Wheat and Huckleberries; Or, Dr. Northmore's Daughters

by Amanda M. Douglas

  CHAPTER XV

  ESTHER GOES TO PRAYER-MEETING

  Meanwhile autumn was gliding away at the old farm. It was worth EstherNorthmore's while, as Aunt Katharine had suggested, to have seen Octoberin her mother's country. Even Old Timers, used to the glory that wrappedits hills in the shortening days, doubted gravely whether they had everknown a fall when the woods wore such gorgeous coloring as now, or kepttheir royal robes so long. All the world seemed flaming in crimson andgold, with fringes of purple at the roadsides, and Esther, walkingjoyously in the midst, felt her pulses beating to a rhythm she had nevercaught before in the swinging of the round old world. Her grandfatherwas no poet; but he liked to see the girl come in with her face glowingand her hands full of leaves, which always seemed to her more beautifulthan any she had ever found before. Sometimes he was moved to remind herthat this, too, was "vanity," one of earth's passing shows, but sheprotested against this, and told him it would never pass for her. Sheshould keep it as long as she had life and memory.

  Very often in these shining days came Mr. Philip Hadley; once to urgethat pleasant invitation, then to make sure that his friends hadreturned from the trip in safety; once to bring her a book she hadwanted, and at last to say good-by to Ruel Saxon. The Hadleys were aboutto leave their summer home. With the approach of November it was time tobe back in the city. There had been an eager look in his eyes as headded, turning to Esther, "You will be going about the same time." Andhe had kept her hand longer than usual at the door as he said, "It hasbeen delightful to see you in this lovely old home, but we shall seeeach other much oftener in Boston, I hope. I can't tell you how glad Iam that you are going to be there."

  "'IT HAS BEEN DELIGHTFUL TO SEE YOU IN THIS LOVELY OLDHOME.'"]

  She had dropped her eyes, that easy color rising in her face as hespoke, and then he had said, "Good-by for a little while," with a veryearnest pressure of the hand in his, and ridden away.

  It was late when he left, but she slipped out of the house immediatelyfor a walk, and for once there were no leaves in her hand when she cameback. "It looked like rain," she said, when Tom remarked that she hadstopped short of her favorite woods.

  It did not look so much like rain but that Ruel Saxon went as usual tothe prayer-meeting that night, and of course Esther went with him. Itwas one of the standing engagements for every week. Perhaps the girlcould have spared it sometimes--there were few young people there--but shenever declined to accompany her grandfather. As for him, it was a placehe loved; a spot in which his own gifts shone conspicuous, and in whichit must be confessed he sometimes appropriated more than his fair shareof the time. Why Christian people did not all and always go toprayer-meeting was one of the things he could not understand, and itreally seemed to him a surprising omission that there was not anexplicit command in the Bible laying the duty upon them. However, heconsoled himself with the admonition "not forsaking the assembling ofyourselves together, as the manner of some is," to which favoritequotation he frequently added that he should not forsake the assemblingof _himself_ together as long as he was able to be there.

  There really was some doubt in Aunt Elsie's mind to-night as to the lastpoint. The old gentleman seemed to have all the premonitory symptoms ofa cold, but he would have scorned to stay at home for a trifle of thatsort, and started in good time on the long ride to the village. He borehis part in the meeting with unusual unction, and a number of thebrothers and sisters took his hand at the close to thank himimpressively for his beautiful remarks. It was a form of flattery whichhe dearly loved.

  Then, as he jogged home behind Dobbin with Esther, he fell to talking,in reminiscent mood, of his own long services in the church, and this,making all due allowance for that cheerful vanity, which he had neverbeen at pains to conceal, was a subject on which Ruel Saxon, if any man,had some right to grow eloquent. Ministers might come and ministersmight go, but, as deacon of the church in Esterly, he had gone on, ifnot forever, at least so long that few could remember when he had notheld and magnified the office. He had sat on councils to receive anddismiss, he had contended for the faith, he had poured oil on troubledwaters; in short, in all the offices of peace and war, he had stood athis post, and none could name the day when he had shirked its duties.

