Authors: Grace Livingston Hill
But Justine had turned away from the window with a disinterested finality and a sigh of amazing proportions.
“Oh, well,” she dismissed the subject, “if you’re satisfied, of course there’s nothing more to say. But she isn’t the girl
I’d
choose for a daughter-in-law!”
“It isn’t in the least likely you’ll ever have a chance to choose one,” fired forth Amelia with a flame in her cheek and battle in her eye. “I scarcely think
she’d
choose
your
son—if you had one,” she ended with withering scorn.
Grandmother Whipple sat back and took up her knitting, laughing out a dry cackle from her grim old lips. She dearly loved a fight between these two. It was the only amusement she had since she was a prisoner in her chair.
Justine sniffed in token that she felt Amelia had been cruel in her insinuations and started back to her work of arranging the guest room for the expected arrivals that afternoon.
“Well, you can say what you please,” she said, putting her head back in the door from the back stairway for a parting shot. “I think Dana would have shown a far better spirit if he had remained at home, this morning at least, and helped me put up the clean curtains and tack up the pictures instead of philandering off with a girl when there was work to be done. If he is going to be a minister of the Gospel he ought to begin to remember that charity begins at home.”
“I don’t see that he has any call to put up curtains and pictures for your guests,” answered his mother furiously. “They’re
your
guests, aren’t they, not mine? Not his? Not even Mother Whipple’s? There wasn’t any call to take down those curtains and launder them anyway. They’ve only been up three weeks. They were plenty good enough, and if you had to be silly about them you don’t need to make Dana pay for your foolishness. As for pictures, what’s the matter with the pictures that belong in that room? We never had to put up pictures when the Whipples came to visit. We don’t change the decorations for the delegates to the Missionary Conference do we? We didn’t even have to houseclean when the minister delegates came to presbytery. You can’t get anybody much better! If the house isn’t good enough for them I wonder you had them come!”
“They’re used to having things nice,” said Justine severely.
“Well, so are we. So are all our guests! You don’t seem to realize what you imply. If these friends of yours are so grand they’d better pick out some other summer resort to spend their summer in and not come bothering around here. I wonder you didn’t entertain them at the grand new hotel. You’ve got property, you know, and could afford it.”
“I was told my friends would be quite welcome,” said Justine with a premonitory sniff. “I was led to suppose that they would be made comfortable and welcome. If they’re going to be such a burden I’d better go and telegraph to them not to come!”
Justine’s eyes were like cold chisels behind her straight lashes. Her mouth was hard and straight with fury.
“There’s welcomes and welcomes,” said Amelia Whipple with a snap. “I have to do the most of the work. I understand your friends were hard up for a home this summer like some of the rest of us around here, but if they have to be so everlasting particular about their decorations even, why don’t they hunt for other accommodations? Nobody’ll be hurt if they do.”
“Very well!” said Justine in cold fury. “I’ll go right down and telegraph the train for them not to get off.” She flung off her sweeping cap and began to take down her crimping pins, tears of displeasure and disappointment beginning to roll down her cheeks.
The old lady had been knitting fast, her lips in their grim smile. Now she put in sharply.
“Don’t be a fool, Justine! Your hair’ll get all out of place and you’ll be as cross as two sticks over it. Go on upstairs and finish your decorating. It can’t hurt anybody. You two wouldn’t be happy if you couldn’t scratch out each other’s eyes every few minutes. It strikes me you’re all in the same box. The pot shouldn’t call the kettle black.”
Justine surveyed the old lady thoughtfully then answered with dignity, “You may be right, Cousin Hephsibah, but I wonder just what you meant by that last remark? Am I to suppose—?”
“You’re to suppose nothing, Justine. I just called you a fool, that’s all. Now go upstairs and finish your work. You haven’t all the time in the world, you know. Primp up your room any way you please, and for pity’s sake let Amelia alone. She’s got all the cooking to do, remember!”
Justine slowly refastened the loosened crimping pin, replaced her sweeping cap after wiping her eyes on its border, and, turning reproachfully with a martyr-like sigh, went upstairs.
When her footsteps had died away in the guest room above, Amelia lifted an offended chin and swept the old lady a reproachful glance.
