 CHAPTER VII. THE LION AND THE LAM. When the boys were gone, a lull fell upon Plumfield, and the family scattered to various places for brief outings, as August had come and all felt the need of change. The professor took Mrs. Joe to the mountains, the Lawrence's were at the seashore, and their Meg's family and the Bear Boys took turns to visit, as someone must always be at home to keep things in order. Mrs. Meg, with Daisy, was in office when the events occurred which we are about to relate. Rob and Ted were just up from Rocky Nook, and Nan was passing a week with her friend as the only relaxation she allowed herself. Demi was off on a run with Tom, but Rob was man of the house, with old Silas's general overseer. The Sears seemed to have gone to Ted's head, for he was unusually freakish, and led his gentle aunt and poor Rob a life of it with his pranks. Octu was worn out with the wild rides he took, and Don openly rebelled when ordered to leap and show off his accomplishments, while the girls at college were both amused and worried by the ghosts who haunted the grounds at night. The unearthly melodies disturbed their studious hours, and the hair-breath escapes of this restless boy by flood and field and fire. Something happened at length with defectually sobered Ted, and made a lasting impression on both the boys. For sudden danger and a haunting fear turned the lion into a lamb, and the lamb into a lion, as far as courage went. On the first of September, the boys never forgot the date. After a pleasant tramp and good luck with their fishing, the brothers were lounging in the barn, for Daisy had company, and the lads kept out of the way. I tell you what it is, Bobby. That dog is sick. He won't play, nor eat, nor drink, and acts queerly. Dan will kill us if anything happens to him, said Ted, looking at Don, who lain near his kid on resting a moment after one of those restless wanderings, which kept him vibrating between the door of Dan's room and the shady corner of the yard, where his master had settled him with an old cap to guard until he came back. It's the hot weather, perhaps. But I sometimes think he's pining for Dan. Dogs do, you know, and the poor fellow has been low in his mind ever since the boys went. Maybe something has happened to Dan. Don, held last night and can't rest. I've heard of such things, answered Rob thoughtfully. Poo! He can't know. He's cross. I'll stir him up and take him for a run. Always makes me feel better. Hi, boy! Wake up and be jolly! And Ted snapped his fingers at the dog, who only looked at him with grim indifference. Better let him alone. If he isn't right tomorrow, we'll take him to Dr. Watkins and see what he says. And Rob went on watching the swallows as he lay in the hay, polishing up some Latin verses he had made. The spirit of perversity entered into Ted, and merely because he was told not to tease Don, he went on doing it, pretending that it was for the dog's good. Don took no heed of his pats, commands, reproaches, or insults, till Ted's patience gave out, and seeing a convenient switch nearby, he could not resist the temptation to conquer the great hound by force, since gentleness failed to win obedience. He had the wisdom to chain Don up first, for a blow from any hand but his masters made him savage, and Ted had more than once tried the experiment, as the dog remembered. This indignity roused Don, and he sat up with a growl. Rob heard it, and seeing Ted raise the switch, Rand interfere, exclaiming, Don't touch him! Dan forbade it! Leave the poor thing in peace! I won't allow it! Rob seldom commanded, but when he did, Master Ted had to give in. His temper was up, and Rob's masterful tone made it impossible to resist one cut at the rebellious dog before he submitted. Only a single blow, but it was a costly one, for as it fell, the dog sprang at Ted with a snarl, and Rob, rushing between the two, felt the sharp teeth pierce his leg. A word made Don let go and drop remorsefully at Rob's feet, for he loved him and was evidently sorry to have hurt his friend by mistake. With a forgiving pat, Rob left him to limp to the barn followed by Ted, whose wrath was changed as shame and sorrow when he saw the red drops on Rob's sock and the little wounds in his leg. I'm awfully sorry. Why did you get in the way? Here, wash it up, and I'll get a rag to tie on it, he said, quickly filling a sponge with water and pulling out a very demoralized handkerchief. Rob usually made light of his own mishaps and was over ready to forgive if others were to blame. But now he sat quite still, looking at the purple marks with such a strange expression on his white face. The Ted was troubled, the way added with a laugh. Why, you're not afraid of a little dig like that, are you, Bobby? I'm afraid of hydrophobia. But if Don is mad, I'd rather be the one to have it, answered Rob, with a smile and a shiver. That dreadful word, Ted turd whiter than his brother and dropping sponge and handkerchief, stared at him with a frightened face, whispering in a tone of despair. Oh, Rob, don't say it. What shall we do? What shall we do? Call Nan, she'll know. Don't scare Auntie or tell his soul that Nan, she's on the back of Piazza. Get her out here as quick as you can. I'll wash it till she comes. Maybe it's nothing. Don't look so staggered, Ted. I only thought it might be as dumb as queer. Rob tried to speak bravely, but Ted's long arms felt strangely weak as he hurried away, and it was lucky he met no one for his face would have betrayed him. Nan was swinging luxuriously in a hammock, amusing herself with the lively treaties on Krupp, when an agitated boy suddenly clutched her, whispering as he nearly pulled her overboard. Come to Rob and the barn. Don's mad, and he's bitten him, and we don't know what to do. It's all my fault. No one was no. Oh, do be quick! Nan was on her feet at once, startled, but with her wits about her, and both were off without more words as they dodged round the house, where unconscious days he chatted with her friends in the parlour, and Aunt Meg peacefully took her afternoon nap upstairs. Rob was braced up, and was as calm and steady as ever when they found him in the harness room, whether he had wisely retired to escape observation. Story was soon told, and after a look at Don, now in his kennel, sad and surly, Nan said slowly with her eye on the full water-pan. Rob, there is one thing to do for the sake of safety, and it must be done at once. We can't wait to see if Don is sick, or go to a doctor. I can do it, and I will, but it is very painful, and I hate to hurt you, dear. A most unprofessional quiver got into Nan's voice as she spoke, and her keen eyes dimmed as she looked at the two anxious young faces turn so confidingly to her for help. I know, Burnet. Well, do it, please. I can bear it, but Ted better go away, said Rob, with a firm setting of his lips and a nod at his afflicted brother. I won't stir. I can stand it, if he can. Only it ought to be me, cried Ted, with a desperate effort not to cry. So full of grief and fear and shame was he that it seemed as if he couldn't bear it like a man. He better stay and help. Do him good, answered Nan sterly, because her heart was faint within her, knowing as she did all that might be in store for both poor boys. Keep quiet. I'll be back in a minute, she added, going towards the house with her quick mind hastily planning what was best to be done. He was ironing day, and hot fire still burned in the empty kitchen, for the maids were upstairs resting. Nan put a slender poker to heat, and as she sat waiting for it, covered her face with her hands, asking help in the sudden need for strength, courage, and wisdom, for there was no one else to call upon, and young as she was, she knew what was to be done if she only had the nerve to do it. Any other patient would have been calmly interesting, but good dear Robin, his father's pride, her mother's comfort, everyone's favorite friend, that he should be in danger was very terrible, and a few hot tears dropped on the well-scoured table, as Nan tried to calm her trouble by remembering how very likely it was all to be a mistake, a natural but vain alarm. I must make light of it, with boys will break down, and then there will be a panic. Why afflict and frighten everyone when all is in doubt? I won't. I'll take Robb to Dr. Morrison at once, and have the dogman see dawn. Then, having done all we can, we will either laugh at our scare, if it is one, or be ready for whatever comes. Now, for my poor boy. Armed with a red hot poker, a pitcher of vice water, and several handkerchiefs from the clothes horse, Nan went back to the barn, ready to do her best, in this most serious emergency case. The boy sat like statues, one of despair, the other of resignation, and it took all Nan's boasted nerve to do her work quickly and well. Now, Robb, only a minute, then we are safe. Stand by, Ted, he may be a bit faintish. Robb shut his eyes, clenched his hands, and sat like a hero. Ted knelt beside him, white as a sheet, and as weak as a girl, for the pangs of remorse were rending him, and his heart failed at the thought of all this pain because of his wilfulness. It was all over in a moment, with only one little groan, but when Nan looked to her assistant to hand the water, poor Ted needed it the most, for he had fainted away, and lay on the floor in a pathetic heap of arms and legs. Robb laughed, and cheered by that unexpected sound, Nan bound up the wound with hands that never trembled. The great drop stood on her forehead, and she shared the water with patient number one before she turned to patient number two. Ted was much ashamed and quite broken in spirit, when he found how he had failed at the critical moment, and begged him not to tell as he really could not help it. Then by way of finishing his utter humiliation, a burst of hysterical tears disgraced his manly soul, and did him a world of good. Never mind. Never mind. We are all right now, and no one need be the wiser, said Nan briskly, as poor Ted hiccuffed on Robb's shoulder, laughing and crying in the most impestuous manner, while his brother soothed him and the young doctor fanned both with Silas's old straw hat. Now boys, listen to me and remember what I say. We won't alarm anyone yet, for I've made up my mind our scare is all nonsense. Don was out lapping the waters I came by, and I don't believe he's mad any more than I am. Still, to ease our minds and compose our spirits, and get our guilty faces out of sight for a while, I think we'd better drive into town to my old friend Dr. Morrison, and let him just take a look at my work, and give us some quieting little doves, for you're all rather shaken up by this flurry. Sit still, Robb, and Ted, you harness up while I run and get my hat, and tell Auntie to excuse me to daisy. I don't know those peniman girls, and she will be glad of our room at tea, and we'll have a cozy bite at my house and come home as gay as larks. Nan talked on his event for the hidden emotions which professional pride would not allow her to show. And the boys approved her plan at once, for action is always easier than quiet waiting. Ted went staggering away to wash his face at the pump, and rub some color into his cheeks before he harnessed the horse. Robb lay tranquilly on the hay, looking up at the swallows again as he lived through some very memorable moments. Boys, he was, the thought of death coming suddenly to him, and in this way might well make him sober, for it is a very solemn thing to be arrested in the midst of busy life by the possibility of the great change. There were no sins to be repented of, few faults, and many happy dutiful years to remember with infinite comfort. So Robb had no fears to daunt him, no regrets to sadden, and best of all, a very strong and simple piety to sustain and cheer him. And Wotter was his first thought, for Robb was very near the professor's heart, and the loss of his eldest would have been a bitter blow. These words whispered with the tremble of the lips that had been so firm when the hot iron burned. Recalled that other father, who was always so near, always tender and helpful, and folding his hands, Robb said the heartiest little prayer he had ever prayed, there on the hay, to the soft witter of the brooding birds. It did him good, and wisely laying all his fear and doubt and trouble in God's hand, the boy felt ready for whatever was to come. From that hour kept steadily before him the one duty that was playing, to be brave and cheerful, keep silent, and hope for the best. Nan stole her hat and left a note on Daisy's pincushion, saying she had taken the boys to drive and all would be out of the way till after tea. Then she hurried back and found her patience much better, the one for work, the other for rest. In they got, and putting Robb on the back seat with his leg up, drove away, looking as gay and carefree as if nothing had happened. Dr. Morrison made light of the affair, but told Nan she had done right, and as the much-relieved lads went downstairs he added in a whisper, send the dog off for a while and keep your eye on the boy, don't let him know it, and report to me if anything seems wrong. One never knows in these cases, no harm to be careful. Nan nodded, and feeling much relieved now that the responsibility was off her shoulders, took the lads to Dr. Watkins, who promised to come out later and examine Dawn. A merry tea at Nan's house, which was kept open for her all summer, did them good, and by the time they got home in the cool of the evening no sign of the panic remained, but Ted's heavy eyes and a slight limp when Robb walked. As the guests were still chattering on the front piazza they retired to the back, and Ted soothed his remorseful soul by swinging Robb and the hammock while Nan told stories till the dog-man arrived. He said Dawn was a little under the weather, but no more mad than the gray kitten that purred round his leg while the examination went on. He wants his master and feels the heat, fed too well perhaps. I'll keep him a few weeks and send him home all right, said Dr. Watkins, as Dawn