  "I've seen some strange doings in my time," he said, after one of hispauses, "and I tell you there's as much human nature among churchmembers as there is among outsiders. Sometimes I've thought 'twasbecause they needed grace worse than most folks that the Lord electedsome of 'em. I've been called on to settle quarrels among professorsthat would astonish you; and I've had a hand in their love affairs too,once or twice, when they got things so tangled up that they couldn'tstraighten 'em out for themselves," he added with a little chuckle.

  "Love affairs!" repeated Esther, catching at the chance of a story."Why, how was that? Do tell me one of them, grandfather."

  He clucked to Dobbin, drew his hand across his face in the meditativeway that suggested a stroking of memory, and began slowly:--

  "I guess the queerest one I ever had anything to do with, and the onethat bothered me most in my own mind, was that affair between JothamRadley and those two girls. You see they were both bound to have him;and for the life of him he couldn't seem to settle on which one itshould be."

  "_They_ were bound to have _him_?" ejaculated Esther. She had heard oftwo lovers to one lady, but this sort of a case was new in heracquaintance.

  "Well, I don't know as I or' to say _they_ were," said the oldgentleman, correcting himself. "It was Huldy's mother on one side, and'twas Polly herself on the other. You see, Jotham had been keepingcompany a good while with Huldy, and folks gener'ly thought 'twas amatch between them, but he got to carrying on with Polly Green 'bout thetime he was building her father's barn. I always thought she must haveled him on. He was a wonderful easy man to be pulled round by womenfolks, and Polly was a smart girl, there's no denying that.

  "Well, it began to be common talk that they were engaged, and thenHuldy's folks spoke out and said 'twas no such thing; it was all settledbetween him and Huldy long ago, and her mother showed the linen she'dspun and the bed quilts she'd pieced for housekeeping. It got to be agood deal of a scandal, for Jotham was clerk of the church, and somefolks, specially the women, thought it or' to be stopped. So we deaconstalked it over together, and then two of us went to see Jotham and askedhim how it was about it. He didn't say much, one way or t'other--actedsort o' queer 'n' shame-faced; but he agreed the talk or' to be stopped,and said he'd have it settled in a week.

  "I guess he found it harder to settle than he counted on, for Polly wasa dreadful spirited girl, and Huldy's mother was the kind that couldn'tbe put off. Anyhow, instead of easing up, the talk kept getting louder,and Jotham didn't show his face in the meeting-house for two Sundays.Well, the deacons felt that he was trifling with 'em, and that time wewent in a body to deal with him.

  "Deacon Simms did the bulk of the talking, and he told Jotham prettystraight what he thought about a man's whiffling round between two girlsas he did, and then he told him if he couldn't settle the business forhimself the church would have to settle it for him. At that Jotham spokeout like a man distracted, and said he wished to goodness we would. Iasked him if he'd abide by our decision, and he said he'd abide byanything the girls would.

  "I must say I didn't much like the business, but we went the next day tosee the girls. Polly cried, and took on, and according to her accountJotham had certainly said some wonderful pointed things for a man thatdidn't know his own mind. As for Huldy, she looked sick and scared, and'twas much as we could do to get a word out of her. Her mother was readyenough to talk, but Jotham warn't engaged to _her_ anyhow, and I stoodto it that we couldn't settle the thing by the way _she_ looked at it. Ialways suspicioned that if Huldy'd spoke up and freed her mind, shemight have made out the best case, but she wouldn't do it.

  "Seemed as if she didn't want to commit him, and the other deaconsthought 'twas a clear case he ought to marry Polly. It sort of 'pearedto
me that it or' to be Huldy, but of course I couldn't prove it, andanyway 'twas three to one. So I gave in to the rest, and to settle allthe talk, we had Jotham and Polly published in church the next Sunday.They did say Jotham turned dreadful white when they told him how we'dsettled it, but he married Polly at the set time, and as far as I knowthey always got along well together."

