That Little Girl of Miss Eliza's: A Story for Young People

by Jean K. Baird

  CHAPTER XV.

  Before the week passed, Miss Eliza found herself the recipient of manyhonors. She had been a member of a club composed of women from Farwellsince Beth had entered school.

  These people began to drive out and to call upon Eliza. There weremotors and sleighs in evidence every day.

  Mrs. Laire came out and brought Carrie with her. She kissed Elizaeffusively.

  "The idea of your never telling us a word of this. But as I said rightalong. It is always those quiet people who are the geniuses. I knew fromthe very first time that you attended our Club that you were head andshoulders above us. We women are not intellectual, you know. I can getthe value of a dollar when it comes to managing a household, but I'dnever even dare to think of writing stories."

  Eliza blushed and tried to disclaim that any honor was due her, but Mrs.Laire would not listen. She liked to hear herself talk, which she didafter an airy, dainty sort of fashion, like a bird picking a cherry.

  "When I mentioned coming, nothing would do but that Carrie would comealong. She thinks so highly of Beth. I'm sorry that she is not at homenow. I wish you would let Beth spend a few days with us. I'm sure sheand Carrie will be great friends."

  "I have such a lovely new writing-desk that I wish her to see. How didyou ever think about writing, Miss Wells?" began Carrie. Then, withoutwaiting for her to answer, she continued, "Did Beth ever finish thestory she meant to write? She had a fine one last fall for the Literary.I wonder if she ever wrote the story."

  This was one of the things of which Miss Eliza had not heard. Beth hadplanned a story about the beautiful woman who had visited school and whohad kissed her so rapturously. She had written it, too, and had ithidden away. She could not have shown it to anyone.

  Mrs. Laire chatted on and Carrie threw in questions. All Eliza could dowas to sit and listen.

  This was not the only visitor. They came by the dozen, and each onechided Eliza for never telling them, and for modestly keeping herability hidden so long. Eliza could not fully explain. She could nottell them that she herself had never known that she had a wonderfulimagination and artistic spirit. Could she tell them that a wanderer, atramp, had bade her to be a "Columbus" to her own soul, and he hadproved her Queen Isabelle who made it possible? She could only listen insilence and to thank them for their good opinion of her.

  When Beth came home from school, she brought the news that the doctor'ssleigh had just driven away from the Oliver cabin. Furthermore, SamHouston's little Jim-boy had met her and told her that the tramp wasill.

  "Did he mean Mr. Hillis?" asked Eliza. She blushed when she said it andlet her glance wander toward the roses which had passed their beauty andwere now but dried leaves. She had not destroyed them. They were thefirst flowers that had ever been given her.

  "Well, I thought he was a tramp. You know, that very day that we saw himmonths and months ago, you told me that he was a tramp."

  "I did not know then. He's a gentleman, and we will always call him Mr.Hillis and never think of him as a tramp."

  "I'm very glad to. He never seemed a bit like such a horrid person. I'msorry he's sick. Couldn't we take him something to eat, or help him someway, Adee? It must be awful to be sick and alone."

  Adee had been thinking of just that thing. Now, the custom of thecountry declared it to be highly improper for an unmarried woman tovisit a man in his home. All the old, trite conventions were live issueswith Adee. On the other hand, all the laws of Christian charity andgratitude told her to visit the stranger who had been a friend to herand who had brought inspiration and breadth to her life. She consideredfor a moment and decided that there were things bigger and better thanconvention.

  "Yes, we'll take him something, Beth. Come and help me prepare it."

  Beth needed no urging. In her heart were all the gifts of hospitalityand kindliness. She ran to the closet at Adee's request and brought outthe best currant jelly and a bottle of grape juice. There was cream andall the dainties a good cook may have on hand to tempt a sick man. Thenthey made their way to the sick man's house. On the way, they met SamHouston. It is strange that it always happens so. One's best intentionsare often misunderstood. Adee realized that when she made up her mind tovisit at the log house and do what she could to relieve the sufferingsof the sick. She was not at all surprised at Sam's knowing look and sagewagging of the head.

  "He's a pretty good-looking fellow, Liza. I thought he'd take your eye."

  "Did you really think? I'm glad something has put your brain-cells intoplay, Sam."

  She was vexed with herself the moment she had spoken. Because Sam wasnarrowminded and misinterpreting her action was no reason why she shouldbe sarcastic. She should have had strength and ability to rise above it.

  "I'm sorry I spoke as I did, Beth. Nothing is gained by letting oneselfdown to that."

