THE OLD DESK.
Such a cry of delight as went up when Persis discovered her sister.
“Why, Lisa! Lisa! Lisa!” she exclaimed, her voice rising with each
reiteration. “When did you come? How did you get here? Oh, you dear old
thing! Let me see if your eyes have a slant upward, and if you wear
bodkins stuck in your hair. No, you look quite, quite natural.” And the
hugging that followed left scarce breath for utterance to either of
them.
“Didn’t I surprise you nicely?” said Lisa, at length. “I sent a
despatch from ’Frisco, but you were away, and Mell begged mamma not to
let you know, and I am glad she didn’t. Yes, I am safe and sound. I had
a chance to come with some friends as far as New York and the rest of
the way was nothing. Let me look at you, Perse. You haven’t grown as
much as Melly. I believe she is as tall as you.”
“Yes, she is, and a wee bit taller,” confessed Persis. “Now tell me
all about yourself. Oh, my, but we shall have to talk all night for a
week, to catch up. Aunt Esther didn’t come with you?”
“No; the captain is there for three years, you know. I just had to come
home, although I have had a perfectly lovely time. Oh, Persis, how you
would enjoy seeing that interesting Japan! Aunt Esther did everything
in the world to make it pleasant for me, and—well, altogether it has
been a great experience.”
Persis’s eyes were roving over her sister, dwelling on her beauty and
taking in every detail of her face and figure. Presently she darted
forward and caught Lisa’s hand. “Lisa,” she cried, “where did you get
that ring? Did Aunt Esther give it to you?” And Lisa blushed up to her
eyes.
“That?” she answered, trying to look unconcerned. “No, Aunt Esther
didn’t give it to me. Oh, Persis, I shall have to tell you. I am
engaged.”
Persis dropped the hand on which the diamond shone, and looked as if
she were ready either to laugh or cry. “Not to a Japanese!” she said,
quizzically.
“You ridiculous girl. No; although one might go farther and fare much
worse.”
“You couldn’t go much farther,” answered Persis.
“Well, he isn’t a Japanese. He is a _bonâ fide_ stars-and-stripes
American; so much so that he is in the United States navy,—a
lieutenant, Perse, and his name is Richard Griffith.”
“Oh, yes; I remember your having written about him to us. Go on; tell
me everything.”
“Well, he went out on the same steamer that we did to join his ship,
and right away I liked him. He has another year’s sea duty; then he
will have land duty for three years, and—he is a dear, good fellow.”
“Of course. Although I always have heard that these naval officers are
great flirts, and are not always as moral as they should be. Who is he
the most like,—the Popinjay or Mr. Dan?”
Lisa blushed a little. “He isn’t like either of them. He is thoroughly
manly and intelligent, and yet he likes society; and as for his morals,
he is as good as gold. Even Aunt Esther approves of him.”
“And are you dreadfully in love with him?”
“What a probe you are, Perse. Of course I am.”
“How could you come away, then?”
“Because I do care so much for him that I wanted to come home to get
ready to be married.”
“Oh, Lisa, not yet. You are so young.”
“That is what mamma says; but I think when Richard is recalled and she
sees him, she will consent. Now tell me all about your trip. I have had
a chance to hear most of the home news, for I have been home a day and
a half.”
“I’m so flabbergasted by your news,” returned Persis, “that everything
else is knocked out of my head. I wish your young man were here for me
to see.”
“So do I; but I can show you his photograph.” And Lisa produced the
picture.
“He isn’t handsome, but he has a nice face.”
“No, he isn’t specially good-looking, but he is just my dear Rick, and
I would not have him any different.” And Lisa put away the photograph a
little jealously. “I told you we met on the way out, and I have seen
him nearly every day since, so you see we have had a good opportunity
of knowing each other well.”
Here came a knock at the door, and a box was handed in by Lyddy. “For
you, Miss Persis.”
