 25 The man looked up from the paper he was twisting for a fire, and saw Shirley's attitude of despair. "'Say, kid,' he said with a kind of gruff tenderness, "'You don't need to take it that away. I know it's tough luck to lose out, when you've been so nervy and all, but you knew we had it over you from the start. You had in a show. And say, girly, I'll tell you what. I'll make Kenny sit down right now and copy him off for you, and you can put him in your book again when you get back, and nobody be the wiser. We'll just take out the leaves. We've got to keep the original, of course, but that won't make any beans for you. It won't take you no time to write him over again if he gives you a copy.' Somehow it penetrated through Shirley's tired consciousness that the man was trying to be kind to her. He was pitying her, and offering her a way out of her supposed dilemma, offering to assist her in some of his own kind of deception. The girl was touched, even through all her other crowding emotions and weariness. She lifted up her head with a faint little smile. "'Thank you,' she said wearily, but that wouldn't do me any good. "'Why not?' asked the man sharply. "'Your boss would never know it got out through you.' "'But I should know I had failed,' she said sadly. "'If you had my notes, I should know that I had failed in my trust.' "'It wouldn't be your fault. You couldn't have helped it.' "'Oh yes, I could, and I ought. I shouldn't have let the driver turn round. I should have got out of that car and waited at the station, as Mr. Barnard told me to do till he came. I had been warned, and I ought to have been on my guard, so you see it was my fault.' She drooped her head forward, and rested her chin dejectedly on the palm of her hand, her elbow on her knee, the man stirred looking at her for a second in half-indignant astonishment. "'I golly,' he said at last. "'You certainly us, I'm not. Well, anyhow, buck up, and let's have some tea. Sorry, I can't see my way clear to help you out any further, being as we're sort of partners in this job, and you certainly have got some nerve for a girl. But you know how it is. I guess I can't do no more, and I said, I got my honour to think about, too. See? Get a move on. We ain't waiting all night for eats. Bring in them things from the cupboard, and let's get to work.' Shirley declined to come to the table when at last the repost was ready. She said she was not hungry. In fact, the smell of the crackers and cheese and pickles and dried beef sickened her. She felt too hysterical to try to eat, and besides, she had a lingering feeling that she must keep near that piano. If anything happened, she had a vague idea that she might somehow hide the precious notes within the big old instrument. The man frowned when she declined to come to supper, but a moment later stumbled awkwardly across the room with a slopping cup of coffee and set it down beside her. Buck up, girly, he growled. Drink that, and you'll feel better. Shirley thanked him and tried to drink a few mouthfuls, then the thought occurred to her that it might be drugged, and she swallowed no more. But she tried to look a bit brighter. If she must pass this strange evening in the company of these rough men, it would not help matters for her to give way to despair. So after toying with the teaspoon a moment, she put the cup down and began to play soft airs on the old piano again, while the men ate and took a stealthy taste now and then from a black bottle. She watched them furtively as she played, marveling at their softened expressions, remembering the old line. Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast, and wondering if perhaps they were not really something in it. If she had not been in such a terrifying situation, she would really have enjoyed the character study that this view of those two faces afforded her, as she sat in the shadow playing softly while they ate with the flaring candle between them. I like music with my meals! Suddenly chanted out the boy in an interval. But the man growled in a low tone. Shut up! Ain't you got no manners? Shirley prolonged that meal as much as music could do it, for she had no relish for a more intimate tete-a-tete with either of her companions. When she saw them grow restless, she began to sing again, sweet little airs this time with catchy words, or old tender melodies of home and mother and childhood. They was songs she had sung that last night in the dear old barn when Sidney Graham and Elizabeth were with them, and unconsciously her voice took on the wail of her heart for all that dear past so far away from her now. Suddenly as the last tender note of a song died away, Joe stumbled breathlessly into the room. The boy henny slithered out of the room like a serpent at his first word. "'Beat it!' he cried in a hoarse whisper. "'Get a move on! All hell's out after us! I bet they heard her singing. Take them and beat it! I'll douse the fire and out the candle!' He seized a full bucket of water and dashed it over the dying fire. Shirley felt the other man grasp her arm in a fierce grip. Then Joe snuffed up the candle with his broad-dumbened finger, and all was pitch-dark. She felt herself dragged across the floor, regardless of furniture in the way, stumbling, choking with fear. Her one thought that whatever happened she must not let her slippers get knocked off, holding her feet in a tense strain with every muscle extended, to keep the shoes fastened on like a vice. She was haunted with a wild thought of how she might have slipped under the piano and eluded her captor, if only the light had gone out one second sooner before he reached her side. But it was too late to think of that now, and she was being dragged along breathlessly, out the front door perhaps, and down a walk. No, it was amongst trees, for she almost ran into one. The man swore at her, grasped her arm till he hurt her, and she cried out, "'You shut up or I'll shoot you,' he said with an oath. He had lost all his suavity, and there was desperation in his voice. He kept turning his head to look back and urging her on. She tripped on a root and stumbled to her knees, bruising them painfully, but her only thought was one of joy that her shoes had not come off. The man swore a fearful oath under his breath, then snatched her up and began to run with her in his arms. It was then she heard Graham's voice calling, "'Surely! Where are you? I'm coming.' She thought she was swooning or dreaming, and that it was not really he, for how could he possibly be here? But she cried out with a voice as clear as a bell. I'm here, Sidney. Come quick!' In his efforts