laid his great head in his hand and kept his intelligent eyes on his face, evidently feeling that this manager stood his trials and knew what to do for him. So Dawn departed without a murmur, and our three conspirators took counsel together, how to spare the family all anxiety, and give Robb the rest his leg demanded. Fortunately he always spent many hours in his little study, so he could lie on the sofa with a book in his hand as long as he liked, without exciting any remark. Being of a quiet temperament, he did not worry himself for Nan with useless fears, but believed what was told him, and dismissing all dark possibilities went cheerfully on his way, soon recovering from the shock of what he called our scare. But excitable Ted was harder to manage, and it took all Nan's wit and wisdom to keep him from betraying the secret, for it was best to say nothing and spare all discussion of the subject for Robb's sake. Ted's remorse preyed on him, and having no mom to confide in, he was very miserable. By day he devoted himself to Robb, waiting on him, talking to him, gazing anxiously at him, and worrying the good fellow very much, though he wouldn't own it, since Ted found comfort in it. But at night, when all was quiet, Ted's lively imagination and heavy heart got the better of him, and kept him awake, or set him walking in his sleep. Nan had her eye on him, and more than once administered a little dose to give him rest. Red to him, scolded him, and when she caught him haunting the house in the watches of the night, threatened to lock him up if he did not stay in his bed. This wore off after a while, but a change came up for the freakish boy, and everyone observed it, even before his mother returned to ask what they had done to quench the lion's spirits. He was gay, but not so heedless, and often when the old wolf on his beset him, he would check it sharply, look at Robb, and give up, or sulk away to have his sulk out alone. He no longer made fun of his brother's old-fashioned ways and bookish tastes, but treated him with a new and very marked respect, which touched and pleased modest Robb, and much amazed all observers. It seemed as if he felt that he owed him reparation for the foolish act that might have cost him his life, and love being stronger than will, Ted forgot his pride, and paid his debt like an honest boy. I don't understand it, said Mrs. Joe, after a week of home life, much impressed by the good behavior of her younger son. Ted is such a saint, I'm afraid we're going to lose him. Is it Meg's sweet influence, or Daisy's fine cooking, or the pellets I catch Nan giving him on the sly? Some witchcraft has been at work during my absence, and this will of the wisp is so amiable, quiet, and obedient. I don't know him. He is growing up, hearts dearest, and being a precocious plant, he begins to bloom early. I also see a change in my rope-chin. He is more manly and serious than ever, and is seldom far from me, as if his love for the old papa was growing with his growth. Our boys will often surprise us in this way, Joe, and we can only rejoice over them, and leave them to become what God pleases. As the professor spoke, his eyes rested proudly on the brothers, who came walking up the steps together. Ted's arm over Robb's shoulder as he listened attentively to some geological remarks Robb was making on a stone he held. Usually Ted made fun of such tastes, and loved to lay boulders in the student's path, put brickbaths under his pillow, gravel in his shoes, or send parcels of dirt by express to professor R. M. Baer. Lately he had trusted Robb's hobbies respectfully, and had begun to appreciate the good qualities of this quiet brother, whom he had always loved, but rather undervalued, till his courage under fire won Ted's admiration and made it impossible to forget a fault, the consequences of which might have been so terrible. The leg was still lame, though doing well, and Ted was always offering an arm of support, gazing anxiously at his brother and trying to guess his wants. For regret was still keen in Ted's soul, and Robb's forgiveness only made it deeper. A fortunate slip on the stairs gave Robb an excuse for limping, and no one but Nan and Ted saw the wound, so the seeker was safe up to this time. We are talking about you, my lads. Come in and tell us what good fairy has been at work while we were gone. Or is it because absence sharpens our eyes that we find such pleasant changes when we come back? said Mrs. Joe, patting the sofa on either side, while the professor forgot his piles of letters to admire the pleasing prospect of his wife in a bower of arms, as the boys sat down beside her, smiling affectionately, but feeling a little guilty, for till now, Mom and Vater knew every event in their boyish lives. Oh, it's only because Bobby and I have been alone so much. We are a sort of twins. I stir him up a bit, and he studies me a great deal. You and Father do the same, you know. Nice plan. I like it. And Ted felt that he had settled the matter capitely. Mother won't thank you for comparing yourself to her, Ted. I'm flattered at being like Father in any way. I try to be, answered Robb as they laughed at Ted's compliment. I do thank him for its true, and if you, Robb, and do have as much for your brother as Papa has for me, your life won't be a failure, said Mrs. Joe Hardley. I'm very glad to see you helping one another. It's the right way, and we can't begin too soon to try to understand the needs, virtues, and failings of those nearest us. Love should not make us blind to faults, nor familiarity make us too ready to blame the shortcomings we see. So work away, my sonnies, and give us more surprises of this sort as often as you like. The lie of Mother has said all, I too am well pleased that the friendly brother warmth I find. It is good for everyone and long may it last, when Professor Bayer nodded at the boys, who looked gratified, but rather to lust how the respond to those flattering remarks. Robb wisely kept silent, fearing to say too much, but Ted burst out, finding it impossible to help telling something. The fact is, I've been finding out what a brave, good chap Bobby is, and I'm trying to make up for all the bother I've been to him. I knew he was awfully wise, but I thought him rather soft, because he liked books better than Marx, and was always fussing about his conscience. But I began to see that it isn't the fellows who talk the loudest and show off best that are the manliest. No, sir, quite old Bob is a hero and a trump and I'm proud of him, so would you be if you knew all about it. Here a look from Robb brought Ted up with a round turn. He stopped short, grew red, and clapped his hand on his mouth in dismay. Well, are we not to know all about it? submissed Joe quickly, for a sharp eye saw signs of danger, and a maternal heart felt that something had come between her and her sons. Boy, she went on solemnly, I suspect that the change we talk about is not altogether the effect of growing up, as we say. It strikes me that Ted has been in mischief, and Robb has got him out of some scrape. Hence the lovely mood of my bad boy and the sober one of my conscientious son who never hides anything from his mother. Robb was as red as Ted now, but after a moment's hesitation he looked up and answered with an air of relief. Yes, mother, that's it, but it's all over and no harm done, and I think we'd better let it be, for a while at least. I did feel guilty to keep anything from you, but now you know so much I shall not worry, and you needn't neither. Ted, sorry, I don't mind, and it has done us both good. Mrs. Joe looked at Ted, who winked hard, but bore the look like a man. Then she turned to Robb, who smiled at her so cheerfully that she felt reassured. But something in his face struck her, and she saw what it was that made him seem older, graver, yet more lovable than ever. It was the look, pain of mind, as well as body brings, and the patience of the sweet submission to some inevitable trial. Like a flash, she guessed that some danger had been near her boy, and the glances she had caught between the two lads and Nan confirmed her fears. Robb, dear, you have been ill, hurt, or seriously troubled by Ted. Tell me at once. I will not have any secrets now. Boys sometimes suffer all their lives from neglected accidents or carelessness. Fritz, make them speak out! Mr. Bayer put down his papers and came to stand before them, saying in a tone that quieted Mrs. Joe and gave the boys courage. My sons, give us the truth. We can bear it. Do not hold it back to spare us. Ted knows we forgive him much because we love him. So be frank, all two. Ted instantly dived among the sofa pillows and kept there with only a pair of scarlet ears visible, while Robb, in a few words, told the little story truthfully, but as gently as he could, hastening to have the comfortable assurance that Dawn was not mad, the wound nearly well, and no danger would ever come of it. But Mrs. Joe grew so pale, he had to put his arms around her, and his father turned and walked away, claiming, oh, kennel, in a tone of such mingled pain relief and gratitude, that Ted pulled an extra pillow over his head to smother the sound. They were all right in a minute, but such news is always a shock, even if the peril has passed, and Mrs. Joe hugged her boy close till his father came and took him away, saying with a strong shake of both hands and a quiver in his voice. To be in danger of one's life tries a man's mental and you bear it well, but I cannot spare my good boy yet, thank God. We keep him safe. A smothered sound, between a choke and a groan, came from under the pillows, and the writhing of Ted's long legs so plainly expressed despair that his mother relented towards him, and burrowing till she found a tussled yellow head, pulled it out and smoothed it, exclaiming with an irrepressible laugh, though her cheeks were wet with tears. Come and be forgiven, poor sinner, I know you have suffered enough and I won't say a word. When we of harm had come to Rob, you would have made me more miserable than yourself. Oh, Teddy, Teddy, do try to cure that willful spirit of yours before it is too late. Oh, Mom, I do try. I never can forget this. I hope it's cured me, and if it hasn't, I'm afraid I ain't worth saving," answered Ted, pulling his own hair as the only way of expressing his deep remorse. Yes, you are, my dear. I felt just so at fifteen when Amy was nearly drowned, and Marmy helped me as I'll help you. Come to me, Teddy, when the evil one gets hold of you and together we'll rout him. Ah, me, I've had many a tussle with that old de polyon, and often got worsted, but not always. Come under my shield and we'll fight till we win. No one spoke for a minute, as Ted and his mother laughed and cried in one handkerchief, and Rob stood with his father's arm round him so happy that all was told and forgiven, though never to be forgotten, for such experiences do one good, and knit hearts that love more closely together. Presently Ted rose straight up, and going to his father said bravely and humbly, I ought to be punished. Please do it, but first say you forgive me, as Rob does. Always that, my son. Seventy times seven is needs be, else I am not worthy of the name you give me. The punishment has come. I can give no crater. Let it not be in vain. It will always be the help of the mother and the all father. Room here for both, always. The good professor opened his arms and embraced his boys like a true German, not ashamed to express by gesture or by word the fatherly emotions an American would have compressed into a slap on the shoulder in a brief, alright. Mrs. Joe sat and enjoyed the prospect like a romantic soul she was, and then they had a quiet talk together, saying freely all that was in their hearts and finding much comfort in the confidence which comes when love casts out fear. It was agreed that nothing be said except to Nan, who was to be thanked and rewarded for her courage, discretion, and fidelity. I always knew that girl had the makings of a fine woman in her, and this proves it. No panics and shrieks and faintings and fuss, but calm sense and energetic skill. Dear child, what can I give her due to show my gratitude, said Joe enthusiastically? Make Tom clear out and leave her in peace, suggested Ted almost himself again, though a pensive haze still partially obscured his native gaiety. Yes, do, he frets her like a mosquito. She forbade him to come out here while she stayed and packed him off with dimmy. I like old Tom, but he is a regular noodle about Nan, added Rob, as he went away to help his father with the accumulated letters. I'll do it, said Mrs. Joe decidedly. That girl's career shall not be hampered by a foolish boy's fancy, and in a moment of weariness she may give in, and then it's all over. Wiser women have done so and regretted it all their lives. Nan shall earn her place first and prove that she can fill it. Then she may marry if she likes and can find a man worthy of her. But Mrs. Joe's help was not needed, for love and gratitude can work miracles, and when youth, beauty, accident and photography are added, success is sure, as was proved in the case of the unsuspecting but too susceptible Thomas. End of Chapter 7 Chapter 8 of Joe's Boys This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Melissa. Joe's Boys by Louisa May Alcott. Chapter 8. Josie Plays Mermaid While the young by-ears were having serious experiences at home, Josie was enjoying herself immensely at Rocky Nook, for the Lawrence's knew how to make summer idealists both charming and wholesome. Bess was very fond of her little cousin. Mrs. Amy felt that whether her niece was an actress or not, she must be a gentle woman, and gave her the social training which marks the well-bred woman everywhere, while Uncle Laurie was never happier than when rowing, riding, playing, or lounging with two gay girls beside him. Josie bloomed like a wildflower in this free life. Bess grew rosy brisk and merry, and both were great favorites with the neighbors, whose villas were by the shore or perched on the cliffs along