CHAPTER VI UNCLE JASPER'S DIARY
After lunch the Winnebagos and the boys gathered around Nyoda in UncleJasper's study to hear her read aloud from "The Diery of Jasper M.Carver, Esqwire." She held the book up that all might see the portraitsof the fearsome pirates, and then turned over to the next page, where thesprawly, uneven writing began, and started to read.
"October 7, 1870. Confined to the house through bad behavior while father and mother have gone to the fair. I wasn't lonesome though because I had company. A boy ran into the yard chasing a cat and saw me sticking my head out of the upstairs window and blew a bean shooter at me and hit me on the chin and I hit him with an apple core and then he dared me to come out and lick him but I couldn't go out of the house so I dared him to climb up the porch post and come in the window. He came and I licked him. He is a new boy in town and his name is Sydney Phillips, but he wants to be called Tad. He lives up on Harrison Hill. We are going to be pirates when we grow up. I am going to be Jasper the Feend and he is going to be Tad the Terror. We swore eternul frendship and wrote our names in blood on the attic window sill."
"Oh, how delicious!" cried Sahwah at the end of the first entry. "Youruncle must have been lots of fun when he was young. What crazy thingsboys are, anyway! To start out by fighting each other and end up byswearing eternal friendship! Go on, Nyoda, what did they do next?"
Nyoda proceeded.
"November 10, 1870. Tad and I made a great discovery this afternoon. There is a secret passage in this house. It is----"
The concerted shriek of triumph that went up from the Winnebagos forcedNyoda to pause.
"I told you there was!" shouted Sahwah above the rest. "Please hurry andread where it is, I can't wait another minute!"
Nyoda turned the page and then paused. "The next page is torn out," shesaid, holding the book up so they could all see the ragged strip of paperleft hanging in the binding, where the page had been torn out.
"Oh, what a shame!" The wail rose on every side.
"Maybe it tells later," said Sahwah hopefully. "Go on, Nyoda." The dairycontinued on a page numbered six.
"January 4, 1871. Tad and I played pirat to-day. We made a pirat's den in the secret passage. We are going to hide our chests of money there, all pieces of eight. We haven't any pieces of eight yet just some red, white and blue dollars we found in the desk drawer in the library. Tad thinks maybe they are patriotick curency they used in the Revolushun"
Nyoda had to wait a minute until Sherry had got done laughing, and thenshe proceeded:
"February 19, 1871. I am in durrance vile, being locked in my room for a week with nothing to eat but bread and water because I shut Patricia up in the secret passage and went away and forgot all about her because there was a fire. I remembered and let her out as soon as I got home but she had fainted, being a silly girl and afraid of the dark, and she couldn't scream because we tied a handkerchief over her mouth when we kidnapped her, being pirats. So now I am in durrance vile and cannot see any of my family, not even Tad. But he stands behind the hedge and shoots pieces of candy through my window with the bean shooter and lightens my durrance vile which is what a sworn frend has to do when their names are written in blood on the attic window sill."
Thus the entries in the scrawling, boyish hand covered page after page,recounting the adventurous and ofttimes seamy career of the two youthfulpirates, through all of which the two stood up for each other stanchly,and never, never gave each other away, because they were "sworn frendstill deth us do part," and their names were "written in blood on theattic window sill."
The entries became farther apart after a while, and the spelling improveduntil finally there came this announcement:
"Tad and I can't be pirates any longer. We are going to college next week."
There the India ink ceased and also the illustrations. After that camepage after page of neat entries in faded but still legible blue ink,telling of the progress through college of the two boys; chronicles ofthe joys, the troubles, the triumphs and the escapades of the twofriends, still so inseparable that their names have become a byword amongthe students and they go by the nickname of David and Jonathan. When oneof them gets into trouble the other one still does "what a sworn friendhas to do when their names are written in blood on the attic windowsill." The Winnebagos listened with shining eyes while Nyoda read thetale of this remarkable friendship.
The dates of the entries moved forward by months; records of scrapesbecame fewer and fewer; David and Jonathan had outgrown their colthoodand were beginning to win honors with brain and brawn. Then came therecord of their graduation and return to Oakwood; of "Tad the Terror"becoming a doctor, of the marriage of Jasper's sister Patricia to a seacaptain; the death of his father and the passing of Carver House into hispossession.
