THE FAMILY ADVISES
No qualms of homesickness visited Kit the first two months after school
opened. Not even New England could eclipse the glory of autumn when it
swept in full splendor over this corner of the Lake States. Down east
there was a sort of middle-aged relaxation to this season of the year. Kit
always said it reminded her of the state of mind Cousin Roxy had reached,
where one stood on the Delectable Mountains and could look both ways.
But here autumn came as a veritable gypsy. The stretches of forest that
fringed the ravines rioted in color. The lakes seemed to take on the very
deepest sapphire blue. No hush lay over the land as it did in the east,
but there were wild sudden storm flurries, and as Kit expressed it, a
feeling in the air as if there might be a regular circus of a cataclysm
any minute.
Hardly a Saturday passed but what she was included in some motoring party.
The Dean never joined these, but Miss Daphne thoroughly enjoyed her new
rôle of chaperon. Sometimes the run would be further north, along the
route to Milwaukee. Other days they would dip into the beautiful wooded
roads that cut through the ravines, leading over towards Lake Delevan. And
once, towards the end of November, in the very last spurt of Indian Summer
weather, they took a week-end tour up to Eau Claire and Chippewa Falls.
"I only wish," Rex said, "that we could come up here next spring when they
have their big logging time. It's one of the greatest sights you ever saw,
Kit. I have seen the logs jammed out there in the river until they looked
like a giant's game of jackstraws. Maybe we could arrange a trip, don't
you think so, mother?"
"I don't see any reason why not," replied Mrs. Bellamy.
"But I won't be here then," protested Kit.
"Oh, you'll stay till the end of the spring term, dear," Miss Daphne
corrected, and right there and then Kit experienced her first pang of
homesickness. Would she really be away from the home nest until next June?
Even with this novelty of recreation, backed by wealth, she felt suddenly
as though she could have slipped away from it all without a single regret,
just to find herself safely back home with the family.
When her next letter arrived at Maple Lawn, Jean read it over her mother's
shoulder. The two younger girls were at school, and a little puzzled frown
drew Jean's straight dark brows together.
"She's getting homesick, mother. Kit never writes tenderly like that
unless she feels a heart throb. I never thought she'd last as long as she
has----"
But Mrs. Bobbins looked dubious.
"She seems to have made such a good impression. I hate to have her spoil
it by jumping back too soon. It's such a benefit for her."
Jean stopped polishing lamp chimneys and gazed out of the kitchen window
towards the far-reaching fields, where none but the crows could find a
living now. She was only able to run up from New York once a month, since
she had taken a position of junior instructor at the Academy, and yet each
time she found herself turning with a sigh of relief and safety from the
city life to the peace of these everlasting hills.
"I don't blame her a bit if she wants to come back home before summer,
mother dear. Money isn't everything."
"Oh, but Jean," sighed the Mother Bird, "it means so much in life. It's
foolish to blind ourselves to all that it will do for us. I never try to
deceive myself one bit, and I shall always miss the little luxuries and
greater comforts of life that we had back at the Cove, before your
father's health broke down, especially now that you girls are growing up
so soon into womanhood. It isn't for myself I want it, but for you."
Jean laughed as she slipped her arms closer around her mother's neck.
"But you mustn't apprentice Kit to the Sign of the Dollar, just for the
forlorn hope that Uncle Cassius and Aunt Daphne may send her home with a
shower of gold. It seems to me if they were really and truly the right
kind of family people, and cared for you and father, that they couldn't
rest until they had handed over a splendid, generous slice of their money
right now when it would do the most good."
"Oh, Jean, people never do that. But I do think they will leave something
to you all."
"Leave something!" sniffed Jean, scornfully. "If there's anything in the
world I thoroughly despise, it's old, mouldy, dead men's shoes. If I were
you, I'd write and tell Kit that she could come home at the Christmas
vacation if she wanted to."
But Cousin Roxy took an entirely different view of the matter when she was
consulted.
"Fiddlesticks," she said. "No girl of Kit's age knows what she wants two
minutes of the time. She's doing good missionary work out there, and she
must not become weary in well doing or draw back her hand from the plow.
You don't need her here at all, Elizabeth. Helen's getting plenty old
enough to take hold and help."
"Oh, but she's so young, Roxy, to have responsibility thrust upon her."
"Can't have it too young," retorted Mrs. Ellis, buoyantly. "It's what
tones up the muscles of the spirit. From what I know about Cassius Cato
Peabody, I should say that what he needed most was a trumpet call from the
Lord to make him take an interest in the land of the living instead of
mummies and buried cities."
So two letters went back to Kit, and in hers the Mother Bird could not
resist slipping a hint that perhaps it would be a wise thing to ask the
Dean about terminating her visit at Christmas time. But Jean added in
hers:
"Mother's afraid you are homesick, or that they may be tired of you by
this time, but if I were in your place, Kit, I'd try to stay until June.
Father thinks the Hall may be done in time for us to go into it next
month, but we've had lots of wet weather, and Cousin Roxy says it would
be horribly unhealthful to move in before the plaster has had a chance to
thoroughly dry. Shad goes down every day with father, and they've kept the
fire going in the furnace, so I suppose that will help some, but there
isn't a particle of need for your coming back, except mother's dread that
you may be homesick, and you're getting too old to mollycoddle yourself,
Kit, where there's a big interest at stake."
Kit read this with lowering brow.
"It's so nice to have been born Jean, and speak on any subject as the
eldest sister," she said, scornfully. "I know perfectly well that mother
needs me when she is moving back into the new house, and I never expected
to stay so long when I came, anyway."
She stopped short, meditating on just what this queer, choky feeling was
that had swept over her. Helen and Jean always liked to take a new emotion
and analyze it, but Kit rarely concerned herself with motives or causes.
And now she only knew that she would have given up everything, future
hopes of the Dean's bestowing bequests broadcast in the robins' nest, and
all the winter's fun at Hope College, just to be safely back home with all
the dear familiar faces around her.