“For me?” And Persis opened the box with some curiosity. “Oh, see,
Lisa: flowers from Mr. Dan. I wasn’t here at Easter, so he has sent
them as a welcome home. Isn’t it nice of him?”
“Yes; very. I hear great accounts of you and Mr. Dan. I think he will
suit you very well, Perse.”
“Suit me? What do you mean? Why, Lisa, I never gave him a sentimental
thought. We are just good comrades; that’s all. He has been awfully
good to me. Do you suppose——” And Persis stopped. Could there be any
other than friendship’s message intended to be conveyed by the flowers?
“Nonsense!” she said. “We’re in business together; that’s all. Don’t
you put notions in my head, Miss Lisa, and go thinking every one is in
your fix.”
Lisa laughed and then looked rather thoughtful. “I’m going to tell you
a secret, Perse. I don’t mind your knowing it now, for it’s all done
with long ago, but do you know, when I went away I was quite interested
in Mr. Dan myself.”
“You! Why, Lisa, I thought you couldn’t bear him. Then that is why you
acted so.”
Lisa nodded. “Yes, I suppose it was,” she said, after a moment’s
reflection. “I told mamma, and that was why she was willing to have me
go with Aunt Esther, for, Persis, he wasn’t near so much interested
in me as I was in him, and I was getting unhappy over it; so you see I
did just the right thing. Of course, girls often do have two or three
fancies sometimes before they really find their true love. Mamma was
such a help. She saw just how it all was, and she wrote me exactly the
best things to make me get over it. Don’t think for a moment that I owe
Mr. Danforth a grudge; in fact, I feel myself rather under obligations
to him, for he opened my eyes to several very wholesome truths, and I
am sure I should never have appreciated Richard’s goodness quite so
much if Mr. Danforth had not shown me what to avoid in men and what
qualities to cultivate in myself. Really I feel quite inclined to offer
him my thanks.”
Persis was very thoughtful. “I should like to have had Mr. Dan for a
brother,” she said.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I wish you hadn’t told me, for I shall always be
regretting. I wish now you had not gone away, for it might have been
different after a while.”
Lisa shook her head. “That is disloyalty to my Richard, to which I
shall not listen. Come, Perse, let’s go down. I haven’t seen grandma,
remember. How I do miss the boys!”
Persis sighed. “So do I, although we see them nearly every day; but it
isn’t like having them here. I actually hate to go by Basil’s room now.”
“Persis!”
“What?”
“Nothing.” And Lisa refrained from a speech which she intended to make,
thinking that perhaps here was a reason for her sister’s finding no
message in the roses.
“The house seems more like itself with my pretty maids all here,” Mrs.
Holmes said, fondly, as she looked at the bright faces of her daughters
in the library that evening. “It will be many a day before I spare one
of them again.”
“Oh, mamma!” expostulated Lisa.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Holmes, decidedly. “You must remember that neither of
your parents has as yet seen your sailor lad, and the engagement is
only conditional until we do see him, and must not be announced. You
are too young to think of nest-making yet, the pair of you.”
“Yes, my Nancy Lee,” interposed Persis; “take the advice of your wise
sister and ‘bide a wee.’ You won’t find me so ready to leave you,
mammy.” And Persis patted her mother’s face with her pretty soft hand.
“What about college?”
“Oh, college is different; that is just for a time. I’ll go just to
make you glad to have me back again, and you’ll be so glad you’ll want
to keep me always. It does seem a shame to break up the constellation,
as Ned Carew calls us. I asked him which one we represented, and he
had some dim idea of meaning the Pleiades, I think, until I reminded
him that we are not seven; and then he said, ‘Ah, you’re those bright
stars in a row. What d’ye call ’em? Orion’s belt.’ Now you know where
we belong, girls.”
“That sounds like Ned. How is my late adorer, by the way?” asked Lisa.
“He is well. In your absence he has been devoting himself to Audrey,
and in consequence the relations are somewhat strained between the
Pigeon and the Milesian.”