  "What become of Huldah?" queried Esther.

  "Huldy?" said the deacon, reflecting. "Well, she stayed single till shemust have been upward of thirty; then she married a widower, andeverybody said 'twas a good match."

  There was silence for some time, then Esther said, with her eyes on thesky, over which the clouds were shifting uneasily, "Grandfather, do youthink a person _could_ have any doubt in his own mind as to which one oftwo people he cared for most, if--if he was really in love with either ofthem?"

  "I ain't sure but he might," said the deacon, slowly. "It takes a goodwhile to get acquainted with folks, and I don't know but it's about ashard sometimes to know your own mind, as 'tis to know anybodyelse's--even if 'tis inside of you." And then he added briskly, "But itstan's to reason that a man or' to have a care how far he goes before hegets things cleared up."

  She seemed not to hear the last remark. "But if you had known a personfor a long, long time," she said insistently, "there couldn't be anydoubt then, could there?"

  Again, like the wise man he was, the deacon answered slowly, "Well, abody or' to get his mind made up in a reasonable length of time," hesaid. "There was Nathan Weyler went to see Patty Foster every Saturdaynight for thirty years before he asked her to marry him. I should callthat _slow_! But there _is_ such a thing as seeing so much offolks--being so close to 'em, you know--that you don't really get as gooda sight at 'em as you would if they were farther off. It's getting yourattention drawn somewhere else, and seeing what's in other folkssometimes, that wakes you up to what there is in those you thought youknew best."

  Esther, whose eyes had been fixed on her grandfather's face intentlyduring this reply, looked suddenly back at the sky. She had thoughtthere were no stars to-night, but she was aware, all at once, that therewere four or five shining straight before her. Had they all come out inthe last moment, or was it an illustration of what he had just beensaying?

  Her voice shook a little, and she did not look at her grandfather as sheasked her next question. "But if it came to you that there _was_ more insomebody than you had realized--if you saw more to admire than you everdid before--_that_ wouldn't be enough, would it? I mean, it wouldn't beright to marry for anything but love, would it?" She broke suddenly off,then began again with a nervous, half-incoherent swiftness. "That man,for instance, that you were telling me about, and Huldah. If he had justfelt sorry for her, and it kept coming to him all the time that he hatedto leave her, because--because he had known her so long, and he knew itwould be hard for her, and she was so good and true--all that wouldn't beenough to make him marry her, would it?"

  Strange that she should be so deeply stirred over that old story of solong ago! Her hands trembled so much that she had to press them togetherto hold them still when she had finished.

  He was a keen-witted man, Ruel Saxon. Perhaps it may have crossed hismind at that moment that he was being called once more, at this latehour of his life, to lend a hand in straightening out some tangled skeinof love, but if so he did not reveal it.

  "No," he said distinctly, "no; there's nothing else but love will do.It's all that's strong enough to last, and it's a long, long thing,giving your promise to marry."

  And then that shrewd reflective note crept into his voice again as headded: "But if it kept coming to a body the way you speak of, to bethinking of somebody else all the time, and be sorry for them, and allthat, I should be a little mite doubtful if there wasn't something afterall besides pity at the bottom of it. A body wouldn't keep on so verylong being sorry for one person, if he was right down in love withanother. He'd forget about that one before he knew it. It's like Aaron'srod, you see. Some things get swallowed up terrible quick when the onethat's bigger and more alive stretches itself out among 'em."

  She did not ask any more questions. She kept her eyes on the stars for along time after that. And her grandfather spoke to Dobbin presently in atone of impatience. "Get up; get up; it's time we were home long ago."