to hush her voice, the man stumbled and fell with her in his arms. There came other voices and forms through the night. She was gathered up in strong, kind arms and held. The last thought she had before she sank into unconsciousness was that God had not forgotten. He had been remembering all the time and sent his help before it was too late, just as she had known all along he must do, because he had promised to care for his own, and she was one of his little ones. When she came to herself again, she was lying in Sidney Graham's arms, with her head against his shoulder, feeling so comfortable and tired. There were two automobiles with powerful headlights standing between the trees, and a lot of policemen in the shadowy background. Her captor stood sullen against a tree, with his hands and feet shackled. Joe stood between two policemen with a rope bound about his body spirally, and the boy Henny, also bound, beside his fallen bicycle, turned his ferret eyes from side to side as if he hoped even yet to escape. Two other men with hawk-like faces that she had not seen before, were they also also manacled, and with eyes of smoldering fires. Climbing excitedly out of one of the big cars came Mr. Barnard, his usually immaculate pink face, smuddy and weary, his sparse white hair rumpled giddily, and a wearied pucker on his kind prim face. Oh, my dear Miss Hollister, how unfortunate, he exclaimed. I do hope you haven't suffered too much inconvenience. Shirley smiled up at him from her shoulder of refuge, as from a dream. It was also amusing and impossible after what she had been through. It couldn't be real. I assure you I am very much distressed on your account, went on Mr. Barnard politely and hurriedly, and I hate to mention it at such a time. But could you tell me whether the notes are safe? Did those horrid men get anything away from you? A sudden flicker of triumph passed over the faces of the fettered man and the boy, like a ripple over still water, and died away into unintelligence. But Shirley's voice rippled forth in a glad, clear laugh, as she answered joyously. Yes, Mr. Barnard, they caught my notebook, but not the notes. They thought the Tillman Brooks notes were what they were after, but the real notes are in my shoes. Won't you please get them out, for I'm afraid I can't hold them on any longer. My feet ache so. It is a pity that Shirley was not in a position to see the look of astonishment, followed by a twinkle of actual appreciation that came over the face of the shackled man beside the tree as he listened. One could almost fancy he was saying to himself, that nervy little nut! She put one over on me after all. It was also a pity that Shirley could not have got the full view of the altogether precise and conventional Mr. Barnard kneeling before her on the ground, removing carefully with deep embarrassment and concern, first one, then the other, of her little black pumps, extracting the precious notes, counting over the pages and putting them ecstatically into his pocket. No one of that group but Shirley could fully appreciate the ludicrous picture he made. You are entirely sure that no one but yourself has seen these notes? He asked anxiously, as if he hardly dared to believe the blessed truth. Entirely sure, Mr. Barnard, said Shirley happily, and now, if you wouldn't mind putting on my shoes again, I can relieve Mr. Graham of the necessity of carrying me any further. Oh, surely, surely, said Mr. Barnard, quite fussed in getting down laboriously again, his white forelock all tossed, and his forehead perplexed over the unusual task. How did women get into such a little trinket of a shoe anyway? I assure you, Miss Hollister, our firm appreciates what you have done. We shall not forget it. You will see. We shall not forget it. He puffed as he rose with beads of perspiration on his brow. You have done a great thing for Barnard and Clegg to-day. She's done more than that, said a burly policeman significantly glancing around the group of sullen prisoners, as Graham put her upon her feet beside him. She's rounded up the whole gang for us, and that's more than anybody else has been able to do yet. She ought to get a medal of some kind for that. Even with a daredevil lift of his head and a gleam of something like fun in his sullen eyes, the manacled man by the tree spoke out, looking straight at Shirley, real admiration in his voice. I say, Pard, I guess you're the winner. I'll hand you what's coming to you, if I do lose. You certainly had your nerve." Shirley looked at him with a kind of compassion in her eyes. I'm sorry you have to be there, she finished. You were—as fine as you could be to me under the circumstances, I suppose. I thank you for that. The man met her gaze for an instant, a flippant reply upon his lips, but checked it, and dropping his eyes was silent. The whole little company under the trees were hushed into silence before the miracle of a girl's pure spirit, leaving its impress on a blackened soul. Then quietly Graham led her away to his car with Barnard and the detectives following. The prisoners were loaded into the other cars and hurried on the way to judgment. CHAPTER XXVI The ride back to the city was like a dream to Shirley afterward. To see the staid Mr. Barnard so excited, babbling away about her bravery, and exalting like a child over the recovery of the precious notes, was wonder enough. But to feel the quiet protection and tender interest of Sydney Graham filled her with ecstasy. Of course it was only kindly interest and friendly anxiety, and by to-morrow she would have put it into order with all his other kindlinesses. But to-night, weary and excited as she was, with the sense of horror over her recent experience still upon her, it was sweet to feel his attention, and to let his voice thrill through her tired heart without stopping to analyze it, and be sure she was not too glad over it. What if he would be merely a friend to-morrow again? To-night he was her rescuer, and she would rest back upon that and be happy. I feel that I was much to blame for leaving you alone to go to the station with a bait like these notes in your possession," said Mr. Barnard humbly, though, of course, I did not dream that there was any such possibility as your being in danger. It is just as well not to run any risks in these days when the country is so unsettled, said the detective dryly. Especially where a lady is concerned, remarked Graham significantly. I suppose I should have taken Miss Hollister with me and left her in the cab while I transacted my business at the War Department," said Barnard with self-reproachiness tones. They