"I regret, my dear madam," said Lawyer Bradford, twisting uneasily in his
chair, "that I can offer you no encouragement whatsoever. The will is
clear and explicit in every detail, and there are no grounds for a
contest. I am, perhaps, trespassing upon the wishes of my client in giving
you this information, but if you are remaining here with the hope of
pecuniary profit, you are remaining here unnecessarily."
He rose as though to indicate that the interview was at an end, but Mrs.
Holmes was not to be put away in that fashion. Her eyes were blazing and
her weak chin trembled with anger.
"Do you mean to tell me," she demanded, "that Ebeneezer voluntarily died
without making some sort of provision for me and my helpless little
children?"
"Your distinguished relation," answered Mr. Bradford, slowly, "certainly
died voluntarily. He announced the date of his death some weeks before it
actually occurred, and superintended the making of his own coffin. He
wrote out minute directions for his obsequies, had his grave dug, and his
shroud made, burned his papers, rearranged his books, made his will--and
was found dead in his bed on the morning of the day set for his departure.
A methodical person," muttered the old man, half to himself; "a most
methodical and systematic person."
Mrs. Holmes shuddered. She was not ordinarily a superstitious woman, but
there was something uncanny in this open partnership with Death.
"There was a diamond pin," she suggested, moodily, "worth, I should think,
some fifteen or sixteen hundred dollars. Ebeneezer gave it to dear Rebecca
on their wedding day, and she always said it was to be mine. Have you any
idea where it is?"
Mr. Bradford fidgeted. "If it was intended for you," he said, finally, "it
will be given to you at the proper time, or you will be directed to its
location. Mrs. Judson died, did she not, about three weeks after their
marriage?"
"Yes," snapped Mrs. Holmes, readily perceiving the line of his thought,
"and I saw her twice in those three weeks. Both times she spoke of the
pin, which she wore constantly, and said that if anything happened to her,
she wanted me to have it, but that old miser hung on to it."
"Madam," said Mr. Bradford, a faint flush mounting to his temples as he
opened the office door, "you are speaking of my Colonel, under whom I
served in the war. He was my best friend, and though he is dead, it is
still my privilege to protect him. I bid you good afternoon!"
She did not perceive until long afterward that she had practically been
ejected from the legal presence. Even then, she was so intent upon the
point at issue that she was not offended, as at another time she certainly
would have been.
"He's lying," she said to herself, "they're all lying. There's money
hidden in that house, and I know it, and what's more, I'm going to have
it!"
She had searched her own rooms on the night of her arrival, but found
nothing, and the attic, so far, had yielded her naught save discouragement
and dust. "To think," she continued, mentally, "that after two of my
children were born here and named for them, that we are left in this way!
I call it a shame, a disgrace, an outrage!"
Her anger swiftly cooled, however, as she went into the house, and her
fond sight rested upon her darlings. Willie had a ball and had already
broken two of the front windows. The small Rebecca was under the sofa,
tempering the pleasure of life for Claudius Tiberius, while young
Ebeneezer, having found a knife somewhere, was diligently scratching the
melodeon.
"Just look," said Mrs. Holmes, in delighted awe, as Dorothy entered the
room. "Don't make any noise, or you will disturb Ebbie. He is such a
sensitive child that the sound of a strange voice will upset him. Did you
ever see anything like those figures he is drawing on the melodeon? I
believe he's going to be an artist!"
Crushed as she was in spirit by her uncongenial surroundings, Dorothy
still had enough temper left to be furiously angry. In these latter days,
however, she had gained largely in self-control, and now only bit her lips
without answering.
But Mrs. Holmes would not have heard her, even if she had replied. A
sudden yowl from the distressed Claudius impelled Dorothy to move the sofa
and rescue him.
"How cruel you are!" commented Mrs. Holmes. "The idea of taking Rebbie's
plaything away from her! Give it back this instant!"
Mrs. Carr put the cat out and returned with a defiant expression on her
face, which roused Mrs. Holmes to action. "Willie," she commanded, "go out
and get the kitty for your little sister. There, there, Rebbie, darling,
don't cry any more! Brother has gone to get the kitty. Don't cry!"
But "brother" had not gone. "Chase it yourself," he remarked, coolly. "I'm
going out to the barn."
"Dear Willie's individuality is developing every day," Mrs. Holmes went
on, smoothly. "There, there, Rebbie, don't cry any more. Go and tell Mrs.
Smithers to give you a big piece of bread with lots of butter and jam on
it. Tell her mamma said so. Run along, that's a nice little girl."
Rude squares, triangles, and circles appeared as by magic on the shining
surface of the melodeon, the young artist being not at all disturbed by
the confusion about him.
"I am blessed in my children," Mrs. Holmes went on, happily. "I often
wonder what I have done that I should have so perfect a boy as Willie for
my very own. Everybody admires him so that I dwell in constant fear of
kidnappers."
"I wouldn't worry," said Dorothy, with ill-concealed sarcasm. "Anybody who
took him would bring him back inside of two hours."
