At the Sign of the Jack O'Lantern

by Myrtle Reed

  XII

  Her Gift to the World

  "I regret, my dear madam," said Lawyer Bradford, twisting uneasily in hischair, "that I can offer you no encouragement whatsoever. The will isclear and explicit in every detail, and there are no grounds for acontest. I am, perhaps, trespassing upon the wishes of my client in givingyou this information, but if you are remaining here with the hope ofpecuniary profit, you are remaining here unnecessarily."

  He rose as though to indicate that the interview was at an end, but Mrs.Holmes was not to be put away in that fashion. Her eyes were blazing andher weak chin trembled with anger.

  "Do you mean to tell me," she demanded, "that Ebeneezer voluntarily diedwithout making some sort of provision for me and my helpless littlechildren?"

  "Your distinguished relation," answered Mr. Bradford, slowly, "certainlydied voluntarily. He announced the date of his death some weeks before itactually occurred, and superintended the making of his own coffin. Hewrote out minute directions for his obsequies, had his grave dug, and hisshroud made, burned his papers, rearranged his books, made his will--andwas found dead in his bed on the morning of the day set for his departure.A methodical person," muttered the old man, half to himself; "a mostmethodical and systematic person."

  Mrs. Holmes shuddered. She was not ordinarily a superstitious woman, butthere was something uncanny in this open partnership with Death.

  "There was a diamond pin," she suggested, moodily, "worth, I should think,some fifteen or sixteen hundred dollars. Ebeneezer gave it to dear Rebeccaon their wedding day, and she always said it was to be mine. Have you anyidea where it is?"

  Mr. Bradford fidgeted. "If it was intended for you," he said, finally, "itwill be given to you at the proper time, or you will be directed to itslocation. Mrs. Judson died, did she not, about three weeks after theirmarriage?"

  "Yes," snapped Mrs. Holmes, readily perceiving the line of his thought,"and I saw her twice in those three weeks. Both times she spoke of thepin, which she wore constantly, and said that if anything happened to her,she wanted me to have it, but that old miser hung on to it."

  "Madam," said Mr. Bradford, a faint flush mounting to his temples as heopened the office door, "you are speaking of my Colonel, under whom Iserved in the war. He was my best friend, and though he is dead, it isstill my privilege to protect him. I bid you good afternoon!"

  She did not perceive until long afterward that she had practically beenejected from the legal presence. Even then, she was so intent upon thepoint at issue that she was not offended, as at another time she certainlywould have been.

  "He's lying," she said to herself, "they're all lying. There's moneyhidden in that house, and I know it, and what's more, I'm going to haveit!"

  She had searched her own rooms on the night of her arrival, but foundnothing, and the attic, so far, had yielded her naught save discouragementand dust. "To think," she continued, mentally, "that after two of mychildren were born here and named for them, that we are left in this way!I call it a shame, a disgrace, an outrage!"

  Her anger swiftly cooled, however, as she went into the house, and herfond sight rested upon her darlings. Willie had a ball and had alreadybroken two of the front windows. The small Rebecca was under the sofa,tempering the pleasure of life for Claudius Tiberius, while youngEbeneezer, having found a knife somewhere, was diligently scratching themelodeon.

  "Just look," said Mrs. Holmes, in delighted awe, as Dorothy entered theroom. "Don't make any noise, or you will disturb Ebbie. He is such asensitive child that the sound of a strange voice will upset him. Did youever see anything like those figures he is drawing on the melodeon? Ibelieve he's going to be an artist!"

  Crushed as she was in spirit by her uncongenial surroundings, Dorothystill had enough temper left to be furiously angry. In these latter days,however, she had gained largely in self-control, and now only bit her lipswithout answering.

  But Mrs. Holmes would not have heard her, even if she had replied. Asudden yowl from the distressed Claudius impelled Dorothy to move the sofaand rescue him.

  "How cruel you are!" commented Mrs. Holmes. "The idea of taking Rebbie'splaything away from her! Give it back this instant!"

  Mrs. Carr put the cat out and returned with a defiant expression on herface, which roused Mrs. Holmes to action. "Willie," she commanded, "go outand get the kitty for your little sister. There, there, Rebbie, darling,don't cry any more! Brother has gone to get the kitty. Don't cry!"

