That Little Girl of Miss Eliza's: A Story for Young People

by Jean K. Baird

  CHAPTER XII.

  Beth did not mention this occurrence to Adee. She scarcely knew why shedid not. Perhaps for the same reason that one does not discuss sacredthings. In each one's heart is a tenderness, a thought which is hersalone and which she can tell no one. It was this feeling of delicacywhich restrained Beth from speaking of the matter to Adee. She was veryquiet on her way home. Adee was too, for that matter. There had beensomething about Mr. Laurens which had impressed her. She had a feelingthat she had met him somewhere. His voice had thrilled her, like a voiceshe had heard and forgotten. She found herself trying to recall whereshe had met him. She checked herself, however. Her experience had beenlimited. She had been but rarely away from her native town. It wasridiculous to think for a moment that she had known him.

  Without a word, the two walked side by side until they came to theravine. Here they instinctively paused. "Look at the Oliver place,"cried Eliza. "I wonder who would be foolish enough to move in there.Tramps, like enough."

  "Tramps."--Beth came closer to Eliza's side. All she knew of them wasthat she had a dim remembrance that Rose Burtsch had called her atramp's child and Adee had shaken Rose. A tramp must be a dreadfulcreature, so Beth had reasoned. She drew instinctively closer.

  As they walked up the slope, they had a better view of the log house.The boards had been removed from the doors and windows which stood wideopen to the breeze. A narrow path had been cut through the brambles tothe public road. Smoke was coming from the chimney. The sound of someone whistling came to the ears of Beth and Eliza. There was the sound ofan axe. As they turned the corner, they saw some one cutting the oldfence rails into proper length for wood. He paused when he saw themcoming up the slope and leaned lightly against the axe as he rested.What a fine looking tramp he was. Fully six feet, with broad shouldersand long, slender limbs. There were no drooping muscles about him. Hehad a white brow with dark hair about it. His eyes were clear and keen.His mouth was as big and firm and tender as Eliza's own. He woretrousers of khaki cloth and a soft shirt open at the throat. The sleeveswere rolled up, exposing his arms to the elbow.

  "I did not know that tramps were so nice," said Beth. "I thought thatthey were something dreadful."

  "They are. You can never tell by looks. Hereafter never go or come thisway unless I am with you, and never come to the woods to pick flowers."

  "I'm sorry he's moved in there. I had planned to camp out here nextsummer. Helen Reed and Sally Monroe and I intended to camp out and doall our own cooking."

  Eliza smiled and wondered if the other two were as ignorant of culinaryarts as Beth herself. The whistling had ceased and a song had taken itsplace.

  "Just a song at twilight when the lamps are low."

  The words followed them clear up the slope.

  "He's a queer sort of tramp," said Eliza to herself. "I should not havebelieved that they knew such things."

  She might have said something about this to Beth, but at their own gate,Jim-Boy, Sam Houston's youngest son, met them. Jim-Boy was in his barefeet. His apparel consisted of a pair of jean overalls and ahickory-colored shirt which had belonged to his father. He was a bashfullad, and braced himself against the post of the gate before he couldfind courage to speak. "Say, Miss Liza, pap wants the lend of your logchain."

  "Dear me. I do not know whether I have one. It's been years since Ithought of it."

  "Yes, you have. Pap says it's hanging up in the old harness room. He'scoming over to look at your stone-boat. He doesn't know whether it's allright or not. He says it hain't been used for years. If it's all right,he'll come over and borrow it off you."

  All this was said as though his father's borrowing would be a greatfavor conferred upon Miss Eliza.

  "The stone-boat. What does your father intend to do?"

  "He's got a job hauling stone to fix the wall at Paddy's Run. The manwas up to see him yesterday. The wall's bulging out. They mean to tearsome away and build it in and higher than it was."

  Miss Eliza shuddered at the mention of the wall. It was a retaining wallbuilt to hold the public road and railroad from the water. At thispoint, the river had come so close to the mountain that the way for therailroad had been cut out. To make this safe, a high stone wall had beenbuilt.

  It had been here that Prince had gone over. That had been ten yearsbefore, but even yet Miss Eliza could recall the sensation of dizziness,of feeling herself falling, which she had felt then.

  "Look for the chain. As to the stone-boat, tell your father that I'llsell that to him if he finds he needs it. I'll never have use for it."

  Jim-Boy went his way. Eliza and Beth went into the house and began thepreparation of the evening meal. Beth was not a cook, but there was ascore of things she could do to help Adee. She arranged the table anddid the errands to the cellar and milk-house.