  It was certainly later than usual when they drew up at the door. AuntElsie opened it, looking out rather anxiously when the wheels of thecarriage stopped. "I guess we've been a little longer than common on theway, we've had so much to talk about," said the old gentleman,cheerfully. Then, as he got down from the carriage, and left it in thehands of Tom, who stood ready with the lantern, he added, stretchinghimself, "I declare, I feel sort o' chilly and stiff in the joints.Mebbe I'd better have a little sup of something warm before I get intobed."

  Esther had thought that would be the last time of going toprayer-meeting with her grandfather, and so it proved, but not becauseshe had taken her flight before the next Wednesday evening came. Perhapsit was a cold settling upon him with the raw gray weather which Novemberushered in, but he was feverish next morning, and kept the house,complaining of draughts which no one else felt, and a little querulous,as he was apt to be when anything ailed that outer man in whose generalsoundness he took such pride.

  For three days he sat by the fire, swallowing boneset tea in quantitiesand of a degree of bitterness which filled the household, especiallyEsther, with admiration; but he sternly rejected Aunt Elsie's suggestionthat he should send for a physician, being in practice disposed to theopinion that a man had no use for a doctor until he had reached thepoint where the chances were against a doctor or any one else being ableto help him. He was in something of a strait, however, when Sunday cameand he was clearly unable to attend church. To admit the gravity of hiscase by sending for a medical man was one thing, but to absent himselffrom the house of God, unless such state of gravity existed, wasanother; and between the two horns of the dilemma he tossed painfullyall the morning. In the end Aunt Elsie settled it, and she was quitewilling that he should take what grumbling comfort he could inrepresenting himself as a martyr to feminine insistence when the doctorappeared.

  Evidently the latter did not think he had been called too soon. He senthis patient promptly to bed, and now, having advertised himself as sick,the old gentleman obeyed orders with the meekness of a lamb. It would beonly a few days, of course; but while it lasted he meant to make themost of his case, and take his full dues in the way of sympathy andattention.

  That the minister would come promptly was certain, and there would beopportunity for testing the fidelity of his brother deacons to the dutyof visiting the sick and afflicted. Undoubtedly there would be prayerssent up in his behalf from the pulpit and at the Wednesday eveningprayer-meeting, and--let us not judge the good man too severely! his owngift in prayer was of no common order--he really hoped the petitionswould be well expressed. As for his own family, it went without sayingthat they would wait upon him with unfailing attention, while he lay, ashe plaintively expressed it, on his "bed of pain and languishment"; andfeminine attentions were dear to the soul of Ruel Saxon.

  He did not have to suggest to Esther that she should delay her departurefor Boston. Indeed, it is possible that he forgot her plans altogether,and she remembered them herself only to say quietly to Aunt Elsie, "Ishall stay, of course, till he is better. I couldn't think of leavinghim now, and perhaps I can be some help to you in taking care of him."

  Aunt Elsie was not an effusive woman, but the tone in which she said,"It'll be a real comfort to have you here," made the girl look happy.She meant to slip across the fields later in the day and tell AuntKatharine that her going had been postponed, but her grandfather grewrestless as the day wore on, and seemed to feel neglected if some onewere not constantly at his side.

  "I really think Aunt Katharine ought to know it," she said at supper,and Tom, who was sitting at the table, responded promptly, "I'll go andtell her, if you want me to."

  "Will y
ou?" she said eagerly. "Thank you, Tom. Tell her I'll come downand see her myself as soon as grandfather gets a little better."

  "And don't let her feel too much worried about him," cautioned hismother. "He isn't any worse than he was last week, only he's in bed, andthat makes him seem worse."

  "All right," said Tom, "I'll go as soon as I'm through milking."

  Esther thanked him again, though in her heart she would rather he hadproposed to spend an hour in his grandfather's room. It was several dayssince she had seen Aunt Katharine, and she would have liked a littlechat in the pleasant living-room, where that big wood stove had been setup, and the windows were growing gay with old-fashioned chrysanthemums.They were the only flowers she ever kept in her windows, and she excusedher partiality for these on a whimsical plea of pity.