would have only done the same thing in front of the War Department, said the detective convincingly. They had it all planned to get those notes somehow. You only made it a trifle easier for them by letting the lady go alone. If they hadn't succeeded here, they would have followed you to your home and got into your office or your safe. They are determined, desperate men. We've been watching them for some time, letting them work till we could find out who was behind them. Tonight we caught the whole bunch red-handed thanks to the lady's cleverness. But you had better not risk her alone again when there's anything like this on hand. She might not come out so easy next time. Graham muttered a fervent applause in a low tone to this advice, tucking the lap robes closer about the girl. Barnard gave little shutters of apology as he humbly shouldered the blame. Oh, no, of course not. I certainly am so sorry. But Shirley suddenly roused herself to explain. Indeed, you mustn't any of you blame Mr. Barnard. He did the perfectly right and natural thing. He always trusts me to look after my notes, even in the most important cases. And I heard the warning as much as he did. It was my business to be on the lookout. I'm old enough and have read enough in the papers about spies and ruffians. I ought to have known there was something wrong when that boy ordered me back and said Mr. Barnard had sent me word. I ought to have known Mr. Barnard would never do that. I did know, just as soon as I stopped to think. The trouble was I was giving half my attention to looking at the strange sights out of the window, and thinking what I would tell the folks at home about Washington. Or I would not have got into such a position. I insist that you shall not blame yourself, Mr. Barnard. It is a secretary's business to be on her job, and not be out having a good time when she is on a business trip. I hadn't got beyond the city limits before I knew exactly what I ought to have done. I should have asked that boy more questions, and I should have got right out of that car and told him to tell you I would wait in the station till you came for me. It troubled me from the start that you had sent for me that way. It wasn't like you." Then they turned their questions upon her, and she had to tell the whole story of her capture. Graham and Barnard, exclaiming indignantly as she went on, the detective sitting grim and serious, nodding his approval now and then. Graham's attitude toward her grew more tender and protective. Also twice as she told of her situation in the old house, or spoke of how the man dragged her along in the dark, he set his teeth and drew his breath hard, saying in an undertone, the villain. And there was that in the way that he looked at her that made Shirley hasten through the story because of the wild, joyous clamor of her heart. As soon as the city limits were reached, Graham stopped the car to telephone. It was after eleven o'clock, and there was little chance that George would have stayed at the phone so long, but he would leave a message for the early morning at least. George, however, had stuck to his post. "'Sure! I'm here yet. What do you think? Couldn't sleep, could I, with my sister off alone with a fellow somewhere being kidnapped? What do you say? Found her? She's all right? Ah, gee! That's good. I told Carol you would. I told her not to worry. What'd you say? Oh! Shirley's going to talk?' "'Oh, hello, Shirley. How's Washington? Some speed, eh? Say, when you come in home, to-morrow? That's good. No, mother doesn't know a thing. She thinks I went to bed early because I planned to go fishing at sunrise. She went to bed herself early. Say, Mr. Graham's a prince, isn't he? Well, I guess I'll go to bed now. I might make the fishing in the morning yet, if I don't sleep too late. I sure am glad you're all right. Well, so long, Shirley.' Shirley turned from the phone with tears in her eyes. It wasn't what George said that made her smile tenderly through them, but the gruff tenderness in his boy-tones that touched her so. She hadn't realized before what she meant to him. They drove straight to the station, got something to eat, and took the midnight train back to their home city. Graham had protested that Shirley should go to a hotel and get a good rest before attempting the journey. But she laughingly told him she could rest anywhere and would sleep like a top in the train. When Graham found that it was possible to secure births in the sleeper for them all, and that they would not have to get out until seven in the morning, he withdrew his protests, and his further activities took the form of supplementing her supper with fruit and bonbons. His lingering hand-clasp, as he bade her good night, told her how glad he was that she was safe, as if his eyes had not told her the same story every time they had been light enough for them to be seen. Locked at last into her safe little stateroom, with a soft bed to lie on and no bothersome notes to be guarded, one would have thought she might have slept, but her brain kept time to the wheels and her heart with her brain. She was going over and over the scenes of the eventful day, and living through each experience again, until she came to the moment when she looked up to find herself at Sidney Graham's arms, with her face against his shoulder. Her face glowed in the dark at the remembrance, and her heart thrilled wildly sweet with the memory of his look and tone and all his carefulness for her. How wonderful that he should have come so many miles to find her! That he should have been the one to find her first, with all those other men on the hunt. He had forged ahead and picked her up before any of the others had reached her. He had not been afraid to rush up to an armed villain and snatch her from her perilous position. He was a man among men. Never mind if he wasn't her own personal property. Never mind if there were others in his own world who might claim him later. He was hers for to-night. She would never forget it. She slept at last, profoundly, with a smile upon her lips. No dream of villains, no wild automobile rides came to trouble her thoughts. And when she woke in the home station with familiar sounds outside, and realized that a new day was before her, her heart was flooded with a happiness that her common sense found it hard to justify. She tried to steady herself while she made her toilet, but the face that was reflected rosely from the mirror in her little dressing-room would smile contagiously back at her. Well, then, have it your own way for just one more day, she said aloud to her face in the glass, but