That Little Girl of Miss Eliza's Part 17

Beth needed no urging. In her heart were all the gifts of hospitality and kindliness. She ran to the closet at Adee's request and brought out the best currant jelly and a bottle of grape juice. There was cream and all the dainties a good cook may have on hand to tempt a sick man. Then they made their way to the sick man's house. On the way, they met Sam Houston. It is strange that it always happens so. One's best intentions are often misunderstood. Adee realized that when she made up her mind to visit at the log house and do what she could to relieve the sufferings of the sick. She was not at all surprised at Sam's knowing look and sage wagging of the head.

"He's a pretty good-looking fellow, Liza. I thought he'd take your eye."

"Did you really think? I'm glad something has put your brain-cells into play, Sam."

She was vexed with herself the moment she had spoken. Because Sam was narrowminded and misinterpreting her action was no reason why she should be sarcastic. She should have had strength and ability to rise above it.

"I'm sorry I spoke as I did, Beth. Nothing is gained by letting oneself down to that."

They had come to the hut. Eliza paused at the door. Since she as a child had come there to pick wild blackberries, she had not been so close. She remembered it as a miserable old place. The atmosphere had changed. The low, broad windows, close to the roof, swung outward. The logs formed a wide sill. Here were boxes glorious with blooming flowers. Outside, the logs had been covered with a stain or paint which gave them the appearance of being artistically weathered. The tramp had heard her footsteps and called to her to enter.

The interior was divided into two rooms. Eliza paused on the threshold.

The fireplace had a great oak log. The plank floor was hidden with skins. The walls had been washed with something that made them a golden brown. A great table of some dark wood stretched its length near the low windows. There was an alcohol-kettle and chafing-dish of bra.s.s. Rough pine shelves of the same restful hue as the walls were filled with books. A violin and bow lay on the table. There were piles of music and magazines everywhere. The master himself was seated in an easy-chair by the fireplace. He arose when Eliza and Beth entered.

"I'm not surprised. I felt that you and Beth would be here the instant you knew of the doctor's visit. I was tramping through the snow and had an accident, and lay for a while in the snow. That's left me with a cold and a touch of fever."

His cheeks were flushed. Eliza bade him go back to his chair.

"I will if you will give me a gla.s.s of grape juice at once. You see, Miss Eliza, I know what you have there without my looking in the basket.

Better than grape juice even will be a cup of good coffee and a poached egg. I'll sit here, Miss Eliza, and let you wait upon me. You don't know how good it is to be waited upon. I've never had any of it in my life, and I've always wanted it."

Eliza set about it at once. Beth sat down on a low, rough footstool at the fireplace. The conversation drifted on until the man found himself telling of the foreign cities he had visited. He knew where the Aztecs had set up their civilization; he had watched the crocodiles show their ugly jaws on the banks of the Ganges.

"It must have taken a great deal of money to visit all those places,"

Eliza paused in her serving.

"Not when one is a tramp. The country roads, thank heaven, are free, and when one has a good pair of feet-." His eyes danced merrily as he looked at Eliza, who found herself blus.h.i.+ng and turned aside that he might not observe it.

But his expression was neither one of amus.e.m.e.nt nor merriment, as his eyes followed her movements. She worked so easily and deftly, wholly unconscious that she was doing anything, just as her att.i.tude had been about her story writing.

"I have always longed to travel," she said at last. "I presume every one has the same longing. I have seen no large cities and I am ashamed to say that I have never seen a steamer. I should dearly love to start out with some good friend and go where I wish and stay until I am ready to leave."

The man looked down at the log which was just about to break in the middle. "I can read your future and I see that your wish will be fulfilled. I see in the coals all that will transpire." He spoke so earnestly and kept his eyes on the fire as though he really read something in the embers. Eliza paused in the act of pouring coffee and let her glance follow his.

He paused. "Yes," exclaimed Eliza eagerly, for she wished him to continue, "Yes."

"Before the year is out your desire will be realized. I am a true prophet and I read aright. You will see great cities. You will view the wonders of the world. You will be a guest in palaces. You will be feasted and feted everywhere."

"It sounds beautiful. I only hope it will come true."

"And I will go with you, Adee!" cried Beth, clapping her hands. "Good, good. We'll have a perfectly 'kertish' time."

The man shook his head. "As I read the signs, you will not be with Adee.

I cannot read your future; but you will not be with Adee-not all the time."

