Mr. Copley came up the hill with a spring in his step one evening in
late September. Cornelia, glancing out of the window to see whether
it was time to put the dishes on the table, caught a glimpse of his
tall figure, and noticed how erectly he walked and how his shoulders
had squared with the old independent lines she remembered in her
childhood. It suddenly came over her that father did not look so
tired and worn as he had when she first came home. The lines of worry
were not so deeply graven, and his figure did not slump any longer.
She was conscious of a glad little thrill of pride in him. Her father
was not old. How young, he seemed as he sprinted up the hill, almost
as Carey might have done!
Cornelia hurried the dinner to the table, pulled the chain of the
dining-room light, for the darkness was beginning to creep into the
edges of the room, adjusted a spray of salvia that had fallen over
the side of the glass bowl in the centre of the table, and then
turned to greet her father. She was reaching her hand to strike the
three silver notes of the dinner-gong that hung on the wall by the
sideboard; but her hand stopped midway, and her eyes were held by
the look of utter joy on the face of her father. For the first time
it struck her that her father had once been a young man like Carey.
He looked young now, and very happy. The spring was still in his
step, a great light was in his eyes, and a smile that seemed to
warm and kindle everything in the room. When he spoke just to say
the commonplace “Good evening” as usual, there was something almost
hilarious in his voice. The children turned to look at him curiously,
but he seemed not to be aware of it. He sat down quietly enough, and
began to carve the meat.
“Beefsteak!” he said with satisfaction. “That looks good! I’m hungry
tonight.”
Cornelia reflected that this was the first time she had heard him
speak of being hungry since she came home. She looked curiously at
him again, and once more that feeling of wonder at the young look in
his eyes touched her. All through the meal, as their parent talked
and smiled and told happy little incidents of the day, the children
wondered; and finally, when the dessert was almost finished, Carey
looked keenly at him and ventured, “Dad, you look as if you’d had a
raise in your salary.”
“Why, I have!” said Mr. Copley, looking at his son smilingly. “I’d
almost forgotten, meant to tell you the first thing. By the way
Cornelia, I’d like it if you’d get up some kind of a fancy supper
tomorrow night. I’d like to bring—ah—an old friend home with me. Have
chicken and ice-cream and things, and some flowers. You’ll know what.
You might ask the minister’s daughter over, too, and Arthur Maxwell.
I’d like them to be here. Can you fix it up for me, daughter?”
Cornelia, bewildered, said, “Yes,” of course, and immediately plunged
into questions concerning the increase of salary.
When did it happen? Was it much? Was his position higher, and did he
have to work any harder?
“Yes, and no,” he answered calmly, as if a raised salary were an
everyday happening, and he were quite apart from it in his thoughts.
“I shall have practically the same work, but more responsibility.
It’s a kind of responsibility I like, however, because I know what
ought to be done, and they’ve given me helpers enough to have it
done right. The salary will be a thousand dollars a year more; and I
suppose, if you should want to go back to college by and by and get
your diploma, we could manage it.”
“Indeed, no!” interrupted Cornelia with a rising color in her cheeks
and an unexplained light in her eyes. “I’m quite well enough off
without a diploma, and I’m too deep in business now to go back and
get ready for it. What’s a diploma, anyway, but a piece of paper? I
never realized how trivial, after all, the preparations for a thing
are compared to the work itself. Of course it’s all right to get
ready for things, but I had practically done most of my preparation
at college, anyway. The rest of the year would have been mostly plays
and social affairs. The real work was finished. And, when I came
home, I was no more ready to go out into the world and do the big
things I had dreamed than I was when I entered college. It took life
to show me what real work meant, and how to develop a life-ideal. I
truly have got more real good from you dear folks here at home than
in all my four years’ course together. Though I’m not saying anything
against that, either, for of course that was great. But, father, I’m
not sorry I had to come home. These months here in this dear little
house with my family have been wonderful, and I wouldn’t lose them
out of my life for all the college courses in existence.”
She was suddenly interrupted by resounding applause from her brothers
and sister, and smothered with kisses from Louise, who sprang from
her seat to throw her arms around her neck.
“We all appreciate what you have done for us and your home,” said the
father with a light in his eyes. “Your mother will tell you how much
when she has an opportunity to see what you have done here.”
“But, dad,” interrupted Carey, as he saw his father, rise and glance
at his watch, “aren’t you going to tell us about your raise? Gee!
That’s something that oughtn’t to be passed over lightly like a
summer rain. How did it happen?”
The father smiled dreamily.
“Another time. I must hurry now. I have an appointment I must keep,
and I may not be home till late tonight. Don’t wait up for me. It
was just a promotion; that’s all. You won’t forget about the supper
tomorrow night, Cornelia; and be sure to get plenty of flowers.”
He hurried out, still with that preoccupied air, leaving his children
sitting bewildered at the table.
