Wheat and Huckleberries Part 4

She was silent for fully two minutes, then burst out, "I say, wasn't it great, what Mort Elwell said about Stella Saxon's picture?" She chuckled at the remembrance, then added: "By the way, did it occur to you that he wasn't particularly enthusiastic over the idea of our going to grandfather's? My, but I wish we could go."

"I don't know what difference our plans make to him," said Esther, in a tone which indicated that her sleepiness had not reached an acute stage.

"Oh, they make plenty of difference to him; at least yours do," said Kate, sagely.

"Well, he might spare himself the trouble," said Esther. "I must say I think Morton Elwell takes too much for granted, lately."

Kate stopped braiding her hair and stared at her sister. "I don't know what he takes for granted, except that old friends don't change," she said. She continued to stare for a minute, then remarked slowly: "I know what ails you, Esther. You want to have a lot of romance and all that sort of thing. For my part I never could see that romance amounted to anything but getting all mixed up and having a lot of trouble." And having delivered herself of this she apparently resigned herself to her own reflections.

On the porch, still sitting in the evening darkness, Mrs. Northmore was saying to her husband at that moment: "Philip, what do you say to letting the girls go to New England? We've talked about it a good deal; why not settle on it? Now that the wheat has turned out so well, couldn't we afford it?"

"Why, I think 'twould be an excellent plan, Lucia," said the doctor, cordially. "I've thought so all along, but I was under the impression that you wanted the wheat money to go another way."

She gave a little sigh. "Yes," she said, "I did want to reduce that mortgage, but some things can wait better than others. It would do the girls good to go, and I believe Esther really needs a change."

"You think the child is not well?" queried the doctor, with a note of surprise in his voice.

"Oh, not ill," said Mrs. Northmore, quickly, "but"-she hesitated a moment, "she is rather restless and inclined to be a little morbid and moody. It might be worth a good deal to her to have a change of scene, and get some new ideas."

"By all means pack her off," said the doctor. "It's a prescription I always like to give my patients; and if that is yours for her I'll fill it with all confidence." He rose and stretched his long arms with a tired gesture. "I believe it's bedtime for me," he said, "and I rather think it ought to be for you too."

CHAPTER III

BETWEEN TIMES

It was at breakfast the next morning that the great decision was announced.

"Well, young ladies," said the doctor, looking from one to the other of his older daughters, "what do you think your mother and I have decided to do with you?" He paused for just an instant, then gave the answer himself without waiting for theirs. "Nothing short of sending you East for the rest of the summer. We've held a council, and decided that nothing else will do in your case."

They caught their breath, gasping for a moment at the suddenness of it, then Kate brought her hands together with a clap. "Glorious!" she cried; "that's the best news I ever heard. But, do you know, I felt in my bones last night that it was coming."

The doctor laughed. The idea of this plump young creature deriving any premonitions from her bones amused him. "And what did yours indicate?"

he asked, turning to Esther.

"Nothing as delightful as that," she said. Her face was not as bright as Kate's. She wondered, with a sudden misgiving, whether her discontented mood of the evening before had any share in bringing the decision, and the thought was in the glance which she sent at that moment toward her mother.

The latter met it with a smiling clearness. "Your father has been in favor of it for some time," she said, "and now that the wheat has turned out so well there is really nothing in the way."

The shadow flitted from Esther's eyes. "Oh, it will be beautiful to go, perfectly beautiful! I only wish Virgie could go, too," she said, with a glance at the little sister, whose face had grown very sober.

"Now you needn't worry a bit about Virgie," said the doctor, putting his arm around the child, who sat beside him. "Your mother and I couldn't stand it without her, and we're going to see that she has a good time.

Just you wait, Virgie," he added, lowering his voice confidentially, "I have a plan for this fall, and you're going to be in it. There'll be a fine slice of cake left for us three when the others have eaten theirs all up."

He was exceedingly fond of his children. With their training, either physical or mental, he had never charged himself,-perhaps because they were girls,-but to gratify their wants, and to s.h.i.+eld them as far as possible from the hards.h.i.+ps of life, was a side of parental privilege to which he was keenly responsive.

"But when are we going?" Kate was already demanding.

