Treasure Valley Part 20

"And this boy that he educated, Arabella--what about him? Didn't he help when his friend needed it so badly?"

"No; he kind of forgot about it, I guess. Young folks is often like that, you know. You see, he jist put him through high school an'

helped him some, at first, in college, an' learnin' doctorin' seems to take an awful long time. But I guess the boy must 'a' forgot about him, or he'd 'a' been able to come back before this. You won't ever tell, Elsie, will you?"

"No, no, Arabella! Never!"

"Mebby I'm foolish, but I can't bear to think o' Susan knowin' I was waitin' all this time, an' Bella would laugh, an' William, too. But I told you, 'cause when I die I want you to have this dress to wear on your wedding day. I intended to give it to you, anyway, jist as soon as I found out I wasn't ever goin' to wear it."

"Oh, Arabella!" There was a choking lump in Elsie's throat. "You must not talk like that! You must not! You don't know that he's dead. He may be on the way home now, for all you know. No! no!" she added, pressing the blue silk back into the owner's hands, "I won't take it!

I just won't! You just cheer up, and wait a little longer, dear, and who knows but you may hear any day that he's coming?" She was growing radiantly hopeful.

Miss Arabella looked up with hopeful eyes, but shook her head. "No, it's no use, Elsie. It's awful good o' you, and I used to feel like that, too; but I've waited too long. I guess I'm jist tired," she added pathetically.

"Arabella," whispered the girl, with heightening color, "have you--don't you ever pray about it?"

"I used to, but lately--ever since that dress gave way--I--I kind o'

gave way, too. An' it seemed wicked, anyhow--like prayin' for dead folks, the way Catholics does, and I knew Mr. Scott would think it was awful of me."

The beautiful eyes looked at her despairingly.

"Oh, Arabella! Don't you care about me? Think how lonesome I'll be without you---- What's that?"

She was interrupted by a scrambling, tearing noise in the region of the old apple-tree. For an instant a strange object outside darkened the window, there was a shriek, a splintering crash, and down from the apple boughs, breaking a window-pane in its head-long descent, and landing upon the veranda floor with a terrible bang, came the black-haired twin of the Sawyer orphans!

Miss Arabella sat up with a cry of alarm. Polly gave a long squall, and shouted out that times were very slow indeed, and Elsie sprang up, and, unlocking the door, ran to the rescue.

The black-haired twin was scratched and torn and disheveled, and was howling l.u.s.tily, but the young lady who picked her up showed her small sympathy. "Lorena Sawyer," she demanded solemnly, "where did you drop from?"

"I was sittin' up in the apple-tree," roared the fallen one, "an' the mean ole thing busted, an' I--I--tu-m-bled!"

"You were up at the window, listening to what Arabella and I were saying! You know you were!"

The child nodded. "O' course," she answered innocently. "An' say, Elsie"--she began to wipe away her tears--"if Arabella's fellah doesn't come back, will you give me an' Lenny a bit o' the silk for our dolls'

dresses?"

Elsie caught her by the arm and shook her.

"Hus.h.!.+" she cried, glancing toward the open window in dismay.

"Arabella'll hear you, and if you tell--if you breathe a word of it, she'll get sick and die; do you understand?"

"But will y' give us some of the blue silk?" asked the black-haired twin, with orphan-like persistence.

"Elsie!" It was Miss Arabella's voice. "Elsie, come here quick!"

With a parting warning to the culprit, the girl ran back to the bedroom in deep concern. Surely this shock would be too much for the invalid, and now she certainly would die.

"Arabella!" she cried in amazement, as she reached the bedroom door, "what are you doing?"

For the sick woman was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressing herself in trembling haste. She turned upon the alarmed girl, the fire of resolution in her eyes.

"I'm going to get up," she answered firmly. "I ain't going to die.

That child heard every word I said."

"But, Arabella," began the bewildered nurse, "I----" She stopped, unable to divine the connection between Lorry's eavesdropping and this sudden determination to live. "Don't be frightened. I'll make her promise she won't tell."

"She might keep her word, an' she mightn't; an' if Susan an' Bella was to find out I'd died because he never came back an' left me an old maid, I couldn't rest in my grave. I jist couldn't! An' she might let it out, Elsie, now mightn't she?"

Elsie paused a moment. She was about to rea.s.sure her, but checked herself. Evidently soothing was not what the invalid needed.

"Yes, Arabella," she said honestly, "she might."

CHAPTER XI

THE COMING OF ROSALIE

Silvery soft by the forest side, Wine-red, yellow and rose, The Wizard of Autumn, faint-blue eyed, Swinging his censer, goes.

--ABCHIBALD LAMPMAN.

As the tenth of October approached, there was but one subject of interest in the towns.h.i.+p of Oro--the Elmbrook fall fair. "The show,"

it was called, the name indicating that there could be only one. It was as much a social as an agricultural function. Oro was largely a Scottish towns.h.i.+p, and on show day there was a gathering of the clans from far and near. Old friends who never saw each other between fairs, met on that day, and had a grand review, both in Gaelic and English, of the year's doings, and the alien who did not "have" the former language missed half the benefit of the inst.i.tution.

On the evening before the fair, Gilbert was surprised by a visit from Malcolm Cameron. The boy had left for college only two weeks before, but, like many other sons of Oro, he had come back for "the show."

"Say," he began, balancing himself on the corner of the doctor's desk, "I'm going to ask you a most awfully big favor."

"Ask away," said the other, smiling; "it's granted, if I can do it."

"Oh, say, you're the best chap in the country. Elsie would kill me if she knew, but you won't let on, will you? I've got to take her to the show in our single buggy. Jim's taking mother and Uncle Hughie in the double rig, and all our truck has to come home in it, and you know--well--Marjorie's going with her father and mother, and I might drive her home if Elsie had some one to go with, and I thought--if you hadn't made any other arrangements, I thought, perhaps----"

"That Miss Cameron might come home with me?" interposed Gilbert, coming to his aid. "Why, I'd be delighted; that is, if she wouldn't mind."

"Oh, Elsie'd be tickled to death!" cried Elsie's brother, growing reckless in his grat.i.tude. "Say, doctor, it's awfully decent of you.

You see, I won't see Marjorie again till Christmas, likely--and--you know----"

"Yes, yes, I understand," said Gilbert sympathetically. "I wonder if I might ask to take your sister there, and you'd have two drives with Miss Scott," he added, with wonderful generosity.

"I thought of that myself," said Malcolm ingenuously, "but mother wouldn't let Elsie do that, and it would just be like Mrs. Scott to object, too; but they won't say anything about just driving home.

You'll ask Elsie at the show, will you? You're a brick; and don't give it away, or she'd pull all my hair out when we got home."

The Elmbrook fair was held in the Agricultural Hall, about two miles from the village. Those who had no horses started off on the happy means of transportation called "chancing it." This consisted in walking along the highway for a short distance, on the sure chance of being picked up by some pa.s.sing vehicle, for an Oro buggy was like a city street car, and always held one more.

Gilbert started out alone, and overtook Hannah and Jake Sawyer straying along the dusty roadside, early for once in their lives, having been spurred to the unusual achievement by the energy of the orphans.

Little Joey trotted between them, but Tim had gone to the show in the morning, with Keturah, the cow, and Isaac and Rebekah and the pumpkins; and the twins were far ahead, their parents knew not where. Gilbert took Hannah and Joey in with him, and they joined the long line of vehicles that had already formed and was winding swiftly down the highway.