the pretty bay. One crumpled rose leaf disturbed Josie's peace. One baffled wish filled her with the longing which became a mania, and kept her as restless and watchable as a detective for the case to work up. Miss Cameron, the great actress, had hired one of the villas and retired the other to rest and create a new part for next season. She saw no one but a friend or two, had a private beach, and was invisible except during her daily drive, or when the opera glasses of curious gazers were fixed on a blue figure, to sporting itself in the sea. The Lawrence's knew her, but respected her privacy, and after a call left her in peace till she expressed a wish for society, a courtesy which she remembered and repaid later as we shall see. But Josie was like a thirsty fly buzzing about a sealed honeypot, for this nearness to her idol was both delightful and maddening. She pine to see, hear, talk with, and study this great and happy woman who could thrill thousands by her art, and win friends by her virtue, benevolence, and beauty. This was the sort of actress the girl meant to be, and few could object if the gift was really hers, for the stage needs just such women to purify and elevate the profession which should teach as well as amuse. If kindly Miss Cameron had known what passionate love and longing burned in the bosom of the little girl whom she idly observed skipping over the rocks, splashing about the beach, or galloping past her gate on a shetland pony, she would have made her happy by a look or a word. But being tired with her winter's work and busy with her new part, the lady took no more notice of this young neighbor than of the seagulls in the bay where the daisy is dancing in the field. No skays left on her doorstop, serenades under her garden wall, and the fixed stares of admiring eyes were such familiar things that she scarcely minded them. And Josie grew desperate when all her little attempts failed. I might climb that pine tree and tumble off on her Piazza roof, or get sheltered to throw me just at her gate and be taken in fainting. It's no use to try to drown myself when she is bathing. I can't sink, and she'd only send a man to pull me out. What can I do? I will see her and tell her my hopes and make her say I can act some day. Mama would believe her, and if, oh, if she would only let me study with her what perfect joy that would be. Josie made these remarks one afternoon as she and Bess prepared for a swim, a fishing party having prevented their morning bath. You must bide your time, dear, and not be so impatient. Puppa promises to give you a chance before the season is over, and he always manages things nicely. That will be better than any queer prank if yours answered Bess, tying her pretty hair in a white net to match her suit, while Josie made a little lobster of herself and scarlet. I hate to wait, but I suppose I must. I hope she will bathe this afternoon, though it is lie of tide. She told uncle she should have to go in then, because in the morning people stared so and went on her beach. Come and have a good dive from the big rock. No one round but nurses and babies, so we can romp and splash as much as we like. The way they went to have a fine time for the little bay was free from other bathers, and the babies greatly admired their aquatic gymnastics, both being expert swimmers. As they sat dripping on the big rock, Josie suddenly gave a clutch that nearly sent Bess overboard as she cried excitedly. There she is! Look! Coming to bathe! How splendid! Oh, if she only would drown a little and let me save her, or even get her toe nipped by a crab, anything so I could go and speak? Don't seem to look as she comes to be quiet and enjoy herself, pretend we don't see her. That's only simple, answered Bess, affecting to be absorbed in a white winged yacht going by. Let's carelessly float that way as if going for seaweed on the rocks. She can't mind if we are flat on our backs with only our noses out. Then when we can't help seeing her, we'll swim back as if anxious to retire. That will impress her, and she may call to think the very polite young ladies who respect her wishes. Proposed, Josie, though slightly fancy was always plotting dramatic situations. Just as they were going to slip from their rock, as if fate relented at last, Miss Cameron was seen to beckon wildly as she stood waist-deep in the water, looking down. She called to her maid, who seemed searching along the beach for something, and not finding what she sought, waved a towel toward the girls as if summoning them to help her. Run! Fly! She wants us! She wants us! cried Josie, tumbling into the water like a very energetic turtle, and swimming away in her best style towards the long-desired haven of joy. Best followed more slowly, and both came panting and smiling up to Miss Cameron, who never lifted her eyes but said in that wonderful voice of hers, I've dropped a bracelet. I see it, but I can't get it. Will the little boy find me a long stick? I'll keep my eye on it, so the water shall not wash it away. I'll dive for it with pleasure, but I'm not a boy, hence her Josie, laughing as she shook the curly head which at a distance had deceived the lady. I beg your pardon. Dive away, child, the sand is covering it fast. I value it very much. Never forgot to take it off before. I'll get it, and down went Josie to come up with a handful of pebbles, but no bracelet. It's gone. Never mind my fault, said Miss Cameron, disappointed, but amused of the girls' dismay as she shook the water out of her eyes and gasped bravely. No, it isn't. I'll have it if I stay down all night, and with one long breath Josie dived again, leaving nothing but a pair of agitated feet to be seen. I'm afraid she'll hurt herself, said Miss Cameron, looking at Bess, whom she recognized by her likeness to her mother. Oh, no, Josie is a little fish, she likes it, and Bess smiled happily at this wonderful granting of her cousin's desire. You are Mr. Lawrence's daughter, I think. How do you do, dear? Tell Papa I'm coming to see him soon. Too tired before. Quite savage. Better now. Ah, here's our pearl of divers. What's luck? She asked as the heels went down and a tripping head came up. Josie could only choke and sputter at first, being half strangled. But though her hands had failed again, her courage had not, and with a resolute shake of her wet hair, a bright look at the tall lady, and a series of puffs to fill her lungs, she said calmly, Never give up is my motto, I am going to get it, if I go to Louverpool for it. Now then, and down went the mermaid quite out of sight this time, groping like a real lobster at the bottom of the sea. Plucky little girl, I like that. Who is she? asked the lady, sitting down on a half-covered stone to watch her diver, since the bracelet was lost sight of. Bess told her, adding with a persuasive smile of her father, Josie longs to be an actress, and has waited for a month to see you. This is great happiness for her. Bless the child, why didn't she come and call? I would have let her in, though usually I avoid stage-truck girls, as I do of reporters, left Miss Cameron. There was no time for more. A brown hand, clasping the bracelet, rose out of the sea, followed by a purple face as Josie came up, so blind and dizzy she could only cling to Bess, half-drowned but triumphant. Miss Cameron drew her to the rock where she sat, and pushing the hair out of her eyes, revived her with a hearty bravo, bravo, which assured the girl that her first act was a hit. Josie had often imagined her meeting with a great actress, the dignity and grace with which she would enter and tell her ambitious hopes, the effective dress she would wear, the witty things she would say, the deep impression her budding genius would make, but never in her wildest moments had she imagined an interview like this. Scarlett, Sandy, streaming and speechless. She leaned against the illustrious shoulder, looking like a beautiful seal as she blinked and wheezed till she could smile joyfully and exclaim proudly, I did get it! I am so glad! Now, get your breath, my dear, then I shall be glad also. It was very kind of you to take all that trouble for me. How shall I thank you? asked the lady, looking at her with the beautiful eyes that could say so many things without words. Josie clasped her hands with a wet spat which rather destroyed this fact of the gesture, and answered in a beseeching tone which would have softened a far harder heart than Miss Cameron's. Let me come and see you once, only once. I want you to tell me if I can act, you will know. I'll abide by what you say, and if you think I can, by and by, when I've studied very hard, I shall be the happiest girl in the world. May I? Yes, come to-morrow at eleven. We'll have a good talk. You shall show me what you can do, and I'll give you my opinion. But you won't like it. I will, no matter if you tell me I'm a fool. I want it settled. So does Mama. I'll take it bravely if you say no, and if you say yes, I'll never give up till I've done my best, as you did. Ah, my child, it's a weary road, and there are plenty of thorns among the roses when you've won them. I think you have the courage, and this proves that you have the perseverance. Perhaps you do. Come, and we'll see. Miss Cameron touched a bracelet as she spoke, and smiled so kindly that impetuous Josie wanted to kiss her. But why is they refrained? Though her eyes were wet with softer water than any in the sea, as she thanked her. We are keeping Miss Cameron from her bath, and the tide is going out. Come, Josie, said thoughtful best, fearing to outstay their welcome. Run over the beach and get warm. Thank you very much, little mermaid, to help Papa to bring his daughter to see me any time. Goodbye. And with a wave of her hand, the tragedy queen dismissed her court, but remained on her weedy throne, watching the two alive figures race over the sand with twinkling feet till they were out of sight. Then, as she calmly bobbed up and down in the water, she said to herself, The child has a good stage face, vivid, mobile, fine eyes, abandoned, pluck, will. Perhaps she'll do. Good stock, talent in the family. We shall see. Of course, Josie never slept a wink, and was in a fever of joyful excitement next day. Uncle Laurie enjoyed the episode very much. And Aunt Amy looked out her most becoming white dress for the grand occasion. Best lent her most artistic hat, and Josie ranged the wood and marsh for a bouquet of wild roses, sweet white azalea, ferns, and graceful grasses, as the offering of a very grateful heart. At ten she solemnly arrayed herself, and then sat looking at her neat gloves and beckled shoes till it was time to go, growing pale and sober with the thought that her fate would soon be decided. For like all young people, she was sure that her whole life could be settled by one human creature, quite forgetting how wonderfully Providence trains us by disappointment. Surprises us with unexpected success, and turns our seeming trials into blessings. I will go along. We shall be free or so. Oh, best, pray that she may tell me rightly. So much depends on that. Don't laugh, Uncle. It is a very serious moment for me. Miss Cameron knows that, and will tell you so. Kiss me on, Amy, since Mama isn't here. If you say I look nice, I'm quite satisfied. Goodbye. And with a wave of the hand, as much like her models as she could make it, Josie departed, looking very pretty and feeling very tragical. Sure now of admittance, she boldly rang at the door which excluded so many, and being ushered into the shady parlor, feasted her eyes upon several fine portraits of great actors while she waited. She had read about most of them, and knew their trials and triumphs so well that she nearly forgot herself, and tried to imitate Mrs. Sidon's as Lady Macbeth. Looking at the engraving, she held her nose gay like the candle in the sleepwalking scene, and knit her youthful brows distressfully while murmuring the speech of the haunted queen. So busy was she that Miss Cameron watched her for several minutes unseen, then startled her by suddenly sweeping in with the words upon her lips, the look upon her face which made that one of her greatest scenes. I never can do it like that, but I'll keep trying if you say I may, cried Josie, forgetting her manners and the intense interest of the moment. Show me what you can do, answered the actress, wisely plunging into the middle of things at once, while knowing that no common chat would satisfy this very earnest little person. First, let me give you these. I thought she'd like wild things better than hot-house flowers, and I loved to bring them. I said no other way to thank you for your great kindness to me, said Josie, offering her nose gay with a simple warmth that was very sweet. I do love them best, and keep my room full of the posies some good fairy hangs on my gate. Upon my word, I think I found the fairy out. These are so like. She had it quickly as her eyes went from the flowers in her hand to others that stood nearby, arranged with the same taste. Josie's blush and smile betrayed her before she said with a look full of girlish adoration and humility. I couldn't help it. I admire you so much. I know it was a liberty, but as I couldn't get in myself, I'd love to think my posies pleased you. Something about the child and her little offering touched the woman, and drawing Josie to her, she said, with no trace of actress and face or voice. They did please me, dear, and so do you. I'm tired of praise, and love is very sweet, when it is simple and sincere like this. Josie remembered to have heard, among many other stories, that Miss Cameron lost her lover years ago, and since had lived only for art. Now she felt that this might have been true, and pity for the splendid, lonely life made her face very eloquent, as well as grateful. Then, as if anxious to forget the past, her new friend said, in the commanding way that seemed natural to her, let me see what you can do. Juliet, of course. All begin with that. Poor soul, how she has murdered. Now Josie had intended to begin with Romeo's much enduring