  They had come to the hut. Eliza paused at the door. Since she as a childhad come there to pick wild blackberries, she had not been so close. Sheremembered it as a miserable old place. The atmosphere had changed. Thelow, broad windows, close to the roof, swung outward. The logs formed awide sill. Here were boxes glorious with blooming flowers. Outside, thelogs had been covered with a stain or paint which gave them theappearance of being artistically weathered. The tramp had heard herfootsteps and called to her to enter.

  The interior was divided into two rooms. Eliza paused on the threshold.The fireplace had a great oak log. The plank floor was hidden withskins. The walls had been washed with something that made them a goldenbrown. A great table of some dark wood stretched its length near the lowwindows. There was an alcohol-kettle and chafing-dish of brass. Roughpine shelves of the same restful hue as the walls were filled withbooks. A violin and bow lay on the table. There were piles of music andmagazines everywhere. The master himself was seated in an easy-chair bythe fireplace. He arose when Eliza and Beth entered.

  "I'm not surprised. I felt that you and Beth would be here the instantyou knew of the doctor's visit. I was tramping through the snow and hadan accident, and lay for a while in the snow. That's left me with a coldand a touch of fever."

  His cheeks were flushed. Eliza bade him go back to his chair.

  "I will if you will give me a glass of grape juice at once. You see,Miss Eliza, I know what you have there without my looking in the basket.Better than grape juice even will be a cup of good coffee and a poachedegg. I'll sit here, Miss Eliza, and let you wait upon me. You don't knowhow good it is to be waited upon. I've never had any of it in my life,and I've always wanted it."

  Eliza set about it at once. Beth sat down on a low, rough footstool atthe fireplace. The conversation drifted on until the man found himselftelling of the foreign cities he had visited. He knew where the Aztecshad set up their civilization; he had watched the crocodiles show theirugly jaws on the banks of the Ganges.

  "It must have taken a great deal of money to visit all those places,"Eliza paused in her serving.

  "Not when one is a tramp. The country roads, thank heaven, are free, andwhen one has a good pair of feet--." His eyes danced merrily as helooked at Eliza, who found herself blushing and turned aside that hemight not observe it.

  But his expression was neither one of amusement nor merriment, as hiseyes followed her movements. She worked so easily and deftly, whollyunconscious that she was doing anything, just as her attitude had beenabout her story writing.

  "I have always longed to travel," she said at last. "I presume every onehas the same longing. I have seen no large cities and I am ashamed tosay that I have never seen a steamer. I should dearly love to start outwith some good friend and go where I wish and stay until I am ready toleave."

  The man looked down at the log which was just about to break in themiddle. "I can read your future and I see that your wish will befulfilled. I see in the coals all that will transpire." He spoke soearnestly and kept his eyes on the fire as though he really readsomething in the embers. Eliza paused in the act of pouring coffee andlet her glance follow his.

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sp; He paused. "Yes," exclaimed Eliza eagerly, for she wished him tocontinue, "Yes."

  "Before the year is out your desire will be realized. I am a trueprophet and I read aright. You will see great cities. You will view thewonders of the world. You will be a guest in palaces. You will befeasted and feted everywhere."

  "It sounds beautiful. I only hope it will come true."

  "And I will go with you, Adee!" cried Beth, clapping her hands. "Good,good. We'll have a perfectly 'kertish' time."

  The man shook his head. "As I read the signs, you will not be with Adee.I cannot read your future; but you will not be with Adee--not all thetime."

  "I should not like to go alone," said Adee, "I'm very much afraid thatwould not be pleasant. Could you not read another story in the coals,and let Beth be my companion?"

  "I cannot change it. It is written there. To be frank, I would not do soif I could. No fear that you will be lonely. You will not wish Beth withyou when you start on the journey, for your companion will be dearer toyou than even Beth is."

  "Impossible. Beth is--" Eliza had turned and looked at the man as shespoke. Words failed her. Something, she knew not what, kept her fromsaying that Beth would always be the dearest one to her.

  The subject was getting too personal to please her. She turned from thetwo at the fireside and poured the coffee and brought it to the sickman. She did not raise her eyes. She did not look at him. The silencewas constrained. Even Beth, who could not understand many things, feltthat.

  "Why is every one suddenly glum," she cried at last. "Talking andlaughing one minute and then as quiet as mice. I'll tell you this,though. Nothing will keep me away from Adee. If she goes abroad to seestrange sights, I'll go too."

  "No, I think not." He shook his head dubiously.

  "It's beyond my power to change what I have read. You could not go,Beth. A little bit of a girl as you are. You would not be able to standit. It will be a sort of 'tramp' trip." He laughed and looked towardEliza, who was drawing on her great coat. "Come, Beth, it is time tomove homeward," she said.