AN ACQUISITION
The Dale homestead was undergoing repairs. For years Persis had
patched up the roof when it leaked and papered with her own hands such
rooms as had become too dingy to be longer tolerated. Now she was
giving free rein to her exuberant fancy in the matter of improvements.
A telephone had been installed in the house the day following the
communication from the legal advisers of the late Persis Ann Crawford
and this in spite of Joel's passionate protests.
"May be a hoax for all you know. Better wait till the money's in your
hand before you run into extravagance piling up debts for us to work
off later. I guess it's a true saying that if you put a beggar on
horseback, he'll ride to the devil."
Within a week the innovations had reduced him to a condition of
disapproving dumbness. Paperhangers and plasterers had taken
possession of the old house. The roof was being reshingled. The new
electric lights gave to each successive evening an air of festive
brilliancy. The sagging porch was in process of reconstruction. It
was the dull season from the builder's standpoint, and Persis had no
difficulty in securing workmen in sufficient numbers to hurry the work
with what seemed to herself, as well as to Joel, almost magical
despatch. A generous check deposited to her credit in the Clematis
Savings Bank had relieved Joel's earlier apprehensions. The bequest
was no hoax. But his constitutional parsimony rebelled against the
outlay as if each expenditure had meant want in the future. While his
dignity demanded that he should cease the protests that were
disregarded, his air of patient martyrdom expressed his sentiments with
all the plainness of speech.
The feminine half of the population of Clematis was in despair. For
Persis Dale had announced with every indication of finality that after
she had finished the gowns in hand, her career as dressmaker would
immediately terminate. Mrs. Robert Hornblower, bitter because Persis'
fortune had materialized before her own, commented freely on the fact
that Persis Dale hadn't the strength of mind to come into money without
beginning to put on airs. Mrs. Richards, who was so far convalescent
that she had been able to attend divine worship the previous Sabbath,
rolled her eyes Heavenward and deplored the effects of pomps and
vanities on certain constitutions. Even so true and tried a friend as
Mrs. West was driven to remonstrate.
"I don't say that you ought to work the way you've done all your life,
Persis, rushing from one dress to another, fit to break your neck. But
it does seem as if after always being busy you couldn't be real happy
to settle down to idleness."
Persis smiled.
"I guess I wasn't cut out for a butterfly, Mis' West, even if I'd got
started in time. I'm not afraid but what I can find plenty to do. As
far as the sewing goes, I feel like a man I read of who laid a wager
he'd eat a quail a day for thirty days. Well, he got along fine.
Didn't seem to mind it a bit. When it came the twenty-fifth day and
everybody was congratulating him on making his money so easy, he up and
quit. 'No use, boys,' he said, when they began to tell him what a fool
he was. 'I've just naturally got to the stopping-point.' And it's the
same with me. I've done my sewing and haven't fretted over it, though
when I think of the millions and millions of stitches I've taken in
twenty years, I wonder I haven't turned into a sewing-machine. But
I've got to the stopping-point now. It's more'n likely I'll buy my own
clothes ready-made, after this."
In a month's time the old house was transformed beyond recognition, the
fresh paint of the exterior holding its own bravely against the
pretensions of the fresh paper and new carpets within. Thomas Hardin
had sent to Boston for those carpets, the patterns in stock not
satisfying Persis' exacting ideas. The transaction had been conducted
with businesslike despatch on both sides, though on one occasion Thomas
relaxed his dignity sufficiently to say, "Guess you're going to look
pretty fine up there."
Persis dryly admitted the prospective improvement. "Some folks can't
bear to part with what's old, but I own I've got a liking for new
things. When I can afford a change, I'm glad to have it."
"Friends the same as carpets," Thomas thought with a little bitterness
for which he at once reproached himself. For, after all, Persis'
friendship had been stanch and steadfast till his own confession had
disclosed his unworthiness. He atoned for his momentary lapse by
making her a substantial discount on the linoleum she wanted for the
kitchen.
The seal of silence Joel had placed upon his lips was broken when the
question of engaging a servant girl came to the fore. "Ain't you going
to leave yourself nothing to do?" he demanded wildly. Then with a
cunning for which few would have given him credit. "You'll get as fat
as Etta West sitting around all day and being waited on."
Persis listened unmoved, her rather enigmatic smile suggesting that she
clearly foresaw a way out of that difficulty.
"I'm not afraid but what I can find enough to keep me busy. Besides, I
need a servant girl to look after things when I'm away."
"Away? Are you going away?"
"I'm going whenever I happen to feel like it. And the first time'll be
next week, Monday."
"Persis, where are you going?"
"To the city for a week or so."
Joel deliberated. He rose and paced the room, halting at length in a
dramatic posture, face to face with his sister.
"Persis, I've got no love for the city as you well know. As the poet
says, 'God the first garden made and the first city, Cain.' But I'm
ready to sacrifice myself for what's best for you. I'll go along."
Persis regarded him without any indication of fervent gratitude for the
sacrifice so nobly announced.