to-morrow you must get back to common sense again. Then she turned, fresh as a rose, and went out to meet her fellow travellers. She went to breakfast with Sidney Graham, a wonderful breakfast in a wonderful place, with fountains and palms and quiet perfect service. Mr. Barnard had excused himself and hurried away to his home, promising to meet Shirley at the office at half-past nine. And so these two sat at a little round table by themselves, and had sweet converse over their coffee. Shirley utterly forgot for the time that she was only a poor little stenographer working for her bread and living in a barn. Sidney Graham's eyes were upon her in deep and unveiled admiration, his spirit speaking to hers through the quiet little common places to which he must confine himself in this public place. It was not till the meal was over, and he was settling his bill, that Shirley suddenly came to herself and the colour flooded her sweet face. What was she better than any other poor fool of a girl who let a rich man amuse himself for a few hours in her company, and then let him carry her heart away with him, to toss with his collection? She drew her dindini about her, and tried to be distant as they went out to the street, but he simply did not recognize it at all. He just kept his tender, deferential manner, and smiled down at her with that wonderful, exalted look that made her dignity seem cheap, so there was nothing to do but look up as a flower would to the sun and be true to the best that was in her heart. She was surprised to find his own car at the door when they came out on the street. He must have phoned for it before they left the station. He was so kind and thoughtful. It was so wonderful to her to be cared for in this way. Just as if I were a rich girl in his own social set, she thought to herself. He gave a show for the orders, and sat beside her in the back seat, continuing his role of admirer and protector. It certainly is great to think you're here beside me. He said in the low tone as they threaded their way in and out of the crowded thoroughfare toward the office. I didn't have a very pleasant afternoon and evening yesterday, I can tell you. I don't think we'll let you go off on any more such errands. You're too precious to risk in peril like that, you know. Shirley's cheeks were beautiful to behold as she tried to lift her eyes easily to his glance and take his words as if they had been in mere commonplace. But there was something deep down in the tone of his voice and something intent and personal in his glance that made her drop her eyes swiftly and covered her with a sweet confusion. They were at the office almost immediately and Graham was helping her out. Now, when will you be through here? he asked, glancing at his watch. What train are you planning to take down to the shore? I suppose you'll want to get back as soon as possible. Yes, said Shirley Duffley, I do. But I don't know whether I oughtn't to run out home first and get mother's big old shawl and two or three other little things we ought to have brought along. No, said Graham quickly with a flash of anxiety in his face. I wouldn't, if I were you. They'll be anxious to see you, and if it's necessary you could run up again some time. I think you'll find there are lots of shawls down at the cottage. I'm anxious to have you safely landed with your family once more. I promised Carol you'd be down the first train after you got your work done. How long is it going to take you to fix Mr. Barnard up so he can run things without you? Oh, not more than two hours, I should think, unless he wants something more than I know. Well, two hours. It is half past nine now. We'll say two hours and a half. That ought to give you time. I think there's a train about then. I'll phone to the station and find out, and let you know the exact time. The car will be here waiting for you. Oh, Mr. Graham, that's not a bit necessary. You have taken trouble enough for me already, protested surely. No trouble at all, declared Graham. My chauffeur hasn't a thing to do but hang around with the car this morning, and you might as well ride as walk. I'll phone you in plenty of time. He lifted his hat and gave her a last look that kept the glow in her cheeks. She turned and went with swift steps into her elevator. Sidney Graham dropped his chauffeur at the station to inquire about trains and get tickets with orders to report at his office within an hour, and himself took the wheel. Quickly working his way out of the city's traffic, he put on all possible speed toward Glenside. He must get a glimpse of things and see that all was going well before he went to the office. What would Shirley have said if she had carried out her plan of coming out for her mother's shawl? He must put a stop to that at all costs. She simply must not see the old barn till the work was done, or the whole thing would be spoiled. Strange, it had not occurred to him that she might want to come back after something. Well, he would just have to be on the continual lookout. For one thing he would stop at a store in the way back and purchase a couple of big steamer rugs and a long, warm cloak. He could smuggle them into the cottage somehow and have the servants bring them out for common use as if they belong to the house. He was as eager as a child over every little thing that had been started during his absence, and walked about with the boss carpenter, settling two or three questions that had come up the day before. In ten minutes he was back in his car, whirling toward the city again, planning how he could best get those rugs and cloaks into the hands of the housekeeper at the shore without anybody suspecting that they were new. Then it occurred to him to take them down to Elizabeth and let her engineer the matter. There must be two cloaks, one for Shirley, for he wanted to take her out in the car sometimes, and her little scrap of a coat was entirely too thin, even for summer breezes at the shore. Shirley met with a great ovation when she entered the office. It was evident that her fame had gone before her. Mr. Barnard was already there, smiling benevolently, and Mr. Clegg frowning provingly over his spectacles at her. The other office clerks came to shake hands, or called congratulations, till Shirley was quite overwhelmed at her reception. Clegg and Barnard both followed her into the inner office and continued to congratulate her on the bravery she had shown, and to express their appreciation of her loyalty and courage on behalf of the firm. Mr. Barnard handed her a check for a hundred dollars as a slight token of their appreciation of her