“Well, I’ll be hanged! What’s dad got up his sleeve, I’d like
to know? I never saw him act like that, did you, Cornie? Just a
promotion! That’s all! A mere little matter of a thousand more a
year! Mere trifle, of course. Tell us the details another time! I
say, Cornie, what’s up?”
But Cornelia was as puzzled as her brother.
“Perhaps he’s going to bring home one of the firm,” she said. “We
must make the house as fine as possible. Father doesn’t have many
parties, and we’ll make this a really great occasion if we can.
Strange he wanted to have others present, though. I wonder if he
really ought. Hadn’t I better talk it over with him again Carey? If
it’s one of the firm, he would think it very queer to have outsiders.”
“Grace Kendall isn’t an outsider!” blustered up Carey. “No, don’t
bother dad about it any further. He told you what he wanted; ask
them, of course. Max didn’t cut his eye-teeth last year, either; they
both know how to keep in the background when it’s necessary. Anything
I can do tonight before I go to choir rehearsal to help get ready for
tomorrow?”
They bustled about happily, getting the house in matchless order.
It was something they had learned to do together beautifully, each
taking a task and rushing it through, meanwhile all singing at the
top of their lungs some of the hymns that had been sung at the last
Sunday’s service, or a bit of a melody they had sung the last time
Grace and Maxwell had been over. One voice would boom out from the
top of the stairs, where Harry was wiping the dust from the stair
railing and steps; another from the living room where Carey was
adjusting a curtain-pole that had fallen; Cornelia’s voice from
the kitchen and pantry in a clear, sweet soprano; with Louise’s
bird-like alto in the dining-room, where she was setting the table
for breakfast. They were all especially happy that evening somehow.
A raise! A thousand more a year! Now mother could be given more
comforts and get well sooner! Now father would not have to work so
late at night going over miserable account-books for people, to earn
a little extra money.
There was a song in Cornelia’s heart as well as on her lips. She
was remembering the words of her little brother and sister in that
despairing conference she had overheard the first morning after her
arrival and comparing them with what had been said to her tonight;
and she was thinking how thankful she was for her home-coming just
when it had been, and how she would not have lost the last five
months out of her life just as it had been for worlds.
With tender thoughts and skilful hands Cornelia prepared the festive
dinner the next evening, and arranged a profusion of flowers
everywhere. A few great luscious chrysanthemums, golden and white,
lifting their tall globes in stately beauty from the gray jar in
the living room; wild, riotous crimson and yellow and tawny brown,
of the outdoor smaller variety, overflowing vases and bowls in
the window-seats and on the stair-landing; a magnificent spray of
brilliant maple leaves that Harry brought in from the woods before
he went to school gracing the stone-chimney above the mantel; and on
the dining table, glowing and sweet, a bowl of deep red roses, with
a few exquisite white buds among them, the kind she knew her father
liked because her mother loved them. There was nothing ostentatious
or showy about the simple arrangement, nothing to make the member
of the firm feel that the extra thousand dollars would be wasted in
show. It was all simple, sweet, homelike, and in good taste.
There was stewed chicken, with little biscuits and currant jelly,
mashed potatoes, and succotash, and for dessert ice-cream and angel
cake. A simple, old-fashioned dinner without olives or salads. She
knew that would please her father best, because it was her mother’s
company dinner. It was the dinner he and mother had on their
wedding-trip, and would always continue to be the best of eating to
his old-fashioned mind. Doubtless the old-fashioned member of the
firm would enjoy it for the same reason. So Cornelia hummed a little
carol as she went about stirring up the thickening for the gravy,
stopping to fasten Louise’s pretty sprigged challis dress with the
crimson velvet ribbon trimming, and smiling to herself that all was
going well. She could hear Carey upstairs getting dressed, and Harry
was already stumping downstairs. Everything was all ready. There were
five minutes to spare before father had said he would arrive with his
company. Grace had gone up to smooth her hair after being out all the
afternoon in the wind, and Maxwell had telephoned that he was on the
way and would not delay them.
Then, just as she finished taking up the chicken and went into the
living room to be sure Carey hadn’t left his coat and hat lying
around on the piano or table, as he sometimes did, a taxi drew up at
the door.
At first she thought it was Maxwell’s car, and her cheeks grew a
shade pinker as she drew back to glance out of the window. Then she
saw it was her father getting out, and in a panic flew back to shut
the kitchen door.
“They’re coming!” she called softly to the brothers and sister
chattering at the head of the stairs.
Pulling down her sleeves and giving a dab to her hair as she went,
she hurried back to open the door; but before she could reach it, it
was flung open, and there on the threshold of the pretty room stood
mother! A new, well, strong mother, with great happiness in her sweet
eyes and the flush of health on her cheeks; and close behind her,
looking like a roguish boy, was father, his eyes fairly dancing with
delight.