“‘Wha’ fo’?’ as Prue says,” inquired Lisa.
“Because Pidgy does not admire the Grasshopper, and Audrey is quite
grown up nowadays. She is quite a society lady, while Melly is only a
school-girl yet; so you see, like the conundrum, Why does a duck go in
the water? it’s for divers reasons.”
“What about the other girls? How is Connie?”
“Oh, poor Connie, or, rather, fortunate Connie. Mrs. Steuart died about
a year ago, Imogene is married and has gone to another city to live,
and Oriana lives with her. And, what do you think? Connie is living at
Mrs. Dixon’s. I think it was lovely of Mrs. Dixon to have her, and it
will mean everything to Connie. She has refined instincts, but they
were in danger of being blunted by her home surroundings. Mr. Steuart
is off somewhere all the time. I don’t think much of him anyway. And
Bud? oh, Bud is with his brother-in-law in some large mill or factory
or something. Imogene really did very well in her marriage. And that
is the news in Connie’s direction. Nellie Hall is just the same dear
old good thing, and Margaret Greene has joined all the clubs going. Kit
Carew is engaged to—guess who?”
“I can’t.”
“The Toad.”
“No!”
“Yes, truly. I don’t see how she can like him; but he ought to be very
good, for he is not beautiful, although I believe he is quite wealthy.”
Mrs. Estabrook’s entrance then caused the conversation to turn upon
the incidents of the trip just taken, and Persis produced the little
statuette which Mr. Peyton had given her; and that night she told Lisa
the story of it and of her impression of Mr. Peyton.
“Isn’t it queer,” she said, “to think of grandma’s being the heroine
of a romance? I know there is one about her and Mr. Peyton, and to
think that even now he feels so about her. It isn’t usual to find such
constancy, is it?”
“No; I think not, nowadays. It’s more often on with the new love before
you are off with the old.”
“I don’t like that,” returned Persis. “I think men and women should be
as honorable in their love affairs as in their business, and they are
not. I do not believe in that saying, ‘All’s fair in love and war.’ All
isn’t fair, and persons have no right to deceive each other. They’ll be
sure to get found out some day, and then they bring unhappiness to some
one, if not to themselves.”
“Yes, my wise mentor. How did you learn so much, Tommy?”
“Watching other people and thinking very hard; but I’d like to know the
truth about Mr. Peyton.”
Some time after Persis heard the story. It was when the announcement of
Mr. Peyton’s death reached her, conveyed by means of a letter from one
of his executors, who stated that the old desk, with its contents, was
left as a bequest to “Persis Carter’s grand-daughter, Persis Holmes.” A
few days later the desk was sent, and since Persis’s snuggery was too
small to accommodate it, after some planning it was decided that the
second daughter really needed a room of her own, and so Lisa took her
possessions into the larger apartment, formerly occupied by the boys,
and Persis set up her desk by the window.
Annis was on hand when the big piece of furniture arrived, and viewed
it with much satisfaction. “Isn’t it a dear old thing?” she said.
“Yes. I feel quite pensively sentimental over it. I think it was so
good of Cousin Ambrose to leave it to me.”
“Have you examined the contents?”
“Yes. I found some old books and coins,—nice old books they are, too.
On the fly-leaf of one I found, ‘To Ambrose Peyton; from his cousin,
Persis Carter.’ Then there are some volumes of history and a very old
edition of Shakespeare.”
Annis was opening the various doors and compartments of the old desk.
“Oh, here is a tiny little drawer,” she said. “It has a big envelope in
it. Have you seen that?”
“No; where did you find it?”
“Here, in this little place that opens like a sliding panel.”
“I never thought of looking there. Let me see. Why, Annis, it is
addressed to me.”