"It's good of you, Joel, but it won't be necessary."
He waved her protest away with a dominating gesture.
"It _is_ necessary. It won't do to turn a woman like you loose in a
city like Boston. As long as you didn't have any money, it wasn't so
much matter. But now there'll be folks to sell you gold bricks, and
when you unwrap 'em, they won't be nothing but plain ordinary bricks
after all."
"They can't sell me bricks if I won't buy 'em, Joel."
"You don't know what they can do. You never went up against a
professional sharper. Women ain't any match for that kind. They'll
probably give me a bed at the hotel that hasn't been used since
sometime last winter, but never mind. I'm going along to protect you."
"Joel!" Persis' tone for all its gentleness showed plenty of decision.
"Thank you, but this time I don't want you."
"What's that?"
"Some other time when you feel like running up to the city for a few
days, we'll go together. But just now I've got some business to attend
to."
"You mean I'd be in the way?"
"Yes."
"Persis." Joel spoke in heart-broken accents. "I guess the Good Book
ain't far wrong in calling money the root of all evil. Up till you
come into this prop'ty, you was all a man could ask for in a sister."
Like many another, Joel found his blessings brightest in retrospect.
"But now you're as set as a post and as stubborn as a mule. It's
pretty dangerous, Persis, when a woman gets the idea she knows all
that's worth knowing. As the poet says, 'A little learning is a
dangerous thing.' I feel in my bones that there's trouble coming out
of this wild-goose chase of yours."
It was not characteristic of Joel to keep his grievances secret.
Wherever he went for the next few days, he fairly oozed reproach and
resentment. And on the Monday when Persis took the ten o'clock train
for Boston it was generally understood that she had declined the
pleasure of her brother's company and was bent on an errand whose
nature she alone knew.
"She'll put up at a hotel, I suppose," said Mrs. Hornblower. "She'll
have to, for there's nobody in Boston she knows well enough to visit.
A single woman staying alone at a hotel sounds dreadful improper to me.
Robert would never allow me to do such a thing, never for a minute.
And nobody even knows what she's gone for."
But Annabel Sinclair thought she knew. "I shouldn't wonder," she told
Diantha, "if when Persis Dale gets back we'd see startling changes."
Her confidential tone was balm to Diantha's spirit. For since the
daughter's sudden leap into maturity, the relations between the two had
been strained, the instinct of sex rivalry overmastering such shadowy
maternal impulses as had outlived Diantha's babyhood. The girl
responded eagerly to the advance.
"Yes, I shouldn't wonder if she'd have lots of new clothes."
"She'll need more than clothes to make her presentable, and she knows
it, too." Annabel's voice was rasping. "They have beauty-shops in the
cities, you know, where they fix over old women who want to look young,
skin off the wrinkles and all sorts of things." She flashed a glance
at the mirror--there was always a mirror convenient in the Sinclair
establishment--and smiled with malicious enjoyment. Annabel did not
need skinning.
Diantha edged away with sudden distaste. "I don't think Miss Persis
would do anything like that, mama."
"Why not?" Her mother spoke fiercely. "It's the sensible thing to do
when you need it. After her good looks are gone, there's nothing left
for a woman." The bitterness of a participant in a losing fight flung
a black shadow across her fairness. For defy Time as she would, the
day must come when he would triumph. She looked again at herself in
the mirror as if already he had stolen the bloom from her cheek and the
gold from her hair and shuddered at the thought of what must be.
Persis had said to her brother that she might be away a week. On the
sixth day came a brief note to the effect that her business was not
quite finished and that she would let him know when to expect her.
Another week went by, and one afternoon Joel received his first
telegram.
He stood staring at the sinister brown envelope with its black
lettering, and a chilly fear clutched his heart. One catastrophe after
another suggested itself, each to be discarded in favor of another more
appalling. Persis had lost her money. She had met with an accident.
She was dead. His bony hand shook till the envelope rattled, and the
small boy who had brought the message eyed him with curiosity.
"Any answer?"
The question was reassuring. It suggested that Persis was still to be
reached by mundane means of communication. Joel regarded the lad
appealingly.
"Say, son, do you know what's in this?"
"Naw!" The boy's tone showed impatience tinged with contempt. "Why
don't you look and see for yourself?"
The suggestion seemed reasonable, and Joel followed it. The
typewritten enclosure blurred before his eyes, and so strong is the
force of apprehension that he seemed to see words of ominous import
staring up at him through the confusion. Then the mist cleared and his
forebodings with it.
"Home on four-twenty train not necessary to meet me tell Mary to have
plenty for supper.
"Persis Dale."
Joel felt the sense of grievance which is the almost inevitable sequel
to groundless fears. "There's no answer," he told the boy gruffly.
The urchin sidled away and Joel stood rigid, regarding the slip in his
hand. His first move was to count the words. Seventeen! Joel
groaned. What extravagance. If she had said "unnecessary" instead of
"not necessary" there would have been a saving of one to begin with.
