In Blue Creek Canon Part 25

"And his name?"

The girl looked at him haughtily; then her face softened, as she thought of the mortification that she was inflicting upon the old man before her, and she answered gently,--

"It is Dr. Brownlee."

Once more the Reverend Gabriel hesitated. He had carefully rehea.r.s.ed his part, until he was thoroughly familiar with it; but his imaginary interviews had taken only the one form, and he had never counted upon such an ending as this. However, he was resolved to carry it through to the close; and, after a hasty review of the ways of rejected lovers, he recalled the case of the luckless Alphonso Ludovico, and felt himself prepared to meet the new emergency.

"It is the end," he said slowly. "Pardon my intrusion, Miss Everett; I will no longer impose upon your kindness. I go forth upon my lonely way."

He started to rise from his chair, but came to a sudden pause, while a sound of rending and cracking broke the silence that had followed his tragic words. All unconsciously, w.a.n.g k.u.m had given him the sticky chair; and the heat of the room and the doctor's feverish agitation, had combined to produce the catastrophe. The Reverend Gabriel Hornblower was trapped as effectually as a fly in a pool of mola.s.ses, and could only struggle helplessly in his efforts to free himself.

Louise came to his relief, and together they succeeded in separating his coat from the chair-back, and he took his ignominious departure. The young girl stood looking after him, until he disappeared around the corner, then she fled to her own room, and into the very depths of her closet, to smother the sound of her hysterical laughter. But when at last she grew quiet, her face became very gentle once more, as she said to herself, in a tone of womanly pity,--

"Poor old man! But at least, I can keep his secret; not even Winthrop shall ever know."

In the mean time, the Reverend Gabriel had slowly betaken himself to his lonely room, where he laid aside his hat, and approached the mirror.

"No," he said to himself, as he stood gazing at the reflected face before him; "it wouldn't do; it wouldn't do. She's too beautiful; and I'm--too old." And he seated himself in his worn old easy-chair, and took up the book he had laid aside an hour before.

CHAPTER XVIII.

UNDER ORDERS.

It was less than two weeks after the Reverend Gabriel's call upon Louise, that Mr. Burnam came up from his office, one noon, with a letter in his hand.

"Well, daught," he called, as Allie ran out to meet him; "where's mamma?

I have some news for her."

"News! What is it? Nothing very bad, I hope," she answered, as she seized his hand in both of hers, and hurried him towards the house.

"That depends," he said laughing. "Wait till we get into the house, and then I'll tell you."

"I don't believe it's much of anything," she declared scornfully. "If 'twas, you never could wait to tell us."

"We'll see about it," responded her father, as he entered the house.

But it was not until they were all seated about the lunch table that he would tell them his news. From the central office of the railway by which he had been employed for the past five years, a letter had come to him, that very morning, offering him the position of consulting engineer for the company, an advance which would bring him much honor and more salary. For a few moments there was a babel of congratulation and rejoicing; then Mrs. Burnam put an end to it all by asking quietly,--

"And when shall we have to leave here?"

"Leave?" And Allie turned to stare at her mother in consternation.

"Yes; of course we shall have to go away from Blue Creek very soon,"

answered her mother cheerfully; for, though at heart she was as sorry as Allie to leave her pleasant friends in the little camp, she was unwilling to let her one regret throw a shadow over her husband's happiness in his promotion.

"Leave Blue Creek, and the Everetts, and Marjorie, and all? Let's not go," urged Howard. "The old road isn't worth it, papa."

Mr. Burnam laughed.

"I'm sorry you don't think so, Howard," he answered; "but I'm afraid we must go. St. Paul isn't a bad place to live in; and we should have had to leave here this spring, anyway, for my present survey won't take me much longer. I'm to report for duty in two months," he added, turning to his wife once more. "Will that give you time to get ready?"

"Two weeks would do," she said promptly; "I haven't been your wife all these years for nothing. I'm sorry to go away from here, of course, for we've made pleasant friends; but I sha'n't be sorry to have a settled home. Besides, it's time the children were in some good school, if they're ever going to college."

"What do you think about it all, Charlie?" asked his uncle. "You haven't told us, yet."

"I'm about as much mixed up as Auntie is," he replied slowly, while he gave Allie's hand a consoling pinch, as it lay on the table, toying with her fork. "I don't want to leave the doctor, and the boys, and all, and this place has been immense fun; but, as long as I can be with you people, I don't mind much else, and, if we go to St. Paul, I can stay with you till I'm ready for college,--that is, if you'll keep me."

"We won't send you off just yet," returned his uncle. "Howard and Allie would have something to say about that, I fancy. Let me see; this is May, and I have to be ready by the first of July. We shall have to leave here the last week in June, so you must make the most of your time till then."

"Oh, dear!" sighed Allie, as she and the boys were starting for the Everetts', that afternoon, to tell the great news. "We never stayed so long in one place before, and I began to hope we'd live here always.

We've had such good times, too, 'specially since Charlie came; and I don't want to leave all these people."

"'T isn't all of them, though," responded Howard. "There aren't so many I care about, if we could take the Everetts and Fishers and Dr. Brownlee along with us."

"And the mountains, and w.a.n.g k.u.m, and our ponies," added Allie. "Janey says she'll go too. But it's no use to try to count up what we're leaving, or I shall just sit down and begin to cry."

"Better not," advised Howard practically; "it's no end dusty, and we can't spend time to brush you off. Besides, St. Paul is right on the way to everywhere, and we shall see people when they go East. Don't you go to being in the dumps, sis; 't won't mend matters to grumble, and we've moved before without its killing us."

But in spite of his advice to his sister, Howard was the most disconsolate member of the party, as they sat on the Everetts' front steps, talking of the separation in store for them.

"It's a perfect shame," lamented Marjorie, who had joined them there.

"You belong to us, and oughtn't to go away. I had it all planned out, too. We were all going to grow up here together, and have ever so much fun. Allie and I would keep old maid's hall, and have you four boys board with us. Howard would be a civil engineer, and Charlie a doctor, and Grant have a store, and Ned be a minister; and we'd just have an elegant time."

"'Specially me!" remarked Ned, in a tone of supreme disgust. "I've no desire to step into Dr. Hornblower's shoes, when the old man finally gives up and goes over the range. Preaching isn't in my line; I'll help Charlie keep his apothecary shop, and sell patent medicines. But, honestly, with half of us gone, the rest will be dismally lonesome. We shall need Allie to keep us straight, and Howard to keep us stirred up."

"And Charlie for general all-overishness," added Marjorie. "Say, Howard, do you remember the day we put Vic into the empty barrel, and turned a bushel basket over him, 'cause he would follow us, every step we took?"

Howard chuckled at the recollection.

"Yes. How he did yell! But do you remember the time we shut Marjorie up in the office closet, Ned, and then went off and forgot her?"

"That must have been before I came," said Charlie. "How did she get out?"

"What a question! didn't you ever hear Marjorie squeal?" asked Grant scornfully. "But, I say, you lads, do you remember that day that Charlie Mac came, and we"--Grant paused abruptly.

"We what?" demanded Charlie.

"Oh, nothing." And Grant retired behind Marjorie, to blush unseen.

"What was it?" urged Charlie again. "Go on and tell, Grant."

"You hush up!" And Ned gave his brother a threatening glance.

"I'm going to tell, then, if you won't," said Allie laughing. "If we don't, Charlie will think it's something ever so much worse that 't is.