“Open it, Persis. Hurry! let us see what is inside.” And Persis broke
the heavy seal. “Why, what are these things?” she exclaimed. “And there
is a letter and a ring.” Opening the letter she read:
“TO MISS PERSIS HOLMES:
“MY DEAR CHILD,—The pleasure which I have lately received from your
visit has renewed an old desire to emphasize in some substantial
way my obligation to and affection for your grandmother. Many years
ago I was the suitor for the hand of my cousin, Persis Carter, who
always has been and always must be the loveliest woman in the world
to me. But, alas! I was not worthy, and your beloved grandmother, my
cousin, Persis Carter, would not consent to link her fate with one who
chose to degrade his manhood by the use of the intoxicating glass.
She married a good and noble man, and was a happy wife and mother.
It was only when I lost her that I realized what a foe to me was the
wine-cup. But her dear helping hand was stretched out to save me, for
when, in a moment of frenzy, I struck down a neighbor, believing I had
killed him—which, thank God! I had not—I fled to her and she saved
me, not only from myself, but from the consequence of the act which
threatened to brand me as a criminal. I have never seen her since
then, but her image has never faded and her nobleness and generosity
has been ever a holy memory. I feel that my days are numbered, and
for the sake of Persis Carter I wish to bestow upon her namesake this
token of my undying gratitude and affection. Your little friend has
told me of your hopes and ambitions. May this gift help you to become
as wise and good a woman as my beloved cousin, Persis Carter. The
little ring was my mother’s. I had intended it for the Persis whom I
hoped would be my wife.”
“Faithfully yours,”
“AMBROSE PEYTON.”
“Oh, Annis!” Persis exclaimed, her eyes full of tears; “isn’t it sad,
sad? The dear old man! How he has suffered; and what a story lies
between the lines! Dear, dear grandma, who could believe to look at her
that such a tragedy as that had been so near her!”
While Persis was reading the letter Annis was attentively looking over
the other papers which lay in her lap. “Why, Persis,” she said, “these
are bonds,—government bonds!”
“What?”
“Yes. Why, Persis! why, Persis! there are one, two, ten thousand
dollars’ worth of government bonds! Oh! oh!”
“No! I don’t believe it!”
“Yes, they are, truly. Look!”
Persis dropped down on the floor all in a heap and began to cry.
“Why, Persis Holmes!”
“I can’t help it! I can’t help it! First Lisa comes home and tells me
she is engaged, and then I read that letter, and then this comes. It
is too much all at once. I seem to see that poor, young, desperate
fellow rushing to his cousin and begging her help. I can see grandma
appealing to his better self. I can see him, with the shadow of guilt
following him, fighting against temptation.”
“Don’t get so wrought up, Persis. You are so excited you are trembling
all over.”
“Where is that little ring? I want that.”
“I believe you would rather have it than the bonds.”
“So I would, just at this moment. Let me indulge my sentimentality for
a little while.”
“Well, then, here is the ring. Isn’t it pretty—just those three big
milk-white pearls?”
Persis put it on her finger and sat pensively regarding it. “I shall
always wear it,” she said. “I shall be true to you, Cousin Ambrose.”
“What deadly sentimentality!” laughed Annis. “I never would have
believed it of you. Come, let us go show these bonds to your father.”
Persis jumped up. “Very well, I have finished mourning over the ring.
Oh, Annis, if they really are government bonds, college does become a
very solid fact. To think of my being a ‘bloated bond-holder’! What in
the world did you say to Cousin Ambrose about me?”
“I confess I told him that you were longing to take a college course,
and I told him, too, of all your grandmother and you have done for us;
how you plucked us from the ‘wall of poverty’ and sat us upon the ‘hill
of prosperity,’ and—well—all that kind of thing; but I never dreamed it
would bring this result, or I should have told still more.”
“I never would have dreamed that you could be so communicative and
diplomatic. After all, then, it is your doing.”
“No; it is the reward of merit. Just as it comes out in books, virtue
is rewarded and the evil-doer is punished.”
“Who is the evil-doer in this case? He hasn’t appeared upon the scene
so far. We must tell grandma before we go to any one else. Come; she is
in her room.”
[Illustration: Decoration]