CHAPTER XIX
THE UNBEAUTIFUL WORLD
In spite of the exaltation of renunciation, and in spite of the joy ofbeing newly and especially "wanted," those early September days weresometimes hard for David. Not until he had relinquished all hope of his"start" did he fully realize what that hope had meant to him.
There were times, to be sure, when there was nothing but rejoicingwithin him that he was able thus to aid the Hollys. There were othertimes when there was nothing but the sore heartache because of thegreat work out in the beautiful world that could now never be done; andbecause of the unlovely work at hand that must be done. To tell thetruth, indeed, David's entire conception of life had become suddenly achaos of puzzling contradictions.
To Mr. Jack, one day, David went with his perplexities. Not that hetold him of the gold-pieces and of the unexpected use to which they hadbeen put--indeed, no. David had made up his mind never, if he couldhelp himself, to mention those gold-pieces to any one who did notalready know of them. They meant questions, and the questions,explanations. And he had had enough of both on that particular subject.But to Mr. Jack he said one day, when they were alone together:--
"Mr. Jack, how many folks have you got inside of your head?"
"Eh--what, David?"
David repeated his question and attached an explanation.
"I mean, the folks that--that make you do things."
Mr. Jack laughed.
"Well," he said, "I believe some people make claims to quite a number,and perhaps almost every one owns to a Dr. Jekyll and a Mr. Hyde."
"Who are they?"
"Never mind, David. I don't think you know the gentlemen, anyhow.They're only something like the little girl with a curl. One is very,very good, indeed, and the other is horrid."
"Oh, yes, I know them; they're the ones that come to me," returnedDavid, with a sigh. "I've had them a lot, lately."
Mr. Jack stared.
"Oh, have you?"
"Yes; and that's what's the trouble. How can you drive them off--theone that is bad, I mean?"
"Well, really," confessed Mr. Jack, "I'm not sure I can tell. Yousee--the gentlemen visit me sometimes."
"Oh, do they?"
"Yes."
"I'm so glad--that is, I mean," amended David, in answer to Mr. Jack'suplifted eyebrows, "I'm glad that you understand what I'm talkingabout. You see, I tried Perry Larson last night on it, to get him totell me what to do. But he only stared and laughed. He didn't know thenames of 'em, anyhow, as you do, and at last he got really almost angryand said I made him feel so 'buggy' and 'creepy' that he wouldn't darelook at himself in the glass if I kept on, for fear some one he'd neverknown was there should jump out at him."
Mr. Jack chuckled.
"Well, I suspect, David, that Perry knew one of your gentlemen by thename of 'conscience,' perhaps; and I also suspect that maybe consciencedoes pretty nearly fill the bill, and that you've been having a boutwith that. Eh? Now, what is the trouble? Tell me about it."
David stirred uneasily. Instead of answering, he asked another question.
"Mr. Jack, it is a beautiful world, isn't it?"
For a moment there was no, answer; then a low voice replied:--
"Your father said it was, David."
Again David moved restlessly.
"Yes; but father was on the mountain. And down here--well, down herethere are lots of things that I don't believe he knew about."
"What, for instance?"
"Why, lots of things--too many to tell. Of course there are things likecatching fish, and killing birds and squirrels and other things to eat,and plaguing cats and dogs. Father never would have called thosebeautiful. Then there are others like little Jimmy Clark who can'twalk, and the man at the Marstons' who's sick, and Joe Glaspell who isblind. Then there are still different ones like Mr. Holly's little boy.Perry says he ran away years and years ago, and made his people veryunhappy. Father wouldn't call that a beautiful world, would he? And howcan people like that always play in tune? And there are the Princessand the Pauper that you told about."
"Oh, the story?"
"Yes; and people like them can't be happy and think the world isbeautiful, of course."
"Why not?"
"Because they didn't end right. They didn't get married and live happyever after, you know."
"Well, I don't think I'd worry about that, David,--at least, not aboutthe Princess. I fancy the world was very beautiful to her, all right.The Pauper--well, perhaps he wasn't very happy. But, after all, David,you know happiness is something inside of yourself. Perhaps half ofthese people are happy, in their way."
"There! and that's another thing," sighed David. "You see, I found thatout--that it was inside of yourself--quite a while ago, and I told theLady of the Roses. But now I--can't make it work myself."
"What's the matter?"
"Well, you see then something was going to happen--something that Iliked; and I found that just thinking of it made it so that I didn'tmind raking or hoeing, or anything like that; and I told the Lady ofthe Roses. And I told her that even if it wasn't going to happen shecould THINK it was going to, and that that would be just the same,because 't was the thinking that made my hours sunny ones. It wasn'tthe DOING at all. I said I knew because I hadn't DONE it yet. See?"