work, telling her that beginning with the first of the month her salary was to be raised. When at last she sat down to her typewriter and began to click out the wonderful notes that had made so much trouble and put them in shape for practical use, her head was in a whirl and her heart was beating with a childish ecstasy. She felt as if she were living a real fairytale and would not ever be able to get back to common everyday life again. At half-past eleven Graham called her up to tell her there was a train a little after twelve if she could be ready, and the car would be waiting for her in fifteen minutes. When she finally tore herself away from the smiles and diffusive thanks of Barnard and Clegg, and took the elevator down to the street she found Sydney Graham himself awaiting her eagerly. This was a delightful surprise, for he had not said anything about coming himself or mentioned when he would be coming back to the shore, so she had been feeling that it might be some time before she would see him again. He had just slimmed the door of the car and taken his seat beside her when a large gray limousine slowed down beside them and a radiant, well-groomed, much-tailored young woman leaned out of the car smiling at Graham, and passing over surely with one of those unseeing stairs where with some girls knows so well how to erase other girls. "'Oh, Sydney, I'm so glad I met you,' she cried. Mother has been phoning everywhere to find you. We are out at our country-place for a couple of weeks, and she wants to ask you to come over this afternoon for a little tennis tournament to be having, with a dance on the lawn afterward. "'That's very kind of you, Harriet,' said Graham pleasantly, "'but I can't possibly be there. I have an engagement out of town for this afternoon and everything. Give my regards to your mother, please, and thank her for the invitation. I know you'll have a lovely time. You always do at your house.' "'Oh, that's too bad, Sydney,' pouted the girl. Why will you be so busy, and in the summertime, too? You ought to take a vacation. Well, if you can't come to-night, you'll run down over the weekend, won't you? We are having the foresters and the harvies. You like them, and we simply can't do without you.' "'Sorry,' said Graham smilingly, but I've got all my weekends filled up just now. Harriet, let me introduce you to Miss Hollister. Miss Hale? Miss Hollister.' "'Then did Harriet Hale have to take over her unseeing stare and acknowledge the introduction? Somewhat stiffly it must be acknowledged. For Harriet Hale did not enjoy having her invitations declined, and she could not quite place this girl with the lovely face and the half-shabby garments that yet had somehow an air of having been made by a French artist.' "'I'm sorry, Harriet, but we'll have to hurry away. We're going to catch a train at twelve-fifteen. Hope you have a beautiful time this afternoon. Remember me to Tom Harvey and the foresters. Sorry to disappoint you, Harriet, but you see I've got my time just full up at present. Hope to see you soon again.' They were off, surely with the impression of Harriet Hale's smile of vinegar and roses, the roses for Graham, the vinegar for her. Shirley's heart was beating wildly underneath her quiet demeanor. She had at last met the wonderful Harriet Hale, and Graham had not been ashamed to introduce her. There had been protection and enthronement in his tone as he spoke her name. It had not been possible for Miss Hale to patronize her after that. Shirley was still in a daze of happiness. She did not think ahead. She had all she could do to register new occurrences and emotions, and realized that her joy was not merely momentary. It had not occurred to her to wonder where Graham was going out of town. It was enough that he was here now. When they reached the station, Graham took two large packages out of the car and gave some directions to the chauffeur. "'Sorry, we couldn't have gone down in the car again,' he said as they walked into the station. But it needs some repairs, and I don't want to take as long a run as that until it has been thoroughly overhauled.' Then he was going down too. He had declined Harriet Hale's invitation to go back to the cottage with her. Shirley's breath came in little happy gasps as she walked beside her companion down the platform to the train. She found herself presently being seated in a big green velvet chair in the parlor-car, while the porter stowed away the two big packages in the rack overhead. CHAPTER 27 There was only one other passenger in the car, an old man nodding behind a newspaper, with his chia facing in the other direction. Graham took a swift survey of him and turned happily back with a smile to Shirley. "'At last, I have you to myself,' he said with a sigh of satisfaction, that made Shirley's cheeks bloom out rosely again. He whirled her chair and his quite away from the vision of the old man, so that they were at the nearest possible angle to each other and facing the windows. Then he sat down and leaned toward her. "'Surely,' he said in a tone of proprietorship, that was tender and beautiful. "'I've waited just as long as I'm going to wait to tell you something. I know it's lunch time, and I'm going to take you into the dining-car pretty soon and get you some lunch, but I must have a little chance to talk with you first, please.' Shirley's eyes gave glad permission, and he hurried on. "'Surely, I love you. I guess you've been seeing that for some time. I knew I ought to hide it till you knew me better, but I simply couldn't do it. I never saw a girl like you, and I knew the minute I looked at you that you were a finer clay than other girls anyway. I knew that if I couldn't win you and marry you, I would never love anybody else. But yesterday, when I heard you were in peril, a way off down in Washington, and I, a way up here, helpless to save you, and not even having the right to organize a search for you, I nearly went wild. All the way down on the train, I kept shutting my eyes and trying to pray, the way you told your Sunday school boys how to pray. But all I could get out was, oh God, I love her, save her, I love her. Surely, I know I'm not one half worthy enough for you, but I love you with all my heart, and I want you for my wife. Will you marry me, surely?' When she had recovered a little from her wonder and astonishment, and realized that he had asked her to marry him and was waiting for his answer, she lifted her wondering eyes to his face, and tried to speak as her conscience and reason bade her. "'But I'm not like the other girls you know,' she said bravely. Then he broke