And the closing injunction might have been omitted altogether. "Tell
Mary to have plenty for supper." What an extraordinary request to
telegraph from the city of Boston. Could it be that in the metropolis
of New England she had lacked for food to satisfy the pangs of appetite?
So absorbed did he become in attempting to solve the riddle that he
almost forgot to impart the contents of the telegram to Mary. The
fresh-colored farmer's daughter who had found life extremely monotonous
without the vivacious presence of her mistress, heard the news with
elation and showed no surprise over the concluding request.
"I've heard how they feed folks in them city places. Ma's cousin was a
waiter in a Boston boarding-house onct, and she says she was fairly
ashamed to set before folks the little dabs that was served out, for
all the world like samples. I guess after two whole weeks of that kind
of food, Miss Dale's good and hungry."
Joel noticed with irritation that Persis had carried her independence
to the point of suggesting that it was not necessary for him to meet
her, though she was well aware that his presence at the station when
the four-twenty train came in, had taken on almost the sacredness of a
religious rite. "Looks as if she wasn't in any dreadful hurry to see
me," Joel mused. It occurred to him that it would be a fitting return
for Persis' perverseness for him to retire to his room and refuse to
leave except at her humble and reiterated entreaty. It is unfortunate
that so often the course of conduct consistent with one's dignity
involves a painful sacrifice. As train-time drew near, Joel realized
that he would not be equal to the ordeal of absenting himself, even for
so worthy a cause as to teach Persis a much-needed lesson.
There was the usual number of loungers on the station platform, and
Joel was soon surrounded by an interested circle. As the brother of a
woman of property, he had acquired a certain vicarious importance in
the last few weeks. Information as to what Persis was doing, or about
to do, was sought eagerly in all directions, and Joel's vanity was
flattered at finding himself the center of attention, even though in
his heart he was well aware of the reason.
"Sister having a good time up to Boston?" inquired a florid man, who
despite the chilliness of the late fall day was in his shirt-sleeves.
The uncertainty in Joel's mind as to whether Persis had spent her time
attending the theater or in the surgical ward of a hospital, caused him
to evade a direct answer.
"Oh, so-so. I'm expecting her home on this train."
The countenances of the group brightened. Some of them had come a long
distance to await the four-twenty train. Pressing work was on the
consciences of several. It was agreeable to know that their sacrifices
were not thrown away. They would see Persis Dale step off the train
and would be able to tell their wives at supper whether, as far as
their obtuse masculine powers of observation had been able to
determine, she was arrayed in the spoils of city shops.
The train screamed at the crossing half a mile below and made its
appearance with the usual accompaniments of smoke and rattle.
Passengers looked with weary interest at the crowd on the platform, and
the crowd on the platform watched eagerly for alighting passengers. A
farmer living in the vicinity left the smoking-car to be given scant
welcome, for the lookers-on were anticipating something more
impressive. A fat old woman with a basket and a couple of shawl-straps
was also coldly received. Then some one caught Joel's arm with an
exclamation, muffled but profane.
There was a parlor-car at the rear of the train, a concession to the
passengers for Montreal. From this a rather striking procession was
descending. It was led by a dark handsome boy about twelve years of
age, while a fair girl, a little younger, followed behind. Another boy
and then another girl, smaller and chubbier than their predecessors,
were next to receive the assistance of the obsequious porter. And
lastly he gave his attention to a woman who carried a baby in her arms.
The woman wore a hat and coat new to Clematis, but there was something
not unfamiliar in her erect carriage, and the capable fashion in which,
she directed the movements of her little flock.
"Straight ahead, children. Algie, you walk right toward that hack with
the two gray horses, and the rest of you follow Algie. Well, here's
Uncle Joel come to meet us."
Some one pushed Joel forward. With his jaw dropping and his eyes
protruding, he looked like a criminal urged on toward the scaffold
rather than a man of affectionate disposition welcoming home a family
circle unexpectedly enlarged. The hoarse gurgle which escaped his lips
might have gassed for a greeting, or it might have presaged an
epileptic seizure.
"Well, Joel." Persis nodded affably, at the same time patting the baby
which, frightened by the proximity of so many strange faces, was
beginning to whimper. "As long as you're here, you might as well see
about our trunks. Give Uncle Joel the checks, Algie. No, not that
pocket. You put 'em in the right-hand one."
The crowd surged nearer and a piping voice made itself heard above the
confusion. "Miss Dale, looks as if you was going to have lively times
with all that company."
Persis cast a benignant gaze in the speaker's direction. She had never
held curiosity in low esteem as do the more rigid moralists,
acknowledging indeed, her full share of that characteristic. And
moreover she was quite willing that her old friends and neighbors, the
most of whom had congratulated her so heartily on her recent good
fortune, should know of her latest acquisition.
"I guess we'll have a lively time all right, Mr. Jones, but these
children ain't what you call company. I adopted the whole lot up to
Boston, and every one of the five's a Dale, as hard and fast as the law
can make 'em."