CHAPTER VI. JANE'S CHOICE
The father, with his hands clasped behind him, was pacing up and down thelong dining room when his daughter entered. He saw at once that she hadbeen crying, although she had endeavored to erase the traces of the tearswhich had been shed almost continuously through the morning.
In a listless voice she said at once, "Father, I have decided to go withDan since you feel that it is my duty, but, oh, how I want to go toNewport with Merry and the rest: but of course it would cost $300 andthere is no money."
The father had started eagerly toward his daughter when she had entered,but, upon hearing the concluding part of her speech, he drew back, a hurtexpression in his clear gray eyes. He folded his arms and a more alertobserver than Jane would have noticed an almost hard tone in his voice.Never before had it been used for the daughter who was so like the motherin looks only. "The matter is decided. Jane," he informed her. "The $300that you require will be forthcoming. However, I wish you would plan toleave tomorrow, the same day that your brother goes West. I want to bealone, without worries, that I may decide how best to go about earningwhat I shall need to finish paying the debt that I still owe to the poorpeople who trusted me."
"Oh, father, father!" Jane flung herself into her chair at the table andput her head down on her folded arms. "I didn't know that you felt thatyou owe them more than your entire fortune."
"It was not enough to cover their investments," the man said, stillcoldly, for he believed the girl was crying because she would have togive up even more than she had supposed, and be kept in poverty for alonger period of time. She sat up, however, when her father said, "Jane,dry your tears. Since you are to go to Newport, I see nothing for you tocry about, and I do not wish mother and Julie to know how I feel aboutthis whole matter."
Hastily Jane left the table to again remove the traces of tears, and whenshe returned, her grandmother and Julie were in their places. Her fatherhad remained standing until she also was seated. Then, bowing his head,he said the simple grace of gratitude which had never been omitted atthat table.
Jane marveled at the courage of her father, for he was actually smilingat the little old lady who sat at his side. "Mother mine," he said, "ifthis isn't the same kind of a meat pudding that you used to make for meas a special treat, long ago, when I had been good. Have I been goodtoday?"
There were sudden tears in the fading blue eyes and a quiver in thecorners of the sweet old mouth as the grandmother replied, "Yes, Dan, youhave been very good. And all the while I was making it I was thinking howproud and pleased your father would be if he only knew, and maybe he doesknow, how good you've been. When you weren't more than knee high to yourDad, he began to teach you that it was better to have folks know thatyour word could be depended on than to be praised for smartness, andthat's how 'tis, Danny, and I'm happy and proud."
The dear little old lady wiped her eyes with a corner of her apron; thenshe smiled up brightly, and pretended to eat the meat pie, which was indanger of being neglected by all except Julie, who prattled, "We've setaway two big pieces, one for brother Dan, when he comes home from thecity, and one for Gerry. Umm, won't they be glad when they see them?They'll be hungry as anything! I like to be awful hungry when there'ssomething extra special to eat, don't you, Janey?" Almost timorously thisquery was ventured. Julie did not like to have the big sister look sosad. The answer was not encouraging. "Oh, Julie, I don't want to talk,"the other girl said fretfully.
"Nor eat, neither, it looks like," the old lady had just said when thefront door bell pealed. Julie leaped up, looking eagerly at her father."Oh, Dad, may I go?" But, being nearest the door, he had risen. "I'llanswer it, Julie," he replied. "It is probably some one to see me." ButMr. Abbott was mistaken. A messenger boy stood on the porch. After theyellow envelope had been signed for, it was taken to Jane, to whom it wasaddressed.
Eagerly the girl tore it open, the others watching her with variedemotions, although Julie's was just eager curiosity. "Ohee," shesquealed, "telegrams are such fun and so exciting. What's in it, Janey,do tell us!"
Mr. Abbott noted that a red spot was burning in each cheek of thedaughter who had been so pale. She glanced up at him, her eyes shining."Dad," she cried, "you won't have to give me $300. Listen to this. Oh,Merry is certainly wonderful!" Then she read:
"Dearest Jane: Aunt Belle has changed her plans. She has rented a cottage just beyond the hotel grounds and is going to take her own cook and I want you to come as our guest, because, darling girl, I owe you a visit, since you gave me such a wonderful time in the country with you last year, and, what is more, we are going Friday, so pack up your trunk today, and be at the Central Station tomorrow at 4:00. Lovingly, your intimate friend--Marion Starr.
"P. S.--Who, more than ever, is living up to her nickname, Merry.--M. S."
During the reading of the "night letter" Mr. Abbott had quickly made uphis mind just what his attitude would be. "That's splendid, Jane, isn'tit?" he said, and not even his watchful mother noted a trace ofdisappointment in his voice. "If I were you I would pack at once. Youwould better go over to the city in the morning and that will give youtime to buy a new summer dress, for I am sure that you must need one."
Jane started to reply, but something in her throat seemed to make it hardfor her to speak, and so she left the room hurriedly without having morethan touched her plate. Julie followed, as she adored packing. When theywere gone, the man sighed deeply. "Mother," he said, "I have decided tosend Julie with Dan. She can cook the simple things he will need and someone must go with the boy. I would go myself, but I would be of littleuse. In a few days, as soon as I can pull myself together, I am goingback to the city to start in some occupation far from Wall Street."