sweetheart, and follow her up with Bianca Pauline, and several of the favorite idols of stage-struck girls, but being a shrewd little person, she suddenly saw the wisdom of Uncle Laurie's device, and resolved to follow it. So instead of the rant Miss Cameron expected, Josie gave poor Ophelia's mad scene and gave it very well, having been trained by the college professor of Elocution and done it many times. She was too young, of course, but the white gown, the loose hair, the real flowers she scattered over the imaginary grave added to the illusion, and she sung the song sweetly, dropped her pathetic curtsies, and vanished behind the curtain that divided the rooms, with a backward look that surprised her critical auditor into a quick gesture of applause. Cheered by that welcome sound, Josie ran back as a little hoidon in one of the farces she had often acted, telling a story full of fun and naughtiness at first, but ending with a sob of repentance and an earnest prayer for pardon. Very good. Try again. Better than I expected. Called the voice of the Oracle. Josie tried Porsche's speech and recited very well, giving due emphasis to every fine sentence. Then, unable to refrain from what she considered her greatest effort, she burst into Juliet's balcony scene, ending with the poison in the tomb. She felt sure that she surpassed herself and waited for applause. The ringing laugh made her tingle with indignation and disappointment, as she went to stand before Miss Cameron, saying in a tone of polite surprise, I have been told that I did it very well. I'm sorry you don't think so. My dear, it's very bad. How can it help being so? What can a child like you know of love and fear and death? Don't try it yet. Leave tragedy alone till you are ready for it. But you clapped Ophelia. Yes, that was very pretty. Any clever girl can do it effectively, but the real meaning of Shakespeare is far above you yet child. The comedy bit was best. There, you showed real talent. It was both comic and pathetic. That's art. Don't lose it. The Porsche was good declamation. Go on with that sort of thing. Trains the voice. Teaches shades of expression. You have a good voice and natural grace. Great helps both. Hard to acquire. Well, glad I've got something. Said Josie, sitting meekly on a stool. Much crestfallen, but not daunted yet and bound to have her say out. My dear little girl, I told you you would not like what I would say to you. Yet I must be honest if I would really help you. I've had to do it for many like you, and most of them have never forgiven me, though my words have proved true, and they are what I advise them to be. Good wives and happy mothers and quiet homes. A few have kept on and done fairly well. One you will hear up soon, I think, for she has talent and dominable patience and mind as well as beauty. You were too young to show to which class you belong. Geniuses are very rare, and even at fifteen seldom give much promise of future power. Oh, I don't think I'm a genius, cried Josie. Growing calm and sober, she listened to the melodious voice and looking into the expressive face that filled her with confidence. So strong, sincere, and kindly was it. I only want to find out if I have talent enough to go on, and after years of study to be able to act well in any of the good plays people never tire of seeing. I don't expect to be a Mrs. Sidon's or Ms. Cameron, much as I long to be, but it does seem as if I had something in me which can't come out in any way but this. When I act, I'm perfectly happy. I seem to live, to be in my own world, and each new part is a new friend. I love Shakespeare, and am never tired of his splendid people. Of course, I don't understand at all, but it's like being alone at night with the mountains and stars, solemn and grand, and I try to imagine how it will look when the sun comes out, and all is glorious and clear to me. I can't see, but I feel the beauty, and long to express it. As she spoke with the most perfect self-forgetfulness, Josie was pale with excitement. Her eyes shone, her lips trembled, and all her little souls seemed trying to put into words the emotions that filled it to her flowing. Ms. Cameron understood, felt that this was something more than a girlish whim, and when she answered there was a new tone of sympathy at her voice, a new interest in her face, though she wisely refrained from saying all she thought, while knowing what splendid dreams young people build upon a word, and how bitter is the pain when the bright bubbles burst. If you feel this, I can give you no better advice than to go on loving and steadying our great master, she said slowly, but Josie caught the changed tone, and felt with the thrill of joy that her new friend was speaking to her now as a comrade. It is an education in itself, and a lifetime is not long enough to teach you all his secret, but there is much to do before you can hope to echo his words. Have you the patience, courage, strength, to begin at the beginning, and slowly, painfully lay the foundation for future work? Fame is a pearl many die for and only a few bring up, even when they do it is not perfect, and they sigh for more and lose better things and struggling for them. The last word seems spoken more to herself than to her hearer, but Josie answered quickly with the smile and an expressive gesture. I got the bracelet in spite of all the bitter water in my eyes. You did, I don't forget it, a good omen, we will accept it. Miss Cameron answered the smile with one that was like sunshine to the girl and stretched her white hands as if taking some invisible gift. Then added in a different tone, watching the effect of her words on the expressive face before her. Now you will be disappointed, for instead of telling you to come and study with me, or go and act in some second rate theater at once, I advise you to go back to school and finish your education. That is the first step for all accomplishments are needed, and a single talent makes a very imperfect character. Cultivate mind and body, heart and soul, and make yourself an intelligent, graceful, beautiful, and healthy girl. Then at 18 or 20, go into training and try your powers. Better start for the battle with your arms in order, and save the hard lesson which comes when we rush on too soon. Now when the ingenious carries all before it, but not often, we have to climb slowly with many slips and falls. Can you wait as well as work? I will. We shall see. It would be pleasant to me to know that when I quit the stage, I leave behind me a well-trained, beautiful, gifted comrade to more than fill my place and carry on what I have much at heart, the purification of the stage. Perhaps you are she, but remember, mere beauty and rich costumes do not make an actress, nor are the efforts of a clever little girl to play great characters real art. It is all a dazzling sham and a disgrace and disappointment now. Why will the public be satisfied with offer, boof, or the trash called society plays when a world of truth and beauty, poetry, and pathos lies waiting to be interpreted and enjoyed? Miss Cameron had forgotten whom she spoke, and walked to and fro, full of the noble regret all cultivated people feel at the low state of the stage nowadays. That's what Uncle Larry says, and he and Aunt Joe try to plan plays about true and lovely things, simple domestic scenes that touch people's hearts and make them laugh and cry and feel better. Uncle says that sort is my style and I must not think of tragedy, but it's so much nicer to sweep about in crowns and velvet trains than to wear everyday clothes and just be myself, though it's so easy. Yet that is a high art child, and what we need for a time till we are ready for the masters. Cultivate that talent of yours. It is a special gift, this power to bring tears and smiles, and a sweeter task to touch the heart than to freeze the blood of fire the imagination. Tell your uncle he is right, and ask your aunt to try a play for you. I'll come and see it when you are ready. Will you? Oh, will you? We are going to have some at Christmas with a nice part for me, a simple little thing, but I can do it, and I should be so proud, so happy to have you there. Josie Rose as she spoke for a glance at the clock showed that her call was a long one, and hard as it was to end this momentous interview, she felt that she must go. Catching up her hat she went to Miss Cameron who stood looking at her so keenly that she felt as transparent as a pane of glass and colored prettily as she looked up saying with a grateful little trim on her voice, I can never thank you for this hour and all you have told me. I will do just what you advise, and mama will be very glad to see me settled at my books again. I can study now with all my heart, because it is to help me on, and I won't hope too much, but work and wait and try to please you as the only way to pay my debt. That reminds me that I have not paid mine. Little friend wear this for my sake. It is fit for a mermaid and will remind you of your first dive. May the next bring up a better jewel and leave no bitter water on your lips. As she spoke, Miss Cameron took from the lace at her throat a pretty pin of aqua marine and fastened it like an order on Josie's proud bosom. Then lifting the happy little face, she kissed it very tenderly and watched it go smiling away with eyes that seemed to see into a future full of the trials and triumphs, which she knew so well. Best expected to see Josie come flying in, all raptures in excitement or drowned in tears of disappointment, but was surprised at the expression of calm content and resolution which she wore. Pride and satisfaction and a new feeling of responsibility both sobered and sustained her, and she felt that any amount of dry studying and long waiting would be bearable, if in the glorious future she could be an honor to her profession and a con rent to the new friend whom she already adored with girlish ardor. She told her little story to a deeply interested audience, and all felt that Miss Cameron's advice was good. Mrs. Amy was relieved at the prospect of delay, for she did not want her niece to be an actress, and hoped the fancy would die out. Uncle Larry was full of charming plans and prophecies, and wrote one of his most delightful notes to thank their neighbor for her kindness, while Best, who loved art of all kinds, fully sympathized with her cousin's ambitious hopes, only wondering why she preferred to act out her visions rather than embody them in marble. That first interview was not the last, for Miss Cameron was really interested, and had several memorable conversations with the Laurences, while the girls sat by, drinking in every word with the delight all artists feel in their own beautiful world, and learning to see how sacred good gifts are, how powerful and how faithfully they should be used for high ends, each in its own place helping to educate, refine, and refresh. Josie wrote reams to her mother, and when the visit ended, rejoiced her heart by bringing her a somewhat changed little daughter. She felt her work at the once-detested books with a patient energy which surprised and pleased everyone. The right string had been touched, and even French exercises and piano practice became endureable, since accomplishments would be useful by and by. Dress, manners, and habits were all interesting now, because mind and body, heart and soul must be cultivated, and while training to become an intelligent, graceful, healthy girl, little Josie was unconsciously fitting herself to play her part well on whatever stage the great manager might prepare for her. Chapter 9 The Worm Turns Two very superior bicycles went twinkling up the road to Plumfield one September afternoon, bearing two brown and dusty riders evidently returning from a successful run. For the other legs might be a trifle weary, their faces beamed as they surveyed the world from their lofty perches, with the air of calm content all wheelmen wear after they have learned to ride. Before that happy period, anguish of mind and body is the chief expression of the manly countenance. Go ahead and report, Tom, I'm due here. See you later, said Demi, speaking himself down at the door of the dove-cott. Don't peach, there's a good fellow. Let me have it out with mother by year first. Return, Tom, wheeling in at the gate with a heavy sigh. Demi laughed, and his comrade went slowly up the avenue, devoutly hoping that the coast was clear, for he was the bearer of tidings which would, he thought, convulse the entire family with astonishment and dismay. To his great joy Mrs. Joe was discovered alone in a grove of proof-sheets, which she dropped to greet the returning wanderer cordially. But after the first glance she saw that something was the matter, recent events having made her unusually sharp item suspicious. What is it now, Tom, she asked, as he subsided into an easy chair with a curious expression of mingled fear, shame, amusement, and distress in his brick-red countenance. I'm in an awful scrape, ma'am. Of course, I'm always prepared for scrapes when you appear. What is it, renovationable lady who was going to law about it, asked Mrs. Joe cheerfully? Worse than that, grown Tom. That poisoned some trusting soul who asked you to prescribe, I hope. Worse than that. You haven't let Demi catch any horrid thing and left him behind, have you? Worse even than that. I give it up, tell me quick, I hate to wait for bad news. Having got his listener sufficiently excited, Tom launched his thunderbolt in one brief sentence and fell back to watch the effect. I'm engaged. Mrs. Joe's proof sheets flew wildly about as she clasped her hands, exclaiming a dismay. If Nan has yielded, I will never forgive her. She hasn't, it's another girl. Tom's face was so funny as he said the words that it was impossible to help laughing, for it looked both sheepish and pleased, besides it's very much perplexed and worried. I'm glad, very glad indeed. Don't care who it is, and I hope you'll be married soon. Now tell me all about it, commanded Mrs. Joe. So much relieved that she felt ready for