"Just as soon as your mother can get you ready," said the doctor; "and I shouldn't think that need to take very long. I fancy she has your wardrobe planned already. Something kept her awake last night, and when I asked her, sometime in the small hours, what it was, she said she was contriving a new way to make over one of your old dresses. For your mother," he added, smiling at that lady, "is like the wife of John Gilpin. Though bent on pleasure-yours, of course-she has 'a frugal mind.'"

"Think of being likened to that immortal woman!" cried Mrs. Northmore.

"I only hope my plans will work better than hers did."

"Oh, your plans always work," said the doctor. "But don't tax your wits too far reconstructing old clothes. Get some new ones; get 'em pretty and stylish. I want the girls to be fixed up nice if they're going to visit those Eastern relatives."

"Hear! hear!" cried Kate. "Papa, your ideas and mine fit beautifully."

He was in the best of spirits. The good wheat crop had already brought the payment of some long-standing medical bills, and Dr. Northmore could always adjust himself to a time of abundance more gracefully than to the day of small things.

"We shall treat you handsomely in the matter of our expenses, you may depend on that," said his wife. She had no intention of relaxing her carefulness in the use of money; but she never wounded her husband's pride, and she always indulged him in the amused smile with which, in times of comparative ease, he seemed to regard feminine economies.

There were plenty of them in the days that immediately followed, but the girls had most of the things they wanted, and their father was more than satisfied with the pretty becoming dresses in which they bloomed out, one after another, for his benefit. As a matter of fact, Mrs. Northmore was quite as desirous as he that her girls should be well provided for this summer outing. She was a bit of a philosopher, but she never affected the slightest indifference to the matter of dress. She had excellent taste herself, and had given it to her children.

Things moved so swiftly that in little more than a week they were ready.

There were good-by calls to be made, and a host of others to be received from friends who came to offer their congratulations and express effusive hopes for their pleasure during the summer, for the news of their plan had spread rapidly. But there was one friend to whom word came late, and who, but for accident, might have missed it altogether.

This was Morton Elwell. The girls were walking home from the village late one afternoon, when Kate, glancing back, saw the young man with the New Light preacher. The two had been harvesting together at the other end of the county, and since that day at the farm neither of them had been in town.

"There's Mort Elwell!" she exclaimed; and then she faced about, drawing her sister with her, and waited frankly for him to come up.

The two men quickened their steps instantly. "Upon my word, I didn't know you till you turned," said Morton. "My, how fine you look!"

Kate smiled, and Esther flushed. Perhaps it was one of the liberties she did not quite like his taking, that he should be so plainly observant of their new dresses.

"Well, it's a wonder that anybody knows _you_, face to face, Mort," said Kate. "I declare you're as brown as a mulatto."

"Am I?" said the young man cheerfully. "Well, I'm at the engine now, and what with smoke and sunburn it paints a fellow up in good style."

"I suppose you know we're going away next Wednesday," said Kate. She had fallen behind with him, leaving Esther to walk with the preacher.

"Why, no, I didn't know it," said Morton, fairly stopping in his walk.

"Is that so?"

"'Certain true, black and blue,' as we used to say when we were children," replied Kate. "We're going to Grandfather Saxon's. It was all settled that night after we got home from the thres.h.i.+ng." She paused a moment; then, as he had not spoken, added, with a little pout: "I suppose you couldn't strain a point to say you're glad. Everybody else seems to say it easily enough."

"Why, of course I'm glad," said Morton, hastily, "and I hope you'll have a tremendously good time; but it sort of takes a body's breath away, it's so sudden. When are you coming back?"

"We're not thinking of that part yet," said Kate; "but not before September."

His face lengthened. "Why, I shan't see anything of you girls all vacation," he said. "I did think when the harvesting was over I should get an occasional glimpse of you. I wish thres.h.i.+ng hadn't begun so early this year."

"What's that?" said the preacher, turning his head. "Wanting seed time and harvest put off for your special benefit! That won't do, Mort."

"Oh, not that exactly," said the young man. "But it _is_ sort of hard on a fellow not to get any chance of seeing his friends all summer, when that's the only time in the year he's at home."