Later came the account of a delightful year spent abroad with TadPhillips, of mountain climbing in the Alps; of browsing among rare oldart treasures in France and Italy; of gay larks in Paris. It was alwayshe and Tad, he and Tad; still as loyal to each other as in the days whenthey wrote their names in blood on the attic window sill.
After the entry which chronicled Jasper's return to Oakland and settlingdown in Carver House with his mother, and his enthusiastic adoption ofliterature as a profession, came an item which made the Winnebagos sit upand listen. It was:
"June 3, 1885. I have had a new window put into my study on the side which faces toward's Tad's house on Harrisburg Hill. I had the young Italian artist, Pusini, who has lately come to New York, come and set the glass for me. It is a representation of a charming scene I came across in Italy--an arched gateway covered over with climbing roses. The window is arranged so that through the arch of the gateway I can look directly at Tad's house. It gives me inspiration in my work."
"What a beautiful idea!" said Hinpoha, carried away completely by thegreat love of Jasper Carver for his friend, so simply expressed in hisdiary.
"So that was Tad's house, that we are living in!" said Sylvia excitedly."I wonder where he is now."
"Go on reading, Nyoda," said Sahwah, consumed with interest in the tale."See if he says anything about the shutter." Nyoda passed on to the nextentry.
"June 27, 1885. Went to the Academy of Music in Philadelphia to hear Sylvia Warrington sing. She is the new singer from the South that has created such a furore. The Virginia Nightingale, they call her. What a God-gifted woman she is! There never was such a voice as hers. She sang 'Hark, hark, the lark,' and the whole house rose to its feet. She was Spring incarnate. Sylvia Warrington! The name itself is music. I cannot forget her. She is like a lark singing in the desert at dawning."
A vague remembrance leaped up for an instant in Katherine's mind and diedas it came.
Nyoda read on through pages that recorded Uncle Jasper's meeting withSylvia Warrington; his great and growing love for her; his persistentwooing, her consenting to marry him; his wild happiness, which found ventin page after page of rapturous plans for the future. Then came theannouncement of Tad's return from a period of study abroad, and UncleJasper's proud presentation of his bride-to-be. After that Tad's nameappeared in connection with every occasion, still the faithful David tohis beloved Jonathan.
Then, almost without warning, the great friendship ran on the rocks andwas shattered. For Tad no sooner saw Sylvia Warrington than he too, fellmadly in love with her. A brief and bitter entry told how she finallybroke her engagement to Uncle Jasper and married Tad, and how UncleJasper, beside himself with grief and disappointment, turned against hisfriend and hated him with the undying hate that is born of jealousy. Withheavy strokes of the pen that cut the paper he wrote down hisdetermination to have no more friends and to live to himself thereafter.Then, in a shaky hand in marked contrast to the fierce strokes justabove, he wrote: "But Sylvia--I love her still. I can't help it." Thatshaky handwriting stood as a mute testimonial to his heart's torment, andNyoda, readi
ng it after all these years, felt a sympathetic spasm of painpass through her own heart at the sight of that wavering entry.
"It's just like a story in a book!" exclaimed Hinpoha, furtively dryingher eyes, which had overflowed during the reading of the last page. "Thebeautiful lady, and the rival lovers, and the disappointed one nevermarrying. Oh, it's too romantic for anything! Oh, _please_ hurry and readwhat comes next."
Nyoda turned the page and read the brief entry:
"I have taken up the study of ancient history as a serious pursuit. In it I hope to find forgetfulness."
The eyes of the Winnebagos traveled to the bookcase, and now they knewwhy there was nothing there but dull old books in heavy bindings, and whyUncle Jasper Carver hated love stories.
The next entry had them all sitting up again.
"I have had Hercules fasten an iron shutter over the window in my study--the one through which I can see Tad's house when I sit at my desk. I cannot bear to look at anything that reminds me of him."
"There!" shouted all the Winnebagos at once. "_That_ was the reason forputting up the iron shutter! The mystery is solved!"
