CHAPTER XII
ANTICIPATION
The day before the fair Sandy employed a substitute at thepost-office, in order to give the entire day to preparation for thefestivities to come.
Early in the morning he went to town, where, after much consultationand many changes of mind, he purchased a suit of clothes. Then herented the town dress-suit, to the chagrin of three other boys who hadeach counted upon it for the coming hop.
With the precious burden under his arm, Sandy hastened home. He spreadthe two coats on the bed, placing a white shirt inside each, and anecktie about each collar. Then he stood back and admired.
"It's meself I can see in them both this minute!" he exclaimed withdelight.
His shoes were polished until they were resplendent, but they lostmuch of their glory during subsequent practising of steps before themirror. He even brushed and cleaned his old clothes, for he foresawthe pain of laying aside the raiment of Solomon for dingy every-daygarments.
Toward noon he went down-stairs to continue his zealous efforts in thekitchen. This met with Aunt Melvy's instant disapproval.
"For mercy sake, git out ob my way!" she cried, as she squeezed pastthe ironing-board to get to the stove. "I'll press yer pants, efyou'll jus' take yourself outen de kitchen. Be sure don't burn 'em?Look a-heah, chile; I was pressin' pants 'fore yer paw was wearin''em!"
Aunt Melvy's temper was a thing not to be trifled with when a"protracted meeting" was in session. For years she had been the blacksheep in the spiritual fold. Her earnest desire to get religion andthe untiring efforts of the exhorters had alike proved futile. Yearafter year she sat on the mourners' bench, seeking the light andfailing each time to "come th'u'."
This discouraging condition of affairs sorely afflicted her, andproduced a kind of equinoctial agitation in the Hollis kitchen.
Sandy went on into the dining-room, but he found no welcome there.Mrs. Hollis was submerged in pastry. The county fair was her onedissipation, and her highest ambition was to take premiums. Every yearshe sent forth battalions of cakes, pies, sweet pickles, beatenbiscuit, crocheted doilies, and crazy-quilts to capture the blueribbon.
"Don't put the window up!" she warned Sandy. "I know it's stifling,but I can't have the dust coming in. Why don't you go on in thehouse?"
Mrs. Hollis always spoke of the kitchen and dining-room as if theywere not a part of the house.
"Can't ye tell me something that's good for the sunburn?" askedSandy, anxiously. "It's a dressed-up shooting-cracker I'll beresembling the morrow, in spite of me fine clothes."
"Buttermilk and lemon-juice," recommended Mrs. Hollis, as she placedthe last marshmallow on the roof of a four-story cake.
Sandy would have endured any discomfort that day in order to add onecharm to his personal appearance. He used so many lemons there werenone left for the judge's lemonade when he came home for dinner.
"Just home from the post-office?" he asked when he saw Sandy enter thedining-room with his hat on.
"Jimmy Reed's doing my work to-day," Sandy said apologetically. "Andif you please, sir, I'll be keeping my hat on. I have just washed myhair, and I want it to dry straight."
The judge looked at the suspicious turn of the thick locks around thebrim of the stiff hat and smiled.
"Vanitas vanitatum, et omnia vanitas," he quoted. "How many pages ofBlackstone to-day?"
Sandy made a wry face and winked at Mrs. Hollis, but she betrayed him.
"He has been primping since sun-up," she said. "Anybody would think hewas going to get married."
"Sweet good luck if I was!" cried Sandy, gaily.
The judge put down his fork and laid his hand on Sandy's arm. "Youmustn't neglect the learning, Sandy. You've made fine progress, andI'm proud of you. You've worked your way this far; I'll help you tothe top if you'll keep a steady head."
"That I'll do," cried Sandy, grasping his hand. "It's old Moseley'spromise I have for steady work at the academy. If I can't climb theladder, with you at one end and success at the other, then I'm notmuch of a chicken--I mean I'm not much."
"Well, you better begin by leaving the girls alone," said Mrs. Hollisas she moved the sugar out of his reach. "Just let one drive by thegate, and we don't have any peace until you know who it is."
"By the way," said the judge, as he helped himself to a corn-dodgerand two kinds of preserves, "I'm sorry to see the friendship that'ssprung up between Annette Fenton and young Nelson. I don't know whatthe doctor's thinking about to let it go on. Nelson is hitting apretty lively pace for a youngster. He'll never live to reap his wildoats, though. He came into the world with consumption, and I don'tthink he will be long getting out of it. He's always getting intodifficulty. I have had to fine him twice in the past month forgambling. Do you see anything of him, Sandy?"
"No," said Sandy, biting his lip. His pride had suffered more thanonce at Carter's condescension.
"Martha Meech must be worse," said Mrs. Hollis. "The up-stairs blindshave been closed all day."
Sandy pushed back the apple-dumpling which Aunt Melvy had made at hisspecial request.
"Perhaps I can be helping them," he said as he rose from the table.
When he came back he sat for a long time with his head on his hand.
"Is she much worse?" asked Mrs. Hollis.
"Yes," said Sandy; "and it's little that I can do, though she'scoughing her life away. It's a shame--and a shame!" he cried in hotrebellion.
All his vanity of the morning was dispelled by the tragedy takingplace next door. He paced back and forth between the two houses,begging to be allowed to help, and proposing all sorts of impossiblethings.
When inaction became intolerable, he plunged into his law books, atfirst not comprehending a line, but gradually becoming more and moreinterested, until at last the whole universe seemed to revolve about acase that was decided in a previous century.
When he rose it was almost dusk, and he came back to the presentworld with a start. His first thought was of Ruth and the rapturousprospect of seeing her on the morrow; a swift doubt followed as towhether a white tie or a black one was proper; then a sudden fear thathe had forgotten how to dance. He jumped to his feet, took a couple ofsteps--when he remembered Martha.
The house seemed suddenly quiet and lonesome. He went from thesitting-room to the kitchen, but neither Mrs. Hollis nor Aunt Melvywas to be found. Returning through the front hall, he opened the doorto the parlor.
The sight that met him was somewhat gruesome. Everything was carefullywrapped in newspapers. Pictures enveloped in newspapers hung on thewalls, newspaper chairs stood primly around a newspaper table. In thedim twilight it looked like the very ghost of a room.
Sandy threw open the window, and going over to the newspaper piano,untied the wrappings. He softly touched the keys and began to sing inan undertone. Old Irish love-songs, asleep in his heart since theywere first dropped there by the merry mother lips, stirred and awoke.The accompaniment limped along lamely enough; but the singer, with hatover his eyes and lemon-juice on his nose, sang on as only a poet andlover can. His rich, full voice lingered on the soft Celtic syllables,dwelt tenderly on the diminutive endearments, while his heart,overcharged with sorrow and joy and romance and dreams, spilled overin an ecstasy of song.
Next door, in an upper bedroom, a tired soul paused in its finalflight. Martha Meech, stretching forth her thin arms in the twilight,listened as one might listen to the strains of an angel choir.
"It's Sandy," she said, and the color came to her cheeks, the light toher eyes. For, like Sandy, she had youth and she had love, and lifeitself could give no more.