"I--think so, David."
"Well, I've found out that it isn't the same at all; for now that IKNOW that this beautiful thing isn't ever going to happen to me, I canthink and think all day, and it doesn't do a mite of good. The sun isjust as hot, and my back aches just as hard, and the field is just asbig and endless as it used to be when I had to call it that those hoursdidn't count. Now, what is the matter?"
Mr. Jack laughed, but he shook his head a little sadly.
"You're getting into too deep waters for me, David. I suspect you'refloundering in a sea that has upset the boats of sages since the worldbegan. But what is it that was so nice, and that isn't going to happen?Perhaps I MIGHT help on that."
"No, you couldn't," frowned David; "and there couldn't anybody, either,you see, because I wouldn't go back now and LET it happen, anyhow, aslong as I know what I do. Why, if I did, there wouldn't be ANY hoursthat were sunny then--not even the ones after four o'clock; I--I'd feelso mean! But what I don't see is just how I can fix it up with the Ladyof the Roses."
"What has she to do with it?"
"Why, at the very first, when she said she didn't have ANY sunshinyhours, I told her--"
"When she said what?" interposed Mr. Jack, coming suddenly erect in hischair.
"That she didn't have any hours to count, you know."
"To--COUNT?"
"Yes; it was the sundial. Didn't I tell you? Yes, I know I did--aboutthe words on it--not counting any hours that weren't sunny, you know.And she said she wouldn't have ANY hours to count; that the sun nevershone for her."
"Why, David," demurred Mr. Jack in a voice that shook a little, "areyou sure? Did she say just that? You--you must be mistaken--when shehas--has everything to make her happy."
"I wasn't, because I said that same thing to her myself--afterwards.And then I told her--when I found out myself, you know--about its beingwhat was inside of you, after all, that counted; and then is when Iasked her if she couldn't think of something nice that was going tohappen to her sometime."
"Well, what did she say?"
"She shook her head, and said 'No.' Then she looked away, and her eyesgot soft and dark like little pools in the brook where the water stopsto rest. And she said she had hoped once that this something wouldhappen; but that it hadn't, and that it would take something more thanthinking to bring it. And I know now what she meant, because thinkingisn't all that counts, is it?"
Mr. Jack did not answer. He had risen to his feet, and was pacingrestlessly up and down the veranda. Once or twice he turned his eyestoward the towers of Sunnycrest, and David noticed that there was a newlook on his face.
Very soon, however, the old tiredness came back to his eyes, and hedroppe
d into his seat again, muttering "Fool! of course it couldn'tbe--that!"
"Be what?" asked David.
Mr. Jack started.
"Er--nothing; nothing that you would understand, David. Go on--withwhat you were saying."
"There isn't any more. It's all done. It's only that I'm wondering howI'm going to learn here that it's a beautiful world, so that Ican--tell father."
Mr. Jack roused himself. He had the air of a man who determinedlythrows to one side a heavy burden.
"Well, David," he smiled, "as I said before, you are still out on thatsea where there are so many little upturned boats. There might be agood many ways of answering that question."
"Mr. Holly says," mused the boy, aloud, a little gloomily, "that itdoesn't make any difference whether we find things beautiful or not;that we're here to do something serious in the world."
"That is about what I should have expected of Mr. Holly" retorted Mr.Jack grimly. "He acts it--and looks it. But--I don't believe you aregoing to tell your father just that."
"No, sir, I don't believe I am," accorded David soberly.
"I have an idea that you're going to find that answer just where yourfather said you would--in your violin. See if you don't. Things thataren't beautiful you'll make beautiful--because we find what we arelooking for, and you're looking for beautiful things. After all, boy,if we march straight ahead, chin up, and sing our own little song withall our might and main, we shan't come so far amiss from the goal, I'mthinking. There! that's preaching, and I didn't mean to preach;but--well, to tell the truth, that was meant for myself, for--I'mhunting for the beautiful world, too."
"Yes, sir, I know," returned David fervently. And again Mr. Jack,looking into the sympathetic, glowing dark eyes, wondered if, afterall, David really could--know.
Even yet Mr. Jack was not used to David; there were "so many of him,"he told himself. There were the boy, the artist, and a thirdpersonality so evanescent that it defied being named. The boy wasjolly, impetuous, confidential, and delightful--plainly reveling in allmanner of fun and frolic. The artist was nothing but a bunch of nervousalertness, ready to find melody and rhythm in every passing thought orflying cloud. The third--that baffling third that defied thenaming--was a dreamy, visionary, untouchable creature who floated sofar above one's head that one's hand could never pull him down to get agood square chance to see what he did look like. All this thought Mr.Jack as he gazed into David's luminous eyes.