The Enchanted Barn

by Grace Livingston Hill

  CHAPTER VIII

  The car leaped forward up the smooth white road, and the great barn asthey looked back to it seemed to smile pleasantly to them in farewell.Shirley looked back, and tried to think how it would seem to come homeevery night and see Doris standing at the top of the grassy inclinewaiting to welcome her; tried to fancy her mother in a hammock underthe big tree a little later when it grew warm and summery, and the boysworking in their garden. It seemed too heavenly to be true.

  The car swept around the corner of Allister Avenue, and curved downbetween tall trees. The white spire in the distance drew nearer now,and the purplish hills were off at one side. The way was fresh withsmells of spring, and everywhere were sweet scents and droning bees andcroaking frogs. The spirit of the day seemed to enter into the youngpeople and make them glad. Somehow all at once they seemed to haveknown one another a long time, and to be intimately acquainted with oneanother's tastes and ecstasies. They exclaimed together over thedistant view of the misty city with the river winding on its far way,and shouted simultaneously over a frightened rabbit that scurriedacross the road and hid in the brushwood; and then the car wound rounda curve and the little white church swept into view below them.

  "The little white church in the valley Is bright with the blossoms of May, And true is the heart of your lover Who waits for your coming to-day!"

  chanted forth George in a favorite selection of the department-storevictrola, and all the rest looked interested. It was a pretty church,and nestled under the hills as if it were part of the landscape, makinga home-centre for the town.

  "We can go to church and Sunday-school there," said Shirley eagerly."How nice! That will please mother!"

  Elizabeth looked at her curiously, and then speculatively toward thechurch.

  "It looks awfully small and cheap," said Elizabeth.

  "All the more chance for us to help!" said Shirley. "It will be goodfor us."

  "What could you do to help a church?" asked the wondering Elizabeth."Give money to paint it? The paint is all scaling off."

  "We couldn't give much money," said Carol, "because we haven't got it.But there's lots of things to do in a church besides giving. You teachin Sunday-school, and you wait on table at suppers when they haveLadies' Aid."

  "Maybe they'll ask you to play the organ, Shirley," suggested George.

  "Oh George!" reproved Shirley. "They'll have plenty that can playbetter than I can. Remember I haven't had time to practise for ages."

  "She's a crackerjack at the piano!" confided George to Graham in a lowgrowl. "She hasn't had a lesson since father died, but before that sheused to be at it all the time. She c'n sing too. You oughtta hearher."

  "I'm sure I should like to," assented Graham heartily. "I wonder ifyou will help me get her to sing sometime if I come out to call afteryou are settled."

  "Sure!" said George heartily, "but she mebbe won't do it. She's awfulnutty about singing sometimes. She's not stuck on herself nor nothing."

  But the little white church was left far behind, and the city swept onapace. They were nearing home now, and Graham insisted on knowingwhere they lived, that he might put them down at their door. Shirleywould have pleaded an errand and had them set down in the business partof the town; but George airily gave the street and number, and Shirleycould not prevail upon Graham to stop at his office and let them gotheir way.

  And so the last few minutes of the drive were silent for Shirley, andher cheeks grew rosy with humiliation over the dark little narrowstreet where they would presently arrive. Perhaps when he saw it thiscultured young man would think they were too poor and common to be goodtenants even for a barn. But, when they stopped before the littletwo-story brick house, you would not have known from the expression onthe young man's face as he glanced at the number but that the house wasa marble front on the most exclusive avenue in the city. He handeddown Shirley with all the grace that he would have used to wait upon amillionaire's daughter, and she liked the way he helped out Carol andspoke to George as if he were an old chum.

  "I want you to come and see me next Saturday," called Elizabeth toCarol as the car glided away from the curb; "and I'm coming out to helpyou get settled, remember!"

  The brother and two sisters stood in front of their little old darkhouse, and watched the elegant car glide away. They were filled withwonder at themselves that they had been all the afternoon a part ofthat elegant outfit. Was it a dream? They rubbed their eyes as thecar disappeared around the corner, and turned to look up at thefamiliar windows and make sure where they were. Then they stood amoment to decide how they should explain to the waiting mother why theyhappened to be home so early.