in upon her fervently. "'No, you're not like any other girl I know in the whole wide world. Thank God for that. You are one among a thousand. No, you're one among the whole earth full of women. You're the only one I could ever love.' "'But listen, please, you haven't thought. I'm not a society girl. I don't belong in your circle. I couldn't grace your position the way your wife ought to do. Remember, we're nobodies, we're poor. We live in a barn.' "'What do you suppose I care about that?' he answered eagerly. "'You may live in a barn all your days, if you like, and I'll love you just the same. I'll come and live in the barn with you if you want me to. My position, my circle? What's that? You'll grace my home and my life as no other girl could do. You heart of my heart, you strong, sweet spirit. The only question I'm going to ask of you is, can you love me? If you can, I know I can make you happy, for I love you better than my life. Answer, please. Do you love me?' She lifted her eyes, and their spirits broke through their glances. If the old man at the other end of the car was looking, they did not know it. They came back to the cottage at the shore, with a manner so blissful and so unmistakable that even the children noticed. Just whispered to Carol at table. "'My brother likes your sister a lot, doesn't he? I hope she likes him, too.' "'I guess she does,' responded Carol philosophically. "'She oughta. He's been awfully good to her, and to all of us.' "'People don't like people just for that,' said Wise Elizabeth. Harley, out on the veranda after dinner, drew near to Carol to confide. "'See, kid, I guess he has got a case on her all right now. See, wouldn't that be great? Think of all those cars.' But Carol giggled. "'Good night, Harley. How could we ever have a wedding in a barn? And there's such particular people, too.' "'Oh, gee,' said Harley, disgusted. You girls are always thinking of things like that. As if that mattered. You can get married in a chicken-run if you really have a case like that on each other. You make me tired.' And he stalked away in offended male dignity. Meantime the unconscious subjects of this discussion had gone to Mrs. Hollister to confess, and the sea was forgotten by all three, for that one evening at least, even though the moon was wide and bright, and gave a golden pathway across the dark water. For a great burden had rolled for Mrs. Hollister's shoulders when she found her beloved eldest daughter was really loved by this young man, and he was not just amusing himself for a little while at her expense. The days that followed were like one blissful, fleeting dream to Shirley. She just could not get used to the fact that she was engaged to such a prince among men. It seemed as if she were dreaming, and that presently she would wake up and find herself in the office with a great pile of letters to write, and the perplexing problem before her of where they were going to live next winter. She had broached that subject once to Graham Shiley, saying that she must begin to look around as soon as she got back to town, and he put her aside, asking her to leave that question till they all went back, as he had a plan he thought she might think well of, but he couldn't tell her about it just yet. He also began to urge her to write it once to Mr. Barnard and resign her position, but that she would not hear of. No, she said decidedly, we couldn't live without my salary, and there are a lot of things to be thought out and planned before I can be married. Besides, we need to get to know each other, and to grow into each other's lives a little bit. You haven't any idea even now how far I am from being fitted to be the wife of a man in your position. You may be sorry yet. If you are ever going to find it out, I want you to do it beforehand." He looked adoringly into her eyes. "'I know perfectly now, dear heart,' he said, and I'm not going to be satisfied to wait a long time for you to find out that you don't really care for me after all. If you've got to find that out, I'd believe I'd rather it would be after I have you close and fast, and you'll have to like me anyway.' And then the wonder and thrill of it all would roll over her again, and she would look into his eyes and be satisfied. Still she continued quite decided that nothing could be done about prolonging her vacation, for she meant to go back to Barnard and Clegg's on the day set. "'You know I'm the man of the house,' she said archly. I can't quite see it at all myself, how I'm ever going to give up. But I thought I was going to be the man of the house pleaded Sydney. I'm sure I'm quite capable and eager to look out for the interests of my wife's family. But you see, I'm not the kind of girl that has been looking around for a man who will support my family. No, you surely are not,' said the young man, laughing. If you had been young lady, I'd expect you'd have been looking yet so far as I'm concerned. It is because you are what you are that I love you. Now that's all right about being independent, but it's about time to fight this thing to a finish. I don't see why we all have to be made miserable, just because there are a lot of unpleasant precedents and conventions and crochets in the world. Why may I not have the pleasure of helping to take care of your perfectly good family if I want to? It is one of the greatest pleasures, to which I am looking forward, to try and make them just as happy as I can, so that you will be the happier. I've got plenty to do it with. God has been very good to me in that way. And why should you try to hinder me? And then the discussion would end, in a bewildering look of worshipful admiration on Shirley's part, and a joyous taking possession of her and carrying her off on some ride or walk or other on the part of Graham. He did not care just now that she was slow to make plans. He was enjoying each day, each hour, to the full. He wanted to keep her from thinking about the future, and especially about the winter, till she got home, and so he humid her and led her to other topics. One night as they sat on the dock veranda alone, Graham said to George, if you were going to college, where would you want to prepare? He wondered what the boy would say, for the subject of college had never been mentioned with relation to George. He did not know whether the boy had ever thought of it. But the answer came promptly in a ringing voice. Central High, they've got the best football team in the city. Then you wouldn't want to go away to some preparatory school? No, sir, was the decided answer. I believe in the public school every time. When I was a