl of a pretty moth-like delicacy, but they meekly fell in with the group. ii AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE The high drone ran on, staccato facts jet ting out at intervals: "We pause in rev'- rence 'fore this picture of the seated Ma donna. You will 'bserve cherub in lower lef corner; the gr-e-a-t Raphael himself is s'pos' to've pain' the hands. Connoisseurs from alloworld have stood here and agreed that only the gr-e-a-t Raphael could 'a' pain' those hands. . . . 'Cravings showing Hamlet at the Grave of Yor'k and Gen'l Lee's Surrender were once in the p'ssession of Aaron Burr, as was also this round lava snuff-box with view V'suvius on the lid. This gate-legged table of cherrywood " The group listened solemnly, lower jaws slightly dropped; only the distinguished new couple exchanged smiles. Presently these two tried to linger over a set of rose luster, but were firmly summoned. 12 THE GEORGE WASHINGTON CRADLE "If you don't keep up, you'll miss what I'm saying, and I can't say it twice for one group," the custodian explained, not dis agreeably, but as one who expounds com mon sense to the young mind. The girl se cretly pinched the man's fingers as they ha stened to obey. It was so deftly done that none of the group saw, but Pansy straight ened like an angler who feels a bite, and put a tiny pencil mark on the door-post, where there was a long row of such marks. Her round blue eyes did not again leave them. "We come now to one of the most pre cious treasures of this 'nique c'lection. This rosewood cradle was slep' in by the grea' Georg' Wash' when he was a babe. Rub your hand on it and you will be cured of the habit of telling lies." The customary pause was made, and after the customary giggles 13 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE and hesitations, shy hands were rubbed along the cradle's edge. Mrs. Sparks stood by like one who holds a glass for a child to drink, her eyes on her own affairs, and took no note of who rubbed and who did not, but Pansy edged near to her couple. The girl had put out a hand toward the cradle, but hesitated, and finally, with a laugh, drew it back. "I don't know that I want to be absolutely cured of telling lies," she protested, looking up for him to find that charming. It was evidently expected of everything she did. "You couldn't tell a lie to save your neck," the young man returned, his own hand meanwhile giving the cradle an honest rub. "Yes, I could," she insisted. "I often have." '4 THE GEORGE WASHINGTON CRADLE He took the statement merely as more charm, and laughed down on her. "Well, so long as you don't do it to me !" He was, after all, very much bigger and stronger than she; her power over him was merely his voluntary submission to the silken thread of her charm. Perhaps some realization of this touched her, for a shadow crossed her face. She defied it, however, and pulled the silken thread. "What would you do to me if I did?" she wanted to know. "Put you in the closet." "But you would come in with me, wouldn't you?" The thread was a very cable, and brought him against her arm. "I suppose so!" he derided himself. "Well, give it a rub, Margy preventive medicine and we'll go on." AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE "I won't I I think there are some things one has a perfect right to lie about," she maintained pettishly, then looked up to see if the charm was in full working order. But this time he did not laugh. "I hate to have you say that, even in fun," he said. "A liar is the one thing on earth I can't stand." Her pretty person shrank a little. "Sup pose I asked you something that you didn't want to tell that you had a right not to tell," she argued; "shouldn't you be justi fied" "I wouldn't lie to you if the truth wrecked both our lives," he said vehe mently. "Why, Margy, I could sooner strike you I" Her argument was crushed. He had called up something that lay deep down un- 16 THE GEORGE WASHINGTON CRADLE der her prettiness and charm, something that caught at her breath and darkened her lifted eyes with a passionate reverence. Her spirit was visibly on its knees before him; but the custodian, turning back, fixed him with stern spectacles. "If you don't keep up with the party, you won't know a thing you've seen," she called at him. They started, and their gaiety was suddenly relit. "The old dame will take a ruler to me if we don't look out," he murmured, hurry ing her after the group, which was mount ing the stairs to gape at Dolly Madison's bed and Daniel Webster's fire-dogs and Nellie Custis's warming pan. Her hand, after all, had not touched the cradle. It was the last group of the day. The young couple lingered until Mrs. Sparks 17 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE began to spread sheets over the treasures, then they reluctantly departed. Pansy knew how long it took them to reach the corner, for she watched them from behind Dolly Madison's bed. Then she came running down-stairs. "Oh, Granny, it's such fun," she cried. "They are frightfully in love, and yet I think there's something something on her mind" "Now, Pansy, get out the brass polish and don't be a goose," was the discouraging an swer. Pansy's blitheness was undisturbed. "I'll change my dress first," she said, and skipped away, singing. Taking off the cap and the flowered print did not remove her quaint Elizabethan quality. Even in a gingham apron she was still a rosy maid, a little 18 THE GEORGE WASHINGTON CRADLE wench, for a poet's heart, and her eighteen was heavenly young. "They must be rich, Granny," she burst out, going at the eternal polishing with a rapturous energy. "Their clothes were ac tually plain, and yet they took your breath. It's the poorer brides that are all fussed up. They're my twenty-seventh bridal couple, and it's the first that has given me any real thrill. The others have just gawked about and giggled and said, 'Aren't you awful!' Or else they made talk, hard it's funny, how little brides have to say! I shouldn't be like that." "It takes more than a husband to stop some tongues," was the severe rejoinder. Pansy laughed. "Well, but, Granny, listen! Where was I? Oh, yes thrill. You see, they were in love, but they weren't 19 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE sloppy about it; they didn't make you want to get away and beat your head against a wall and kick something. You know what I mean?" "I can't say that I do." "Oh, come off, Granny you do, too. I mean, they were really romantic not just sticky. And there is something in her life that he doesn't know I'm sure there is. They didn't notice me " A knock at the door interrupted, and she flew to answer it. Her voice sang and bub bled: "Oh, hel-lo, Mr. Angus!" "Hel-lo, Miss Bouncing Bet!" The amused greeting was followed by an amused face; Mr. Angus came in, carry ing a pair of antique bellows under his arm. 20 THE GEORGE WASHINGTON CRADLE "How does our sweet mistress? And have there been many roisterers at the tavern this fair night?" "Oh, get outl" said Pansy frankly, wav ering between laughter and resentment. "Why do you always talk that stuff to me?" she