The Enchanted Barn

by Grace Livingston Hill

  CHAPTER X

  The crisis was precipitated by Shirley's finding her mother crying whenshe came up softly to see her.

  "Now, little mother, _dear_! What can be the matter?" she criedaghast, sitting down on the bed and drawing her mother's head into herlap.

  But it was some time before Mrs. Hollister could recover her calmness,and Shirley began to be frightened. At last, when she had kissed andpetted her, she called down to the others to come up-stairs quickly.

  They came with all haste, George and Harley with dish-towels over theirshoulders, Carol with her arithmetic and pencil, little Doris trudgingup breathless, one step at a time, and all crying excitedly, "What'sthe matter?"

  "Why, here's our blessed little mother lying here all by herself,crying because she doesn't know where in the world we can find ahouse!" cried Shirley; "and I think it's time we told our beautifulsecret, don't you?"

  "Yes," chorused the children, although Harley and Doris had no ideauntil then that there was any beautiful secret. Beautiful secretshadn't been coming their way.

  "Well, I think we better tell it," said Shirley, looking at George andCarol questioningly. "Don't you? We don't want mother worrying." Sothey all clustered around her on the bed and the floor, and satexpectantly while Shirley told.

  "You see, mother, it's this way. We've been looking around a good deallately, George and I, and we haven't found a thing in the city thatwould do; so one day I took a trolley ride out of the city, and I'vefound something I think will do nicely for the summer, anyway, and thatwill give us time to look around and decide. Mother dear, would youmind camping so very much if we made you a nice, comfortable place?"

  "Camping!" said Mrs. Hollister in dismay. "Dear child! In a tent?"

  "No, mother, not in a tent. There's a--a--sort of a house--that is,there's a building, where we could sleep, and put our furniture, andall; but there's a lovely out-of-doors. Wouldn't you like that, forDoris and you?"

  "Oh, yes," sighed the poor woman; "I'd like it; but, child, you haven'tan idea what you are talking about. Any place in the country coststerribly, even a shanty----"

  "That's it, mother, call it a shanty!" put in Carol. "Mother, wouldyou object to living in a shanty all summer if it was good and clean,and you had plenty of out-of-doors around it?"

  "No, of course not, Carol, if it was perfectly respectable. Ishouldn't want to take my children among a lot of low-down people----"

  "Of course not, mother!" put in Shirley. "And there's nothing of thatsort. It's all perfectly respectable, and the few neighbors are nice,respectable people. Now, mother, if you're willing to trust us, we'dlike it if you'll just let us leave it at that and not tell youanything more about it till we take you there. George and Carol and Ihave all seen the place, and we think it will be just the thing.There's plenty of room, and sky, and a big tree, and birds; and it onlycosts ten dollars a month. Now, mother, will you trust us for the restand not ask any questions?"

  The mother looked in bewilderment from one to another, and, seeingtheir eager faces, she broke into a weary smile.

  "Well, I suppose I'll have to," she said with a sigh of doubt; "but Ican't understand how any place you could get would be only that price,and I'm afraid you haven't thought of a lot of things."

  "Yes, mother, we've thought of everything--and then some," saidShirley, stooping down to kiss the thin cheek; "but we are sure you aregoing to like this when you see it. It isn't a palace, of course. Youdon't expect plate-glass windows, you know."

  "Well, hardly," said Mrs. Hollister dryly, struggling with herself tobe cheerful. She could see that her children were making a braveeffort to make a jolly occasion out of their necessity, and she wasnever one to hang back; so, as she could do nothing else, she assented.

  "You are sure," she began, looking at Shirley with troubled eyes."There are so many things to think of, and you are so young."

  "Trust me, mudder dearie," said Shirley joyously, remembering thefireplace and the electric lights. "It really isn't so bad; andthere's a beautiful hill for Doris to run down, and a place to hang ahammock for you right under a big tree where a bird has built its nest."

  "Oh-h!" echoed the wondering Doris. "And could I see de birdie?"

  "Yes, darling, you can watch him every day, and see him fly through theblue sky."

  "It's all right, mother," said George in a businesslike tone. "You'llthink it's great after you get used to it. Carol and I are crazy overit."

  "But will it be where you can get to your work, both of you? Ishouldn't like you to take long, lonely walks, you know," said thetroubled mother.

  "Right on the trolley line, mother dear; and the difference in rentwill more than pay our fare."