little kid, I can remember my father taking me to walk and pointing out to Central High School and telling me that someday I would go there to school. I used to always call that my school. I used to think I'd get there yet someday, but I guess that's out of the question. Well, George, if that's your choice, you can get ready to enter as soon as you go back to the city. What? George's feet came down from the veranda railing with a thud, and he sat upright in the darkness and stared wildly at his prospective brother-in-law. Then he slowly relaxed, and his young face grew grim and stern. No chance, he said leconically. Why not? Because I've got my mother and the children to support. I can't waste time going to school. I've got to be a man. Something sudden like a choke came in the young man's throat and a great love for the brave boy who was so courageous in his self-denial. George, you're not a man yet, and you'll shoulder the burden twice as well when you're equipped with a college education. I mean you shall have it. Do you suppose I'm going to let my new brother slave away before his time? No, sir. You're going to get ready to make the best man that's in you, and ask for your mother and the family. Isn't she going to be my mother? And aren't they going to be my family? We'll just shoulder the job together, George, till you're older, and then we'll see. But I couldn't take charity from anybody. Not even from a brother? Not even from a brother? Well, suppose we put it another way. Suppose you borrow the money from me to keep things going, and when you are ready to pay it back, we'll talk about it then. Or better still, suppose you agree to pass it on to some other brother when you're able. They talked a long time in the dark, and Graham had quite a hard time breaking down the boys' reserve in independence and getting your real brotherly confidence. But at last George yielded, saw the common sense and right of the thing, and laid an awkward hand in the man's, growling out, You're a pippin, and no mistake, Mr. Graham. I can't ever thank you enough. I never thought anything like this would happen to me. Don't try thanks, George. We're brothers now, you know. Just do your best at school, and it's all I ask. Shirley and I are going to be wonderfully proud of you. But please, don't call me Mr. Graham anymore, Sid or Sydney, or anything you like, but no more mistering. He flung a brotherly arm across the boys' shoulders, and together they went into the house. Meantime the beautiful days went by in one long, golden dream of wonder. The children were having the time of their lives, and Elizabeth was never so happy. Shirley sat on the wide verandahs, and read the wealth of books and magazines which the house contained, or roamed the beach with the children and star, or played in the waves with Doris, and wondered if it were really Shirley Hollister who was having all this good time. End of Chapter 27 The morning they all started back to the city was a memorable one. Graham had insisted that Shirley ask for a holiday until Tuesday morning, so that she might go up with them in the car, and have the whole day to be at home and help her mother get settled. She had consented, and found to her surprise that Mr. Barnard was most kind about it. He had even added that he intended to raise her salary, and she might consider that hereafter she was to have ten dollars more per month for her services, which they valued very highly. George had sent his resignation to the store, and was not to go back at all. Graham had arranged that, for school began the day after his return, and he would need to be free at once. Elizabeth, to her great delight, was to go with the Hollisters and remain a few days until her parents returned. Mrs. Graham had written from the West, making a proposition to Mrs. Hollister, that Carol be allowed to go to school with Elizabeth the next winter, because Mrs. Graham felt it would be so good for Elizabeth to have a friend like that. Mrs. Hollister, however, answered that she felt it better for her little girl to remain with her mother a little longer, and that she did not feel it would be a good thing for her child, who would be likely to have a simple life before her with very few luxuries, to go to a fashionable finishing school where the standards must all necessarily be so different from those of her own station in life, and kind as the offer had been she must decline it. She did not say that Carol had fairly bristled at the idea of leaving her beloved high school now when she was a senior in only one year before her graduation. That bit of horror and hysterics on Carol's part had been carefully suppressed within the four walls of her mother's room, but Elizabeth deeply disappointed, had wept her heart out over the matter, and finally been comforted by the promise that Mrs. Hollister would write and ask Mrs. Graham to allow Elizabeth to go to school with Carol the coming winter. That proposition was now on its way West, together with an announcement of Sydney's engagement to Shirley. Sydney was confidently expecting congratulatory telegrams that morning when he reached the city. He had written his father in detail all about their plans for returning and how the work of the old barn was progressing, and Mr. Graham Sr. was too good a manager not to plan to greet the occasion properly. Therefore Graham stopped at his office for a few minutes before taking the family out to Glenside, and sure enough came down with his hands full of letters and telegrams and one long white envelope which he put carefully in his breast pocket. They had a great time reading the telegrams and letters. The way out to Glenside seemed very short now, watching as they did for each landmark. The children were as eager to get back as they had been to leave, and Starr snuggled in between Harley's feet, held his head high, and smiled benevolently on everybody, as if he knew he was going home and was glad. They began to wonder about the chickens, and if the garden was all dried up, and whether the doves were all right. There was an undertone of sadness and suppressed excitement, for it was in the minds of all the Hollisters that the time in the old barn must of necessity be growing brief. The fall would soon be upon them, and a need for warmth. They must go hunting for a house at once, and yet they all wanted this one day of delight before they faced that question. At last they reached the final curve, and could see the tall old tree in the distance, and the clump of willows knee-deep in the brook. By common consent they all grew silent, watching for the first glimpse of the