CHAPTER I_Re-creations

Transcriber’s Note

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RE-CREATIONS

GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL

AUTHOR OF

TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME,

THE CITY OF FIRE,

MARCIA SCHUYLER, ETC.

[Illustration: Decoration]

PHILADELPHIA

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY

LONDON

PRINTED IN UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

RE-CREATIONS

CHAPTER I

Cornelia Copley pressed her face against the window-pane of the car

and smiled with brave showing of courage as the train moved away from

the platform where her college mates huddled eagerly for the last

glimpse of her.

“Don’t forget to write, Cornie!” shouted a girl with black eyes and a

frantic green sweater over a green and yellow striped sport-skirt.

“Remember you’re to decorate my house when I’m married!” screamed a

pink-cheeked damsel with blue eyes and bewitching dimples.

“Be sure to come back for commencement!” chorused three others as the

train got fairly under way.

Cornelia watched the staid old gray buildings pencilled over with the

fine lines of vines that would burst into green tenderness as soon as

the spring should appear, and thought how many good times she had had

within those walls, and, how terrible, how simply unthinkable it was

that they were over forever, and she would never be able to graduate!

With gathering tears in her throat and blurring into her vision she

watched till the last flutter of the flag on the top of Dwight Hall

vanished, the big old cherry-tree gnarled and black against the

November sky faded into the end of the library, and even the college

hedge was too far back to discern; then she settled slowly back into

her seat, much as a bit of wax candle might melt and droop before

the outpouring of sudden heat. She dropped into her seat so sadly

and so crushingly that the sweet-faced lady in the long seal-skin

coat across the aisle turned and looked commiseratingly at her. Poor

child! Now what was she having to endure she wondered, as she watched

the sweet lips drop at the corners, the dimples around the eyes

disappear, and the long lashes sweep down too late to catch the great

tear that suddenly rolled out and down the round, fair cheek.

Cornelia sat with her face turned toward the window, and watched the

familiar way for a long time through unseeing eyes. She was really

looking into a hard and cruel future that had suddenly swooped down

upon her and torn her from her mates, her career in life, all that

she thought she held dear, and was sending her to an undesirable home

among a family who did not understand her and her aspirations nor

appreciate her ability. Her mouth took on hard little alien lines,

and her deep, dreamy eyes looked almost steely in their distress.

It all seemed so unnecessary. Why couldn’t father understand that

her career meant so much, and another year or two in college would

put her where she could be her own mistress and not be dependent

upon him? Of course she couldn’t argue with him about it just now

after that rather touching letter he had written; but if he had only

understood how important it was that she should go on and finish

her course, if only any of them had ever understood, she was sure

he would have managed someway to get along without recalling her.

She took out the letter and read it over again. After all, she had

scarcely had time to read it carefully in all its details, for a

telegram had followed close upon it bidding her come at once, as she

was badly needed, and of course she had packed up and started. This

was the letter, written in a cramped, clerkly hand:

“DEAR DAUGHTER,

“I am very sorry to have to tell you that your mother, who has been

keeping up for the last six months by sheer force of will, has

given out, and seems to be in quite a serious condition. The doctor

has told us that nothing but absolute rest and an entire change

will save her to us, and of course you will understand that we are

so rejoiced over the hope he holds out that we are trying to forget

the sorrow and anxiety of the present, and to get along as best we

can without her. I have just returned from taking her, with the

assistance of a trained nurse, to the Rest Cure Sanitarium at Quiet

Valley over at the other end of the State, where the doctor tells

me she will have just the conditions and treatment that her case

requires. You will be glad to know that she was quite satisfied to

go, feeling that it was the only possible thing left to do, and

her main distress was that you would have to leave college and

come home to take her place. My dear Nellie, it grieves me to the

heart to have to write this and ask you to leave your beloved work

and come home to help us live, but I see no other way out. Your

Aunt Pennell has broken her leg, and will not be able to be about

all winter; and, even if she were well enough, she never seems to

understand how to get along with Harry and Louise.