added, standing very straight be fore him on her two plump feet and twirl ing a corner of her apron in her fingers. He laughed silently. "Because in a previous incarnation my name was John Suckling," he said. "Well, I think it was a disgusting name, and I'd keep it to myself," she disposed of that. "Did you mend old Cornwallis? Oh, you did, beautifully. Granny, look how Mr. Angus has mended old Corny!" The grandmother looked grudgingly over 21 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE her spectacles. "Well enough," she said dryly, but added an uneasy, "It must have cost you a heap of time, Mr. Angus." "Oh, that is all right," he assured her. "The privilege of copying it more than re pays me." "Could you copy the carved oak side board? Because there's a leg of that coming loose," Pansy suggested. Everything that she said seemed to give him a mysterious joy. He bent with his silent laugh to look at the loose leg. "That will be nothing. I can do it in five minutes," he said. "I will bring over my tools some night soon. Anything else? Miss Pansy must be a comfort to you, Mrs. Sparks, find ing all the breaks." "She's well enough," was the cool answer. Then, as the granddaughter ran up the 22 THE GEORGE WASHINGTON CRADLE stairs, she beckoned him to a chair beside her and spoke behind a curved hand: "The best girl that ever lived, Mr. Angus I You wouldn't believe her willingness. The cap and dress was her own idea she saw them in that old book by your hand. It's fun, she says. If she sells a postcard, it's fun. It's fun to help with the polishing. She's a rare, sweet " She broke off as the gay step came bouncing down. "Well, Pansy, what more are you bothering Mr. Angus with?" she grumbled. "The Georgian candlestick;" Pansy dis played it. "The top wobbles; and if he copied it, he'd sell dozens." "Oh, go along!" said Mrs. Sparks, but Mr. Angus had taken the candlestick and was studying it interestedly. "It is worth considering," he said. "We 23 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE put the Cornwallis bellows in the window this morning, and we have had a nibble al ready. A young couple almost bought it." Pansy started. "Was her name Margy?" "Why, I believe it was. Yes; he called her that." She rejoiced aloud. Then she drew up a stool close in front of him, and squeezing her doubled hands together on her squeezed knees, lifted her face wholly to his and took one huge breath, that she need not again be obliged to stop. "Now, Mr. Angus, suppose you had a beautiful and charming bride, and suppose there was some dark secret in her life that she had a perfect right not to tell you about, but suppose you asked her questions : don't you think she'd have a right to tell you a lie?" His face was forcibly drawn down into 24 "But my beautiful bride must not have dark secrets from me" THE GEORGE WASHINGTON CRADLE the expected seriousness. "But my beautiful bride must not have dark secrets from me," he protested. "Oh, well, suppose it was her mother's secret: suppose her mother had had " "Now, Pansy, that will do," interposed the grandmother, and added a parenthetic, "The things that child gets hold of 1" to Mr. Angus. "Well, suppose it, anyway;" Pansy bounced with impatience. "And suppose you asked questions, and I lied to you. I had to." The clear innocent eyes, lifted straight to his, did not notice how his mouth was jerked open, as though by a shock, and then very quietly and cautiously closed. "When you found it out, would you be fu rious?" He seemed unable to answer immedi- 25 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE ately. "I should not like it," he said at last, but his tone was inattentive. "No; now, really," she insisted, "aren't there times when a lie is right?" He roused himself to meet her demand. "Not from my wife to me," he said. "No ; that is hideous. My wife need not have a beautiful face, but she can't do unbeautiful things." Pansy was moved, but rebellious. "I think there are lots of worse things than lying," she argued. "So does Margy. She wouldn't rub the George Washington cradle this afternoon, and I am sure she was per fectly justified." He was looking at her very kindly. "No, no; I think you'd better rub it, little maid," he said. 26 THE GEORGE WASHINGTON CRADLE "Pouf ! I rub it every day with a chamois, and it hasn't made the slightest difference," was the robust answer. "Well, Mr. Margy feels just as you do; and I'm afraid there's trouble ahead for my twenty-seventh couple. Oh, gee, but I'd like to know the end of the story!" And the sigh of Pansy's desire nearly rent her garments. "If they come back for the bellows, I will find out all I can," he promised. "Oh, do! Seeing life is frightfully inter esting, isn't it!" she went on. "I see chunks of it every day here. It's all so exciting that some nights I can't bear to go to sleep it's like tearing yourself away from a party." Mrs. Sparks suddenly lifted her head from the old silver tray she was rubbing. "I'd like to know who's been having a party 27 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE in the Louis Philippe court suit," she said. "This morning it was not as I left it. Did you have it out, Pansy?" Mr. Angus was laughing, and the girl flushed. "No; I did not," she said resentfully. "Well, it's mighty queer. Some tourist must have got at it when my back was turned. They'll do anything, those tourists. Now you better put the kettle on if you want any supper," she added, and Mr. Angus said a hasty good night. MR. ANGUS came back the next evening with his box of tools. Supper and work were done, and Pansy sat on the door-step, unwontedly quiet and drooping, staring down the street with her chin on her doubled fists. Dim moonlight took the an cient house and the girl and the narrow broken street back into the mellow past, and Angus, pausing before her, swept long musi cal fingers across his tool-box. " 'No grape that's kindly ripe could be So round, so plump, so soft as she,' ' he chanted; then dropped down beside her. "What were you looking for, sweet mis tress?" he asked. She had not given him the usual bubbling greeting, and her answer frowned. "Life! 29 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE I was wishing life would come down the middle of the street on a great white charger and sweep me off into the thick of things!" "Ah, and there came instead a dealer in antiques and reproduction with a tool-box!" he lamented ; but his apology was only skin deep, and his smile seemed to hint that the substitute might not prove such an anti climax as it sounded. "Life arrives in queer guises," he went on. "Perhaps, when it comes to sweep you off, it will bring a little wheelbarrow instead of a white charger." "Then I won't go," was the severe answer. His fingers again struck imaginary strings. " 'The streets were so broad and the lanes were so narrow ' A wheelbarrow, a nice, tidy little green one with a bunch of flowers painted on the back, 30 THE GEORGE WASHINGTON CRADLE could be quite as poetic as a white charger," he suggested. "You didn't think so when you were young," said Pansy in all unconsciousness. Again she had delivered