anything. What will Nan say, demanded Tom, rather taken aback at this view of his predicament? She will be rejoiced to get rid of the mosquito who has plagued her so long. Don't worry about Nan. Who is this other girl? The Demi hasn't written about her? Only something about your upsetting and Miss West on a Ketno. I thought that was scrape enough. That was only the beginning of a series of scrapes, just my luck. Of course, after sowsing the poor girl, I had to be attentive to her hat and tie. Everyone seemed to think so, and I couldn't get away, and so I was lost before I knew it. It's all Demi's fault. He would stay there and bust with his old photos, because the views were good and all the girls wanted to be taken. Look at these, will you, ma'am? That's the way we spent our time when we weren't playing tennis. And Tom pulled a handful of pictures from his pocket displaying several in which he was conspicuous, either holding a sun umbrella over a very pretty young lady on the rocks, reposing at her feet in the grass, or perched on a piazza railing with other couples in seaside costumes and effective attitudes. This is she, of course, asked Mrs. Joe, pointing to the much-ruffled damsel with a jaunty hat, Keketa's shoes, and racket in her hand. That's Dora. Isn't she lovely, cried Tom, forgetting his tribulations for a moment and speaking with lover-like ardor? Very nice little person to look at. Hope she's not a dick in, Dora. That curly crop looks like it. Not a bit. She's very smart, can keep house and sew and do lots of things, I assure you, ma'am. All the girls like her, and she's sweet, tempered, and jolly, and sings like a bird and dances beautifully in love's books. Thinks yours are splendid and makes me talk about you no end. That last sentence is to flatter me and win my help to get you out of the scrape. Tell me first how you got in. And Mrs. Joe settled herself to listen with interest, never tired of boys affairs. Tom gave his head a rousing rub all over to clear his wits and plunged into a story with a will. Well, we've met her before, but I didn't know she was there. Demi wanted to see a fellow, so we went, and finding it nice and cool rested over Sunday. Found some pleasant people and went out rowing. I had Dora and came to grief on a confounded rock. She could swim, no harm done, only the scare and the spoiled scowl. She took it well, and we got friendly at once, couldn't help it, scrambling into that beast of a boat while the rest laughed at us. Of course, we had to stay another day to see that Dora was all right. Demi wanted to. Alice Heath is down there and two other girls from our college, so we sort of lingered along. And Demi kept taking pictures, and we danced and got into a tennis tournament, and that was as good exercise as wheeling, we thought. Fact is, tennis is a dangerous game, ma'am. A great deal of courting goes on in those courts, and we fellows find that sort of serving. Mighty agreeable, don't you know? Not much tennis in my day, but I understand perfectly thin Mrs. Joe, enjoying it all as much as Tom did. Upon my word, I hadn't the least idea of being serious, he continued slowly, as if this part of his tale was hard to tell. But everyone else spooned, so I did. Dora seemed to like it and expect it. Of course, I was glad to be agreeable. She thought I amounted to something, though Nanda's not, and it was pleasant to be appreciated after years of snubbing. Yes, it was right down jolly to have a sweet girl smile at you all day and blush prettily when you said a neat thing to her, and look glad when you came, sorry when you left, and admire all you did, and make you feel like a man and act your best. That's the sort of treatment a fellow enjoys, and ought to get if he behaves himself, not frowns and cold shoulders year in and year out, and made to look like a fool when he means well, and is faithful, and has loved a girl ever since he was a boy. No, by Jove, it's not fair, and I won't stand it. Tom waxed warm and eloquent as he thought over his wrongs, and bounced up to march around the room, wagging his head and trying to feel aggrieved as usual, but surprised to find that his heart did not ache a bit. I wouldn't. Dropped the old fancy, for it was nothing more, and take up the new one if it is genuine. But how came you to propose, Tom, as you must have done to be engaged? asked Mrs. Joe, impatient for the crisis of the tale. Oh, that was an accident. I didn't mean it at all. The donkey did it, and I couldn't get out of the scrape without hurting Dorrit's feelings, you see, began Tom, seeing that the fateful moment has come. So there were two donkeys in it, were there, as does Mrs. Joe, for seeing fun of some sort. Don't laugh. It sounds funny, I know, but it might have been awful, answered Tom darkly. The twinkle of the eye showed that his love trials did not blind him to the comic side of the adventure. The girls admired our new wheels, and of course we liked to show off. Took him to ride, and had larks generally. Well, one day, Dor was on behind, and we were going nicely along a good bit of road, when a ridiculous old donkey got right across the way. I thought he'd move, but he didn't, so I gave him a kick. He kicked back, and over we went in a heap, donkey and all. Such a mess. I thought only of Dorrit, and she had hysterics. At least, she laughed till she cried, and that beast bred, and I lost my head, any fellow would, with a poor girl gasping in the road, and he wiping her tears and begging pardon, not knowing whether her bones were broken or not. I called her my darling, and went on like a fool in my flurry, till she grew calmer, and said with such a look, I forgive you, Tom. Pick me up, and let us go on again. Wasn't that sweet now after I'd upset her for the second time? It touched me to the heart, and I said I'd like to go on forever with such an angel to steer for, and well, I don't know what I did say, but she might have docked me down with a feather when she put her arm around my neck and whispered, Tom, dear, with you I'm not afraid of any lions in the path. She might have said donkeys, but she was an earnest, and she spared my feelings. They're nice at the dear girl, but here I am with two sweet hearts on my hands and an adduce of a scrape. Finding it impossible to contain herself another moment, Mrs. Joe laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks at this characteristic episode, and after one reproachful look, which only added to her merriment, Tom burst into a jolly roar that made the room ring. Tommy bangs! Tommy bangs! Who but you could ever get into such a catastrophe? Said Mrs. Joe when she recovered her breath. Isn't it a muddle all round, and won't everyone chafe me to death about it? I shall have to quit old plum for a while, answered Tom, as he mopped his face, trying to realize the full danger of this position. No indeed, I'll stand by you, for I think it's the best joke of the season. But tell me how things ended. Is it really serious, or only a summer flirtation? I don't approve of them, but boys and girls will play with edge tools and cut their fingers. Well, Dora considers herself engaged and wrote to her people at once. I couldn't say a word when she took it in all solemn earnest and seemed so happy. She's only seventeen, never liked anyone before, and is sure all will be all right, as her father knows mine, and we are both well off. I was so staggered that I said, Well, you can't love me really when we know so little of one another. But she answered right out of her tender little heart. Yes, I do, dearly, Tom. You are so gay and kind and honest. I couldn't help it. Now, after that, what could I do but go ahead and make her happy while I stayed and trust all luck to straighten the snarl out afterwards? It truly taught me a way of taking things easy. I hope you told your father at once. Oh, yes. I wrote off and broke it to him in three lines. I said, Dear Father, I'm engaged to Dora West, and I hope she will suit the family. She suits me tip-top, yours ever, Tom. He was all right, never liked Nan, you know, but Dora will suit him down to the ground, and Tom looked entirely satisfied with his own tact and taste. What it did me say to this rapid and funny love-making wasn't he scandalized, as Mrs. Joe, trying not to laugh again as she thought of the unromantic spectacle of donkey, bicycle, boy, and girl, all in the dust together. Not a bit. He was immensely interested and very kind. Talked to me like a father, said it was a good thing to study a fellow, only I must be honest with her and myself in not trifle a moment. Dimmy is a regular Solomon, especially when he is in the same boat, answered Tom, looking wise. You don't mean, gasp Mrs. Joe, in sudden alarm at the bare idea of more love affairs just yet. Yes, I do, please, ma'am. It's a regular sell all the way through, and in I owe Dimmy one for taking me into temptation blindfold. He said he went to Ketnow to see Fred Wallace, but he never saw the fellow. How could he when Wallace was off in his yacht all the time we were there? Alice was the real attraction, and I was left to my fate while they were wandering around with that old camera. There were three donkeys in this affair, I'm not the worst one, though I shall have to bear the laugh. Dimmy will look innocent and sober and no one will say a word to him. The mid-summer badness is broken out and no one knows who will be stricken next. Well, leave Dimmy to his mother and let us see what you are going to do, Tom. I don't know exactly, it's awkward to be in love with two girls at once. What do you advise? A common sense view of the case by all means. Dora loves you and thinks you love her. Nan does not care for you, and you only care for her as a friend, though you have tried to do more. It is my opinion, Tom, that you love Dora, or are on the way to it. For in all these years I've never seen you look or speak about Nan as you do about Dora. Opposition has made you obstinately cling to her till accident has shown you a more attractive girl. Now I think you'd better take the old love for a friend, the new one for a sweetheart, and in due time, if the sentiment is genuine, marry her. If Mrs. Joe had any doubts about the matter, Tom's face would have proved the truth of her opinion. For his eyes shown, his lips smiled, and in spite of dust on sunburn, a new expression of happiness quite glorified him as he stood silent for a moment, trying to understand the beautiful miracle which real love works when it comes to a young man's heart. The fact is, I meant to make Nan jealous, for she knows Dora, and I was sure would hear of our doings. I was tired of being walked on, and I thought I'd try to break away and not be a bore in a laughing-stock any more, he said slowly, as if it relieved him to pour out his doubts and woes and hopes and joys to his old friend. I was regularly astonished to find it so easy and so pleasant, I didn't mean to do any harm, but drifted along beautifully and told Demi to mention things in his letters to Daisy, so Nan might know. Then I forgot Nan altogether, and saw, heard, felt, cared for no one but Dora, till the donkey, bless his old heart, pitched her into my arms, and I found she loved me. Upon my soul, I don't see why she should, I'm not half good enough. Every honest man feels that, when an innocent girl puts her hand in his, make yourself worthy of her, for she isn't an angel, but a woman with faults of her own for you to bear and forgive, and you must help one another, said Mrs. Joe, trying to realize that this sober youth was her scape-grace, Tommy. What troubles me is that I didn't mean it when I began, and was going to use the dear girl as an instrument of torture for Nan. It wasn't right, and I don't deserve to be so happy. If all my scrapes ended as well as this, what a state of bliss I would be in! Then Tom beamed again at the rapturous prospect. My dear boy, it's not a scrape, but a very sweet experience suddenly drawing upon you answered Mrs. Joe, speaking very soberly, for she saw he was an earnest. Enjoy it wisely, and be worthy of it, for it is a serious thing to accept a girl's love and trust, and let her look up to you for tenderness and truth in return. Don't let little Dora look in vain, but be a man in all things for her sake, and make this affection a blessing to you both. I'll try. Yes, I do love her, only I can't believe it just yet. I wish you knew her. Dear little soul, I long to see her already. She cried when we parted last night, and I hated to go. Tom's hand went to his cheek as if he still felt the rosy little seal Dora had left upon his promise not to forget her, and for the first time in his happy-go-lucky life, Tommy Banks understood the difference between sentiment and sentimentality. The feeling recalled Nan, for he had never known that tender thrill when thinking of her, and the old friendship seemed rather a prosaic affair beside this delightful mingling of romance, surprise, love, and fun. I declare I feel as if a wait is off me, but what the deacons will Nan say when she knows it, he exclaimed with a chuckle. Knows what, asked a clear voice that made them both start and turn, for there was Nan calmly surveying them from the doorway. Anxious to put Tom out of suspense and see how Nan would take the news, Mrs. Joe answered quickly, Tom's engagement to Dora West. Really? And Nan looked so surprised that Mrs. Joe was afraid she might be fond of her old playmate that she knew, but her next words set the fear at rest and made everything comfortable and merry at once. I knew my prescription would work wonders if he only took it long enough. Dear old Tom, I'm so glad. Bless you, bless you. And she took both his hands with hearty affection. It was an accident, Nan. I didn't mean to, but I'm always getting into messes, and I couldn't seem to get out of this any other way. Mother by ear will tell you all about it. I must go and make myself tidy. Going to tea with Demi. See you later. Stammering, blushing, and looking both sheepish and gratified, Tom suddenly bolted, leaving the elder lady to enlighten the