  But "brother" had not gone. "Chase it yourself," he remarked, coolly. "I'mgoing out to the barn."

  "Dear Willie's individuality is developing every day," Mrs. Holmes wenton, smoothly. "There, there, Rebbie, don't cry any more. Go and tell Mrs.Smithers to give you a big piece of bread with lots of butter and jam onit. Tell her mamma said so. Run along, that's a nice little girl."

  Rude squares, triangles, and circles appeared as by magic on the shiningsurface of the melodeon, the young artist being not at all disturbed bythe confusion about him.

  "I am blessed in my children," Mrs. Holmes went on, happily. "I oftenwonder what I have done that I should have so perfect a boy as Willie formy very own. Everybody admires him so that I dwell in constant fear ofkidnappers."

  "I wouldn't worry," said Dorothy, with ill-concealed sarcasm. "Anybody whotook him would bring him back inside of two hours."

  "I try to think so," returned the mother, with a deep sigh. "Willie'sindomitable will is my deepest comfort. He gets it from my side of thefamily. None of the children take after their father at all. Ebbie was alittle like his father's folks at first, but I soon got it out of him andmade him altogether like my people. I do not think anybody could keepWillie away from me except by superior physical force. He absolutelyadores his mother, as my other children do. You never saw such beautifulsentiment as they have. The other day, now, when I went away and leftRebbie alone in my apartment, she took down my best hat and put it on. Thepoor little thing wanted to be near her mother. Is it not touching?"

  "It is indeed," Dorothy assented, dryly.

  "My children have never been punished," continued Mrs. Holmes, nowauspiciously launched upon her favourite theme. "It has never beennecessary. I rule them entirely through love, and they are so accustomedto my methods that they bitterly resent any interference by outsiders.Why, just before we came here, Ebbie, young as he is, put out the left eyeof a woman who tried to take his dog away from him. He did it with hislittle fist and with apparently no effort at all. Is it not wonderful tosee such strength and power of direction in one so young? The woman was inthe hospital when we came away, and I trust by this time, she has learnednot to interfere with Ebbie. No one is allowed to interfere with mychildren."

  "Apparently not," remarked Mrs. Carr, somewhat cynically.

  "It is beautiful to be a mother--the most beautiful thing on earth! Justthink how much I have done for the world!" Her sallow face glowed with theconscious virtue bestowed by one of the animal functions upon those whohave performed it.

  "In what way?" queried Mrs. Carr, wholly missing the point.

  "Why, in raising Willie and Ebbie and Rebbie! No public service can for amoment be compared with that! All other things sink into insignificancebeside the glorious gift of maternity. Look at Willie--a form that asculptor might dream of for a lifetime and never hope to imitate--a headthat already has inspired great artists! The gentleman who took Willie'slast tintype said that he had never seen such perfect lines, and insistedon taking several for fear something should happen to Willie. He wanted tokeep some of them for himself--it was pathetic, the way he pleaded, but Imade him sell me all of them. Willie is mine and I have the first right tohis tintypes. And a lady once painted Willie at his play in black andwhite and sent it to one of the popular weeklies. I have no doubt theygave her a fortune for it, but it never occurred to her to give usanything more than one copy of the paper."

  "Which paper was it?"

  "One of the so-called comic weeklies. You know they publish superbartistic things. I thi
nk they are doing a wonderful work in educating themasses to a true appreciation of art. One of the wonderful parts of it wasthat Willie knew all about it and was not in the least conceited. Anyother child would have been set up at being a model for a great artist,but Willie was not affected at all. He has so much character!"

  At this point the small Rebecca entered, dragging her doll by one arm, andmunching a thick slice of bread, thinly coated with molasses.

  "I distinctly said jam," remarked Mrs. Holmes. "Servants are so heedless.I do not know that molasses is good for Rebbie. What would you think, Mrs.Carr?"

  "I don't think it will hurt her if she doesn't get too much of it."

  "There's no danger of her getting too much of it. Mrs. Smithers is toostingy for that. Why, only yesterday, Willie told me that she refused tolet him dip his dry bread in the cream, and gave him a cup of plain milkinstead. Willie knows when his system needs cream and I want him to haveall the nourishment he can get. The idea that she should think she knewmore about it than Willie! She was properly punished for it, however. Imyself saw Willie throw a stick of stove wood at her and hit her foolishhead with it. I think Willie is going to be a soldier, a commander of anarmy. He has so much executive ability and never misses what he aims at.