“I should suppose,” she began with hurt dignity, “that I had a little closer claim on you, Mother, than just a distant cousin. Of course, I know we’re all indebted to you in a way, for house and board, but I try to do my part. But your own son’s wife, and your own grandson—If you feel that way about it I’d better try to get a position.”
“Amelia!” said the old lady severely, “the difference is this:
You
weren’t born a fool! For pity’s sake live up to your birthright! Of course you got a claim, but remember this: Justine never has much pleasure. Can’t you let her enjoy what’s she got? She’s worked hard enough to bring this about; now if she can get any happiness out of it I guess we can stand it for a couple of months anyhow. Say, don’t I smell those apple pies burning? It beats all how you can make so much out of a few fool words!”
“But Mother, she’ll go and tell around now that Dana’s engaged, and he’ll be angry at me.”
“Well, isn’t he?” snapped the old lady anxiously. “He’s a fool if he isn’t, that’s all I’ve got to say.”
“Well, I suppose he is. I
hope
he is, but he hasn’t said anything to me about it,” said the mother with a troubled sigh. “You know Dana isn’t much for telling what’s going on in his life.”
“There’s some things you don’t need to tell,” said Grandma significantly. “However, I’ll speak to Justine. She’s no call to talk about Dana’s business even if he is a fool. Amelia, that pot is boiling over! My soul, I wish I had my good legs again!”
Chapter 3
O
ut on the road, the two who had been the cause of all this disturbance were walking joyously along. The first day home, the first day together after long separation, all their childhood waiting to greet them out of doors, and a summer day that was perfect. One of those “what-is-so-rare” days described by the poet.
The sky was that warm, clear blue that makes you wonder if you have ever really noticed a sky before. The sunlight fairly seemed a part of the sky, blue all through with the fine lacings of gold. One or two lazy fluffs of cloud were drifting almost imperceptibly across the highest blue like tufts of down urged by an unseen draft.
The road they took skirted a hill and wound gently up with pleasant homes on the right at intervals growing fewer and farther between as they went on.
Off to the left the mountains were clear and sharp with touches of gold shimmering over the new green of the young trees that mingled with the darker pines. And one spot they knew, where the blue grew deeper with a purple depth, marked the beginning of the Mohawk trail. They could pick out the landmarks without any trouble in the clear, bright atmosphere.
And now they came to fields on the left drifting down to a valley where, like a thread of hurrying silver strung with jewels all aquiver, a river went. And all the fields were embroidered with flowers, copper and silver and gold like a princess’s garment spread to dry, heavy with gorgeous needlework of buttercups, daisies, and devil’s paintbrush. Amazing sight to come upon! Embroidery of heaven loaned for display.
Beyond the river, a dull hill rose, rocky and barren, almost a mountain, dreary except for a drift of blue flowers that rose in waves and seemed to spread and quiver like blue flame, or lovely, curling, smoke-like incense rising against the gray mass of the barren rock behind.
“Oh look!” cried Lynette, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks aglow. “I never remember it to have been so beautiful! How large the daisies are this year! How yellow the buttercups! And see how deep a red the tassels of the devil’s paintbrush are! This must be a wonderful year for flowers!”
Dana lifted indifferent eyes.
“Oh, you’ve just forgotten, Lynn. I don’t see but it looks about as usual.”
“No, Dana! It’s bigger, brighter, much more wonderful. I never got that effect of copper and silver threads before, with the gold of the buttercups making a background. It’s perfectly gorgeous needlework, Dana, woven with pearls.”
“Oh, you’re fanciful as usual, Lynn!”
“And look at that blue ruin off on the mountain! Why you can fairly see the smoke rise and the flames pulsate.”
“It’s not half as good to look at as you are, Lynn,” said the young man turning his glance upon her glowing cheeks, the light in her lovely eyes, and the tendrils of hair blowing around her face. “I say, where are we going today? Have you thought of a plan? It’s a shame that car had to go to the garage. You’ll be tired before the day is half over.”
