CHAPTER XV
"Graduation from high school" ranks second in importance only to awedding in rural New England families. For not only the "GraduatingExercises" themselves, with their "Salutatory" and "Valedictory"addresses, their "Class History" and "Class Prophecy," their essays andsongs, constitute a great occasion, but there is also the all-dayexcursion of picnic character; the "Baccalaureate Sermon" in the largestchurch; the "Prize Speaking" in the nearest "Opera House"; and last, butnot least, the "Graduation Ball" in the Town Hall. The boys sufferagonies in patent-leather boots, high, stiff collars and blue sergesuits; the girls suffer torments of jealousy over the fortunate few whosewhite organdie dresses come "ready-made" straight from Boston. TheValedictorian, the winner at "Prize Speaking," the belle of the parties,are great and glorious beings somewhat set apart from the rest of thegraduates; and long after housework and farming are peacefully resumedagain, the success of "our class" is a topic of enduring interest.
A wedding brings even more in its train. The bride's house, where themarriage service, as well as the wedding reception, generally takesplace, must be swept and scoured from attic to cellar, and, if possible,painted and papered as well. Guest-rooms must be set in order forvisiting members of the family, and the bridal feast prepared and servedwithout the help of caterers. The express office is haunted for incomingwedding presents, and though the destination of "the trip"--generally toMontreal or Niagara Falls if the happy pair can afford it--is awell-guarded secret, the trousseau and the gifts, as they arrive, standin proud display for the neighbors to run in and admire, and theprospective bride and groom, self-conscious and blushing, attend divineservice together in the face of a smiling and whispering congregation.
It was small wonder, then, that the Gray family, with the prospect of agraduation and a wedding within a few days of each other before it, wasthrown into a ferment of excitement compared to which the hilarity of theChristmas holidays was but a mild ripple. Molly had won a scholarship atthe Conservatory, and was beginning to show some talent for musicalcomposition; Katherine was the Valedictorian of her class; Edith hadevery dance engaged for the ball; and though Thomas had not distinguishedhimself in any special way, he had kept a good average all the year inhis studies, and managed to be very nearly self-supporting by the outside"chores" he had done at college, and it was felt that he, too, deservedmuch credit, and that his home-coming would be a joyful event. He wastrying out "practical experiments" with his class, and could promise onlyto arrive "just in time"; but Molly, who headed her letters with thenotes of the wedding march, and said that she was practising it everynight, wrote that she would be home _plenty_ long enough beforehand tohelp with _everything_, and that mother _simply mustn't_ get all worn outworking too hard with the house-cleaning; Sadie and James were cominghome for a week, to take in both festivities, though Sadie must be"careful not to overdo just now." Katherine was entirely absorbed in herdetermination to get "over ninety" in every one of her finalexaminations; and Mr. and Mrs. Gray were both so busy and so preoccupiedthat Edith and Peter were left to pursue the course of true loveunobserved and undisturbed.
The effect which Austin's letter to his mother, written the night afterhe reached New York, produced in a household already pitched so high, mayreadily be imagined. A thunderbolt casually exploding in their midstcould not have effected half such a shock of surprise, or the gift of allthe riches of the Orient so much joy. And when, a week later, he camehome bringing Sylvia with him--a new Sylvia, laughing, crying, blushing,as shy as a girl surprised at her first tete-a-tete, Mr. and Mrs. Graywelcomed the little lady they loved so well as their daughter.
Those were great days for Mrs. Elliott, who, as mother of the prospectivebridegroom, as well as Mrs. Gray's most intimate friend, enjoyed especialprivileges; and as she was not averse to sharing her information andexperiences, the entire village joyfully fell upon the morsels of choicegossip with which she regaled them.
"I don't believe any house in the village ever held so many elegantclothes at once," she declared. "For besides all Sally's things, whichare just too sweet for anything, there's Katherine's graduation dress an'ball-dress, an' a third one, mind, to wear when she's bridesmaid--mostgirls would think they was pretty lucky to have any one of the three!Edith has a bridesmaid's dress just like hers, an' a bright yellow onefor the ball, an' Molly's maid-of-honor's outfit is handsomest ofall--pale pink silk, draped over kind of careless-like with chif_fon_,an' shoes an' silk stockin's to match. An' Mis' Gray, besides thatpearl-colored satin Austin brought her from Europe, has a lavenderbrocade! 'I didn't feel to need it at all,' she told me, 'but Sylvia justinsisted. "Two nice dresses aren't a bit too many for you to have," saysSylvia; "the gray one will be lovely for church all summer, an' afterSally's weddin', you can put away the lavender for--Austin's," shefinished up, blushin' like a rose.' 'Have you any idea when that's goin'to be?' I couldn't help askin'. 'No,' says Mis' Gray, 'I wish I had.Howard an' I tried to persuade her to be married the same night as Sally!I've always admired a double-weddin'. But she wouldn't hear of it, an' Imust say I was surprised to see her so set against it, an' that Austindidn't urge her a bit, either, for they just set their eyes by eachother, any one can see that, an' there ain't a thing to hinder 'em fromgettin' married to-morrow, that I know of, if they want to--unlessperhaps they think it's too soon,' she ended up, kinder meanin'-like."