younger at length, and have another laugh over this new sort of courtship, which might well be called accidental. Nan was deeply interested, for she knew Dora, thought her a nice little thing, and predicted that in time she would make Tom an excellent wife, since she admired and appreciated him so much. I shall miss him, of course, but it will be a relief to me and better for him. Dingling is so bad for a boy. Now he will go into business with his father and do well, and everyone be happy. I shall give Dora an elegant family medicine chest for a wedding present, and teach her how to use it. Tom can't be trusted, and is no more fit for the profession than Silas. The latter part of the speech relieved Mrs. Joe who was blind. Bernan had looked about her as if she had lost something valuable when she began, but the medicine chest seemed to cheer her, and the thought of Tom in a safe profession was evidently a great comfort. The worm has turned at last, Nan, and your bondment is free. Let him go and give your whole mind to your work, for you are fitted for the profession and will be an honor to it by and by, she said approvingly. I hope so. That reminds me, measles are in the village, and you would better tell the girls not to call where there are children. It would be bad to have a run of them just as the term begins. Now I'm off to Daisy. Wonder what she will say to Tom. Isn't he great fun? And Nan departed, laughing over the joke with such genuine satisfaction that it was evident no sentimental regrets disturbed her maiden meditation fancy-free. I shall have my eye on Demi, but won't say a word. Meg likes to manage her children in her own way, and a very good way it is, but the dear Pelican will be somewhat ruffled if her boy has caught the epidemic which seems to have broken out among us this summer. Mrs. Joe did not mean the measles, but that more serious malady called love, which is apt to ravage communities spring and autumn, when winter gaiety and summer idleness produce whole bouquets of engagements and set young people to pairing off like birds. Frans began it, and that was a chronic and Tom a sudden case. Demi seemed to have the symptoms, and worst of all, her own Ted had only the day before calmly said to her, Mom, I think I should be happier if I had a sweetheart like the other boys. For cherished son had asked her for dynamite to play with, she could hardly have been more startled, or have more decidedly refused the absurd request. Well, Barry Morgan said I ought to have one and offered to pick me on a nice one among our set. I asked Josie first, and she hooded at the idea, so I thought I'd let Barry look around. You say it steadies a fellow, and I want to be steady, explained Ted in a serious tone, which would have convulsed his parent at any other time. Good, lack! What are we coming to in this fast age when babes and boys make such demands and want to play with one of the most sacred things in life, exclaimed Mrs. Joe, and having in a few words set the matter in its true light, sent her son away to wholesome baseball and octu for a safe sweetheart. Now here was Tom's bombshell to explode in their midst, carrying widespread destruction, perhaps, for though one swallow does not make a summer, one engagement is apt to make several, and her boys were most of them at the inflammable age when the spark ignites the flame, which soon flickers and dies out, or burns warm and clear for life. Nothing could be done about it but to help them make wise choices and be worthy of good mates. But of all the lessons Mrs. Joe had tried to teach her boys, this great one was the hardest, for love is apt to make lunatics of even saints and sages, so young people cannot be expected to escape the delusions, disappointments and mistakes, as well as the delights of the sweet madness. I suppose it is inevitable, since we live in America, so I won't borrow trouble, but hope that some of the new ideas of education will produce a few hearty, happy, capable, and intelligent girls from my lads. Lucky for me that I haven't the whole 12 on my hands, I should lose my wits if I had, for I foresee complications and troubles ahead, worse than Tom's boats, bicycles, donkeys, and doors. Meditated Mrs. Joe, as she went back to her neglected proof sheets. Tom was quite satisfied with the tremendous effect his engagement produced on the little community at Plumfield. It was paralyzing, as Demi said, an astonishment left most of Tom's mates little breath for chaff, that he, the faithful one, should turn from the idol to strange goddesses, was a shock to the romantic and a warning to the susceptible. It was comical to see the airs our Thomas put on, for the most ludicrous parts of the affair were kindly buried in oblivion by the few who knew them, and Tom burst forth as a full-blown hero who had rescued the maiden from a watery grave, and won her gratitude and love by his daring deed. Dora kept the secret and enjoyed the fun when she came to see Mother by ear, and pay her respects to the family generally. Everyone liked her at once, for she was a gay and winning little soul, fresh, frank, and so happy. It was beautiful to see her innocent pride in Tom, who was a new boy, or man rather, for with this change in his life a great change took place in him. Jolly he would always be, and impulsive, but he tried to become all that Dora believed him, and his best side came uppermost for every day wear. It was surprising to see how many good traits Tom had, and his efforts to preserve the manly dignity belonging to his proud position as an engaged man was very comical. So was the entire change from his former abasement and devotion to Nan to a somewhat lordly air with his little betrothed, for Dora made an idol of him and resented the idea of a foal to her flaw in her Tom. This new state of things suited both, and the once blighted being bloomed finally in the warm atmosphere of appreciation, love, and confidence. He was very fond of the dear girl, but meant to be a slave no longer, and enjoyed his freedom immensely, quite unconscious that the great tyrant of the world had got hold of him for life. To his father's satisfaction he gave up his medical studies, and prepared to go into business with the old gentleman, who was a flourishing merchant, ready now to make the way smooth and smile upon his marriage with Mr. West's well-endowed daughter. The only thorn in Tom's bed of roses was Nan's placid interest in his affairs, and evident relief in his disloyalty. He did not want her to suffer, but a decent amount of regret at the loss of such a lover would have gratified him. A slight melancholy, a word of reproach, a glance of envy as he passed through the door on his arm, seemed but the fitting tribute for such years of faithful service and sincere affection. But Nan regarded him with the maternal sort of air that netted him very much, and patted Dora's curly head with a worldly-wise air worthy of the withered spencer Julia Mills in David Copperfield. It took some time to get the old and the new emotions comfortably adjusted, but Mrs. Joe helped him, and Mr. Laurie gave him some wise advice upon the astonishing gymnastic feats the human heart can perform, and be all the better for it if it only held fast to the balancing pole of truth and common sense. At last, our Tommy got his bearings, and as Autumn came on, Plumfield saw that little of him, for his new lodestar was in the city, and business kept him hard at work. He was evidently in his right place now, and soon throw finally to his father's great contentment, for his jovial presence pervaded the once quiet office like a gale of fresh wind, and his lively wits found managing men in affairs much more congenial employment than studying disease, or playing unseemly pranks with skeletons. Here we will leave him for a time and turn to the more serious adventures of his mates, though this engagement so merrily made was the anchor which kept our mercurial Tom happy, and made a man of him. Recording by Susie G. Mother, can I have a little serious conversation with you? Asked Demi one evening, as they sat together, enjoying the first fire of the season, while Daisy wrote letters upstairs, and Josie was studying in the little library close by. Certainly, dear, no bad news, I hope. And Mrs. Meg looked up from her sewing, with a mixture of pleasure and anxiety on her motherly face, for she dearly loved a good talk with her son, and knew that he always had something worth telling. It'll be good news for you, I think, answered Demi, smiling as he threw away his paper, and went to sit beside her on the little sofa, which just held two. Let me hear it, then, at once. I know you don't like the reporting, and will be glad to hear that I have given it up. I am very glad. It is too uncertain a business, and there is no prospect of getting on for a long time. I want you settled in some good place, where you can stay, and in time make money. I wish you liked a profession, but as you don't, any clean, well-established business will do. What do you say to a railroad office? I don't like it. A noisy, hurried kind of place, I know, with all sorts of rough men about. I hope it isn't that, dear. I could have it. But does bookkeeping in a wholesale leather business please you better? No. You'll get round-shouldered sitting writing at a tall desk, and they say, once a bookkeeper, always a bookkeeper. How does a travelling agent suit your views? Not at all. With all those dreadful accidents? And the exposure and bad food as you go from place to place, you are sure to get killed or lose your health? I could be private secretary to a literary man, but the salary is small, and may end any time. And that would be better, and more what I want. It isn't that I object to honest work of any kind, but I don't want my son to spend his best years grubbing for a little money in a dark office, or be knocked about in a rough and tumble scramble to get on. I want to see you in some business where your tastes and talents can be developed and made useful, where you can go on rising, and in time put in your little fortune and be a partner, so that your years of apprenticeship will not be wasted, but fit you to take your place among the honourable men who make their lives and work useful and respected. I talked it all over with your dear father when you were a child, and if he had lived he would have shown you what I meant, and help you to be what he was. Mrs. Meg wiped away a quiet tear as she spoke, for the memory of her husband was a very tender one, and the education of his children had been a sacred task to which she had gave all her heart and life, and so far she had done wonderfully well, as her good son and loving daughters tried to prove. Demi's arm was around her now, as he said, in a voice so like his father's, that it was the sweetest music to her ear. Mother dear, I think I have got just what you want from me, and it shall not be my fault if I don't become the man you hope to see me. Let me tell you all about it. I didn't say anything till it was sure, because it would only worry you, but Aunt Joe and I had been on the lookout for it some time, and now it has come. You know her publisher, Mr. Tibber, is one of the most successful men in the business, also generous, kind, and the soul of honour, as his treatment of auntie proves. Well, I've rather hankered for that place, for I love books, and as I can't make them, I'd like to publish them. That needs some literary taste and judgment. It brings you in contact with fine people, and is an education in itself. Whenever I go into that large, handsome room to see Mr. Tibber for Aunt Joe, I always want to stay, for it's lined with books and pictures, famous men and women come and go, and Mr. Tibber sits at his desk like a sort of king, receiving his subjects. For the greatest authors are humble to him, and wait his yes or no with anxiety. Of course I have nothing to do with all that, and may never have, but I like to see it, and the atmosphere is so different from the dark offices and hurly-burly and many other trades, where nothing but money is talked about. That it seems another world, and I feel at home in it. Yes, I'd rather beat the doormats and make fires there, than be head-cluck in the great hide-and-leather store at a big salary. Here Demi paused for a breath, and Mrs. Meg, whose face had been growing brighter and brighter, exclaimed eagerly, Just what I would like! Have you got it? Oh, my dear boy, your fortune is made if you go to that well-established and flourishing place with those good men to help you along. I think I have, but we mustn't be too sure of anything yet. I may not suit. I'm only on trial, and must begin at the beginning and work my way up faithfully. Mr. Tibber was very kind, and will push me on as fast as is fair to the other fellows, and as I prove myself fit to go up. I'm to begin the first of next month in the book-room, filling orders, and I go round and get orders and do various other things of that sort. I like it. I'm ready to do anything about books, if it's only to dust them, laughed Demi, well pleased with his prospects, for, after trying various things, he seemed at last to have found the sort of work he liked, and a prospect that was very inviting to him. You inherit that love of books from Grandpa. He can't live without them. I'm glad of it. Tastes of that kind show a refined nature, and are both a comfort and help all one's life. I am truly glad and grateful, John, that at last you want to settle, and have got such an entirely satisfactory place. Most boys begin much earlier, but I don't believe in sending them out to face the world so young, just when body and soul need home care and watchfulness. Now you are a man, I must begin your life for yourself. Do your best, and be as honest, useful, and happy as your father, and I won't care about making a fortune. I'll try, mother. Couldn't have a better chance, for Tiber and company treat their people like gentlemen, and pay generously for faithful work. Things are done in a business-like way there, and that suits me. I hate promises