  It was finally decided that George should go to hunt up a drayman andfind out what he would charge to move their things to the country, andShirley should go to a neighbor's to inquire about a stove she heardthey wanted to sell. Then Carol could go in alone, and there would benothing to explain. There was no telling when either George or Shirleywould have a holiday again, and it was as well to get these thingsarranged as soon as possible.

  Meantime Elizabeth Graham was eagerly interviewing her brother, havingtaken the vacant front seat for the purpose.

  "Sid, where did you find those perfectly dear people? I think they arejust great! And are they really going to live in that barn? Won'tthat be dandy? I wish mother'd let me go out and spend a month withthem. I mean to ask her. That Carol is the nicest girl ever. She'sjust a dear!"

  "Now, look here, kid," said Graham, facing about to his sister. "Iwant you to understand a thing or two. I took you on this expeditionbecause I thought I could trust you. See?"

  Elizabeth nodded.

  "Well, I don't want a lot of talk at home about this. Do youunderstand? I want you to wait a bit and go slow. If things seem tobe all right a little later on, you can ask Carol to come and see you,perhaps; but you'll have to look out. She hasn't fine clothes to govisiting in, I imagine, and they're pretty proud. I guess they've losttheir money. Their father died a couple of years ago, and they've beenup against it. They do seem like awfully nice people, I'll admit; and,if it's all right later on, you can get to be friends, but you'll haveto go slow. Mother wouldn't understand it, and she mustn't be annoyed,you know. I'll take you out to see them sometime when they get settledif it seems all right, but meantime can you keep your tongue still?"

  Elizabeth's face fell, but she gave her word immediately. She and herbrother were chums; it was easy to see that.

  "But can't I have her out for a week-end, Sid? Can't I tell motheranything about her? I could lend her some dresses, you know."

  "You go slow, kid, and leave the matter to me. I'll tell mother aboutthem pretty soon when I've had a chance to see a little more of themand am sure mother wouldn't mind. Meantime, don't you fret. I'll takeyou out when I go on business, and you shall see her pretty soon again."

  Elizabeth had to be content with that. She perceived that for somereason her brother did not care to have the matter talked over in thefamily. She knew they would all guy him about his interest in a girlwho wanted to rent his barn, and she felt herself that Shirley was toofine to be talked about in that way. The family wouldn't understandunless they saw her.

  "I know what you mean, Sid," she said after a thoughtful pause. "Youwant the folks to see them before they judge what they are, don't you?"

  "That's just exactly the point," said Sidney with a gleam ofsatisfaction in his eyes. "That's just what makes you such a good pal,kid. You always understand."

  The smile dawned again in Elizabeth's eyes, and she patted herbrother's sleeve.

  "Good old Sid!" she murmured tenderly. "You're all right. And I justknow you're going to take me out to that barn soon. Aren't you goingto fix it up for them a little? They can't live there that way. Itwould be a dandy place to live if the windows were bigger and therewere doors like a house, and a piazza, and some fireplaces. A greatbig stone fireplace in the middle th
ere opposite that door! Wouldn'tthat be sweet? And they'll have to have electric lights and somebathrooms, of course."

  Her brother tipped back his head, and laughed.

  "I'm afraid you wouldn't make much of a hand to live in a barn, kid,"he said. "You're too much of an aristocrat. How much do you want foryour money? My dear, they don't expect tiled bathrooms, and electriclights, and inlaid floors when they rent a barn for the summer."

  "But aren't you going to do anything, Sid?"

  "Well, I can't do much, for Miss Hollister would suspect right away.She's very businesslike, and she has suspicions already because I saidI was going to put in partitions. She isn't an object of charity, youknow. I imagine they are all pretty proud."

  Elizabeth sat thoughtful and still. It was the first time in her lifeshe had contemplated what it would be to be very poor.

  Her brother watched her with interest. He had a feeling that it wasgoing to be very good for Elizabeth to know these Hollisters.

  Suddenly he brought the car to a stop before the office of a biglumber-yard they were passing.

  "I'm going in here, kid, for just a minute, to see if I can get a manto put in those partitions."