dear old barn. Then they came around the curve, and there it was. But what was the matter? Nobody spoke. It seemed as if they could not get their breath. Shirley rubbed her eyes and looked again. Mrs. Hollister gave a startled look from her daughter to Graham and back to the barn again. Elizabeth and Carol were utterly silent, grasping each other's hands in violent ecstasy. The boys murmured, inarticulately, of which the only audible words were, Good night, some class! Doris looked for a long second, puckered her lips as if she were going to cry, and inquired pitifully, I want my dear barn-house home! I want to go home! And Star uttered a sharp bewildered bark, and bounded from the cars, if this was something he ought to attend to. But before anybody could say anything more, Graham brought out the long white envelope and handed it to Shirley. Before you get out and go in, I just want to say a word, he began. Father and I both want Shirley to have the old barn for her very own to do with as she pleases. This envelope contains the deed for the property made out in her name. We have tried to put it in thorough repair before handing it over to her, and if there is anything more she can think of that it needs, we'll do that, too. And now welcome home to the old barn. Mother, may I help you out? But there isn't any barn any more. Burst forth the irrepressible Elizabeth, the barn's gone! It's just a house! And sure enough there stood a stately stone mansion on a wide green terrace, where shrubs and small trees were grouped fittingly about, erasing all signs of the old pasture-land, the old grassy incline to the door now rolled away in velvety lawn on either side of a smooth cement walk boarded with vivid scarlet deraniums. Trailing vines and autumn flowers were blossoming in jars on the wide stone railing. The old barn door had been replaced by glass, which gave a glimpse of strange new rooms beyond, and the roof had broken forth in charming colonial dormer windows like a new French hat on a head that had worn the same old poke-bonnet for years. No wonder Doris didn't recognize the dear old barn. It did seem as though a wizard had worked magic upon it. How was one to know that only a brief half-hour before the old gardener from the Graham estate set the last deranium in the row along the walk, and trailed the last vine over the stone wall? Or that even now the core of men who had been hastily laying and patting the turf in place over the terrace were in hiding down in the basement, with their wheel-barrows and picks and spades, having beat a hasty retreat at the sound of the car coming, and were only waiting till they could get away unobserved. For orders were orders, and the orders were that the work was to be done, and every man out of sight by the time they arrived, a bonus to every man if the orders were obeyed. That is what money and influence can do in a month. In due time they got themselves out of that car in a sort of bewildered daze, and walked up the new cement path, feeling strangely like intruders as they met the bright stare of the deraniums. They walked the length of the new piazza in delight. They exclaimed and started and smiled and almost wept in one another's arms. Graham stood and watched Shirley's happy face, and was satisfied. The first thing Doris did when she got inside the lovely glass door was to start to run for her own little willow chair and her own little old ragdoll that had been left behind, and down she went on the slippery floor. And there, behold, the old bond floors, too, had disappeared under a coating of simple-matched hardwood flooring, oiled and polished smoothly, and Doris was not expecting it. She got up quickly, half ashamed, and looked around, laughing. I was skating! She declared with a ringing laugh. I skated! He hiked down on my nose. Then she hurried more cautiously to the haven of her own chair, and with her old doll hugged to her breast she reiterated over and over, as if to reassure herself. Mine, Doris, mine, Doris! Words would fail to describe all they said about the wonderful rooms, the walls all shining in a soft, rough-finished plaster, tinted creamy on the upper half and gray below, and finished in dark chestnut trimmings, of the beautiful staircase and the wide bay window opening from the first landing like a little half-wave room, with seats to rest upon. It was standing in this bay window that Graham first called Mrs. Hollister's attention to something strange and new outside beyond the house. It was a long, low-glass building, with green things gleaming through its shining roof. There, mother, he said, coming up softly behind her, there is your plaything. You said you had always wanted a hot-house, so we made you one. It is heated from a coil in the furnace, and you can try all the experiments with flowers you want to. We put in a few things to start with, and you can get more at your leisure. Mrs. Hollister gave one look, and then turned and put her arms around the tall young man, reaching up on her tiptoes to do so, brought his handsome face down to hers, and kissed him. My dear son, she said, that was all, but he knew that she had accepted him and given him a loving place with her own children in her heart. There were shouting and runnings upstairs and down by first one and then another. The bathrooms were discovered one by one, and then they had to all rush down into the basement by the new stairs to see the new laundry and the new furnace, and the entrance to the hot-house, and the hot-house itself, with its wealth of bloom transplanted from the graying greenhouses. They almost forgot the chickens and the doves, and the garden was a past Eden not to be remembered till long hours afterward. The sunset was dying away in the sky, and the stars were large and few, and piercing in the twilight night, when Shirley and Sydney came walking up the terrace arm in arm, and found Doris sitting in the doorway, cuddling her old rag doll, and a new little gray kitten the farmer next door had brought her, and singing an evening song to herself. Shirley and Sydney turned, and looked off at the sky, where a rosy stain was blending softly into the gray of evening. Do you remember the first night we stood here together? Sydney said in a low tone, as he drew her fingers within his own. I loved you then, Shirley, that first night. And then Doris' little shrill voice chimed above the murmurings. Oh, my nice dear home, my kitty and my darly, and my piazza, and my bath-room with a place to swim boats, and my fratwas and pity-house! No more barn, barn all dawn, never too bad any more. Oh, my nice pity dear home!