  "Rebbie, don't chew on that side, darling; remember your loose tooth isthere. Mamma doesn't want it to come out."

  "Why?" asked Dorothy, with a gleam of interest.

  "Because I can't bear to have her little baby teeth come out and make hergrow up! I want to keep her just as she is. I have all my children'steeth, and some day I am going to have them set into a beautiful bracelet.Look at that! How generous and unselfish of Rebbie! She is trying to shareher bread with her doll. I believe Rebbie is going to be a philanthropist,or a college-settlement worker. See, she is trying to give the doll themolasses--the very best part of it. Did you ever see such a beautifulspirit in one so young?"

  Before Mrs. Carr could answer, young Ebeneezer had finished his woodcarving and had grabbed his protesting twin by the hair.

  "There, there, Rebbie," soothed the mother, "don't cry. Brother was onlyloving little sister. Be careful, Ebbie. You can take hold of sister'shair, but not too hard. They love each other so," she went on. "Ebbie isreally sentimental about Rebbie. He loves to touch and stroke her gloriousblonde hair. Did you ever see such hair as Rebbie's?"

  It came into Mrs. Carr's mind that "Rebbie's" hair looked more like aplate of cold-slaw than anything else, but she was too wise to put thethought into words.

  Willie slid down the railing and landed in the hall with a loud whoop ofglee. "How beautiful to hear the sounds of childish mirth," said Mrs.Holmes. "How----"

  From upstairs came a cry of "Help! Help!"

  Muffled though the voice was, it plainly issued from Uncle Israel's room,and under the impression that the bath cabinet had finally set the houseon fire, Mrs. Carr ran hastily upstairs, followed closely by Mrs. Holmes,who was flanked at the rear by the grinning Willie and the interestedtwins.

  From a confused heap of bedding, Uncle Israel's scarlet ankles wavedfrantically. "Help! Help!" he cried again, his voice being almost whollydeadened by the pillows, which had fallen on him after the collapse.

  Dorothy helped the trembling old man to his feet. He took a copiousdraught from the pain-killer, then sat down on his trunk, much perturbed.

  Investigation proved that the bed cord had been cut in a dozen places bysome one working underneath, and that the entire structure had instantlycaved in when Uncle Israel had crept up to the summit of his bed and laindown to take his afternoon nap. When questioned, Willie proudly admittedthat he had done it.

  "Go down and ask Mrs. Smithers for the clothes-line," commanded Dorothy,sternly.

  "I won't," said Willie, smartly, putting his hands in his pockets.

  "You had better go yourself, Mrs. Carr," suggested Mrs. Holmes. "Willie istired. He has played hard all day and needs rest. He must not on anyaccount over-exert himself, and, besides, I never allow any one else tosend my children on errands. They obey me and me alone."

  "Go yourself," said Willie, having gathered encouragement from thematernal source.

  "I'll go," wheezed Uncle Israel. "I can't sleep in no other bed.Ebeneezer's beds is all terrible drafty, and I took two colds at oncesleepin' in one of 'em when I knowed better 'n to try it." He tottered outof the room, the very picture of wretchedness.

  "Was it not clever of Willie?" whispered Mrs. Holmes, admiringly, toDorothy. "So much ingenuity--such a fine sense of humor!"

  "If he were my child," snapped Dorothy, at last losing her admirablecontrol of a tempestuous temper, "he'd be soundly thrashed at least threetimes a week!"

  "I do not doubt it," replied Mrs. Holmes, contemptuously. "These marriedold maids, who have no children of their own, are always wholly out ofsympathy with a child's nature."

  "When I was young," retorted Mrs. Carr, "children were not allowed to rulethe entire household. There was a current superstition to the effect thatolder people had some rights."

  "And yet," Mrs. Holmes continued, meditatively, "as the editor of _TheLadies' Own_ so pertinently asks, what is a house for if not to bring up achild in? The purpose of architecture is defeated, where there are nochildren."

  Uncle Israel, accompanied by Dick, hobbled into the room with theclothes-line. Mrs. Holmes discreetly retired, followed by her offspring,and, late in the afternoon, when Dorothy and Dick were well-nigh faggedout, the structure was in place again. Tremulously the exhausted owner laydown upon it, and asked that his supper be sent to his room.