"I try to think so," returned the mother, with a deep sigh. "Willie's
indomitable will is my deepest comfort. He gets it from my side of the
family. None of the children take after their father at all. Ebbie was a
little like his father's folks at first, but I soon got it out of him and
made him altogether like my people. I do not think anybody could keep
Willie away from me except by superior physical force. He absolutely
adores his mother, as my other children do. You never saw such beautiful
sentiment as they have. The other day, now, when I went away and left
Rebbie alone in my apartment, she took down my best hat and put it on. The
poor little thing wanted to be near her mother. Is it not touching?"
"It is indeed," Dorothy assented, dryly.
"My children have never been punished," continued Mrs. Holmes, now
auspiciously launched upon her favourite theme. "It has never been
necessary. I rule them entirely through love, and they are so accustomed
to my methods that they bitterly resent any interference by outsiders.
Why, just before we came here, Ebbie, young as he is, put out the left eye
of a woman who tried to take his dog away from him. He did it with his
little fist and with apparently no effort at all. Is it not wonderful to
see such strength and power of direction in one so young? The woman was in
the hospital when we came away, and I trust by this time, she has learned
not to interfere with Ebbie. No one is allowed to interfere with my
children."
"Apparently not," remarked Mrs. Carr, somewhat cynically.
"It is beautiful to be a mother--the most beautiful thing on earth! Just
think how much I have done for the world!" Her sallow face glowed with the
conscious virtue bestowed by one of the animal functions upon those who
have performed it.
"In what way?" queried Mrs. Carr, wholly missing the point.
"Why, in raising Willie and Ebbie and Rebbie! No public service can for a
moment be compared with that! All other things sink into insignificance
beside the glorious gift of maternity. Look at Willie--a form that a
sculptor might dream of for a lifetime and never hope to imitate--a head
that already has inspired great artists! The gentleman who took Willie's
last tintype said that he had never seen such perfect lines, and insisted
on taking several for fear something should happen to Willie. He wanted to
keep some of them for himself--it was pathetic, the way he pleaded, but I
made him sell me all of them. Willie is mine and I have the first right to
his tintypes. And a lady once painted Willie at his play in black and
white and sent it to one of the popular weeklies. I have no doubt they
gave her a fortune for it, but it never occurred to her to give us
anything more than one copy of the paper."
"Which paper was it?"
"One of the so-called comic weeklies. You know they publish superb
artistic things. I think they are doing a wonderful work in educating the
masses to a true appreciation of art. One of the wonderful parts of it was
that Willie knew all about it and was not in the least conceited. Any
other child would have been set up at being a model for a great artist,
but Willie was not affected at all. He has so much character!"
At this point the small Rebecca entered, dragging her doll by one arm, and
munching a thick slice of bread, thinly coated with molasses.
"I distinctly said jam," remarked Mrs. Holmes. "Servants are so heedless.
I do not know that molasses is good for Rebbie. What would you think, Mrs.
Carr?"
"I don't think it will hurt her if she doesn't get too much of it."
"There's no danger of her getting too much of it. Mrs. Smithers is too
stingy for that. Why, only yesterday, Willie told me that she refused to
let him dip his dry bread in the cream, and gave him a cup of plain milk
instead. Willie knows when his system needs cream and I want him to have
all the nourishment he can get. The idea that she should think she knew
more about it than Willie! She was properly punished for it, however. I
myself saw Willie throw a stick of stove wood at her and hit her foolish
head with it. I think Willie is going to be a soldier, a commander of an
army. He has so much executive ability and never misses what he aims at.
"Rebbie, don't chew on that side, darling; remember your loose tooth is
there. Mamma doesn't want it to come out."
"Why?" asked Dorothy, with a gleam of interest.
"Because I can't bear to have her little baby teeth come out and make her
grow up! I want to keep her just as she is. I have all my children's
teeth, and some day I am going to have them set into a beautiful bracelet.
Look at that! How generous and unselfish of Rebbie! She is trying to share
her bread with her doll. I believe Rebbie is going to be a philanthropist,
or a college-settlement worker. See, she is trying to give the doll the
molasses--the very best part of it. Did you ever see such a beautiful
spirit in one so young?"
Before Mrs. Carr could answer, young Ebeneezer had finished his wood
carving and had grabbed his protesting twin by the hair.
"There, there, Rebbie," soothed the mother, "don't cry. Brother was only
loving little sister. Be careful, Ebbie. You can take hold of sister's
hair, but not too hard. They love each other so," she went on. "Ebbie is
really sentimental about Rebbie. He loves to touch and stroke her glorious
blonde hair. Did you ever see such hair as Rebbie's?"
It came into Mrs. Carr's mind that "Rebbie's" hair looked more like a
plate of cold-slaw than anything else, but she was too wise to put the
thought into words.
Willie slid down the railing and landed in the hall with a loud whoop of
glee. "How beautiful to hear the sounds of childish mirth," said Mrs.
Holmes. "How----"