The old lady reached out a comforting hand and placed it on that of herson nearest her. "Dan," she said in a low voice, "Jane doesn't know athing about your long illness, does she? Nobody's told her, has there?"
The man shook his head. "Jane has been so interested in her own problems,and in finding a way to do as she wished, that she has not even wonderedwhy I am working about in the garden instead of going to the city daily,as I always have done. But don't tell her, mother. She does not seem tocare, and, moreover, I am now much stronger. My only real worry is Dan,and I do feel confident that if he can be well cared for, the mountainair will restore his health."
Rising, he stooped to kiss his mother's forehead, then left the room,going through the kitchen to the garden. As he worked he glanced often atthe open windows of the room above the tree tops. He saw the two girlshurrying about, for Jane had gladly accepted Julie's offer of service,and the trunk packing was evidently progressing merrily. This assurancewas brought to him when he heard Jane singing a snatch of a school song.
It sounded like a requiem to the man in the garden below. He leaned onhis hoe as he thought, self-rebukingly, "It is all my fault. I havespoiled Jane. My love has been misdirected. It is I who have made herselfish. I wanted to give her everything, for she had lost so much whenshe lost her mother. I have done as much for the other three children,but somehow they didn't spoil."
The comfort of that realization was so great that the father soonreturned to his self-imposed task, and, an hour later, when Dan appeared,he told the boy Jane's decision, saying: "Son of mine, it would be nocomfort to you to have her companionship if her heart were elsewhere."The shadow of keen disappointment in the lad's eyes was quicklydispelled. Placing a hand on his father's shoulder he said cheerfully,"It's all right, Dad. Julie is a great little pal."
But even yet the matter was not decided.
That Thursday night, after the younger members of the household wereasleep, Mr. Abbott and his mother talked together in his den.
"Julie was the happiest child in this world when I told her she was to gowith Dan." The old lady smiled as she recalled the hoppings andsquealings with which the small girl had expressed her joy. "Luckily I'dwashed and ironed her summer cloth
es on Monday and Tuesday, and thisbeing only Thursday, she hadn't soiled any of them."
Then her tone changed to one of tenderness. "Dan," she said, "Julie andJane aren't much alike, are they? That little girl didn't hop and squeallong before she thought of something that sobered her. Then she told me,'I don't like to go, Grandma, and leave Gerald at home. He's been wishingand wishing and wishing he could go, but he wouldn't tell Dad 'cause hewants to stay home and earn money to help.'"
To the little old lady's surprise, her companion sprang up as heexclaimed: "Mother, I won't be gone long. Wait up for me!" Seizing hishat from the hall "tree," he left the house. "Well, now, that's certainlya curious caper," the old lady thought. "He couldn't have been listeningto a word I was saying. He must have thought of something he'd forgotten,probably it's something for Jane. Well, there's nothing for me to do butwait." She glanced at the clock on the mantle. Even then it was late. Shewas usually asleep at ten. There had been time for many a little cat-napbefore she heard her son returning. His expression assured the old ladythat he was satisfied with the result of his errand.
"Why, Dan Abbott," she exclaimed, "whatever started you off in that way?'Twasn't anything I said, was it?"
The man sank down in his chair again and took from his pocket a telegram."That's what I went after, mother," he told her. "I wired Bethel for onemore pass, as I had a small son who also wished to go West, and this ishis answer:
"'Glad indeed to accommodate you, Dan, and I'm sending one more, just forgood measure. Happened to recall that you have four children. Let me dosomething else for you, old man, if I can.'"
The grandmother looked up with shining eyes as she commented: "BertBethel's a true friend, if there ever was one. Won't Gerry be wild withjoy?
"But, goodness me, Danny, that means more packing to do. There's roomenough in Julie's trunk for the things Gerald will need, and I do believeI'll go right up and put them in while the boy's asleep." Then she pausedand looked at her son inquiringly. "Will it be quite fair to Mr. Petersonto have Gerry leave his store without giving notice?"
"I've attended to that, mother," the man replied. "While I was waitingfor an answer from Bert, I walked over to the grocery and told JockPeterson all that had happened, and he was as pleased as he could be. Hewants Gerald to come over there first thing in the morning to get apresent to take with him.
"He didn't say what it would be. I don't even suppose that he had decidedwhen he spoke. I was indeed happy to have him praise Gerald as he did. Hesaid that he would trust our boy with any amount of money. He has watchedGerald, as he always does every lad who works in the store. He said thatnearly all of them had helped themselves to a piece of candy from theshowcase when they had wished, but that Gerald had never once touched athing that did not belong to him. Mr. Peterson was so pleased that heasked Gerald about it one day, saying: 'Don't you like candy, lad?' Andour boy replied: 'Indeed I do, Mr. Peterson! I don't buy it because Iwant to save all my money to help Dad.'
"Gerald hadn't even thought of helping himself as he worked around thestore."
"Of course, Gerry wouldn't," the old lady replied emphatically, "forisn't he your son, Daniel?"
"And your grandson, mother?" the man smilingly returned. "But we must getsome sleep," he added, as the chimes on the mantle clock told them thatit was eleven. "Tomorrow is to be a busy day."
It was also to be a day of surprises, although this, these two did notguess.
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