"The presents are somethin' wonderful," Mrs. Elliott related on anotheroccasion. "Sally's uncle out in Seattle--widower of her that left Austinall that money--has sent her a whole dinner-set, white with pink roses onit--twelve dozen pieces in all, countin' vegetable dishes, bone-plates,an' a soup-tureen. She's had sixteen pickle-forks, ten bon-bon spoons,an' eight cut-glass whipped-cream bowls, but I dare say they'll all comein handy, one way or another, an' it makes you feel good to have so manygenerous friends. Austin's insisted on givin' her one of them Holst_een_cows he fetched over from Holland, an' Fred says it's one of the mostvaluable things she's got, though I should feel as if any good bossy,raised right here in Hamstead, would probably do 'em just as well, an'that he might have chosen somethin' a little more tasty. Ain't men queer?Sylvia? Oh, she's given her a whackin' big check--enough so Sally can payall her 'personal expenses,' as she calls 'em all her life, an' nevertouch the principal at that; an' a big box of knives an' forks an'spoons--'a chest of flat silver' she calls it, an' a silver tea-set tomatch--awful plain pattern they are, but Sally likes 'em. Yes, it's niceof her, but it ain't any more than I expected. She's got plenty ofmoney--why shouldn't she spend it?"
Only once did Mrs. Elliott say anything unpleasant, and the village,knowing her usually sharp tongue, thought she did remarkably well, andtook but little stock in this particular speech.
"I'm glad it's Sally Fred picked out, an' not one of the other girls,"she declared; "she's twenty-nine years old now--a good, sensibleage--pleasant an' easy-goin', same's her mother is, an' yet real capable.Ruth always was a silly, incompetent little thing--she has to hire helpmost of the time, with nothin' in the world to do but cook for Frank,look after that little tiny house, take care of them two babies, an' gointo the store off an' on when business is rushin'. Molly's head is fullof nothin' but music, an' Katherine's of books. As to that pretty littlefool, Edith, I'm glad she ain't my daughter, runnin' round all the timewith that Dutch boy, an' her parents both so possessed with the idea thatshe ain't out of her cradle yet--she bein' the youngest--that they can'tsee it. Peter ain't the only one she keeps company with either--if hewas, it wouldn't be so bad, for I guess he's a good enough boy, though Ican't understand a mortal word he says, an' them foreigners all have akinder vacant look, to me. But the other night I was took awful suddenwith one of them horrible attacks of indigestion I'm subject to--we'd hadrhubarb pie for supper, an' 'twas just elegant, but I guess I ate toomuch of it, an' the telephone wouldn't work on account of thethunderstorm we'd had that day--seems like that there'd been a lot ofthem this season--so Joe had to hitch up an' go for the doctor. As hewent past
the cemetery, he see Edith leanin' over the fence with thatno-count Jack Weston--an' it was past midnight, too!"
In the midst of such general satisfaction, it was perhaps inevitable thatat least one person should not be pleased. And that person, as will bereadily guessed, was Thomas. Sylvia, thinking the blow might fall morebearably from his brother's hand than from hers, relegated the task ofwriting him to Austin; and Austin, with a wicked twinkle in his eye,wrote him in this wise:
DEAR THOMAS:
When you made that little break that I warned you against this spring,Sylvia probably offered to be a sister to you. I believe that is usual onsuch occasions. You have doubtless noticed that she is exceptionallytruthful for a girl, so--largely to keep her word to you, perhaps--shedecided a little while ago to marry me. Of course, I tried to dissuadeher from this plan, but you know she is also stubborn. There seems to benothing for me to do but to fall in with it. I don't know yet when theexecution is going to take place, and though, of course, it would be arelief in a way if I did, I am not finding the death sentence without itscompensations. Why don't you come home over some Sunday, and see how wellI am bearing up? Sylvia told me to ask you, with her love, or I shouldnot bother, for I am naturally a little loath, even now, to have sodangerous a rival, as you proved yourself in your spring vacation, toomuch in evidence.
Your affectionate brother
AUSTIN
P.S. Have you taken any more ladies to Moving-Picture Palaces lately?
Needless to say, if Sylvia had seen this epistle, it would not have gone.But she did not. Austin took good care of that. And Thomas did comehome--without waiting for Sunday. He rushed to the Dean's office, andtold him there had been a death in the family. It is probable that, atthe moment, he felt that this was true. At any rate, the Dean, looking atthe boy's flushed cheeks and heavy eyes, did not doubt it for an instant.