a shock that jerked open his mouth. It shut in a cold line. "I didn't suppose I was exactly ancient," he observed. "Oh, well, only compared to me," said Pansy politely. He took quick breath, as though to cast at her the tale of his years, then let it go and sat dazedly silent; his head on his hand weighed so heavily that his elbow visibly dug into his knee. "We had three bridal couples to-day, but they weren't much fun," Pansy presently began, kicking listlessly at the step. "Oh, I meant to tell you;" he made an AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE effort to pull himself back to his former level. "Your couple came in to-day and bought the bellows." "Oh! They did!" She was suddenly re vived. "Oh, Mr. Angus, what did you find out? Tell me everything they said!" He had evidently taken very careful men tal notes, and he clasped his thumb for the first item: "They are on their way back from an extensive trip plenty of money, evidently." The forefinger came next: "Their home is in "Oh, the facts don't matter," she inter rupted. "How are they getting on how did they look at each other? Did you feel any trouble?" He released his fingers and considered. "In a way, perhaps. She was a little wist ful; happy, yet a bit shadowed, and very, 32 THE GEORGE WASHINGTON CRADLE very anxious that he should always find her lovely. She touched me; she had a fragile, anemone quality. He was blunt, almost rough, beside her. Too male for her! She should have married a more sensitive, po etic" "I think he was a thousand times too good for her!" The suddenness of the onslaught left him speechless. Pansy, bolt upright, rushed on: "He was a man, a big, live, strong, splendid man, and she was a little dolly flirt. Oh, pretty and cunning and all that just about good enough for a poet. But she wasn't good enough for him!" Truly Pansy was unaccountable to-night. Her eyes were blazing over this unknown pair, and her intentions were so plainly hos tile that he stiffened. "Are you not perhaps confusing the he- 33 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE roic quality and masculine bulk?" he asked, very coldly and politely. "I grant you his ox muscles. But her finer fiber " "She's a liar," said Pansy. "She said so herself." Silence fell between them. Presently he rose and carried his tools into the house. His voice could be heard talking with Mrs. Sparks as he tightened the loose leg of the sideboard; it sounded aloof and strange without the usual merry indulgence that he put in it for Pansy. When he came out, she was not there. Something was wrong with Pansy. For three days her step on the stairs lagged, her joy was quenched. Nothing was fun. Mrs. Sparks's allusions to the wrong side of bed and black dogs on shoulders brought no response. Some inner argument went about 34 THE GEORGE WASHINGTON CRADLE with her, fixing her eyes .and shaping her lips into defiant phrases. The fourth morn ing was showery and few tourists came ; by afternoon a heavy downpour seemed to have cut them "off altogether. Pansy had gone to take off her costume when a knock brought her drearily back. 'Her face brightened as she discovered her couple. She would have turned on the lights for .them, but they liked the rainy dimness better, they protested, openly happy at finding the big room free of tourists. Mrs. Sparks looked in from the kitchen, where she was brewing her rheumatism remedy, but, seeing who it was, made a slight sound in her nose and returned to her labors. The two presently drifted to a case of relics, which offered a resting-place for elbows, and brought bent heads close to- 35 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE gather. In the silence of the room, they forgot a plump Elizabethan maid, sitting as still as any of the antiques in the shadow of the door. "Marie Antoinette was a great little old slipper wearer," he was saying. "I never went into a museum yet that I didn't see one of hers." "You don't really suppose this is genu ine?" she objected. He bent to read the fine-hand inscription. "It says it is. What a doubter you are, Margy! I believe everything I'm told." Her eyes fell and her head drooped over the case. The wistful quality that Mr. An gus had harped on was, after all, a fact. "That is because you are so splendidly true," she said. "Some people aren't born that way, dear. They have to learn it hard." 36 "What a doubter you are, Margy !' THE GEORGE WASHINGTON CRADLE Then she looked up at him, and her eyes said, "You are so glorious!" while his an swered, "You are so sweet!" "Forgive me promise you will forgive me!" hers went on. "Aren't you getting tired, dear? Ought you to be standing?" he answered, a hand under her elbow. "Oh, no;" and she turned with a sup pressed sigh to the next case. She did not seem to have the heart to pull the silken thread this afternoon, but he came readily without it. When any history was needed, he asked her as confidently as though she had been his mother, and she could always answer. "You're uncommon educated, Margy," he said at last, straightening up from some jeweled orders, whose owners had all been 37 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE familiar figures to her. "You got a* tre mendous head start of me those first three months!" She winced, so sharply that he laughed, laying a big hand on her shoulder. "Goosie! What does it matter which of us was born in April and which in July? You don't really think that that makes you older than I?" She would not look at him. "Some girls wouldn't have told you at all," she said with a catch in her breath, starting away from him so abruptly that she nearly tripped over the George Washington cradle. He followed her, still laughing. "You're putting this on," he insisted. "You don't care you can't. It's too ridicu lous." She stood staring into the cradle, and made no answer. "I didn't mean to tease 38 THE GEORGE WASHINGTON CRADLE you, dear!" His hand came back, coaxingly. "I apologize. I'm a " Suddenly she slipped down to her knees, one arm across the cradle, looking intently at the place where once a fateful little head had rested. After a long minute, her hand softly rubbed the edge. "I am three years older than you," she said, very quietly. "Three years and three months. I didn't tell you the truth I was afraid." "Why, Margy!" He could not believe he had understood. "What are you saying?" "Just that. I lied to you." She held her self stiffly cool and aloof, as though deter mined to make no appeal against his judg ment. She did not need to look into his face to know the pain she had given. After a 39 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE stunned moment, he made an effort to hide the shocked recoil of his whole being. "Girls do that, I suppose about age;" the words stumbled. "Only it wasn't nec essary, you know." "I know now; but I didn't then. And in the beginning it didn't seem so terrible. It has grown worse and worse, knowing you; and now, knowing what is " Her arm tightened across the cradle. "I couldn't stand it another hour. It scorches me. I hate it as you hate it. Of course, I have lost your respect; but it was