"I should not like to go alone," said Adee, "I'm very much afraid that would not be pleasant. Could you not read another story in the coals, and let Beth be my companion?"

"I cannot change it. It is written there. To be frank, I would not do so if I could. No fear that you will be lonely. You will not wish Beth with you when you start on the journey, for your companion will be dearer to you than even Beth is."

"Impossible. Beth is-" Eliza had turned and looked at the man as she spoke. Words failed her. Something, she knew not what, kept her from saying that Beth would always be the dearest one to her.

The subject was getting too personal to please her. She turned from the two at the fireside and poured the coffee and brought it to the sick man. She did not raise her eyes. She did not look at him. The silence was constrained. Even Beth, who could not understand many things, felt that.

"Why is every one suddenly glum," she cried at last. "Talking and laughing one minute and then as quiet as mice. I'll tell you this, though. Nothing will keep me away from Adee. If she goes abroad to see strange sights, I'll go too."

"No, I think not." He shook his head dubiously.

"It's beyond my power to change what I have read. You could not go, Beth. A little bit of a girl as you are. You would not be able to stand it. It will be a sort of 'tramp' trip." He laughed and looked toward Eliza, who was drawing on her great coat. "Come, Beth, it is time to move homeward," she said.

CHAPTER XVI.

Spring had pa.s.sed and summer was at hand before Eliza had her letter from Baltimore. It would be impossible to trace baggage from checks ten years old. All goods were sold after lying unclaimed for a certain length of time. That was all. Eliza was rather glad than otherwise. She had done her duty, satisfied her conscience, and Beth was still hers.

The same mail bore another letter. Miss Good, the president of the school, had written her, asking her to be one in the receiving line at the Club reception which would be held in the parlors of the Point Breeze. The hotel was filled with summer guests, many of whom were club members elsewhere, and the affair was planned that they might meet each other.

Eliza's writings were appearing in different periodicals. She knew not how they got in print. She wrote them merely. The man at the Oliver place managed the business and brought the checks to her. She had won quite a little fame and her name had become known over the country. This was the reason that she had been asked to receive in line. Some of the younger girls were to act as aids. Beth was popular in school. She was always suns.h.i.+ny, and took things as they were without looking for trouble. She had never felt a distinction of cla.s.s or clothes and treated every one with fairness and justice. She and Sally Monroe had kept up their intimacy. With Helen these made a trio as unlike as could be and as companionable and full of life as any one could wish.

Carrie Laire and Tilly were friends also, but never within the inner circle. Carrie was yet the interrogation point and Tilly the animated price list.

When the letter asking Eliza to a.s.sist in receiving and Beth to be one of the younger set was received, the latter executed a war-dance immediately and cavorted about like a young lamb.

"Don't be so frolicsome," cried Eliza. "Really, Beth, you make me think of the young goats which we used to watch up on Goat Hill. They always jumped about in just such fas.h.i.+on as you are doing now."

[Ill.u.s.tration: _She stood as transfixed, her eyes upon Beth's hands._]

"I'm capricious, Adee. Capra is really Latin for goat. Then if one gambols around like a goat, one is capricious."

They were both excited and could scarcely eat their evening meal. There was so much to talk about.

"Adee, you must have a beautiful dress. Something soft and s.h.i.+mmery.

I'll fix your hair too sweet for anything. I'll put a pink rose in it.

I'd get a soft white dress, Adee. You could-couldn't you? You have money enough from the stories. Haven't you, Adee?"

"Yes," slowly, "but a new dress would cost a great deal. Perhaps, I had better write a note and tell them I cannot help receive."

"No, please do not, Adee. You'll meet the finest people in the world.

Carrie Laire's mother buys dresses in Williamsport. The place where they are sold will change them to make them fit. You could go and buy a dress. You could easily get one to fit you. You're just the right size to be easily fitted. You could go in one day. I could stay at home. I wouldn't be afraid. I could ask Sally to come over. But then, maybe, I'd better go with you. You couldn't see how it would fit, and I'd tell you perfectly honest. I want you to look perfectly 'scrumptious.' I'm just positive, Adee, that you'll be the sweetest woman there."

"Beth, you are a flatterer. You'd make me vain as vain could be, if I listen to you. I'll promise you this: if I go to Williamsport, you shall go with me. I'll consider the matter."

"It is only ten days, Adee. I would not consider too long. A soft white dress with a train-"