THE END AND THE BEGINNING.
It was a month later. The first snow had fallen, and the lawn was white
with it, and all the trees and bushes powdered with frost. Coming out of
the class-room one day, her heart singing of sines and cosines and
tangents, Peggy found the Snowy and the Fluffy waiting for her at the
door, with radiant faces.
"Oh, what?" cried Peggy. "A letter?"
"Yes," said Gertrude. "It has just come, though the postmark is two or
three days ago. Where shall we go to read it? Your room, Peggy? So we
will; it's nearer than the Nest, and I know you can't wait."
Grace's letters were indeed things to wait for in those days. She had
gone to Lobelia's home with her; for, on coming to herself, the invalid
had still clung to her new friend, with a persistency strange in one so
timid and fearful. Convalescence came, with its unwilling fretfulness,
its fits of unreason. Still Lobelia clung to Grace, and no one else
could make her listen and obey. The nurse laughed, and said she might as
well go, and leave her diploma with Miss Wolfe; yet stayed, for the two
worked together in pleasant harmony and friendship. At last, Doctor
Hendon ordered a change of scene, and now, too, Grace must go with her.
The Parkins mansion was within driving distance of Pentland; the whole
school had turned out to see the departure, the sick girl lying on
cushions, her thin face already showing the signs of returning health,
and really transfigured by the light of love and gratitude that beamed
from it, as she looked from Grace to Peggy, and back again to Grace. She
beckoned to Peggy, who pressed to her side and bent over her. "What is
it, dear?" she whispered.
"Peggy!"
"Yes, Lobelia."
"Peggy, you don't mind?"
"Mind what? I don't mind anything, now that you are getting well."
"You--you were my first friend, the only friend I had. You don't
mind--that I love her? I couldn't help it, Peggy. She kept me alive, you
see. Often and often, when I was drifting away, and ready to die, she
held me, and would not let me go. You are sure you don't mind, Peggy?"
Peggy kissed her heartily, and told her not to talk nonsense. "If you
didn't love her," she said, "I'd have nothing to do with you, Lobelia
Parkins. Do you hear that? Nothing! I wouldn't speak to you in the
street, if I met you."
Lobelia smiled, and leaned back on the cushions with closed eyes and a
look of absolute content. "You are so funny, Peggy!" she murmured. "She
is funny, too. I like people who are funny. Good-bye, and thank
everybody. Everybody is so kind!"
The carriage drove away, and the last thing the girls saw was Grace's
face, looking down at her charge; grave as ever,--Grace rarely smiled,
and they hardly knew the sound of her laugh,--but bright as Lobelia's
own with love and purpose and gladness. So they passed out of sight.
And since then had come letters every week, telling of the child's
progress; one to Miss Russell always, and one to the Owls or to Peggy.
It was one of these that Gertrude took from her pocket now and opened,
as they sat together on Peggy's divan.
"You see, it is dated three days ago; probably been carried in a pocket,
from the look of it."
"DEAR SNOWY, ALSO FLUFFY:--Tu whit! She has
been gaining so fast this week, we shall soon
forget she has been ill at all. She can eat
anything she likes, and she likes a great deal.
Miss P. keeps exclaiming at her appetite.
Apparently the child never ate anything before
she went to school. The rule of the house is,
or was, one shredded wheat Abomination for
breakfast, one chop for dinner, one smoked
herring for supper. All this served on huge and
hideous silver dishes. This order is changed.
Miss Parkins almost fainted when I ordered the
first meal. She weeps every day over the
butcher's book, but the child fattens apace,
and all is well. I had to frighten her--the
aunt--a little, though, before things went
smoothly.
"Yesterday we explored the house, the Babe and
I. The amazing thing is that she lived at all
after she got her eyes open. Apparently every
article cost a thousand dollars; most awful old
mausoleum you can imagine; you never saw such a
place, for there couldn't be two. The bed I
sleep in has all-round curtains of apple-green
plush, with bead fringe three inches deep. The
mantelpiece and table-top and so on are gray
marble, and the ornaments are two deformed gilt
cherubs holding a slop-jar with a clock-face in
the middle of it. Also two unspeakable
alabaster jugs, three feet high, and two Parian
busts under glass cases. They are supposed to
be Luther and Melanchthon; I think they are
Lucifer and Mammon. Well, the poor little thing
is used to it, and doesn't know what is the
matter. Wait till Monday week,--I mean till
some future day,--and she shall know, but not
now. She doesn't think it a homelike house, she
says!
"I shall be coming back almost any time now, as
soon as I can get away. It's dreadful to leave
her,--'I'm wae to think upo' yon den, e'en for
her sake,'--but I must get back before exams,
and she is really all right, only not of course
wholly strong yet. She will come back next
term; and meanwhile she is to travel with an
old servant who was her nurse, and who has some
spark of humanity in her composition.
"I'm coming back, I tell you; at least,
something is coming back. I don't say whether
it will be the Goat or the Wolf, or what; I'm
pretty sure that--
"'Lawk a mercy on me,
This is none of I!'
"Good-bye, you feathered things! How do
feathers feel? How do you get about? There are
good points about the creature, I can see that;
you can see in the dark--but so could the Wolf!
and it would be nice to be able to ruffle up
your feathers and put a tongue in every wound
of Puggy's--but she is gone, isn't she? Alas!
and if you don't know Shakespeare when I talk
him, why, you are an ignorant set, and don't
deserve your names. This is for the Innocent,
too, mind! Give her my love, and tell
her--never mind; I'll tell her myself.