better " His rigidity suddenly melted. "Oh, you plucky little soul you true little soul !" he muttered. "Margy, you're finer even than I knew." She lifted her face, her whole heart, to him. "You forgive me?" 40 THE GEORGE WASHINGTON CRADLE "My dear!" His arm raised her, drew her beyond the carved oak sideboard. For a long time their murmurs and their silences came from the John Quincy Adams dav enport in its shadow. When at last they emerged, remembering with some embar rassment where they were, the room was empty, and no one saw the white peace on her upturned face. "They might have taken everything in the house," Mrs. Sparks scolded, hearing the front door close, and rinding the treasures unguarded. Pansy did not appear until the afternoon was over. She brought a flushed face and heavy eyes, and she went at the polishing without answering sundry comments on people who had time to sleep all day. When the knocker sounded, she jumped. AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE "What ails you, child? It's only Mr. Angus," Granny said, opening the door herself. Mr. Angus' bearing was formal, and he held the Georgian candlestick conspicu ously, that his coming might instantly be explained. "Sit down a bit. It's good to have some one to speak to, for Pansy's lost her tongue," Mrs. Sparks greeted him. He looked a quick question at Pansy. She tried to scowl down a flush, then, rinding it hopeless, dropped her work and started to her feet. "All right then," she said exasperatedly. "All right, all right!" Plunging into the shadows, she dragged out the George Washington cradle, planted it with defiant energy before them, and faced them across it, her hands on its polished hood. "I told 42 THE GEORGE WASHINGTON CRADLE you both a whopper the other day," she flung at them. "About the Louis Philippe court suit. I had had it on the night be fore, after Granny went to bed yes, I did, Granny, the whole thing. And I know now why they're called small clothes, for they are. But I did it. I dressed up and I pa raded round and had a heavenly time. Then Mr. Angus laughed, and I lied. And now you know it." Her eyes rilled, so she did not see all that happened in his the quick leap of laughter, then the compassion and the rising joy. "Pansy, you are a gentleman," he said gravely, coming to take her hand. "Well, what you'll be doing next!" mut tered Mrs. Sparks. Pansy put back the cradle with a hearty rub and returned to her polishing. She had found her tongue again, and her blitheness. 43 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE "Mr. Angus, you say that things are beau tiful or ugly," she burst out, "and Granny says they're good or wicked, and I say that they're fun or they're hateful, but I guess we all mean about the same thing!" His delight in her carved creases in his lean face. "I guess we do!" he assented. "I'm seeing life every day," Pansy went on with a long sigh of content. "I wish I had time to come and help in your shop, too, Mr. Angus. I'll bet I'd see a lot of life there." He gave her an odd look, then rose as though he had changed his mind about staying. "It is quite likely that you would," he said dryly. "Well, I have letters to write. Good night!" And he left in haste. 44 Ill THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH THERE were days at the Oldest House when the door was guarded by Mrs. Sparks, upright in a cushioned chair, her expression compounded of human distrust and sciatica, while the rosy maid in her old-time costume took the groups about and poured out a faithful imitation of the custodian's tale. Pansy, whose youngness was as flagrant as a calf's or a kitten's, could not keep her tourists in the usual meek bunch; they strag gled and interrupted with questions as they never dared do under Granny's eye. Once an impertinent pedant even challenged her story. 45 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE "How could a highboy that was made for George II have come over in the May flower?" he wanted to know. Pansy put that down with a strong hand. "My grandmother has been saying it this way for twenty years," she told him. "If you think you know more about it than she does I" Then, seeing him still disposed to argue, she passed abruptly to one of the major attractions, leading her flock through a back door into an open court, paved with ancient flags that slanted down toward the well in the middle. A bucket of water stood on the curb, and a pile of paper cups. Pansy took Granny's attitude, holding a cup over the bucket, and unconsciously reproducing her high drone: "This well, la's and gen'm, dates back as far as the house does, and possibly even THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH farther. You are standing on the spot where the original Fountain of Youth, so famed in song and story, once gushed forth. Others will claim that theirs is the original foun tain, but this is known to be the only true source. In these living waters lurks the se cret of youth, which ancient alchemy and modern science have in vain sought to cap ture. Drink this and put off old age." Granny's withered hand, when it was she who offered the cup, might well have roused skepticism, and a modern distrust of wells and old buckets kept back the majority, but there were always a few humorous spirits to try it and to enact sudden youth. To day the amused group forgot about the George II highboy, but Pansy was inwardly perturbed. It had never before occurred to her to question Granny's tale; and yet, if 47 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE one thought about dates, there was a discrep ancy! "Well, it's the way I learned it," Mrs. Sparks disposed of the question; "and I'm too old to change. I guess it's as true as the Fountain of Youth." Pansy was startled. "But, Granny, there is something in the Fountain," she main tained. "Why, look at Mr. Angus. I thought he was about a hundred when I first came, and I made him drink just for a joke. But he's been growing younger and younger. Haven't you noticed it?" Granny's keen glance rested for a moment on the unconscious face. "Well, you let it alone, Pansy, or I'll have to be buying a baby carriage," she observed, limping off to bed. Pansy put through the work of the old THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH house with a joyous rush, and, after she had washed the supper dishes, sat down on a fid dle-back chair by the stone hearth to repair a beaded hassock that had once rested the feet of Madam Hancock. Sometimes she hummed or whistled, or let her feet do a little dance of their own. When the knocker sounded, she sprang up. "Hel-lo, Mr. Angus!" she sang out be fore she could fairly have seen who it was. He usually answered in kind: "Hel-\o, Miss Bouncing Bet!" But to-night he came in with a grave, "Good evening, Pansy." It was not more chilling than the change in the whole man. His new youth had fallen from him; he looked sad, and curiously startled, as though he had had a shock. "What's wrong?" Pansy demanded. He tried to smile. "Wrong? Nothing 49 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE that I know of. I