  "Besides, I'm thinking of buying a bicycle from one of the fellows. Hesays he'll sell it for five dollars, and I can pay fifty cents a month.Then I could go in on my bike in good weather, and save that much."This from George.

  "Oh, gee!" said Harley breathlessly. "Then I could ride it sometimes,too."

  "Sure!" said George generously.

  "Now," said Shirley with her commanding manner that the children called"brigadier-general," "now, mother dear, you're going to put all yourworries out of your head right this minute, and go to sleep. Yourbusiness is to get strong enough to be moved out there. When you getthere, you'll get well so quick you won't know yourself; but you've gotto rest from now on every minute, or you won't be able to go when thetime comes; and then what will happen? Will you promise?"

  Amid the laughing and pleading of her children the mother promised,half smilingly, half tearfully, and succumbed to being prepared for thenight. Then they all tiptoed away to the dining-room for a council ofwar.

  It was still two weeks before they had to vacate the little brickhouse, plenty of time to get comfortably settled before they took theirmother out there.

  It was decided that George and Shirley should go out the next eveningdirectly from their work, not waiting to return for supper, but eatinga lunch down-town. Now that the place was lighted and they had beentold to use the light as freely as they chose, with no charge, thequestion of getting settled was no longer a problem. They could do itevenings after their work was over. The first thing would be to cleanhouse, and for that they needed a lot of things, pails, pans, brooms,mops and the like. It would be good to take a load of things out thenext day if possible.

  So George went out to interview the man with the moving-wagon, whileShirley and Carol made out a list of things that ought to go in thatfirst load. George came back with the report that the man could comeat half past four in the afternoon; and, if they could have the thingsthat were to go all ready, he would have his son help to load them, andthey could get out to Glenside by six o'clock or seven at the latest.Harley might go along if he liked, and help to unload at the other end.

  Harley was greatly excited both at the responsibility placed upon himand at the prospect of seeing the new home. It almost made up for thethought of leaving "the fellows" and going to live in a strange place.

  The young people were late getting to bed that night, for they had toget things together so that Carol would not have her hands too full thenext day when she got home from school. Then they had to hunt up soap,scrubbing-pails, rags, brushes and brooms; and, when they went to bedat last, they were much too excited to sleep.

  Of course there were many hindrances to their plans, and a lot of delaywaiting for the cartman, who did not always keep his word; but the dayspassed, and every one saw some little progress toward making a home outof the big barn. Shirley would not let them stay later in the eveningsthan ten o'clock, for they must be ready to go to work the nextmorning; so of course the work of cleaning the barn progressed butslowly. After the first night they got a neighbor to sit with theirmother and Doris, letting Carol and Harley come out on the car to help;and so with four willing workers the barn gradually took on a nicesmell of soap and water.

  The old furniture arrived little by li
ttle, and was put in placeeagerly, until by the end of the first week the big middle room and thedining-room and kitchen began really to look like living.

  It was Saturday evening of that first week, and Shirley was sitting onthe old couch at the side of the fireplace, resting, watching George,who was reeling out a stormy version of chopsticks on the piano, andlooking about on her growing home hopefully. Suddenly there came agentle tapping at the big barn door, and George as the man of the housewent to the door with his gruffest air on, but melted at once when hesaw the landlord and his sister standing out in front in the moonlight.

  "Are you ready for callers?" asked Graham, taking off his hat ingreeting. "Elizabeth and I took a spin out this way, and we sightedthe light, and thought we'd stop and see if we could help any. My, howhomelike you've made it look! Say, this is great!"

  Sidney Graham stood in the centre of the big room, looking about himwith pleasure.

  The young people had put things in apple-pie order as far as they hadgone. A fire was laid in the big stone fireplace, all ready fortouching off, and gave a homelike, cleared-up look to the whole placeas if it were getting ready for some event. On each side of thechimney stood a simple set of bookshelves filled with well-worn volumesthat had a look of being beloved and in daily intimate association withthe family. On the top of the shelves Carol had placed some bits ofbric-a-brac, and in the centre of each a tall vase. Beside them were afew photographs in simple frames, a strong-faced man with eyes thatreminded one of Shirley and a brow like George's; a delicate-featured,refined woman with sweet, sensitive mouth and eyes like Carol's; alovely little child with a cloud of fair curls.