“And then, even if there were any one else, I must tell you that

there is another reason why coming home is necessary. It is that

I cannot afford to let you stay at college. I cannot tell you

how hard it looks to me written out on paper, and how my spirit

sinks beneath the thought that I have come to this, that I cannot

afford to let my daughter finish her education as she had planned,

because I have not been able to make money enough to do all the

other things that have to be done also. I have tried to keep the

knowledge of my heavy losses from you until you should be through

with your work at college. Mother and I thought we could get along

and not let you know about it, because we knew you would insist on

coming right home and helping; but now since mother has broken down

you will have to be told the truth. Indeed, I strongly suspect that

your mother in her great love for you and the others has brought

on this weak state of health by overdoing, although we tried all

we could to keep her from working too hard. You will, I know, want

to help in every way you can, so that we shall be able to surround

your dear mother with every necessity and even luxury that she

should have, and so make her recovery more sure and speedy. It

costs a good deal at Quiet Valley. It is an expensive place; but

nothing is too good for your dear patient mother, who has quietly

been giving her very life for us all without letting us know how

ill she was.

“There is another painful thing I must tell you, and that is that

we have had to move from our old home, also on account of the

expense, and you will not find it nearly so pleasant or convenient

here as at the old house; but I know my brave daughter will bear it

like a soldier, and be as helpful and resourceful as her mother has

always been. It gives me great comfort to think of your immediate

coming, for Louise is working too hard for so young a girl. Harry

helps her as much as he can. Moreover, I feel troubled about Carey.

He is getting into the habit of staying out late with the boys,

and—but you will know how to help him when you get here. You and

he were always good comrades. I cannot tell you what a tower of

strength you seem to me to be just now in this culmination of

trials. Be sure to telegraph me on what train you will arrive, and

we will meet you.

“With deep regret at the necessity of this recall, which I know

will be a great trial to you,

YOUR LOVING FATHER.”

Cornelia looked like anything but a tower of strength as she folded

the letter and slipped it back into her hand-bag with a deep-drawn

sigh. It had given her the same feeling of finality that had come

when she first read it. She had hoped there might be a glimmer,

a ray, somewhere in this second reading that would help her to

hope she might go back to college pretty soon when she had put the

family on its feet again and found the right person to look after

them. But this money affair that father laid so much emphasis upon

was something that she could not quite understand. If father only

understood how much money she could make once she was an interior

decorator in some large established firm he would see that a little

money spent now would bring large returns. Why, even if he had to

borrow some to keep her in college till her course was finished, he

would lose nothing in the end.

Cornelia put her head back against the cushion and closed her eyes

wearily. She hadn’t slept much the night before, and her nerves were

taut and strained. This was the first minute in which she had done

anything like relax since the letter came—right into the midst of a

junior show in which she had had charge of all the stage settings!

It really had been dreadful to leave when she was the only one

who knew where everything should be. She had spent half the night

before making drawings and coloring them, and explaining to two

half-comprehending classmates; but she was sure they would make

some terrible mistake somewhere, and she would be blamed with the

inharmony of the thing. It was too bad when she had acquired the

reputation of being the only girl in college who could make such

effects on the stage. Well, it couldn’t be helped!

Of course she was sorry her mother was sick, but father spoke

hopefully, confidently about her, and the rest would probably do her

good. It wasn’t as if mother were hopelessly ill. She was thankful as

any of them that that had not come. But mother had always understood

her aspirations, and if she were only at home would show father how

unreasonable it was for her to have to give up now when only a year

and a half more and the goal would be reached, and she could become a

contributing member of the family, rather than just a housekeeper!