have had rather a hard day, that's all." "I'll bet you didn't have a Granny with sciatica and forty-three tourists on your hands!?' He took that in with a somber stare. "You faithful and joyous spirit!" he said suddenly. "Nothing is hard or dull to you or with you. You give everything life. You're wonderful, Pansy, wonderful !" She was honestly amazed. "Me? Why, Mr. Angus Granny would tell you better. She thinks I'm the scum of the earth." She had made him smile. Presently, with the tale of the day's adventures, she even roused a laugh. She was proud of her suc cess, and tumbled out for his diversion all her young wisdom, trying to stave off the final, "Well, I have letters to write," that SO always hovered over their good times. He used to say it with satisfaction, even with importance; lately it had been growing re luctant, sighing, but it always took him away. To-night it came out, "Well, I've got to write a letter!" so miserably that Pansy gave up trying to divert him and went straight at the facts. "Then why do you write it?" she asked. "What's the matter, anyway?" The face lifted to his was rosy and kind, full of health and sense; all about them the mellow past offered a background rich with experience. Mr. Angus dropped down again. "I have been corresponding for three years with a very, very dear friend," he said. "A remarkable woman. Her friend ship has been a great honor to me. She AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE was here three years ago, for two months. I was I grew " "Of course," said Pansy dejectedly, and silence fell on the old room. "She is seven years older than I," he flung out. Pansy stared. "Why, then she's " "Thirty- five," he interrupted irritably. "That is not middle age, Pansy. A woman may be very young at thirty-five. She did not make any secret of it she used to laugh about it. I was old for my age three years ago. We seemed contemporary." Mr. Angus was quite unconscious that he sighed. Pansy had cheered up immensely. "I know," she said. "Why, you were old for your age when I first came, Mr. Angus! And that was only three months ago." 52 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH She had struck the right note to revive him. He leaned toward her, watching her intently. "And you have seen a difference?" he asked. "You bet," she assured him. "Why, at first you were more like an uncle. Your eyes sort of patted me, as if I were an aw fully nice pup." She was quite serious, and looked surprised at his burst of laughter. "And how about my eyes now?" he sug gested, shining down on her. She took an honest survey of them while she thought it out. "Now it's more like a jolly older brother," she decided. That was 4 not successful ; he looked touchingly dashed. "An awfully jolly one," she insisted, and then, seeing no improvement, added an apology: "Of course, I never did have a brother. I've only imagined them." 53 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE !A. convalescent smile thanked her;. but his momentary cheer was gone. "Letters are queer things," he said, drop ping his head on his two hands. "One leads a separate life in a an intimate correspond ence. It is real, in its way. And yet, when you try to bring that life and your daily life together, you see how oh, imaginary the letter-life has been." Pansy mended a bead rose in silence. "I don't see what you write about," she said at last. "When I've said that Granny is well and that I'm having loads of fun, I've got right down to 'Your loving Pansy.' I couldn't fill more than three and a half pages to save my neck." "I wish to heaven I couldn't!" he said im patiently. "It is an egotistic indulgence pouring out your thoughts and feelings and 54 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH reactions on life. I am tired to death of it! It isn't healthy! And it takes time!" His voice rose indignantly. "I want my eve nings for reading and exercising and visit ing my neighbors confound it, I can't write letters all the time I" "Then why haven't you stopped it?" Pansy demanded. "Ah, my dear girl, it isn't so simple as that. One can't hurt people, or fail them. If one has created an obligation, a an " Pansy, as usual, drove straight at the point. "You don't mean you're engaged to her!" The word visibly went through him. "Not well, no; but I have always given her to understand that that if ever she did want a more " He got up with a sud denness that overturned his chair. "Please 55 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE forget all this, Pansy. I had no right to say so much. Only you are such a I think such a lot of you, I want you to understand. Good-by." He put out his hand with a finality that alarmed her. "You're not going away!" "Oh, no. But Miss Olcott is coming here," he said simply. "She will be down next week. I have just heard. I shan't see you I mean, I shall be busy well, good night, Pansy!" He took her hand again, then hurried away. Pansy thought it over very soberly, her arms crossed on Madam Hancock's hassock. Then she shrugged. "H'm! Thirty-five," she said. It was a bad week, for Granny was almost helpless, and her highest praise was, "Well, I guess it will have to do!" Pansy's blithe- 56 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH ness became a little dimmed before it was over. Mr. Angus did not come in even Sun day night, but two days later he appeared in mid-afternoon, much dressed up and palpably excited, escorting a tall and lovely lady. Pansy had opened the door, and for a moment she stood inhospitably blank, for the solid earth seemed to be reeling under her feet. What did thirty-five years matter if one could look so fine and finished, and smile with so charming a grace? For the first time, Pansy was ashamed of the cos tume that had always been "such fun." She felt a hot desire to snatch off the childish cap and print gown, the scarlet stockings and buckled shoes, that gave strangers the right to look at her as if she were a little girl! ' 57 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE Mr. Angus was stammering something that was meant for an introduction, and the lady came to his aid. "I have heard so much of Pansy," she said, putting out her hand with a friendli ness that would have won Pansy's good heart under other circumstances. "I don't know you by any other name." Pansy could not find her speech. She stood humiliated and helpless, furious at her own bread-and-butter youth, beating herself with cruel words; and could not r dream that Miss Olcott, looking down from her immeasurable advantage of years and experience, perhaps saw some unsuspected value in soft young curves and flushing shy ness. The lady's lips came together in a grave line, as though for a moment she had caught her breath. Then she smiled again, Mr. Angus was stammering something that was meant for an introduction THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH this time at Mr. Angus; but he was looking at Pansy and did not see. Miss Olcott stepped inside. "I used to know this old place inti mately," she said. "It is good to see it again. I hope Mrs. Sparks is well?" "Yes, thank you ; only she is in bed with sciatica," Pansy brought out, then hated herself worse than ever. "I am sorry. I hope Ah, look, Angus! Here is the little old Betty Cavendish sam pler." She laughed as though it had some association for them both, and he responded eagerly, nervously. His laugh came inces santly as they made the slow tour of the room. The place was rich with reminis cence for them; their repeated, "Don't you remember " beat and bruised Pansy as she stood forgotten by the door. Miss Ol- 59 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE cott kept using his name, Angus, with a careless ease that seemed to make a princess of her; not in the most secret depths of her heart had Pansy ever called him any thing but Mr. Angus. Once he said her name, Edith, not amusedly, as he said "Pansy," but with a gravity that gave it a sickening significance. The door into the court was open, and she paused there, look ing out with a deepening smile. "The old Fountain of Youth, Angus!" He tried to smile back, but could not quite meet her straight look. "Will you drink again?" he asked. "You always insisted that I didn't need it," she reminded him. "Oh, I was the one who really needed it," he said quickly. "You gave me my first draft of it, Edith." 60 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH "And you have gone on imbibing, I sus pect!" "Do I seem younger than you remem bered me?" She glanced him over thoughtfully. "Younger than your letters. Do I seem older than mine?" Then she cut off his an swer. "Never mind don't tell me. Thirty- five is a nice age, far nicer than thirty-two was. I wouldn't go back a day. Youth hurts too much it wants too much." "And you think you have escaped that yet?" he challenged her. "I am much farther from it than you are, my dear," she said, leading the way out into the court. For a long time they leaned on the well curb, talking in low tones, but neither drank. No tourists happened to come, and Pansy 61 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE had nothing to do but to watch them. When at last they lifted their heads, they saw her, a drooping little maid in an old-time cos tume, sitting on Madam Hancock's hassock with her head against the dark wood of a grandfatherly clock. "I want my tea," said Miss Olcott ab ruptly. "The old lady is tired, Angus ; she must have her tea. . . . Do you remem ber how furious it used to make you when I used that title?" "It does still," said Angus absently, his eyes on Pansy. "It is too absurd." She laughed a little, and adjusted the hat that curved over her bright hair. "I wish your little friend could come with us," she said; "but I suppose she can't leave." That roused him. "Ah, I should like you 62 to know her," he exclaimed. "She is as sound and sweet and fine as ripe fruit." "And she looks like apple blossoms," Miss Olcott added, and, pausing on the threshold, took a long look about the old room. Then she said good night to Pansy with so lovely a friendliness that Pansy was swept by an absurd longing to love her and burst into tears. But she stood very straight on her two sturdy feet and made her grave little answers with blue eyes bravely lifted. Then they were gone together, and the day dragged on to its close. AFTER giving Granny her supper, Pansy brought out broom and duster and polish, for the old house had to be kept in shining order; but at the first stroke of labor her arms wilted down at her sides. The heavi ness of her heart seemed to spread through her whole body. She tried feebly to drive it, then, letting the broom drop, she curled down on the door-step in the warm dusk, her face hidden in her arms. In all her joyous, little-girl life she had never known misery like this. It did not seem to be concerned with Mr. Angus, but with the grace and distinction of mature ladies, beside whom others were stupid and helpless and young. "I will grow up," she vowed hotly. "I'll 6 4 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH read more, and study French, and wear cor sets I'll be a fine lady if I bust I" Then realization of the years it would all take crushed her down again. Tears were swell ing up to her eyes when the sound of a step scattered them. Mr. Angus was coming down the lane alone. He wore evening dress under a light overcoat, and he looked so fine, so remote, that the sight of him brought no comfort until she saw the harassed face under the new hat. His distracted eyes held no mes sage for her, but his two hands, taking one of hers, seemed to cling to it. "I am just on my way to dinner," he said jerkily. "I ran down for a minute." He looked blindly at his watch, then sat down on the step beside her, tightly clasping a 65 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE knee in his long fingers. "You saw how lovely she is," he added, his head turned away. "Yes," said Pansy faintly. "She has done so much for me," he went on. "Taught me things about life, and taste as well as honored me with her friendship. Her suddenly coming down here I don't know what it means, Pansy. I don't know what it means." "What do you want it to mean?" Pansy blurted out. He drew a sharp breath. "Once I would have Pansy, it isn't a year since I repeated to her that if ever she wanted me, she had only to lift her finger. And now " The world seemed to stand still, waiting. "Oh, it was literary love not flesh and blood love," he cried. "And I didn't know I" 66 o rt THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH The constellations were suddenly back in their places, the world was going ahead at its normal jolly pace. Pansy had barely time for a silent, astonished, "What have I been fussing about!" before the black abyss of the afternoon was obliterated under a leaping tide of sunny content. "Well, you will just have to tell her so," she said with practical energy. "No;" he spoke slowly and solemnly. "No. I couldn't do that, Pansy. She is too wonderful, too fine in every way. One couldn't fail her. I can't dream that she would really want me, but, if she does, I am pledged." Pansy seemed to swell all over with right eous protest; then on her released breath came a mighty verdict: "Some people are so high-minded that they haven't got good 67 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE sense!" Distraught though he was, he was caught by its clean-cut decision, its Pansy quality of robust honesty. For an instant the old joy in her leaped up in a shaken laugh. "Ah, Pansy, Pansy!" he cried, and his arms sprang open, as though he would have taken some one in. Then he rose and went away without another word. "I don't see anything funny in that," Pansy observed; then, remembering the prostrate broom, she jumped up and went vigorously to work. It was very late when she finished, but she was not sleepy. Some quality of suspense 'wa.s in the air; her heart raced, and at every chance sound she turned rigid, listening. She argued that no one could possibly come, yet she kept the lights all on, that the house might look awake, and invented a dozen 68 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH new tasks to prolong the evening. She was on the point of giving up when a hesitating step made her fling open the door. "I won't come in," said Mr. Angus, then he absently did come in and sit down. The harassed look had gone, but he was very, very grave, and his words came with dif ficulty. "I wanted to tell you, Pansy ... ah, she is so beautiful ! I didn't know there were women like that. . . . She came here simply on her way to make a visit; she is staying only this one night. She stopped off to " He forgot to go on, and his eyes, dark and solemn, were fixed on the beauty he had witnessed. Pansy, braced against the table, waited with a gathering frown. "Well?" she demanded. 