"Of course, you must go home at once," he said kindly; "wait a minute, myFord's at the door. I'll run you down to the station--you can just catchthe one o'clock. I'll tell one of the fellows to express a suit-case toyou this evening."
Travel on the Central Vermont Railroad is safe, but its best friendcannot maintain that it is swift. To get from Lake Champlain to theConnecticut River requires several changes, much patient waiting in smalland uninteresting stations for connections, and the consumption ofconsiderable time. It was a little after seven when Thomas, dinnerlessand supperless, reached Hamstead, and plodding doggedly up the road in aheavy rain, met Mr. and Mrs. Elliott just starting out in their buggy forThursday evening prayer meeting.
"Pull up, Joe," the latter said excitedly, as she spied the boy advancingtowards them. "I do declare, there's Thomas Gray comin' up the road. Iwonder if he's been expelled, or only suspended. I must find out, so's Ican tell the folks about it after meetin', an' go down an' comfort Marythe first thing in the mornin' after I get them tomato plants set out. Ialways thought Thomas was some steadier than Austin, but Burlington's agay place, an' he's probably got in with wild companions up there. Do yousuppose it's some cheap little show girl, or gettin' in liquor by expressfrom over in New York State, or forgin' a check on account of gamblin'debts? I know how boys spend their time while they're gettin' educated,you can't tell me. Or maybe he hasn't passed some examination. He neverwas extra bright. Failed everything, probably.--Good-evenin', Thomas,it's nice to see you back, but quite a surprise, it not bein' vacationtime or nothin'. I suppose everything's goin' fine at college, ain't it?"
Thomas had never loved Mrs. Elliott, and lately he had come as nearhating her as he was capable of hating anybody. He longed inexpressiblyto cast a withering scowl in her direction, and pass on withoutanswering. But his inborn civility was greater than his aversion. Hepulled off his cap and stopped.
"Yes, everything's all right--I guess," he said, rather stupidly. Then abrilliant inspiration struck him. "I've been doing so well in my studiesthat they've given me a few days off to come home. That doesn't oftenhappen--they made an exception in my case."
It was seldom that the slow-witted Thomas was blessed with one ofthese flights of fancy. For a minute he felt almost cheered. Mrs.Elliott was baffled.
"Do tell," she exclaimed. "It must be a rare thing--I never hear the likeof it before. I'm most surprised you didn't take advantage of such achance to go down to Boston an' see Molly. Didn't feel's you could affordit, I suppose. I guess she's kinder lonely down there. She don't seem toget acquainted real fast. You'd think, with all the people there _are_ inBoston, she wouldn't ha' had much trouble, but then Molly's manner ain'tin her favor, an' I suppose folks in the city is real busy--must be awfulhard to keep house, livin' the way they do. I don't think much of citylife. The last time Joe an' I went down on the excursion, we see theCharles River, an' the Old Ladies' Home, an' the Chamber of Horrors downon Washington Street, but we was real glad to come home. There wassomethin' the matter with the lock to our suit-case, an' we couldn't getit undone all the time we was there, but fortunately it was real warmweather, so we really didn't suffer none. I thought by this time Mollymight have a beau, but then, Molly's real plain. If the looks could ha'ben divided up more even between her an' Edith, same's the brains betweenyou an' Austin, 'twould ha' ben a good thing, wouldn't it? But then yousay you're gettin' on well now, an' in time some man may marry her, so'she can set an' listen to her play when he comes in tired from his choresat night. I've heard of sech things. An' then there's quite a bunch oflove-affairs in the family already, ain't there?"
"Yes," said Thomas angrily, "there is."
Mrs. Elliott was quick to mark his tone. She nudged her husband.
"Well, well," she said playfully, "Austin's cut you out, ain't he? Mr.Jessup was in the race for a while, too, an' I thought he was runnin'pretty good, but you know we read in the Bible it don't always go to theswift. An' Austin may not get her after all--I hear there's several inNew York as well an' she might change her mind. I never set much stock inyoung men marryin' widows myself. Seems like there's plenty of nice girlsas ought to have a chance. An' Sylvia's awful high-toned, an' stubborn asa mule--I dunno's she an' Austin will be able to stick it out, he's someset himself. I shouldn't wonder if it all got broke off, an' I'm notsayin' it mightn't be for the best if it was. But I don't deny Sylvia'sreal pretty an' generous, an' I like her spunk. I was tellin' Joe onlyyesterday--"
"I'm afraid I'm keeping you from meeting," said Thomas desperately, andstrode off down the road.
The barn--the beautiful new barn that Sylvia had made possible and thathad filled his heart with such joy and pride--was still lighted. Hewalked straight to it, and met Peter coming out of the door. Peterstared his surprise.