  By skilful manoeuvring with Mrs. Smithers, Dick compelled theproud-spirited Willie to take up Uncle Israel's tray and wait for it."I'll tell my mother," whimpered the sorrowful one.

  "I hope you will," replied Dick, significantly; but for some reason of hisown, Willie neglected to mention it.

  At dinner-time, Mr. Perkins drew a rolled manuscript, tied with a blackribbon, from his breast pocket, and, without preliminary, proceeded toread as follows:

  TO THE MEMORY OF EBENEEZER JUDSON

  A face we loved has vanished, A voice we adored is now still, There is no longer any music In the tinkling rill.

  His hat is empty of his head, His snuff-box has no sneezer, His cane is idle in the hall For gone is Ebeneezer.

  Within the house we miss him, Let fall the sorrowing tear, Yet shall we gather as was our wont Year after sunny year.

  He took such joy in all his friends That he would have it so; He left his house to relatives But none of us need go.

  In fact, we're all related, Sister, friend, and brother; And in this hour of our grief We must console each other.

  He would not like to have us sad, Our smiles were once his pleasure And though we cannot smile at him, His memory is our treasure.

  When he had finished, there was a solemn silence, which was at lastrelieved by Mrs. Dodd. "Poetry broke out in my first husband's family,"she said, "but with sulphur an' molasses an' quinine an' plenty ofwet-sheet packs it was finally cured."

  "You do not understand," said the poet, indulgently. "Your aura is notharmonious with mine."

  "Your--what?" demanded Mrs. Dodd, pricking up her ears.

  "My aura," explained Mr. Perkins, flushing faintly. "Each individualitygives out a spiritual vapour, like a cloud, which surrounds one. These areall in different colours, and the colours change with the thoughts wethink. Black and purple are the gloomy, morose colours; deep blue and thepaler shades show a sombre outlook on life; green is more cheerful, thoughstill serious; yellow and orange show ambition and envy, and red and whiteare em
blematic of all the virtues--red of the noble, martial qualities ofman and white of the angelic disposition of woman," he concluded, with ameaning glance at Elaine, who had been much interested all along.

  "What perfectly lovely ideas," she said, in a tone which made Dick's bloodboil. "Are they original with you, Mr. Perkins?"

  The poet cleared his throat. "I cannot say that they are wholly originalwith me," he admitted, reluctantly, "though of course I have modified andamplified them to accord with my own individuality. They are doingwonderful things now in the psychological laboratories. They have a systemof tubes so finely constructed that by breathing into one of them aperson's mental state is actually expressed. An angry person, breathinginto one of these finely organised tubes, makes a decided change in thecolour of the vapour."

  "Humph!" snorted Mrs. Dodd, pushing back her chair briskly. "I've beenmarried seven times, an' I never had to breathe into no tube to let any ofmy husbands know when I was mad!"

  The poet crimsoned, but otherwise ignored the comment. "If you will comeinto the parlour just as twilight is falling," he said to the others, "Iwill gladly recite my ode on Spring."

  Subdued thanks came from the company, though Harlan excused himself on thescore of his work, and Mrs. Holmes was obliged to put the twins to bed.When twilight fell, no one was at the rendezvous but Elaine and the poet.

  "It is just as well," he said, in a low tone. "There are several underdear Uncle Ebeneezer's roof who are afflicted with an inharmonious aura.With yours only am I in full accord. It is a great pleasure to an artistto feel such beautiful sympathy with his work. Shall I say it now?"

  "If you will," murmured Elaine, deeply honoured by acquaintance with areal poet.

  Mr. Perkins drew his chair close to hers, leaned over with an air ofloving confidence, and began:

  Spring, oh Spring, dear, gentle Spring, My poet's garland do I bring To lay upon thy shining hair Where rests a wreath of flowers so fair. There is a music in the brook Which answers to thy tender look And in thy eyes there is a spell Of soft enchantment too sweet to tell. My heart to thine shall ever turn For thou hast made my soul to burn With rapture far beyond----

  Elaine screamed, and in a twinkling was on her chair with her skirtsgathered about her. It was only Claudius Tiberius, dressed in Rebecca'sdoll's clothes, scooting madly toward the front door, but it servedeffectually to break up the entertainment.