'He turned to her, but still with no effect 69 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE of looking at her. "I have had something better than I deserved," he said. "I can see that The gods offered me a rare opportu nity and I was only mortal, and missed it . . . Edith is going to undertake some work, a serious responsibility. She will not have time to write often." "Welll" said Pansy again. "Oh, I know. It was what I wanted. Only I can't help seeing what I have lost. Ah, she was wonderful she understood everything; and she wasn't afraid of speech! It is better this way, but life isn't as sim ple as it looks, Pansy. Good night, dear child." He put out his hands with the aged smile of a great uncle, and went away. Pansy stood glowering at the closed door. "Nobody's afraid of speech," she mut- 70 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH tered "Nothing so wonderful in that!" Then her defiance melted before an awful and desolating humility. "I'm nothing but an ignorant kid," she admitted, going wearily to her room. An hour later, sitting up in bed in the darkness, she suddenly spoke aloud: "I don't see why it aches so you're not in love with Mr. Angus! Goodness he's too old. Well, then, what are you fussing about? You stop this nonsense." It worked. A blast of fresh air seemed to pass through the room, clearing away fever and folly, and Pansy, laying herself down with her hand under her cheek, promptly went off to sleep. Granny was up the next day, able to tend the door, and an unusual rush of tourists kept Pansy busy. She conducted group AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE after group through the house, and once more everything was "fun." Three bridal couples were vouchsafed her, two of them rustic and funny, one urban and dashing; and, better yet, an engaged couple, loitering behind a kindly unobservant parent. Pansy saw "him" look down and "her" look up, and the meeting of their eyes sent a delicious shock through her. That was the sort of lover she would have some day: young and stalwart and worshipful, just out of college with a football record. Not a letter-writing person who looked at you like an uncle you bet! At least seven men in seven differ ent groups, drinking at the Fountain of Youth, burst into infant howls, and Pansy beamed with the secret joke that they al ways did just that. Oh, seeing life was fun! The last one had gone, and Pansy was out 72 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH in the court picking up the paper drinking cups when a quick step crossed the room. It did not sound like Mr. Angus, and for a moment the figure in the doorway scarcely looked like his stooping and poetic presence. His head was flung back, his hands fairly swaggered in his pockets, and there was not a hint of kindly uncle in his lively, "Hello, Pansy!" The sunset, glowing over the old walls, made a picture of the rosy maid in the old court, and usually he would have stayed where he was to enjoy it, but to-night he came briskly out. "Suppose we have a spree," he said. "Will you? What shall it be?" "Movies?" suggested Pansy. "Hooray I" Mr. Angus sat down on the well curb and dipped the last remaining 73 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE cup in the bucket. "I am not going to offer you any," he said, lifting the cup as though he toasted her. "You don't need the Waters of Youth lucky child." The water did not look inviting, but he took it down with a laugh. Then his heels drummed the bricks, and he whistled an air. "How quickly does it work?" he asked, fixing her with a mis chievous eye. "Granny says it doesn't work at all," said Pansy. "Ho Granny what does she know! Pansy, do you suppose Granny was ever in love in all her life?" "Well, she got married," Pansy argued. He laughed out. "True. Well, I will bet she doesn't know one thing about the subject now any more than you do 1" 74 "Why, Mr. Angus, I've been in love five times!" THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH "Me!" Pansy was indignant. "Why, Mr. Angus, I've been in love five times I" "You have!" His heels, his shoulders, his very jaw dropped. "Pansy, you don't mean that," he said gravely. "But I do, too. Why, it has been twice this very winter!" He was unaccountable. A joy as sudden as his dismay sent up a shout of laughter. He laughed open-mouthed at the sky, so splendidly that Pansy began to laugh too, a clear gurgle of joy that brought his eyes back to hers. Over the wall came the ripple of a street organ, playing a Scotch reel. "Ta dee, ta dee, ta dee, ta dee " His hands took it up, then his feet; he sprang up, facing her, and Pansy, who had 75 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE once danced the Highland Fling in costume at a Sunday-school festival, dropped her cups and fell joyously into position. Their heels and hands snapped, they jigged and twirled through the figures, both grave now, intent on doing it right; and Granny, paus ing in the doorway, looked on with a sar donic gleam in her old eyes, but turned away before they had seen her. "Ta dum, ta dum, ta dum, ta dum " Their breath was going, their gravity weakening, but still they flung their hands and heels, twirling to the final burst of speed. The last notes dropped them, limp and gasping, on the well curb. "Wasn't it fun?" cried Pansy. He mopped his forehead, laughed, then dipped his cup again in the bucket. "I THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH never was so thirsty in my life," he panted, and would have drunk, but Pansy stopped him. "Mr. Angus I truly don't think you'd better drink any more of that water to night," she protested. Again his laughter rang in the old court, and, though she did not at all know why, Pansy joined in. Granny, hobbling to the front door, beckoned the departing mu sician. "You're a poor old thing you might as well have that," she muttered, holding out a coin. Perhaps even Granny still knew something about the affairs of youth. IV THE WISHING RING PANSY, guarding the door, was accus tomed to having strangers smile at her. Sometimes they commented as freely as though her quaint costume rendered her deaf, and once in a while some tourist in terpreted the print gown and mob cap as an invitation to familiarity, driving her back to a clean middy and white skirt for several indignant days. But usually they beamed on her very kindly, spreading a pleasant atmosphere of approval and mak ing it all great fun. It was a new experience when a