Over and over the sorrowful round Cornelia’s thoughts went as mile

after mile rushed away under the wheels and home drew nearer. Now

and then she thought a little of how it would be when she got home;

but when one had to visualize an entirely new home about which one

had not heard a thing, not even in what part of the city it was

located, how could one anticipate a home-coming? They must have

just moved, she supposed, and probably mother had worked too hard

settling. Mother always did that. Indeed, Cornelia had been so

entirely away from home during her college life that she was almost

out of harmony with it, and her sole connection had been gay little

letters mostly filled with what she was going to do when she finished

her course and became an interior decorator.

It was almost two years since she had been at home, for last summer

and the summer before she had spent in taking special courses in a

summer school not far from her college, and the intervening Christmas

she had been invited to a wonderful house party in New York at the

home of one of her classmates who had unlimited money and knew

just how to give her friends a good time. Mother had thought these

opportunities too good to be wasted, and to her surprise father also

had been quite willing for her to spend the extra time and money, and

so she had grown quite away from the home and its habits. She began

to feel, as she drew nearer and nearer to the home city, almost as if

she were going among strangers.

It was growing quite dusky, and lights were glinting out in stray

farmhouses along the way. The train was due in the city at seven

o’clock. It was almost six, and the box of fudge that the girls

had supplied her with had palled upon her. Somehow she did not feel

hungry, only sick at heart and woefully homesick for the college,

and the ripple of laughter and chatter down the corridors; the jokes

about college fish, and rice pudding; the dear, funny interchange of

confidences; even the themes that had to be written! How gladly would

she go back now and never grumble about anything if she only knew she

could finish without an interruption, and then to the city to take

bachelor apartments with Mable and Alice as they had planned, and get

into big work! O the dreams, the bubbles that were being broken with

all their pretty glitter of rainbow hues gone into nothingness! O the

drab monotony of simple home life!

So her thoughts beat restlessly through her brain, and drove the

tears into her smarting eyes.

Presently the train halted at a station, and a small multitude rushed

in, breezy, rough, and dirty, with loud voices and garments covered

with grease and soil; toilers of the road, they were going back

to the city, tossing their clamor across the car, settling their

implements out of the way under their big muddy shoes. One paused

before Cornelia’s empty half seat, and suddenly before he could

sit down a lady slipped into it, with a smile and a motion toward

a whole empty seat across the aisle. The man accepted the offer

good-naturedly, summoning a fellow laborer to share it with him, and

Cornelia looked up relieved to meet the smile of her seal-clad former

neighbor across the aisle.

“I thought it would be pleasanter for us both dear, if I came over

here,” she murmured with a smile. “They were pretty strong of garlic.”

“Oh, thank you!” said Cornelia, and then grew shy as she noticed

the jewels on the delicate hand that rested on the soft fur. What

part had she in life with a woman like this, she who had to leave

college because there wasn’t money enough to let her stay till she

had finished? Perhaps she was the least bit ungracious to the kindly

woman who had made the move obviously for her protection, but the

kindly stranger would not be rebuffed.

“I’ve been watching you all the afternoon,” she said. “And I’m glad

of this opportunity of getting acquainted with you if you don’t mind.

I love young people.”

Cornelia wished her seatmate would keep still or go away but she

tried to smile gratefully.

“I was so interested in all those young people who came down to see

you off. It reminded me of younger days. Was that a college up on the

hill above the station?”

Now indeed was Cornelia’s tongue loosed. Her beloved college! Ah, she

could talk about that even to ladies clad in furs and jewels, and

she was presently launched in a detailed description of the junior

play, her face kindling vividly under the open admiration of the

white-haired, beautiful woman, who knew just how to ask the right

questions to bring out the girl’s eager tale, and who responded so

readily to every point she brought out.

“And how is it that you are going away?” she asked at last. “I should

think you could not be spared. You seem to have been the moving

spirit in it all. But I suppose you are returning in time to do your

part.”

Cornelia’s face clouded over suddenly, and she drew a deep sigh. For

the moment she had forgotten. It was almost as if the pretty lady had

struck her in the face with her soft, jewelled hand. She seemed to

shrink into herself.