  "They count on being taken in," she said one day, when Esther came uponher in the garden potting them for the winter. "They know they can't dohalf their blossoming outdoors at this time o' year, but that's the waythey time it every season. Look at those buds, thick as spatter, andthey won't half of 'em have a chance to show their color unless somebodygoes to the trouble of taking 'em in and doing for 'em. I hate to seethings go so far and then make a fizzle of it." And she had pressed theearth about their roots in the big stone jars with a carefulness oftouch and a look of exasperated patience which the girl had enjoyedimmensely.

  The friendship which to others seemed so odd seemed to her now the mostnatural thing in the world, and more and more she valued it. Once, inthe soreness of that clash with Kate, she had poured out her heart toher mother. Perhaps Kate had done so too in the days that followed herreturn; but the reply which Mrs. Northmore made had cleared theatmosphere for Esther, at least, and left the intimacy free anduntroubled.

  "My dear child," she wrote, "I am sure you will not believe that I shareyour sister's uneasiness over your friendship with Aunt Katharine. Thequestions over which she has brooded so long are real and vital, and Iam not sorry that you should come to know them through knowing one whoholds her views upon them with such deep and unselfish earnestness asyour Aunt Katharine. A braver or truer heart than hers I have neverknown. But it must have occurred to you--if not, it surely willlater--that she sees only one side of some of the great facts of ourwoman's life. The reformer who sees only one side of any question isneeded, no doubt, to startle others into recognition of facts they wouldotherwise miss, but in the end the reform must depend on those who seeboth sides, and see them with steady fairness. If your life shall be ashappy as I hope it may be, I cannot think you will permanently hold someof Aunt Katharine's opinions; but meanwhile I would not have you shutyour heart to her or her word. Oh, believe me, my dear, there is noeye-opener in the world like love."

  The old woman was drawing the shades behind the chrysanthemums in thewindows when Tom came to her house in the dusk of that evening. He hadexpected to deliver his message at the door, but she insisted on hiscoming in and rendering it with careful detail. Certainly he did not erron the side against which his mother had cautioned him. Indeed, if theold gentleman had heard his grandson's statement of his case he wouldprobably have felt a strong inclination to get out of bed and go to hissister's at once for the express purpose of telling her that he was muchworse than the boy had represented.

  Tom was not inclined to anxieties, and a certain inquisitorial attitudewhich his grandfather had maintained during the past few days as to hisown work at the barn, and the amount of care which Dobbin was receiving,had left the impression on his mind that his grandfather was notsuffering as much as he might be.

  He revealed this to some extent as he answered Aunt Katharine'squestions, and she, after putting them sharply for a few minutes,settled back in her chair with an air of evident relief. She was notsurprised to learn that Esther had put off her going to Boston. "Ishould know she'd do it," she said, nodding, and she added, with apeculiar smile, "I s'pose your grandfather hated dreadful bad todisappoint her."

  Tom disclaimed any knowledge on this head, and then remarked acutely,"He'll keep her busy enough while she stays. He doesn't seem to want herout of his sight a minute."

  "Hm," said Miss Saxon. "I'll warrant he'd keep 'em all busy if they werethere." And then she remarked casually, "It must seem sort of quiet atyour house compared with what 'twas this summer."

  "Kate was the liveliest one," said Tom, and he said it with such a toneof regret that his aunt looked at him keenly.

  "You liked her, did you?" she asked.

  Perhaps his secret knowledge of that interview in which she had worstedKate, and an impression that she had a special grudge against the girl,inclined him to the unusual emphasis with which he answered thequestion.

  "I never saw a girl I liked so well in my life," he said. "She's made ofthe right sort of stuff, and she's game clear through."

  "Hm," grunted Miss Saxon again, beginning to look very much interested."I understand you 'n' she did a sight of quarrelling. She generally gotahead of you, didn't she?"