“Dinner ready?” he called. “Here’s our guest, children; and we’re
both as hungry as bears! There, children what do you think of your
mother? Doesn’t she look _great_?”
He pulled clumsily at the veil over Mrs. Copley’s hat, helped her
off with her travelling-coat, and set her forth in the midst of the
room. The children after a gasp of astonished delight swarmed about
her and fairly took her breath away; and, when any one of them became
momentarily detached from her, he took up the time in whooping with
joy and talking at the top of his lungs.
At last the greeting subsided, and mother became an object of tender
solicitation and care again. They placed her in the biggest chair,
and brought her a glass of water, looking at her as at something
precious that had been unwittingly too roughly handled, and might
have been harmed. In vain did she assure them that she was well
again. They looked at their father for reassurance.
“That’s right!” he said. “The doctor says she’s as good as new. She
might have come home sooner, but I told him to keep her till she was
thoroughly well; and he did. Now, children, it’s up to you to keep
her so.”
They swarmed about her again, and threatened to have the greetings
all over once more, till Cornelia suddenly remembered her place as
hostess, and straightened up.
“But, father, the company! When is he coming? And our other guests.”
She looked cautiously up the stairs to where Grace was discreetly
prolonging her hair-dressing, and lowered her voice.
“It’s too bad to have anyone here this first night. Mother will not
like to have strangers.”
But mother smiled royally.
“No, dear, I’m anxious to meet your friends. Father has told me all
about them. It’s one of the things that has helped to make me well,
knowing that everything was going well with my dear children.”
“O mother!” said Cornelia with a sudden succumbing to the joy of
having mother home once more. “O mother!” and she knelt beside her
mother’s chair, and threw her arms again about the little mother whom
she had been without so long, and never knew till now how she had
missed.
It was the sound of Maxwell’s car at the door and Grace Kendall’s
lingering step upon the stair that roused her once more into action.
Springing to her feet and glancing from the window, her face growing
rosy with the sight of Maxwell coming up the walk, she exclaimed:
“But father, where is your guest, your friend? I thought you were
going to bring him with you.”
Father stepped smiling over to mother’s chair, and stood with his
hand resting softly on her ripply brown hair.
“This is my guest—my friend,” he said, tenderly looking down at his
partner of the years with a wonderful smile, which she answered in
kind. “This is the one I asked you to prepare for, and I wanted her
to meet our young friends. I wanted her to get an immediate taste of
the atmosphere of our home as it now is, as it has been during her
absence, thanks to you, Cornelia, our blessed eldest child.”
The look he and her mother gave her would have been reward enough for
any girl for giving up a dozen college graduations. But, as if that
had not been enough for the full and free way in which she had given
herself, she lifted her eyes; and there beyond them, standing in the
doorway, stood Maxwell with such a look of worshipfulness in his
face, as he witnessed this girl receiving her due from her family, as
would have repaid a girl for almost any sacrifice.
Grace Kendall, coming slowly down the stairs into the pretty room,
watched it all contentedly. Everything was as it should be. The
mother was the kind of mother she had hoped she would be, and she
liked the way Carey sat on the arm of her chair with his arm around
the back protectingly. But suddenly Carey lifted his eyes, and saw
Grace; and the light of love swept into them. He sprang up, and came
to meet her eagerly. Taking her hand as if he were about to present
a princess to an audience, he led her to his mother, and said:
“Mother, meet the most wonderful girl in the world,” and laid Grace
Kendall’s hand in his mother’s. Mrs. Copley took Grace’s rosy face
between her two soft white hands, and, reaching up, kissed the sweet
girl tenderly amid a little hush of silence that none of the family
realized they were perpetrating, until suddenly father awoke to the
young girl’s sweet embarrassment, and, reaching out a boyish hand to
Maxwell, drew him to his wife’s chair, and said roguishly, “Mother,
and now meet the most wonderful man in the world!” and the little
silence broke into a joyous tumult while they all went out to the
waiting dinner, and did full justice to it with a feeling that that
evening was just the real beginning of things.
Late that night, as they were going up to bed, Cornelia, lingering
for some small preparation for the morning, heard Harry say to his
younger sister: “Gee! Lou, it’s good to have mother home again, isn’t
it? But somehow even she can’t take Cornie’s place, can she? Didn’t
Cornie look pretty tonight?”
“She certainly did,” responded the little sister eagerly; “and she
certainly is great. We can’t ever spare her again can we, Harry?”
“Well, I guess you mighty well better get ready to,” said Harry
knowingly. “It looks mighty like to me that Max intends us to spare
her pretty soon all right, all right.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” sighed Louise. “But then that’s nice. It isn’t
like somebody you don’t know and love already. She’ll always be ours,
and he’ll be ours, too. Won’t it be nice? Don’t you hope it’s so,
Harry?”
And Cornelia’s cheeks grew pinker in the kitchen as she remembered
words and looks that had passed that evening, and turned to her task
with a happy smile on her lips.