CHAPTER VII
The first of October found a very quiet household at the old GrayHomestead. Austin was in Europe; Thomas had gone to college atBurlington, Molly to the Conservatory of Music in Boston. Sally hadprudently decided to teach for another year before getting married, andnow that she could keep all her earnings, was happily saving them for hermodest trousseau; she "boarded" in Wallacetown, where she taught, cominghome only for Saturdays and Sundays, while Katherine and Edith were inhigh school, and gone all day. Mrs. Gray declared that she hardly knewwhat to do with herself, she had so much spare time on her hands with somany "modern improvements," and such a small family in the house.
"Go with Mr. Gray on the 'fall excursion' to Boston," said Sylvia. "Hetold me that you hadn't been off together since you took your weddingtrip. That will give you a chance to look in on Molly, too, and see howshe's behaving--and you'll have a nice little spree besides. I'll lookafter the family, and Peter can look after the cows."
Sylvia had recovered rapidly from her illness, and her former shyness andaversion to seeing people were rapidly leaving her. She no longer lay inbed until noon, but was up with the rest of the family, insisting ondoing her share in the housework, and proving a very apt pupil inlearning that useful and wrongly despised art; when callers came shealways dropped in to chat with them a little while, and even themail-carrier of the "rural delivery, route number two," the errand-boy onthe wagon from Harrington's General Store, and all the agents forflavoring extracts and celluloid toilet sets and Bibles for miles around,were not infrequently found lingering on the "back porch" passing thetime of day with her, whether they had any excuse of mail or merchandiseor not. Not infrequently she went to spend the day with Mrs. Elliott orwith Ruth, and to church on Sunday with all the family; and althoughperhaps she was not sorry at heart that her deep mourning gave her anexcuse for not attending the village "parties" and "socials," she neversaid so. The Library, the Grange, and the Village Improvement Society allfound her ready and eager to help them in their struggles to raise money,provide better quarters for themselves, or get up entertainments; and theMethodist minister was the first person to meet with a flat refusal tohis demands upon her purse. He was far-famed as a successful "solicitor,"and conceived the brilliant idea that Sylvia was probably sent byProvidence to provide the needed repairs upon the church and parsonageand the increase in his own salary. He called upon her, and graciouslyinformed her of his plan.
"The Lord has been pleased to make you the steward of great riches," he said unctuously, "and I feel sure there is no way you could spend them which would be more pleasing in his sight than that which I have just suggested."
"I agree with you perfectly that the church is in a disgraceful state ofdisrepair," said Sylvia calmly, "and that your salary is quite inadequateto live on properly. I have often wondered how your congregation couldworship reverently in such a place, or allow their pastor to be so poorlyhoused. I believe the Bible commands us somewhere to do things decentlyand in order."
"You are quite right, Mrs. Cary, quite right. Then may I understand--"
"Wait just a minute. I have also wondered at the lack of proper prideyour congregation seemed to show in such matters. It does not seem to methat it would really help matters very much if I, a complete outsider,not even a member of your communion, furnished all the necessary funds todo what you wish. Your flock would sit back harder than ever, and waitfor some one else to turn up and do likewise when I have gone--andprobably that second millionaire would never materialize, and you wouldbe left worse off than before, even."
"My dear lady!" exclaimed the divine, amazed and distressed at the turnthe conversation had taken, "most of the members of my congregation arein very moderate circumstances."
"I know--but they should do _their share_. And there are some, who,for a small village, are rich, and just plain stingy--why don't yougo to them?"
"Unfortunately that would only result in the entire withdrawal of theirsupport, I fear."
"And those are the worthy, struggling Christians whom you wish me tosupply with everything to make their church beautiful and their ministercomfortable--you want me to put a premium on stinginess! I shan't giveyou one cent under those conditions! Go to the three richest men in yourchurch, and say to them, 'Whatever sum you will give, Mrs. Cary willdouble.' Appeal to your congregation as a whole, and tell it the samething. Ask those who you know have no cash to spare to give some of theirtime, at whatever it is worth by the hour or the day. Set the children toarranging for a concert--I suppose you wouldn't approve of a littleplay--and see how the relatives and friends will flock to hear it. I'llgladly drill them. When you've tried all this, and the response has beengenerous and hearty, if still you haven't all you need, I'll gladly lendyou the remainder of the sum without interest, and you may take your owntime in discharging the debt."
"That is a young lady who gives a man much food for thought," remarkedthe minister to Mr. Gray, as, somewhat abashed, but greatly impressed, hewas leaving the house a few minutes later.
"Very true--in more ways than one."
"Her person is not unpleasing and she seems to have an agile mind,"continued Mr. Jessup.
Mr. Gray turned away to hide a smile. Later he teased Sylvia about hernew conquest. "I am afraid," he said, his mouth twitching, "that youwould flirt with a stone post."