prosperous lady, who had descended from her own motor, looked into the door- 78 THE WISHING RING keeper's face with a startled widening of her eyes and an effect of sudden pallor. For an instant Pansy saw a question or a cry at the parted lips; then, to her intense disap pointment, nothing happened. The lady paid her quarter and stepped in like any other visitor. Mrs. Sparks was displaying the sword of Lafayette, and immediately annexed her with a clear, "If you don't go around with this group, you'll have to wait for the next!" that would have brought a crowned head into line. Granny had one tone for all. The lady seemed glad to be taken charge of so efficiently. In spite of her forty or more years, she was girlish still, with the pretty drooping melancholy of one who carries an idealized sorrow. The tilt of her chin, the lift of her brown eyes, every motion of her 79 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE graceful body, proclaimed her a much loved, shielded and served person. "I'll bet that she never in her life went into a butcher shop and looked at a hunk of raw meat," was Pansy's way of expressing this. Pansy watched her unwinkingly, long ing for some further sign of agitation, until she saw that the lady was trying to observe her. "Go ahead," she assented joyously, and pretended to be busy with her picture pos tals. Granny's voice droned on: "You ask, la's and gen'm, why we keep this piece red'n'- blue cloth in sep' glass case. It is one of the most precious treasures of this 'nique c'lec- tion. If you read the card, you will see that this torn piece red'n'blue cloth was once part of the housings of Gen. Wash's saddle. 80 THE WISHING RING . . . This carv' oak spice-cupboard, brought o'r by William Perm, the founder of Don't lean on that glass, please; first thing you know, you'll break it. ... This ring will interest you. It was found in the p'ssession of the Seminole Indians, but is of old Spanish work'ship, and is b'liev' to have magic properties. Place it on the third fing' left hand, turning it three times, and your wish will be granted." She paused while a heavy silver ring with a greenish stone was passed through the group with the usual giggles and witti cisms. When it reached the lady, she too slipped it on her finger, and her eyes met Pansy's with an intensity that made the girl's heart leap. "There is something I'm not just imag ining it," was her glorious thought. 81 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE "We now pass by this stairs, where you will 'bserve the 'riginal hand-hewn banis ters " Mrs. Sparks led the way up, casting her speech before her, indifferent whether it fell on good ground or on stony, and did not notice that the lady had dropped be hind, apparently absorbed in the beauties of a Dutch landscape done in hair. Presently she and Pansy were left alone. "Oh, go on, go on, be a sport what is it?" was the girl's silent prayer, and, as though in answer, the lady suddenly came over to her. "Will you think me very odd if I ask you a question?" she faltered. Her shy fluttered movements reminded Pansy of a bird let out of its cage for the first time. In her kind longing to help and her youthful 82 joy in having anything whatever happen, her "I'd love it!" fairly boiled over. The lady found breathless difficulty in beginning. "If my husband were only here, he would know how to to ask," she said nervously. "I am so unaccustomed to doing anything without him! But he had to go back for a week. He could not help it. I get a night letter every morning and roses every afternoon, but I am rather lost!" The appeal under her words, her troubled charm, made Pansy feel very stout and sheltering. "Just say it," she urged. "Anything. I'm not sensitive." She had only deepened the other's agita tion. "You are like Henry; strong and and I don't know what he would want me 83 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE to say. But are your mother and father living?" It seemed an unmomentous ques tion, yet she wilted bodily when Pansy said that they were. "And I've got three younger sisters," Pansy added, for good measure. "But they are all thin and dark, like mother. I don't look like any of them." The lady searched the rosy curves of her face as though they hid a secret. "You are quite sure that you are your mother's own child that you were not adopted?" she burst out. The amazing idea left Pansy staring. Strangely enough for she loved her par ents dearly a rich hope that perhaps she really had been adopted thrilled all her be ing. When she was little, she had secretly longed to be an orphan it was so distin- 'You are quite sure that that you were not adopted :' THE WISHING RING guished! But that glamour was pale beside the brilliant possibility flashed on her by this troubled lady. "Why, I never supposed I was," she Stammered. "They sometimes don't tell them. Oh, would it be possible for me to speak to your mother?" "She's up in Connecticut. My grand mother's here." Pansy hesitated. "She'd say it was all nonsense," she reluctantly brought out. The lady passed her hand across her eyes as though she were waking herself up. "Of course it is nonsense," she said sadly. "My husband would say that, too. Only you are so startlingly like a little girl I used to know I had to ask you. You are far more like her than I have seen resemblances be- 85 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE fore, but never like this. When Henry gets back, I will bring him in. He " The knocker interrupted, and Pansy had to admit more tourists. By the time they had paid and registered, the lady's car was speeding down the street. It was like seeing fame and fortune slip from one's grasp. Pansy watched it out of sight, then turned to a mahogany mirror in Chippendale style, showing French influence, once in the pos session of Madam Jumel, and searched for the secret that might lie under her round and guileless face until Granny's step on the stairs made her start back. In Pansy's fam ily, mirrors were not made for girls to look in; monkeys lurked in their evil depths, and would come out to scratch the countenances of the vain. "What ails you, child?" Mrs. Sparks 86 THE WISHING RING asked more than once that day. When, after supper, she found Pansy putting away the sugar in the ice chest, she lost all remnants of patience. "You go sit on a brocade chair and fold your hands; it's all you're good for to-night," she declared. "Maybe it is what I was meant for," was the astonishing answer. Pansy had settled down on the floor, her arms about her knees. "Granny, did you happen to be about when I was born?" "No, child. I never set eyes on you till you were six or seven." Granny always softened at a question that opened the past. She would have launched out on the tale of that first visit, with its triple measles, had Pansy not interrupted. "Did mother write you about it my coming, and all that?" 87 AT THE SIGN OF THE OLDEST HOUSE "I suppose so. I don't remember. She never was much of a hand to write, your mother. I know she'd got real discouraged about having a child she'd been married four years. And then when they-