“No,” she said at last sadly, “I’m not going back—_ever_, I’m

afraid.” The words came out with a sound almost like a sob, and

were wholly unintentional with Cornelia. She was not one to air her

sorrows before strangers, or even friends, but somehow the whole

tragedy had come over her like a great wave that threatened to engulf

her. She was immediately sorry that she had spoken, however, and

tried to explain in a tone less tragic. “You see, my mother is not

well and had to go away, and—they—needed me at home.”

She lifted her clouded eyes to meet a wealth of admiration in the

older woman’s gaze.

“How beautiful! To be needed, I mean,” the lady said with a smile. “I

can think just what a tower of strength you will be to your father.

Your father is living?”

“Yes,” gasped Cornelia with a sudden thought of how terrible it

would be if he were gone. “Oh, yes; and it’s strange—he used these

very words when he wrote me to come home.” Then she grew rosy with

the realization of how she was thinking out loud to this elegant

stranger.

“Of course he would,” assented the lady. “I can see that you are! I

was thinking that as I watched you all the afternoon. You seem so

capable and so—_sweet_!”

“Oh, but I’m _not_!” burst out the girl honestly. “I’ve been real

cross about it ever since the letter came. You see,”—and she drew

her brows earnestly trying to justify herself,—“you see I can’t help

thinking it’s all a mistake. I’m glad to go home and help; but some

one else could have done that, and I think I could have helped to

better purpose if I had been allowed to stay and finish my course,

and then been able to help out financially. Father has lost some

money lately, which has made things hard, and I was planning to be an

interior decorator. I should soon have been able to do a good deal

for them.”

“Oh, but my dear! No one can take a daughter’s place in a home when

there is trouble, not such a daughter’s place as you occupy, I’m

sure. And as for the other thing, if you have it in you it will come

out, you may be sure. You’ll begin by decorating the home interior,

and you won’t lose anything in the end. Such things are never lost

nor time wasted. God sees to that, if you are doing your best right

where He put you. I can just see what an exquisite spot you’ll make

of that home, and how it will rest your mother to know you are taking

her place.”

Cornelia sadly shook her head.

“There won’t be any chance for decorating,” she said slowly. “They’ve

had to move away from the home we owned, and father said it wasn’t

very pleasant there.”

“All the more chance for your talents!” said the lady with determined

cheerfulness. “I know you have a sense of the beautiful, for I’ve

been studying that lovely little hat you wear, and how well it suits

your face and tones with your coat and dress and gloves. How ever

unpleasant and gloomy that new house may be, it will begin to glow

and blossom and give out welcome within a short time after you get

there. I should like to look in and prove the truth of my words.

Perhaps I shall sometime, who knows? You just can’t help making

things fit and beautiful. There’s a look in your face that makes me

sure. Count the little house your opportunity, as every trial and

test in this world really is, you know, and you’ll see what will

come. I know, for I’ve seen it tried again and again.”

“But one can’t do much without money,” sighed Cornelia, “and money is

what I had hoped to earn.”

“You’ll earn it yet, very likely; but, even if you don’t, you’ll do

the things. Why, the prettiest studio I ever saw was furnished with

old boxes covered with bark and lichens, and cushioned with burlap.

The woodwork was cheap pine stained dark, the walls were rough,

and there was a fireplace built from common cobblestones. When the

tea-kettle began to sing on the hearth, and my friend got out her

little cheap teacups from the ten-cent store, I thought it was the

prettiest place I ever saw, and all because she had put herself into

it and not money, and made everything harmonize. You’ll do it yet. I

can see it in your eyes. But here we are at last in the city, and

aren’t you going to give me your address? Here’s mine on this card,

and I don’t want to lose you now I’ve found you. I want you to come

and see me sometime if possible, and if I get back to this city again

sometime,—I’m only passing through now, and meeting my son to go on

to Washington with him in the morning,—but if I get back this way

sometime soon I want to look you up if I may, and see if I didn’t

prophesy truly, my dear little Interior Decorator.”