"I didn't flirt with _him_" said Sylvia indignantly; "he ended the callby dropping on his knees, right there in my sitting-room, and saying,'Let us pray--for new hearts!' Well, I've had lots of calls end with aprayer for a change of heart--"
"You little wretch! What did you do?"
"Do! I always strive to please! I knelt down beside him, of course, andthen he took my hand, so I--Honestly, I don't care much what men_say_--if they only say it _right_--but I draw the line at being_stroked_! If that's your idea of a flirtation, it isn't mine!"
"Look out, my dear," warned Howard; "he's a widower and a famous beggar."And Sylvia laughed with him. During the first months she had neverlaughed. "I am getting to love that child as if she were my own," he saidto his wife later. "Whatever shall we do when she goes away? It won't belong now, you'll see."
"Mercy! Don't you even speak of it!" rejoined Mrs. Gray. But she, too,was brooding over the possibility in secret. "Are you sure you'requite contented here, Sylvia?" she asked anxiously the next time theywere alone.
Sylvia laid down the dish she was wiping, and came and laid her cheek,now growing softly pink again, against Mrs. Gray's. "Contented," sheechoed; "why, I'm--I'm happy--I never was happy in my whole life before.But I shall freeze to death here this winter, unless you'll let me put afurnace in this great house; and I want to glass in part of the bigpiazza, and have a tiny little conservatory for your plants built off thedining-room. Do you mind if I tear up the place that much more--you'vebeen so patient about it so far."
Mrs. Gray could only throw up her hands.
The "spree" to Boston took place, and proved wonderfully delightful, andthen they all settled down quietly for the winter, looking forward toChristmas as the time that was to bring the entire family together again.For even James, the eldest son, had written that he was about to bemarried, and should come home with his bride for the holidays for hiswedding trip; and as Sylvia still firmly refused to leave the farm, Mr.Stevens asked for permission to join Austin when he landed, and be withhis niece over the great day. As the time drew near, the house was hungwith garlands, and every window proudly displayed a great laurel wreathtied with a huge red bow. Sylvia moved all her belongings into herparlor, and decorated her bedroom for the bride and groom, and went aboutthe house singing as she unpacked great boxes and trimmed a mammothChristmas tree.
Four days before Christmas, Mr. and Mrs. James Gray arrived, and Mrs.James was promptly pronounced to be "all right" by her husband's family,though the poor girl, of course, underwent tortures before she was sureof their decision. Fred, who with his father and mother was to join inthe great feast, brought Sally home from Wa
llacetown that same night, andtook advantage of the mistletoe which Sylvia had hung up, right beforethem all. Thomas and Molly, both wonderfully citified already, appearedduring the course of the next afternoon from opposite directions, andMolly played, and Thomas expounded scientific farming, to the wonder ofthem all. And finally Mr. Gray went to meet the midnight train from NewYork at Wallacetown the night before Christmas Eve, and found himselfbeing squeezed half to pieces by the bear hugs of Austin and the heartyhandshakes of Mr. Stevens.
"Pile right into the sleigh," he managed to say at last when he waspartially released, but still gasping for breath; "we mustn't standfooling around here, with the thermometer at twenty below zero, and awhole houseful waiting to treat you the same way you've treated me.Austin, seems as if you were bigger than ever, and you've got a differentlook, same as Thomas and Molly have, only yours is more different."
"There was more room for improvement in my case," his son laughed back,throwing his arm around him again. "My, but it's good to see you! Talkabout changes! You look ten years younger, doesn't he, Mr. Stevens? How'smother? And--and Thomas, and the girls? And--and Peter?"
"Yes, how is _Peter_?" said Mr. Stevens.
"Why, Peter's all right," returned Mr. Gray soberly; "what makes you ask?That sort is never sick and he's as good and steady a boy as I ever saw."
"I'm so glad to hear it," murmured Mr. Stevens in an interested voice.
"And we had the biggest creamery check this month, Austin," went on hisfather, "that we _ever_ had--with just those few cows you sent! Petertends them as if they were young girls being dressed up for theirsweethearts. The hens are laying well, too, right through this coldweather--the poultry house is so clean and warm, they don't seem to knowthat it's winter. We have enough eggs for our own use, and some to sellbesides--I guess there won't be any to sell _this_ week, will there?You'll like James's wife, I'm sure, Austin, and you, too, Mr.Stevens--she's a nice, healthy, jolly girl with good sense, I'm sure.She's not as pretty as my girls, but, then, few are, of course, in myeyes. It's plain to see they just set their eye-teeth by eachother--Sadie and James, I mean--and, of course, Fred is about most ofthe time; so with two pairs of lovers, it keeps things lively, I cantell you."