  Elizabeth sat meditatively studying the office window through whoselarge dusty panes could be seen tall strips of moulding, unpaintedwindow-frames, and a fluted column or two, evidently ready to fill anorder. The sign over the door set forth that window-sashes, doors, andblinds were to be had. Suddenly Elizabeth sat up straight and read thesign again, strained her eyes to see through the window, and thenopened the car door and sprang out. In a moment more she stood besideher brother, pointing mutely to a large window-frame that stood againstthe wall.

  "What is it, kid?" he asked kindly.

  "Sid, why can't you put on great big windows like that? They wouldnever notice the windows, you know. It would be so nice to have plentyof light and air."

  "That's so," he murmured. "I might change the windows some without itsbeing noticed."

  Then to the man at the desk:

  "What's the price of that window? Got any more?"

  "Yes," said the man, looking up interested; "got half a dozen, madeespecially for a party, and then he wasn't pleased. Claimed he orderedsash-winders 'stead of casement. If you can use these six, we'll makeyou a special price."

  "Oh, take them, Sid! They're perfectly lovely," said Elizabetheagerly. "They're casement windows with diamond panes. They'll justbe so quaint and artistic in that stone!"

  "Well, I don't know how they'll fit," said the young man doubtfully."I don't want to make it seem as if I was trying to put on too muchstyle."

  "No, Sid, it won't seem that way, really. I tell you they'll nevernotice the windows are bigger, and casement windows aren't like aregular house, you know. See, they'll open wide like doors. I thinkit would be just grand!"

  "All right, kid, we'll see! We'll take the man out with us; and, if hesays it can be done, I'll take them."

  Elizabeth was overjoyed.

  "That's just what it needed!" she declared. "They couldn't live in thedark on rainy days. You must put two in the front on each side thedoor, and one on each end. The back windows will do well enough."

  "Well, come on, kid. Mr. Jones is going out with me at once. Do youwant to go with us, or shall I call a taxi and send you home?" askedher brother.

  "I'm going with you, of course," said Elizabeth eagerly, hurrying outto the car as if she thought the thing would be done all wrong withouther.

  So Elizabeth sat in the back seat alone, while her brother and thecontractor discoursed on the price of lumber and the relative values ofwood and stone for building-purposes, and the big car went back overthe way it had been before that afternoon.

  They stopped on the way out, and picked up one of Mr. Jones'scarpenters who was just leaving a job with his kit of tools, and whoclimbed stolidly into the back seat, and sat as far away from thelittle blue-velvet miss as possible, all the while taking furtive notesto tell his own little girl about her when he went home.

  Elizabeth climbed out, and went about the barn with them, listening toall they had to say.

  The two men took out pencils and foot rules, and went around measuringand figuring. Elizabeth watched them with bright, attentive eyes,putting a whispered suggestion now and then to her brother.

  "They can't go up and down a ladder all the time," she whispered."There ought to be some rough stairs with a railing, at least as goodas our back stairs at home."

  "How about it?" said Graham aloud to the contractor. "Can you put insome steps, just rough ones, to the left? I'm going to have a partyout here camping for a while this summer, and I want it to be safe.Need a railing, you know, so nobody will get a fall."

  The man measured the space up with his eye.

  "Just want plain steps framed up with a hand-rail?" he said, squintingup again. "Guess we better start 'em up this way to the back wall andthen turn back from a landing. That'll suit the overhead space best.Just pine, you want 'em, I s'pose?"

  Elizabeth stood like a big blue bird alighted on the door-sill,watching and listening. She was a regular woman, and saw bigpossibilities in the building. She would have enjoyed orderingparquetry flooring and carved newel-posts and making a regular palace.

  The sun was setting behind the purply hill and sending a glint from theweather-vane on the little white church spire when they started back tothe city. Elizabeth looked wistfully toward it, and wondered about therapt expression on Shirley's face when she spoke of "working" in thechurch. How could one get any pleasure out of that? She meant to findout. At present her life was rather monotonous, and she longed to havesome new interests.

  That night after she had gone to her luxurious little couch she lay inher downy nest, and tried to think how it would be to live in that bigbarn and go to sleep up in the loft, lying on that hay. Then suddenlythe mystery of life was upon her with its big problems. Why, forinstance, was she born into the Graham family with money and cultureand all the good times, and that sweet, bright Carol-girl born into theHollister family where they had a hard time to live at all?