This was the kind of admiration Cornelia was used to, and she glowed

with pleasure under it, her cheeks looking very pretty against the

edge of brown fur on her coat-collar. She hastily scribbled the new

address on one of her cards and handed it out with a dubious look,

almost as if she would like to recall it.

“I haven’t an idea what kind of a place it will be,” she said

apologetically. “Father seemed to think I wouldn’t like it at all.

Perhaps it won’t be a place I would be proud to have you see me in.”

“I’m sure you’ll grace the place, however humble it is,” said the

lady with a soft touch of her jewelled hand on Cornelia’s. And just

then the train slid into the station and came to a halt. Almost

immediately a tall young man strode down the aisle and stood beside

the seat. It seemed a miracle how he could have arrived so soon,

before the passengers had gathered their bundles ready to get out.

“Mother!” he said eagerly, lifting his hat with the grace and ease of

a young man well versed in the usages of the best society. And then

he stooped and kissed her. Cornelia forgot herself in her admiration

of the little scene. It was so beautiful to see a mother and son like

this. She sighed wistfully. If only Carey could be like that with

mother! What an unusual young man this one seemed to be! He didn’t

look like a mollycoddle, either. He treated his mother like a beloved

comrade. Cornelia sat still watching, and then the mother turned and

introduced her.

“Arthur, I want you to meet Miss Copley. She has made part of the way

quite pleasant and interesting for me.”

Then Cornelia was favored with a quick, searching glance accompanied

by a smile which was first cordial for his mother’s sake, and then

grew more so with his own approval as he studied her. The girls his

mother picked were apt to be satisfactory. She could see he was

accepting her at the place where his mother left off. A moment more,

and he was carrying her suitcase in one hand and his mother’s in the

other, while she, walking with the lady, wondered at herself, and

wished that fate were not just about to whirl her away from these

most interesting people.

Then she caught a glimpse of her father at the train gate, with his

old derby pulled down far over his forehead as if it were getting too

big, and his shabby coat-collar turned up about his sunken cheeks.

How worn and tired he looked! yes, and old and thin. She hadn’t

remembered that his shoulders stooped so, or that his hair was so

gray. Had all that happened in two years? And that must be Louise

waving her handkerchief so violently just in front of him. Was that

Harry in that old red baseball sweater with a smudged white letter

on his breast, and ragged wrists? He was chewing gum, too! Oh, if

these new acquaintances would only get out of the way! It would be

so dreadful to have to meet and explain and introduce! She forgot

that she had a most speaking face, and that her feelings were quite

open to the eyes of her new friends, until she suddenly looked up and

found the young man’s eyes upon her interestedly, and then the pink

color flew over her whole face in confusion.

“Please excuse me,” she said, reaching out for her suitcase. “I see

my father,” and without further formalities she fairly flew down

the remainder of the platform and smothered herself in the bosom of

her family, anxious only to get them off to one side and away from

observation.

“She’s a lovely girl,” said the lady wistfully. “She wants to be an

interior decorator, and make a name and fame for herself, but instead

she’s got to go home from college and keep house for that rabble.

Still, I think she’ll make good. She has a good face and sweet, true

eyes. Sometime we’ll go and see her and find out.”

“M’m!” said the son, watching Cornelia escape from a choking embrace

from her younger brother and sister. “I should think that might be

interesting,” and he walked quite around a group of chattering people

greeting some friends in order that he might watch her the longer.

But when Cornelia at last straightened her hat, and looked furtively

about her, the mother and son had passed out of sight, and she drew

a deep sigh of thanksgiving and followed her father and the children

downstairs to the trolley. They seemed delightful people, and under

other circumstances she might have heartily enjoyed their company;

but if she had hard things to face she didn’t want an audience while

she faced them. Her father might be shabby and old; but he was her

father, and she wasn’t going to have him laughed at by anybody, even

if he didn’t always see things as she thought he ought to see them.