"Where's my brother?" asked Thomas roughly.
"Mr. Gray ben still in the barn vorking. It's too bad he haf so much todo--he don't get much time mit de missus--den she tink he don't vant tocome. I'm glad you're back, Mr. Thomas. I vas yust gon in to get ve herdbook for him. I took it in to show Edit' someting I vant to explain toher, and left it in ve house. Most dum."
"You needn't bring it back. I want to see him alone."
Peter nodded, his bewilderment growing, and disappeared. Thomas flunghimself down the long stable, without once glancing at the row ofbeautiful cows, his footsteps echoing on the concrete, to the office atthe farther end. The door was open, and Austin sat at the roll-top desk,which was littered with account books, transfer sheets, and pedigreecards, typewriting vigorously. He sprang up in surprise.
"Why, Thomas!" he exclaimed cordially. "Where did you drop from? I'mawfully glad to see you!"
"You damned mean deceitful skunk!" cried the boy, slamming the doorbehind him, and ignoring his brother's outstretched hand. "I'd like tosmash every bone in your body until there wasn't a piece as big as atoothpick left of you! You made me think you didn't care a rap abouther--you said I wasn't worthy of her--that I was an ignorant farmer andshe was a great lady. That's true enough--but I'm just as good as youare, every bit! I know you've done all sorts of rotten things I neverhave
! But just the same this is the first time I ever thought thatyou--or any Gray--wasn't _square_! And then you write me a letter abouther like that--as if she'd flung herself at your head--_Sylvia_!"
Austin's conscience smote him. He had never seen Thomas's side before;and neither he nor any other member of the family had guessed how muchtheir incessant teasing had hurt, or how hard the younger brother hadbeen hit. In the extremely unsentimental way common in New England, thesetwo were very fond of each other, and he realized that Thomas'saffection, which was very precious to him, would be gone forever if hedid not set him right at once.
"Look here," he said, forcing Thomas into the swivel chair, and seatinghimself on the desk, ignoring the papers that fell fluttering to thefloor, "you listen to me. You've got everything crooked, and it's myfault, and I'm darned sorry. I never told you I cared for Sylvia, notbecause I wanted to deceive you, but because I cared so everlasting_much_, from the first moment I set eyes on her, that I couldn't talkabout it. No one else guessed either--you weren't the only one. Thefunny part of it is, that _she_ didn't! She thought, because I steeredpretty clear of her, out of a sense of duty, that I didn't like herespecially. Imagine--not liking Sylvia! Ever hear of any one who didn'tlike roses, Thomas? But I never dreamed that she'd have me--or even ofasking her to! As to throwing herself at my head--well, she put it thatway herself once, and I shut her up pretty quick--you'll find out how todo it yourself some day, with some other girl, though, of course, itdoesn't look that way to you now--but I can't give you that treatment! Iguess I'll have to tell you--though I never expected to tell a livingsoul--just how it did happen. It's--it's the sort of thing that is toosacred to share with any one, even any one that I think as much of as Ido of you--but I've got to make you believe that, five minutesbeforehand, I had no idea it was going to occur." And as briefly andhonestly as he could, he told Thomas how Sylvia had come to him while hewas making his bonfire, and what had taken place afterwards. Then, withstill greater feeling in his voice, he went on: "There's something else Ihaven't told any one else either, and that is, that I can't for a singleinstant get away from the thought that, even now, I'm not going to gether. I know I haven't any right to her and I don't feel sure that I canmake her happy--that she can respect me as much as a girl ought to respectthe man she's going to marry. I certainly don't think I'm any worthier ofher than you--or as worthy--never did for a minute. I _have_ done lots ofrotten things, and you've always been as straight as a string--and you'dbetter thank the Lord you have! When you get engaged you won't have to gothrough what I have! But you see the difference is, as far as Sylvia andyou and I are concerned"--he hesitated, his throat growing rough, hisready eloquence checked--"Sylvia likes you ever so much; she thinksyou're a fine boy, and that by and by you'll want to marry a fine girl;but I'm a man already, and young as she is, Sylvia's a woman--and Godknows why--she loves me!"
Austin glanced at Thomas. The anger was dying out of the boy's face, andunashamed tears were standing in his eyes.
"A lot," added Austin huskily. Then, after a long pause: "Won't you havea whiskey-and-soda with me--I've got some in the cupboard here foremergencies, while we talk over some of this business I was deep in whenyou came in? There are any number of things I've been anxious to get youropinion on--you've got lots of practical ability and good judgment inplaces where I'm weak, and I miss you no end when you're where I can'tget at you--I certainly shall be glad when you're through your course,and home for good! And after we get this mess straightened out"--he bentover to pick up the scattered sheets--"we'd better go in together andfind Sylvia, hadn't we?"