“No indeed; I’ll not be tired,” said Lynette. “I haven’t been cooped up in the house all these four years, laddie. I’ve played hockey and skated and hiked over the hills, and worked in the gym. I’m fit as ever I was, and I can walk as far as ever I did and farther.”
“Well, I can’t,” said Dana lazily, stifling a yawn. “Theological seminaries are no places for physical training. Oh, of course they had some athletics, but I couldn’t see going out for anything with all I had to do. Besides, it was time to stop that child’s play if I ever meant to amount to anything. One can’t play football all one’s life.”
“Still one must have health,” said Lynette. “I hope you haven’t allowed yourself to get inactive. It’s awfully hard on you to study hard if you don’t keep up some sort of exercise. They made us do it out at college.”
“Oh,
girls
, yes, I suppose it’s a good thing for them. But a man has got to begin to think of more serious things. Besides, it’s an awful chore to get cleaned up and get to work again when you’re all messed up after sports. I’ve really done awfully well, Lynn. Even better than I told you in my last letter. Let’s see, when did I write? I got so busy in those last weeks. But you got the papers I sent, and the commencement stuff? You really ought to have been there Lynn to hear me preach my first sermon. I can’t see why it mattered whether you stayed for your own commencement exercises or not, that little stuffy college! It’s ridiculous to dignify it by the name of college! But there, don’t get excited!” he laughed indulgently. “It’s all right of course, and you were a star student naturally. I only wish it had been Vassar or Wellesley or some big college. You could have made your mark there, and it would have been worthwhile—”
A shade came over the girl’s face and a flash into her eyes.
“Dana! Stop!” she cried. “You shan’t say such things about my college! It isn’t like you, and you
don’t know
, and I
won’t
have my beautiful day spoiled! Tell me about your commencement. Someday I’ll tell you all about my college, and you will see that it was
great
! Someday I’ll take you there and introduce you to my wonderful professors, every one of them masters and scholars, and every one of them men who are putting their whole soul into their work. But nevermind now. You just don’t know! You will understand when you know, and you will be glad there is such a place. But now forget it and go on. I want to hear everything you have done from the time you left here last year. No little thing is too small to be told. Don’t leave anything out. Did they tell you they thought it would be hard to get a church? Or have you decided to go as a missionary? You used to talk that way, you know.”
“Oh, I gave up that idea long ago,” he laughed. “I think this country needs preachers more than the foreign field. Times are changed, you know. A lot has been done for heathen lands in the last ten years. The world isn’t nearly as large as it used to be. Travel has become so easy, and civilization has made great strides. Culture and education are everywhere. Why, look what a difference movies and radios have made! The natives in the jungles of the forest can get the latest Paris fashion overnight now. There really isn’t the need of missionaries there used to be when I began to study for the ministry.”
Lynette giggled appreciatively.
“You talk as if the main object of missionaries was to dress up the natives in fashionable garments.”
“Well, that had a great deal to do with civilizing them, didn’t it?”
“I don’t know,” said Lynette with serious eyes far off on the mountain where the blue incense seemed to rise and fall with the light breeze. “Did it? I don’t know. What’s that verse about ‘where no law is, there is no transgression’?”
“Oh, now, Lynn, don’t, I pray you, get preachy. I’m sick to death of arguments and criticisms and obscure passages. Besides, my dear, you are not fitted to cope with a subject like that. The standpoint from which we used to take our conclusions when we were children is very different when you come to get the student’s point of view. Let’s drop discussions from now on. We’ve got a long way to go to catch up in our knowledge of each other. Let’s talk about each other. Lynn, are you glad to be at home, or does the old town look dull to you?”
“Look dull? Well, I should rather guess not. Why, Dana, I turned down a whole perfectly good, free trip to Europe with side trips and a possible winter stay over there with a trip to the Holy Land and a return by way of the Mediterranean thrown in. Now, will you believe that I’m glad to be here?”
“Lynn Brooke! D’ you mean it? Turn down a trip like that? What for?”
“Just because there was no place in the whole world that looked so good to me as my hometown—and you in it all summer long!” Lynette added the last words half shyly, half jocosely, and glanced up through her lashes at her companion with a heightened color in her lovely cheeks. But Dana frowned.