  "No marm, she didn't," said Tom, promptly. "I generally got ahead ofher, only she'd never own it."

  Aunt Katharine laughed. If anything could please her more than to have agirl get the best of a controversy it was to know that she had kept onafter getting the worst. She had always approved the spirit of those oldBritons, of whom Caesar complained that they never knew when they werebeaten.

  "What do you mean by saying she's made of the right sort of stuff?" sheasked suddenly.

  "Why, I mean," said Tom, hesitating a little,--he was not analytical inhis turn of mind,--"I mean she's plucky, and she's out-and-out abouteverything. I'd trust her as quick as I would a boy."

  "As quick as you would a boy!" repeated Aunt Katharine, bristling; "whatdo you mean by that, I'd like to know."

  Tom had not come for a controversy with Aunt Katharine, and she reallylooked a little dangerous at that moment. But he remembered suddenlythat word of Kate's, that the old woman's manner didn't "faze" her,after the first, and he determined, as far as in him lay, not to befazed either.

  "Why, I didn't mean anything bad," he said, drawing a little nearer theedge of his chair, "but there's a difference, you know. At least youwould know if you were a boy. Most girls are sort of sly when they wantto get anything out of you, and they do things they wouldn't think werefair for you to do. But she wasn't that way. She always let you knowwhat she was up to, and when it came to fighting she struck right outfrom the shoulder. But I wasn't blaming the rest of 'em. I guess it'sall right, being girls," he added, rising and beginning to move towardthe door.

  Aunt Katharine rose too, and brought her cane down on the floor with asharp thud. "That's it!" she said, fiercely. "Boys 'n' men, you're allalike, and you've got the notion already. You act as if we women folkswere weaker creatures than you are. You make us think we are; and thenyou look for all the tricks that weaker creatures use when they defendthemselves. It serves you right if we _do_ use 'em. But it's a lie allthe same, for both of us."

  She drew her lips hard, then, as she saw his hand on the knob of thedoor, she said, "Tell your grandfather I'll be up to see him to-morrow."

  She did not keep the promise. The rain, which had been threatening fordays, falling now and then in drizzling showers, then stopping again, asif, though still in sullen mood, some vacillating purpose held it,settled down at last for steady work. There was a week of leaden days,with the rain beating out all that was left of the color in the woods,and changing the world into one brown monotony which melancholy seemedto have marked for her own.

  And through it all, at the old house, Ruel Saxon kept his bed, and asthe days went on grew no better. There was not much pain: a littlefever, a growing drowsiness, a failing appetite, a little swelling ofthe limbs. Even the doctor seemed not to know what it was that had creptso suddenly upon the active frame, but he looked graver with everyvisit. Once, as he added another vial to the little row on the stand bythe bed, he mentioned a name which the sick man, opening his eyes alittle wider, repeated, ad
ding, "That was what ailed my grandfather;"and then he closed his eyes without sign of uneasiness. Perhaps heremembered how much stronger in all its seeming powers was this body ofhis than that worn-out form from which the spirit of the grandfatherstole away at last.

  But a change came over him in these days. He lost the querulous tone ofinquiry about things at the barn. He seemed to have forgotten thatsuspicion of his that Tom was liable to let Dobbin's manger go empty.Once he said to the boy instead, "It's a little hard on you and Mike tohave it all to do, Tom. I wish I could help you with the husking."

  At last there came a day when the rain ceased to fall. The sun shone outclear and bright, and the clouds went stately across the sky, to themeasure of marches they had kept in October. Mists rose from the earth,not heavily, but with a lightness suggestive of warmth still in thebreast of the earth, and Esther, standing on the doorstep of the oldhouse, noted that there was even yet a little greenness among the limpstalks in the garden where a flock of birds were twittering over theseeds they had found for their breakfast. "I'm so glad the rain hasgone," she said, drawing a long breath. "It's pleasant weather thatgrandfather needs."