that are not kept, and shiffleness, or tyrannical ways anywhere. Mr. Tiber said, This is only to teach you the ropes, Brooke. I shall have other work for you by and by. Auntie told him I had done book notices, and had rather a fancy for literature, so though I can't produce any works of Shakespeare, as she says, I may get up some little things later. If I don't, I think it a very honourable and noble profession to select and give good books to the world, and I'm satisfied to be a humble helper in the work. I'm glad you feel so. It adds so much to one's happiness to love the task one does. I used to hate teaching, but housekeeping for my own family was always sweet, though much harder in many ways. Isn't Aunt Joe pleased about all this? asked Mrs. Meg, already seeing in her mind's eye a splendid sign with Tiber, Brooke, and Company over the door of a famous publishing house. So pleased I could hardly keep her from letting the cat out of the bag too soon. I've had so many plans, and disappointed you so often. I wanted to be very sure this time. I had to bribe Rob and Ted to keep her at home tonight, till I told my news. She was eager to rush down and tell you herself. The castles that dear woman has built for me would fill all Spain, and have kept us jolly while we waited to know our fate. Mr. Tiber doesn't do things in a hurry, but when he makes up his mind, you are all right, and I feel that I am fairly launched. Bless you, dear. I hope so. It is a happy day for me, because I have been so anxious last, with all my care, have been too easy and indulgent, and my boy, with his many good gifts, like fritter his time away in harmless but unsatisfactory things. Now I am at ease about you. If only Daisy can be happy, and Josie give up her dream, I shall be quite contented. Demi let his mother enjoy herself for a few minutes, while he smiled over a certain little dream of his own, not ready yet for the telling. Then he said, in the paternal tone, which he unconsciously used when speaking of his sisters, I'll see to the girls. But I begin to think grandpa is right, and saying we must each be what God in nature makes us. We can't change it much. Only help to develop the good and control the bad elements in us. I have fumbled my way into my right place at last, I hope. Let Daisy be happy in her way, since it is a good and womanly one. If Nat comes home all right, I'd say, Bless you, my children, and give them a nest of their own. Then you and I will help little Joe to find out if it is to be all the world's a stage, or home sweet home for her. I suppose we must, John, but I can't help making plans, and hoping they will come to pass. I see that Daisy is bound up in that, and if he is worthy of her I shall let them be happy in their own way, as my parents let me. But Josie will be a trial, I foresee, and much as I love this stage, and always did, I don't see how I can ever let my little girl be an actress, though she certainly has great talent for it. Whose fault is that? asked Demi, smiling, as he remembered his mother's earlier triumphs and inquenchable interest in the dramatic efforts of the young people round her. Mine, I know, how could it be otherwise when I acted babes in the wood with you and Daisy before you could speak, and taught Josie to decline Mother Goose in her cradle on the... the tastes of the mother come out in her children, and she must atone for them by letting them have their own way, I suppose. And Mrs. Meg laughed, even while she shook her head over the undeniable fact that the marches were a theatrical family. Why not have a great actress of our name, as well as an authorist, a minister, and an eminent publisher? We don't choose our talents, but we needn't hide them in a napkin because they are not just what we want. I say, let Joe have her way, and do what she can. Here am I to take care of her. And you can't deny you'd enjoy fixing her furblows and seeing her shine before the footlights, where you used to long to be. Come, Mother, better face the music and march gaily, since your willful children will gang their own gate. I don't see but I must. And leave the consequences to the Lord, as Marmy used to say when she had to decide, and only saw a step of the road. I should enjoy it immensely, if I could only feel that the life would not hurt my girl, and leave her unsatisfied when it was too late to change, for nothing is harder to give up than the excitements of that profession. I know something of it. And if your blessed father had not come along, I'm afraid I should have been an actress in spite of that march and all our honoured ancestors. Let Josie add new honour to the name, and work out the family talent in its proper place. I'll play the dragon to her, and you play the nurse, and no harm can come to our little Juliet, no matter how many Romeo's spoon under her balcony. Really, ma'am, opposition comes badly from an old lady who is going to ring the hearts of our audience in the heroine's part and auntie's play next Christmas. It's the most pathetic thing I've ever saw, Mother. And I'm sorry you didn't become an actress, though we should be nowhere if you had. Demi was on his legs now, with his back to the fire, in the lordly attitude men like to assume when things go well with them, or they want to lay down the law on any subject. Mrs. Meg actually blushed at her son's hearty praise, and could not deny that the sound of applause was as sweet now as when she played the witch's curse and the Moorish maiden's bow long years ago. It's perfectly absurd for me to do it, but I couldn't resist when Joe and Lori made the part for me, and you children were to act in it. The minute I get on the old Mother's dress, I forget myself, and feel the same thrill at the sound of the bell that I used to feel when we got up plays in the garret. If Daisy would only take the daughter's part, it would be so complete. For with you and Josie I'm hardly acting, it is all so real. Especially the hospital scene, where you find the wounded son. Why, Mother, do you know when we did that at last rehearsal my face was wet with real tears as you cried over me? It'll bring down the house. But don't forget to wipe him off, or I shall sneeze, said Demi, laughing at the recollection of his mother's hit. I won't, but it almost broke my heart to see you so pale and dreadful. I hope there will never be another war in my time, for I should have to let you go, and I never want to live through the same experience we had with Father. Don't you think Alice does the part better than Daisy would? Daisy hasn't a bit of the actress in her, and Alice puts life into the dullest words she speaks. I think Marquis is just perfect in our piece, said Demi, strolling about the room as if the warmth of the fires sent a sudden color to his face. So do I. She is a dear girl, and I'm proud and fond of her. Where is she tonight? Pegging away at her Greek, I suppose. She usually is in the evening, more as the pity, added Demi in a low tone, as he stared intently at the bookcase, though he couldn't read a title. Now there is a girl after my own heart, pretty, well bred, well educated, and yet domestic, a real companion as well as help-meat for some good and intelligent man. I hope she will find one. So do I, mother Demi. Mrs. Meg had taken up her work again, and with surveying a half finished buttonhole was so much interest that her son's face escaped her eye. He shed a beaming smile upon the rows of poets, as if even in their glass prison they could sympathize and rejoice with him at the first rosy dawn of the great passion which they knew so well. But Demi was a wise youth, and never leaped before looking carefully. He hardly knew his own heart yet, and was contented to wait till the sentiment, the fluttering of those folded wings he began to feel, should escape from the chrysalis and be ready to soar away in the sunshine to seek and claim its lovely mate. He had said nothing, but the brown eyes were eloquent, and there was an unconscious underplot to all the little plays he and Alice Heath acted so well together. She was busy with her books, bound to graduate with high honors, and he was trying to do the same in that larger college open to all, and where each man has his own prize to win or lose. Demi had nothing but himself to offer, and, being a modest youth, considered that a poor gift till he had proved his power to earn his living, and the right to take a woman's happiness into his keeping. No one guessed that he had caught the fever, except Sharpeye Josie, and she, having a wholesome fear of her brother, who could be rather awful when she went too far, wisely contented herself with watching him like a little cat, ready to pounce on the first visible sign of weakness. Demi had taken to playing pensively upon his flute after he was in his room for the night, making this melodious friend his confidant, and breathing into it all the tender hopes and fears that filled his heart. Mrs. Meg, absorbed in domestic affairs, and Daisy, who cared for no music but Nat's violin, paid no heed to these chamber concerts, but Josie always murmured to herself with a naughty chuckle, Dick Swivler is thinking of his Sophie Wackles, and bided her time to revenge certain wrongs inflicted upon her by Demi, who always took Daisy's side when she tried to curb the spirits of her unruly little sister. This evening she got her chance, and made the most of it. Mrs. Meg was just rounding off her buttonhole, and Demi still strolling restlessly about the room, when a book was heard to slam in the study, followed by an audible yawn, and the appearance of the student looking as if sleep and desire for mischief were struggling which should be master. I heard my name. Have you been saying anything bad about me? She demanded, perching on the arm of an easy chair. Her mother told her the good news, over which Josie duly rejoiced, and Demi received her congratulations with a benignant air which made her feel that too much satisfaction was not good for him, and incited her to put a thorn into his bed of roses at once. I caught something about the play just now, and I want to tell you that I'm going to introduce a song into my part to liven it up a bit. With this due, and seating herself at the piano, she began to sing to these words, the air of Kathleen Morverine. Sweetest of maids, oh how can I tell, the love that transfigures the whole earth to me, the longing that causes my bosom to swell when I dream of a life all devoted to thee. She got no further, for Demi, red with wrath, made a rush at her, and the next moment a very agile young person was seen dodging round tables and chairs with a future partner of Tiber and Company in hot pursuit. You monkey! How dare you meddle with my papers! cried the irate poet, making futile grabs at the saucy girl who skipped to and fro, weaving a bit of paper tantalizingly before him. Didn't, found it in the big dick! Serves you right if you leave your rubbish about. Don't you like my song? It's very pretty. I'll teach you one that you won't like if you don't give me my property. Come and get it if you can! And Josie vanished into the study to have out her squabble in peace, for Mrs. Meg was already saying, Children, children, don't quarrel! The paper was in the fire by the time Demi arrived, and he at once calmed down, seeing that the bone of contention was out of the way. I'm glad it's burnt. I don't care for it. Only some verse I was trying to set to music for one of the girls. But I'll trouble you to let my papers alone, or I shall take back the advice I gave mother to-night about allowing you to act as much as you like. Josie was sobered at once by this dire threat, and in her most weedling tone begged to know what he had said. By way of heaping coals of fire on her head he told her, and this diplomatic performance secured him an ally on the spot. You dear old boy! I'll never tease you again though you moon spoon both day and night. If you stand by me, I'll stand by you, and never say a word. See here, I've got a note for you from Alice. Won't that be a peace offering and soothe your little feelings? Demi's eyes sparkled as Josie held up a paper cock-tat. But as he knew what was probably in it, he took the wind out of Josie's sails and filled her with blank astonishment by saying carelessly, Oh, that's nothing. It's only to say whether she will go to the concert with us tomorrow night. You can read it if you like. With the natural perversity of her sex, Josie ceased to be curious the moment she was told to read it, and meekly handed it over. But she watched Demi as he calmly read the two lines it contained, and then threw it into the fire. Why, Jack, I thought you treasure every scrap the sweetest maid touched. Don't you care for her? Very much, we all do. But mooning and spooning, as you elegantly express it, is not in my line. My dear little girl, your plays make you romantic, and because Alice and I act lover sometimes, you take it into your silly head that we really are so. Don't waste time hunting mare's nests, but attend to your own affairs and leave me to mine. I forgive you, but don't do it again. It's bad taste and tragedy queens don't ralt. The last cut finished Josie. She humbly begged pardon, and went off to bed. While Demi soon followed, feeling that he had not only settled himself, but his two inquisitive little sister also. But, if he had seen her face as she listened to the soft wailing of his flute, he would not have been so sure. For she looked as cunning as a magpie as she said, with a scornful sniff. Who? You can't deceive me. I know Dick is serenading Sophie Whackles. The Brenda was scutting along with all sales set to catch the rising wind, and everyone on board was rejoicing, for the long voyage was drawing towards an end. Four weeks more, Mrs. Harding, and we'll give you a cup of tea such as you never seen before, said Second Mate Hoffman, as he paused beside two ladies sitting in a sheltered corner on the deck. I shall be glad of it, and still glad her to put my feet on solid ground, answered the elder lady, smiling, for our friend Emile was a