  The old couch was at one side of the fireplace, at a convenient angleto watch the firelight, and yet not hiding the bookshelves. On theother side, with its back toward the first landing of the rudestaircase, stood an old upright piano with a pile of shabby music onthe top and a book of songs open on the rack. On the floor in thespace between was spread a worn and faded ingrain rug, its originalcolors and pattern long since blended into neutral grays and browns,which strangely harmonized with the rustic surroundings. A fewcomfortable but shabby chairs were scattered about in a homelike way,and a few pictures in plain frames were hung on the clean newpartitions. Under one stood a small oak desk and a fewwriting-materials. A little further on a plain library table held afew magazines and papers and a cherished book or two. There had beenno attempt to cover the wide bare floor spaces, save by a small dingyrug or two or a strip of carpet carefully brushed and flung here andthere in front of a chair. There was no pretension and therefore noincongruity. The only luxurious thing in the place was the brightelectric light, and yet it all looked pleasant and inviting.

  "Say, now, this is great!" reiterated the young owner of the place,sinking into the nearest chair and looking about him with admiration."Who would ever have imagined you could make a barn look like this?Why, you're a genius, Miss Hollister. You're a real artist."

  Shirley in an old gingham dress, with her sleeves rolled high and herhair fluffing wilfully in disorder about her hot cheeks, stood beforehim in dismay. She had been working hard, and was all too conscious ofthe brief time before they must be done; and to have company justnow--and such company--put her to confusion; but the honest admirationin the young man's voice did much to restore her equilibrium. Shebegan to pull down her sleeves and sit down to receive her callersproperly; but he at once insisted that she should not delay on hisaccount, and, seeing her shyness, immediately plunged into somequestions about the water-pipes, which brought about a morebusinesslike footing and relieved her embarrassment. He was soon onhis way to the partitioned corner which was to be the kitchen, tellingShirley how it was going to be no trouble to run a pipe from the springand have a faucet put in, and that it should be done on the morrow.Then he called to Elizabeth.

  "Kid, what did you do with those eats you brought along? I think itwould be a good time to hand them out. I'm hungry. Suppose you takeGeorge out to the car to help you bring them in, and let's have apicnic!"

  Then, turning to Shirley, he explained:

  "Elizabeth and I are great ones to have something along to eat. Itmakes one hungry to ride, you know."

  The children needed no second word, but all hurried out to the car, andcame back with a great bag of most delicious oranges and several boxesof fancy cakes and crackers; and they all sat down to enjoy them,laughing and chattering, not at all like landlord and tenants.

  "Now what's to do next?" demanded the landlord as soon as the repastwas finished. "I'm going to help. We're not here to hinder, and wemust make up for the time we have stopped you. What were you andGeorge doing, Miss Carol, when we arrived?"

  "Unpacking dishes," giggled Carol, looking askance at the frowningShirley, who was shaking her head at Carol behind Graham's back.Shirley had no mind to have the elegant landlord see the dismal stateof the Hollister crockery. But the young man was not to be so easilyput off, and to Carol's secret delight insisted upon helping despiteShirley's most earnest protests that it was not necessary to doanything more that evening. He and Elizabeth repaired to thedining-room end of the barn, and helped unpack dishes, pans, kettles,knives, and forks, and arrange them on the shelves that George hadimprovised out of a large old bookcase that used to be his father's.After all, there was something in good breeding, thought Shirley, forfrom the way in which Mr. Graham handled the old cracked dishes, andset them up so nicely, you never would have known but they wereHaviland china. He never seemed to see them at all when they werecracked. One might have thought he had been a member of the family foryears, he made things seem so nice and comfortable and sociable.

  Merrily they worked, and accomplished wonders that night, for Shirleylet them stay until nearly eleven o'clock "just for once"; and thenthey all piled into the car, Shirley and Carol and Elizabeth in theback seat, George and the happy Harley with Graham in the front. Ifthere had been seven more of them, they would have all happily squeezedin. The young Hollisters were having the time of their lives, and asfor the Grahams it wasn't quite certain but that they were also.Certainly society had never seen on Sidney Graham's face that happy,enthusiastic look of intense satisfaction that the moon looked downupon that night. And, after all, they got home almost as soon as ifthey had gone on the ten-o'clock trolley.

  After that on one pretext or another those Grahams were always droppingin on the Hollisters at their work and managing to "help," andpresently even Shirley ceased to be annoyed or to apologize.