  And then she went softly into his room to tell him how the sun wasshining, and smiled as he murmured in reply, "Truly the light is sweet,and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun."

  It was that day in the afternoon that Aunt Katharine came across thefields. The door of the kitchen was on the latch, and she lifted it andstepped in without knocking. Perhaps she expected to see him sitting bythe fire, for she looked before her eagerly, but even Aunt Elsie was notin sight, and she passed on without greeting to her brother's room. Helooked quite bright as he lay with his face toward Esther, who had justbeen giving him a cup of broth.

  "Why, Aunt Katharine!" exclaimed the girl, rising to her feet, and theold man, lifting his head, put out his hand with an eager welcome.

  "So you hain't managed to get out of bed yet?" she said, taking thechair from which Esther had risen, and looking down at her brother withan affectionate smile. "Well, I'm sorry for you, Ruel." Then, a halfwhimsical expression creeping over her smile, she added: "'Pears to meyou don't hold up so much better'n some of us that don't claim to be sostout. I've owned up to it for a good while that I ain't as young as Iused to be, and there's no denying that I make a pretty fair showingwith most old women when it comes to aches and pains, but they hain'tbrought me onto the flat of my back for the last ten years."

  "I've been favored above most, Katharine," said the old man, mildly."I've had my strength and faculties spared to me beyond the common, andI can't complain of anything now. 'Shall we receive good at the hand ofGod and shall we not receive evil?' It is the Lord's will, let him dowhat seemeth him good."

  She was evidently struck with his reply, and for a moment looked at himkeenly. "I should have come up before this, if it hadn't rained all thetime," she said, "and I took it for granted you was getting along. But Iguess you hain't needed me any, with those that are here to wait onyou."

  The old man's eyes turned to Esther with a peculiar tenderness. "No, Idon't want for anything," he said. "Elsie manages everything just right,and Esther here seems to know what I need before I get a chance to speakof it. It's queer now how she puts me in mind of her mother," he went onmusingly. "Sometimes I can't get it out of my mind that it's Luciasitting right here by me. And I hain't been out of my head either, haveI?"

  The girl did not answer the question, but she stooped and kissed hisforehead. "It's nice to have you think I'm mother," she said. "Do it allyou please."

  He smiled at her, then turned with a sudden wistfulness to his sister."Katharine," he said, "I've been thinking a lot about you, and how muchharder 'twould be for you than 'tis for me, if you should be taken sickdown there all by yourself. There wouldn't be anybody to take care ofyou as the folks take care of me. I wish you lived up here with us. I'vewanted it this good while; and Elsie'd be willing, you know she would."

  "She wouldn't like it, Ruel, and you wouldn't either, after a littlewhile," said the old woman, her swift honesty throwing a note that was atrifle harsh into her voice. "You and I never did see things the sameway, and we should see 'em more contrariwise than ever, if we had tostand on just the same piece o' ground to look at 'em."

  The old man lifted his head with an obvious effort, and his breath camequick for a moment. "No," he said, "we never did look at things justalike, you 'n' I, and I guess 'twas natural to us both to want to pullthe other round to our way. But I've been thinking about that too,Katharine, and I'm--I'm afraid I've riled you up sometimes when I hadn'tor' to. You've got just as good a right to your way of looking at thingsas I have to mine, and I'm afraid I've said things to you sometimes thatwarn't becoming."

  What she might have replied to this, if a neighbor, with Aunt Elsie, hadnot entered the room at that moment, is not certain. A pallor had sweptsuddenly across her face, and her eyes, wide and startled, were fixedwith a frightened look upon her brother. She rose from her chair as theothers drew near, and without responding to their greeting steppedswiftly outside the door. Then she beckoned to her niece with atrembling gesture.

  "Elsie," she whispered, when the other had crossed the threshold, "I'llbe obliged to you if you'll let Tom hitch up and drive me down to thehouse. I want to get a few things and come right back. If you don't mindI'll stay here a while. Ruel's a dreadful sick man."