favourite, as well he might be, since he devoted himself to the captain's wife and daughter, who were the only passengers on board. So shall I, even if I have to wear a pair of shoes like Chinese Junks. I've tramped up and down the deck so much, I shall be barefooted if we don't arrive soon, laughed Mary, the daughter, showing two shabby little boots as she glanced up at the companion of these tramps, remembering gratefully how pleasant he had made them. Don't think there are any small enough in China, answered Emile, with a sailor's ready gallantry, privately resolving to hunt up the handsomest shoes he could find the moment he landed. I don't know what you would have done for exercise, dear, if Mr. Hoffman had not made you walk every day. This lazy life was bad for young people, though it suits an old body like me well enough in calm weather. Is this likely to be a gayle, thingy? added Mrs. Hardy, with an anxious glance at the west, where the sun was setting readily. Only a cap full of wind-man, just enough to sell us long lively? answered Emile, with a comprehensive glance aloft and allow. Please sing, Mr. Hoffman, it's so pleasant to have music at this time. We shall miss it very much when we get ashore, said Mary, in a persuasive tone which would have won melody from a shark, if such a thing were possible. Emile had often blessed his one accomplishment during these months, for it cheered the long days, and made the twilight hour his happiest time, wind and weather permitting. So now he gladly tuned his pipe, and, leaning on the taff rail near the girl, watched the brown locks blowing in the wind as he sang her favourite song. Give me freshening breeze, my boys, a white and swelling sail, a ship that cuts the dashing waves, and weather is every gayle. What life is like a sailor's life, so free, so bold, so brave? His home, the ocean's wide expanse, a coral bed, his grave. Just as the last notes of the clear strong voice died away, Mrs. Hardy suddenly exclaimed, What's that? The meal's quick eye saw at once the little puff of smoke coming up a hatchway, where no smoke should be, and his heart seemed to stand still for an instant, as the dread word fire flashed through his mind. Then he was quite steady, and strolled away, saying quietly, Smoking not loud there, I'll go and stop it. But the instant he was out of sight, his face changed, and he leaped down the hatchway, thinking, with a queer smile on his lips, If we are a fire, shouldn't wonder if I did make a coral bread, my grave. He was gone a few minutes, and when he came up, half stifled with smoke, he was as white as a very brown man could be, but calm and cool as he went to report to the captain, Fire in the hold, sir. Don't frighten the women, was Captain Harding's first order, then both bestowed themselves to discover how strong the treacherous enemy was, and to rout it, if possible. The Brenda's cargo was a very combustible one, and in spite of the streams of water poured into the hold, it was soon evident that the ship was doomed. Smoke began to ooze up between the planks everywhere, and the rising gales soon found the smoldering fire to flames that began to break out here and there, telling the dreadful truth too plainly for anyone to hide. Mrs. Hardy and Mary bore the shock bravely when told to be ready to quit the ship at a minute's notice. The boats were hastily prepared, and the men worked with a wheel to batten down every loophole once the fire might escape. Soon the poor Brenda was a floating furnace, and the order to take to the boats came for all. The women first, of course, and it was fortunate that, being a merchant man, there were no more passengers on board, so there was no panic, and one after the other the boats pushed off. That in which the women were lingered near for the brave captain would be the last to leave his ship. Emile stayed by him till ordered away and reluctantly obeyed, but it was well for him he went, for just as he regained the boat, rocking far below, half hidden by a cloud of smoke, amassed, undermined by the fire now raging in the bowels of the ship, fell with a crash, knocking Captain Hardy overboard. The boats soon reached him as he floated out from the wreck, and Emile sprung into the sea to rescue him, for he was wounded and senseless. This accident made it necessary for the young man to take command, and he at once ordered the men to pull for their lives as an explosion might occur at any moment. The other boats were out of danger, and all lingered to watch the splendid yet awesome spectacle of the burning ship alone on the wide sea, reddening the night, and casting a lured glare upon the water, where floating the frail boats filled with pale faces, all turned for a last look at the faded Brenna, slowly settling to her watery grave. No one saw the end, however, for the gale soon swept the watchers far away and separated them, some never to meet again till the sea gives up its dead. The boat, whose fortunes we must follow, was alone when dawn came up, showing these survivors all the dangers of their situation. Food and water had been put in, and such provision for comfort and safety as time allowed, but it was evident that with a badly wounded man, two women, and seven sailors, their supply would not last long, and help was sorely needed. Their only hope was in meeting a ship, although the gale, which had raged all night, had blown them out of their course. To this hope all clung, and wild away the weary hours, watching the horizon, and sharing one another with prophecies of speedy rescue. Second mate Hoffman was very brave and helpful, though his unexpected responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders. For the captain's state seemed desperate, the poor wife's grief rung his heart, and the blind confidence of the young girl in his power to save them made him feel that no sign of doubt or fear must lessen it. The men did their part readily now, but a meal knew that if starvation and despair made brutes of them, his task might be a terrible one. So he clutched his courage with both hands, kept up a manly front, and spoke so cheerily of their good chances that all instinctively turned to him for guidance and support. The first day and night passed in comparative comfort, but when the third came, things looked dark, and hope began to fail. The wounded man was delirious. The wife worn out with anxiety and suspense, the girl weak for want of food, having put away half her biscuit for her mother, and given her share of water to wet her father's feverish lips. The sailors ceased rowing, and sat grimly waiting, openly reproaching their leader for not following their advice, others demanding more food, all waxing dangerous as probation and pain brought out the animal instincts lurking in them. A meal did his best, but mortal man was helpless there, and he could only turn his haggard face from the pitiless sky that dropped no rain from their thirst to the boundless sea where no sail appeared to gladden their longing eyes. All day he tried to cheer and comfort them, while hunger gnawed, thirst parched, and growing fear lay heavy at his heart. He told stories to the men, implored them to bear up for the helpless women's sake, and promised rewards if they would pull why they had strength to regain the lost route, as nearly as he could make it out and increase their chance of rescue. He rigged an awning of sailcloth over the suffering man and tended him like a son, comforted the wife, and tried to make the girl forget herself by singing every song he knew or recounting his adventures by land and sea till she smiled and took heart, for all ended well. The fourth day came, and the supply of food and water was nearly gone. A meal proposed to keep it for the sick man and the women, but two of the men rebelled, demanding their share. A meal gave up his, as an example, and several of the good fellows followed it, with the quiet heroism which so often crops up in rough but manly natures. This shamed the others, and for another day an ominous peace reigned in that little world of suffering and suspense. But during the night, while a meal, warm with fatigue, left the watch to the most trustworthy sailor that he might snatch in ours rest, these two men got at the stores and stole the last of the bread and water, and the one bottle of brandy which was carefully hoarded to keep up their strength and make the brackish water drinkable. Half mad with thirst they drank greedily, and by morning one was in a stupor from which he never woke, the other so crazed by the strong stimulant that when a meal tried to control him he leaped overboard and was lost. Horror-stricken by this terrible scene, the other men were submissive henceforth, and the boat floated on and on with its sad freight of suffering souls and bodies. Another trial came to them that left all more despairing than before. A sail appeared and for a time a frenzy of joy prevailed to be turned to bitterest disappointment when it passed by, too far away to see the signals wave to them or hear the frantic cries for help that rang across the sea. A meal's heart sank then, for the captain seemed dying, and the women could not hold out much longer. He kept up till night came, and then in the darkness, broken only by the feeble murmuring of the sick man, the whispered prayers of the poor wife, the ceaseless wash of waves, a meal hit his face and had an hour of silent agony that aged him more than years of happy life could have done. It was not the physical hardship that daunted him, though want and weakness tortured him. It was his dreadful perilousness to conquer the cruel fate that seemed hanging over them. The men he cared little for, since these perils were but a part of the life they chose, but the master he loved, the good woman who had been so kind to him, the sweet girl whose winsome presence had made the long voyage so pleasant for them all, if he could only save these dear and innocent creatures from a cruel death, he felt that he could willingly give up his life for them. As he sat there, with his head in his hands, bowed down by the first great trial of his young life, the starless sky overhead, the restless sea beneath, and all around him suffering, for which he had no help. A soft sound broke the silence, and he listened like one in a dream. It was Mary, singing to her mother, who lay sobbing in her arms spent with this long anguish. A very faint and broken voice it was, for the girl's lips were parched with thirst, but the loving heart turned instinctively to the great helper in this hour of despair. And he heard her feeble cry. It was a sweet old hymn, often sung at Plumfield, and as he listened, all the happy past came back so clearly that Emile forgot the bitter present, and was at home again. His talk on the housetop with Aunt Joe seemed but yesterday, and with a pang of self-approach, he thought. The scarlet strand, I must remember it, and do my duty to the end. Steer straight, oh boy, and if you can't come into port, go down with all sail set. Then, as the soft voice crooned on to lull the weary woman to a fitful sleep, Emile for a little while forgot his burden in a dream of Plumfield. He saw them all, heard the familiar voices, felt the grip of welcoming hands, and seemed to say to himself, Well, they shall not be ashamed of me if I never see them any more. A sudden shout startled him from that brief rest, and a drop on his forehead told him that the blessed rain had come at last, bringing salvation with it, for thirst is harder to bear than hunger, heat or cold. Welcomeed by cries of joy, all lifted up their parched lips, held out their hands, and spread their garments to catch the great drops that soon came pouring down to cool the sick man's fever, quench the agony of thirst, and bring refreshment to every weary body in the boat. All night it fell, all night the castaways reveled in the saving shower, and took heart again, like dying plants revived by heaven's dew. The clouds broke away at dawn, and Emile sprung up, wonderfully braced and cheered by those hours of silent gratitude for this answer to their cry for help. But this was not all, as his eye swept the horizon, clear against the rosy sky shown the white sails of a ship, so near that they could see the pen in at her mast head, and black figures moving on the deck. One cry broke from all those eager throats, and rang across the sea, as every man waved hat or handkerchief, and the women stretched imploring hands towards this great white angel of deliverance, coming down upon them as if the fresh wind filled every sail to help her on. No disappointment now. Answering signals assured them of help, and in the rapture of that moment the happy women fell on Emile's neck, giving him his reward in tears and blessings as their grateful hearts overflowed. He always said that was the proudest moment of his life, as he stood there holding Mary in his arms. For the brave girl, who had kept up so long, broke down then, and clung to him half fainting, while her mother busied herself about the invalid, who seemed to feel the joyful stir, and gave an order, as if again on the deck of his lost ship. It was soon over. And then all were safely aboard the good Urania, homeward bound. Emile saw his friends in tender hands, his men among their mates, and told the story of the wreck before he thought of himself. The savory odor of the soup carried by to the cabin for the ladies reminded him that he was starving, and a sudden stagger betrayed his weakness. He was instantly borne away to be half killed by kindness, and being fed, clothed, and comforted, was left to rest. Just as the surgeon left the state room, he asked in his broken voice, What day is this? My head is so confused. I've lost my reckoning. Thanksgiving day, man, and we'll give you a regular New England dinner, if you'll eat it, answered the surgeon heartily. But Emile was too spent to do anything, except lie still, and give thanks, more fervently and gratefully than ever before, for the blessed gift of life, which was the sweeter far sense of duty, faithfully performed.