  The east end of the barn had been selected for bedrooms. A pair ofcretonne curtains was stretched across the long, narrow room from wallto partition, leaving the front room for their mother's bed and Doris'scrib, and the back room for Shirley and Carol. The boys had takenpossession of the loft with many shouts and elaborate preparations, andhad spread out their treasures with deep delight, knowing that at lastthere was room enough for their proper display and they need feel nofear that they would be thrown out because their place was wanted forsomething more necessary. Little by little the Hollisters were gettingsettled. It was not so hard, after all, because there was thatglorious big "attic" in which to put away things that were not neededbelow, and there was the whole basement for tubs and things, and alovely faucet down there, too, so that a lot of work could be donebelow the living-floor. It seemed just ideal to the girls, who hadbeen for several years accustomed to the cramped quarters of a tinycity house.

  At last even the beds were made up, and everything had been moved butthe bed and a few necessities in their mother's room, which were tocome the next day while they were moving their mother.

  That moving of mother had been a great problem to Shirley until Grahamanticipated her necessity, and said in a matter-of-fact way that hehoped Mrs. Hollister would let him take her to her new home in his car.Then Shirley's eyes filled with tears of gratitude. She knew hermother was not yet able to travel comfortably in a trolley-car, and theprice of a taxicab was more than she felt they
ought to afford; yet inher secret heart she had been intending to get one; but now there wouldbe no necessity.

  Shirley's words of gratitude were few and simple, but there wassomething in her eyes as she lifted them to Graham's face that made aglow in his heart and fully repaid him for his trouble.

  The last thing they did when they left the barn that night before theywere coming to stay was to set the table, and it really looked verycozy and inviting with a white cloth on it and the dishes set out tolook their best. Shirley looked back at it with a sweeping glance thattook in the great, comfortable living-room, the open door into thedining-room on one hand and the vista of a white bed on the other sidethrough the bedroom door. She smiled happily, and then switched offthe electric light, and stepped out into the sweet spring night.Graham, who had stood watching her as one might watch the opening ofsome strange, unknown flower, closed and locked the door behind them,and followed her down the grassy slope to the car.

  "Do you know," he said earnestly, "it's been a great thing to me towatch you make a real home out of this bare barn? It's wonderful!It's like a miracle. I wouldn't have believed it could be done. Andyou have done it so wonderfully! I can just see what kind of adelightful home it is going to be."

  There was something in his tone that made Shirley forget he was richand a stranger and her landlord. She lifted her face to the stars, andspoke her thoughts.

  "You can't possibly know how much like heaven it is going to be to usafter coming from that other awful little house," she said; "and youare the one who has made it possible. If it hadn't been for you I knowI never could have done it."

  "Oh, nonsense, Miss Hollister! You mustn't think of it, I haven't doneanything at all, just the simplest things that were absolutelynecessary."

  "Oh, I understand," said Shirley; "and I can't ever repay you, but Ithink God will. That is the kind of thing the kingdom of heaven ismade of."

  "Oh, really, now," said Graham, deeply embarrassed; he was not muchaccustomed to being connected with the kingdom of heaven in any way."Oh, really, you--you over-estimate it. And as for pay, I don't askany better than the fun my sister and I have had helping you getsettled. It has been a great play for us. We never really moved, yousee. We've always gone off and had some one do it for us. I'velearned a lot since I've known you."

  That night as she prepared to lie down on the mattress and blanket thathad been left behind for herself and Carol to camp out on, Shirleyremembered her first worries about Mr. Graham, and wondered whether itcould be possible that he thought she had been forward in any way, andwhat her mother would think when she heard the whole story of the newlandlord; for up to this time the secret had been beautifully kept frommother, all the children joining to clap their hands over waywardmouths that started to utter tell-tale sentences, and the mystery grew,and became almost like Christmas-time for little Doris and her mother.It must, however, be stated that Mrs. Hollister, that last night, asshe lay wakeful on her bed in the little bare room in the tiny house,had many misgivings, and wondered whether perchance she would not besighing to be back even here twenty-four hours later. She was holdingher peace wonderfully, because there really was nothing she could doabout it even if she was going out of the frying-pan into the fire; butthe tumult and worry in her heart had been by no means bliss. So themidnight drew on, and the weary family slept for the last night in thecramped old house where they had lived since trouble and poverty hadcome upon them.