  When the meal had been finished and she sat with Adee in theliving-room, she drew close and began wistfully, "I want to ask yousomething, Adee. One of the girls asked me questions. That put it in mymind. I couldn't answer anything she asked. I don't know whether I havea father or mother, or if I ever had one. I do not know if they areliving or dead. She asked me if I was your niece and I could not tellher. Am I, Adee?"

  There was silence. Eliza had nothing to say. She had known that the timewould come when Beth could not understand and would ask questions. Ithad come sooner than she expected.

  "Will you tell me, Adee? I do not know what to say when people ask me,and I feel ashamed that I do not know. Every little girl in school has afather and mother and I have none. I cannot understand it."

  "Your mother is dead. She is buried near my mother, in our own familylot. I do not know her name. I saw her but once in my life. I alwaysfeel that I caused her death. This is how it happened."

  Then Eliza recounted the events of that dreadful day when she had askedthe mother to ride. She described Beth's mother, her dress and manner.

  "That accounts for the dreams I have--waking dreams, Adee. Do youremember that I told you once that you did not look like you used to. Itwas some one else I remembered. I can see, as plain as can be, a ladywith coils about her head, and flowers stuck in her hair. She woredresses trailing over the floor. I can see her bending over my crib tokiss me. There was always a man with her."

  "But the woman who had you did not look like a woman who would dress so.She was a respectable person, but poorly dressed and, I am afraid, notvery cultivated. Do you remember what they called you? Do any names staywith you?"

  "No, except Bena and Baby. I remember that I tried to say those words.Bena must have been a made-up word. Surely no one was ever called so."

  "No, it seems hardly possible," said Eliza. "We looked over the groundeverywhere where the accident occurred, but could find no purse. Wethought she might have had her checks or name somewhere in that. I havea dim remembrance that she had such an article in her hand, but we couldfind nothing. I saved everything that you or the woman wore. You had alittle baby pin with E. L. engraved on it. I called you Elizabeth forthat reason."

  "Have you them yet, Adee? Will you show them to me?" There was ahigh-strung, nervous eagerness in Beth's voice. She was trembling fromhead to foot. There was a sadness because of the loss of parents she hadnever known; and an eagerness to see those things which were part of herlife somewhere else.

  "Would it not be better to put it off until tomorrow?" asked Eliza.

  "No, please, Adee, this evening--now." There was no denying the eager,trembling request. Without another word, Adee arose and, taking up thelamp, made her way upstairs.

  "They are packed away in a trunk in the closet in the spare-room," shesaid. Beth ran ahead, and in the dark had pulled out the trunk on to themiddle of the floor before Eliza appeared.

  There was nothing said as they knelt before it and opened the lid. Elizahad put everything away so that moths nor air could destroy it. Sheslowly removed the papers and covers and at last laid out all on thefloor before them.

  "This is what your mother wore--that
day."

  Beth's hands touched the plain black skirt, the belt and waist.

  "I'll speak plainly, Beth. It is better so, now. I do not wish you toraise any false hopes about who your parents were. I really think,child, that you are as well off, as far as material affairs areconcerned, with me as with them. This is why I think so. Look at theunderwear. It is coarse and very poorly made. I think your mother was avery good woman. I'm sure she was. She had a good face, and she wasgentle with you; but I am quite sure that she was poor and not welleducated. Here are the rings which were in the traveling bag. I thinkthey are of some value--not much. I should say ten or twelve dollars.

  "I wish you would always keep these until you find your own people. Itmay be years from now when I am gone. I have written the date and allthe circumstances down in this little book, so that you may have it, ifyou need it."

  She began to fold the articles. She pinned each one close in itsfoldings of paper as carefully as though it were a most precious thing,and laid them away in the trunk.

  _"Permit me, madam, to present the roses."_]

  "Some day, we'll know everything about who you are," she said as theywere about to leave the room. She tried to speak lightly but failed.Putting her arm about Beth's shoulders and drawing her close to her, shecontinued, "But just now you are my own little girl, and I'm thankfulfor it."

  The scene was hard for them both. It was well that an interruption came.A knock was heard at the living-room door. Beth hurried downstairs.

  "Don't open the door until I come. It might be a tramp," Eliza calledafter her. Beth hesitated. Eliza came into the living-room with a lampin hand. Beth kept close to her while the door was opened.

  It really was a tramp--the same one they had seen at the Oliver place.But he was good looking, clean and smiling. He even removed his hatwhile he addressed Miss Eliza.

  "Good evening; I have come up to ask a favor," he said.