"Has Thomas recovered?" inquired Austin.
"Indeed, he hasn't! It's mean of us all to make fun of him--he's verymuch in earnest."
"How does Sylvia take it?" asked Sylvia's uncle.
"I don't think she notices."
"Oh, don't you?" said Mr. Stevens, in the same interested tone he hadused before.
Mrs. Gray was standing in the door to receive them, even if it wastwenty below zero, and was laughing and crying with her great boy in herarms before he was half out of the sleigh. The kissing that had takenplace at the Fessendens' was nothing to that which now occurred at theGrays'; for when he had finished with his mother, Austin found all hissisters waiting for him, clamoring for the same welcome, and he endedwith his new sister-in-law, and then began all over again. Meanwhile Mr.Stevens stood looking vainly about, and finally interrupted with"Where's _my_ girl?"
"Oh, _there_, Mr. Stevens!" exclaimed Mrs. Gray, wiping her eyes, andsettling her hair, "it was downright careless of me not to tell you rightaway, but I was so excited over Austin that I forgot all about it for aminute; of course, it's a dreadful disappointment to you, but it justcouldn't seem to be helped. Frank--my son-in-law, you know, that lives inWhite Water--telephoned down this morning that the trained nurse hadleft, an' little Elsie was ailin', an' the hired girl so green, an'nothin' would do but that Sylvia must traipse up there to help Ruthbefore I could say 'Jack Robinson.'"
"What do you mean?" thundered Uncle Mat and Austin in the same breath; soMrs. Gray tried again.
"Why, Ruth had a new baby a month ago, another little girl, an' thedearest child! They're all comin' home to-morrow, sure's the world, an'you'll see her then--they've named her Mary, for me, an' of course I'mreal pleased. But as I was sayin'--it did seem as if some one had got totake hold an' help them get straightened out if they was goin' to put itthrough, an' of course, there's no one like Sylvia for jobs like that.Land! I don't know how we ever got along before she come! Anyway, she'sup there now. Rode up with Hiram on the Rural Free Delivery--he wastickled most to death. She left her love, an' said maybe one of the boyswould take the pair an' her big double sleigh, an' start up to get 'emall in real good season to-morrow mornin'."
"That means me, of course," said Thomas importantly.
"Of course," echoed both his brothers, quite unanimously.
Mr. Stevens said nothing, but calmly went up to bed, where he apparentlyslept well, as he did not reappear until after nine o'clock thefollowing morning. He sought out Mrs. Gray in the sunny, shiningkitchen, but did not evince as much surprise as she had expected whenshe told him, while she bustled about preparing fresh coffee and toastfor him, that when Thomas, at seven o'clock, had gone to the barn to"hitch up" he had found that the double sleigh, the pair, and--Austinhad all mysteriously vanished.
"Austin always was a dreadful tease," she ended, "but I can't help sayin'this is downright mean of him, when he knows how Thomas feels."
"My dear lady," said Mr. Stevens, cracking open the egg she hadset before him with great care, "where are your eyes? What aboutAustin himself?"
Mrs. Gray set down the coffee-pot, looking at him in bewilderment."What do you mean?" she asked. "I hope Austin is grateful to hernow--an' that he'll _say_ so. At first he didn't like her at all, an'he's never taken to her same as the rest of us have--seems to feelshe's bossy an' meddlesome. Howard an' I have spoken of it a thousandtimes. He began by resenting everything she did, an' then got so hedidn't even mention her name."
"Exactly. I've noticed that myself. I don't pretend to be an infalliblejudge of human nature, but mark my words, Austin has cared for mySylvia since the first moment he ever set eyes on her. No man likes tofeel that the woman he's in love with is doing everything for him andhis family, and that he can't--as he sees it--do anything in return.That's why he seems to resent her kindness, which I really think therest of you have almost overestimated--if she's helped you in materialways, you've been her salvation in greater ways still. But there'sstill more to it than that: I think your son Austin has in him themakings of one of the finest men I ever knew, but he doesn't considerhimself worthy of her. He'll try to conceal, and even to conquer, hisfeelings--just as long as he possibly can. I suppose he believesthat'll be always. Of course, it won't. But naturally he can't bear totalk about her. Thomas has fallen in love with her face--which ispretty--and her manner--which is charming--after the manner of mostmen. But Austin has fallen in love with her mind--which isbrilliant--and her soul--which, in spite of some little superficialfaults that I believe he himself will unconsciously teach her toovercome, is beautiful--after the manner of very few men--and those menlove but once, deeply and forever. And so, my dear Mrs. Gray, teaseThomas all you like, for Sylvia will refuse Thomas when he asks forher, and he will be engaged to another girl within a year; but she willrun away from Austin before he brings himself to tell her how hefeels--and it will be many a long day before his heart is light again."