"Poor Uncle Jasper!" said Nyoda pityingly. "What a Spartan he was! Howthoroughly he set about removing every memory of Tad from his mind! Thinkof covering up that beautiful pane of glass because he couldn't bear tolook through it at the house of his friend!" She finished reading theentry:
"Hercules demurred at covering up the window--he admired it more than anything else in the house--so to give him a satisfactory reason for doing so I told him the devil would come in through that gateway some day and I was putting up the shutter to keep him out. There's one thing sure; Hercules will never take that shutter down as long as he lives--he's scared nearly into a Chinaman."
"So that's why Hercules threw such a fit when we took the shutter off!"said Sherry. "He thought that now the devil would come in and get him.Poor, superstitious old nigger!"
"I wonder if Tad and Sylvia went to live in the house on HarrisburgHill," said Sahwah curiously. "He doesn't say whether they did or not."
"Oh, I wonder if they did!" cried Sylvia, with eager interest. "To thinkI've been living in the same house they lived in--if they _did_ livethere," she added. "But how strange it seems to hear them call that placeHarrisburg Hill. It is called Main Street Hill now."
"I wonder what Tad and Sylvia did after they were married," said Hinpoha,with romantic curiosity. "Did they stay in Oakwood, or did they go away?Is there any more, Nyoda?"
Nyoda was already glancing down the next page, which was written overwith lines in blacker ink, and broader and heavier strokes of the pen,which seemed somehow to express grim satisfaction on the part of UncleJasper. Grim satisfaction Uncle Jasper must indeed have felt when hewrote those lines, for misfortune had overtaken the one who had causedhis own anguish of heart. The entry told how Tad had become staffphysician at one of the large army posts in the west. There was anepidemic of typhoid and quite a few of the men were ill at once, allrequiring the same kind of medicine. Through carelessness in making up acertain medicine he put in a deadly poison instead of the harmlessingredient he intended to put in, and a dozen men died of the dose. Therewas a tremendous stir about the matter, and the newspapers all over thecountry were full of it. He was court-martialed, and though he wasacquitted, the mistake being entirely accidental, the matter had gainedsuch publicity that his career as a doctor was ruined. He left the armyand fled out of the country, taking Sylvia with him. Some months laterthe papers brought the announcement of both their deaths from yellowfever in Cuba. Again the handwriting began to waver on the last sentence."She is dead." In those three little words the Winnebagos seemed to hearthe echo of the breaking of a strong man's heart. There were no moreentries.
"Isn't it perfectly _thrilling_!" gulped Hinpoha, with eyes overflowingagain. "It's better than any book I ever read! And to think we neversuspected there was anything like that connected with your Uncle Jasper!There, now, Katherine Adams, what did I tell you? You said he was a bornbachelor, and just look at the romance he had!"
"He certainly did," said Katherine, in a tone of surrender.
"That must be why the house we lived in was shut up so long," said Sylviamusingly. "The man that said we could live in it said that old Mrs.Phillips had moved away many years ago and had never come back, andalthough people knew she was dead, no one had ever come to live in thehouse, and nobody in Oakwood knew who owned it. The man said he had heardfrom older people in the town that Mrs. Phillips had had a son who wasaway from home all the time after he was grown up and who had gotten intosome kind of trouble--he couldn't remember what it was. This must havebeen it! How queer it is, that I should first come to live in Tad'shouse, and then stay in the house of his friend! I never dreamed, when Iheard that man telling Aunt Aggie about the almost forgotten people thatused to live in the old house, that I should ever hear of them again.Things have turned out to be _so_ interesting since I came to stay in theWinter Palace!" she finished up with sparkling eyes.
Darkness had fallen by the time Nyoda had finished reading Uncle Jasper'sDiary, and she jumped up with a little exclamation as the clock on themantel-piece chimed six. The other hours had struck unnoticed. "Mercy!"she cried, "it's time dinner was on the table, and here we haven't evenbegun to get it! I forgot all about dinner, thinking about poor UncleJasper."
All the rest had forgotten about dinner, too, and the Winnebagos couldnot get their minds off the tale they had just heard read. "Poor UncleJasper!" they all said, looking up at his picture, and to their pityingeyes his face was no longer grim and stern, but only pathetic.