"So no more at present, Respected Fowls, from
your most obedient, humble servant,
"THE HYBRID."
The three girls were silent for a moment after Gertrude had folded the
letter again. Then, "Do you suppose she will really be changed?" asked
Peggy. "I--I don't think I want Grace to be changed, do you, girls?"
"That depends!" said Bertha, with her chin on her hands, in her
favourite judicial attitude. "Of course it would be despair if we
should lose her real, true self. If she could only stay Grace Wolfe, and
change her point of view, why, then--"
"That is just what she will do, I feel sure of it," said Gertrude,
earnestly. "She has been through an experience--oh, we can't know what
it has been, girls, because we are just plain people, you know, and
Grace is--well, I think she has genius, or something very like it. If
only the power and the sweetness and brightness are turned into helping,
you see, instead of hindering--oh, how much she can do! and I believe
she's going to do it, too. But come, Fluffy, I must go home. Won't you
come, Peggy? We have half an hour before study-time."
Peggy followed only too gladly along the corridor; it was always a treat
to spend half an hour in the Owl's Nest. Gertrude was first; she opened
the door of her room, and paused on the threshold with a low cry. Bertha
and Peggy hurried forward and looked over her shoulder--to see a strange
sight.
Something--or somebody--was sitting on the window-seat. Something gray
and soft. It had a round feathered head, with two feathery horns jutting
from it; it had round bright eyes, which blinked curiously at the
astonished girls. Below the head were--arms, were they, or wings? They
were feathery too, and they drooped over something that might be a
skirt, though no feet were visible. In the gathering twilight the figure
sat on the window-seat and blinked, looking like nothing that was in
heaven or earth; and the three girls stood and stared, holding each
other's hands. Presently the silence was broken.
"Bubo Virginianus!" said a grave, melodious voice from under the
feathers. "The Great Horned Owl. Description: Large and strongly
organised; ear-tufts large, erectile; bill strong, fully curved; wing
rather long; third quill usually longest; tail short; legs and toes--"
"Grace!" cried Gertrude Merryweather.
"Tu whit!" replied the figure. "I may also in this connection remark, tu
whoo! This well-known bird is a resident in all the New England
schools--I should say States--throughout the year. It is not so common
in Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Rhode Island as in the other States,
where, in the vast tracts of forest, it is quite abundant. Samuels. Easy
there! spare the Plumage!"
The three girls had flung themselves upon the strange figure, which
flapped its arms for a moment, as if contemplating flight. Then, waving
them off with one arm, it lifted the feathered head, and gazed at them
with melancholy blue eyes.
"Tu whit!" repeated the Scapegoat. "I may be allowed, _in_ this
connection, to repeat, tu whoo! Don't kill me, Innocent; I should be
less useful dead."
It did seem as if they would hug her to death. They laughed, they cried,
they questioned, they talked, all in one breath; no one would have
recognised the sedate Owls or the sensible Peggy. Grace regarded them
with grave benignity, as she untied the owl's head, and loosed the
feathered cape from her shoulders.
"Rather neat, I thought?" she said, turning the head around on her hand.
"The beak is a little wobbly, but the general character--eh?--is pretty
good? I couldn't manage the toes and claws; there wasn't time, and,
besides, they would have excited remark, even if the weather had been
warm enough to make them comfortable for travelling. Well, my Snowy, my
Fluffy, how is it? Is there room for another Owl in the forest?"
"Oh, Grace!" cried Bertha.
"Oh, my dear!" cried Gertrude; and their arms were around her again,
while Peggy sat down on the floor and fairly burst into tears.
Grace was silent for a little, her head resting on Gertrude's shoulder.
When she spoke, her voice had not its usual even flow, but hesitated,
almost faltered, now and then.
"I am going to try!" she said. "It will take a long time, my Owls, and
you will have to be very patient with me. I shall probably never be
wholly domesticated, but--but you will help me, and the Innocent here
will help me; won't you, Innocent?"
[Illustration: "'WE FOUR AGAINST THE WORLD!'"]
"Oh, Grace, if I only could? but what can I do? I don't see how I can
ever do anything!"
"You began it all!" said Grace. "The way you looked--that night I made
you go out, little Peggy. You didn't know, but the face of an Innocent
can be a terrible thing, and I saw, and knew--things I hadn't known
before. No need of going back to that now. But--Snowy--Samuels says I
make an amusing pet in captivity. You'll try me?"
"Won't we!" cried the Snowy Owl. "Grace, dear, we'll all try together.
Oh, we all have to keep trying, don't we, all our lives long? It
wouldn't be worth anything if we didn't have to try, to work and fight
for it. It shall be we three against the world,--the Snowy, the Fluffy,
and the Horny. No, we four, for what should we do without our Peggy? Get
up, Peggy, you ridiculous child; stop crying, and come and sit here
close by us."
"Oh!" cried Peggy. "Isn't there some kind of Owl that I could be? I am
too stupid, of course, but I might be a screech-owl, don't you think
so, Snowy?"
Grace held up her hand. "Forbid the thought!" she said, gravely. "Who
would get us our mice? We must have a Human Being connected with us. I
think of moving into Bedlam, as Colney has a fine assortment of mice on
hand generally. I refuse bats, probably on account of the strong musky
odour, but a mouse dragged across the floor of my cage fills me with
excitement. Samuels, part of it at least. No, we must have a Human Being
in the Owlery, and that Human Being must be the Innocent. We Four
against the World, then! Hands on it, my Owls!"
The four girls stood up, and, joining hands, looked in each other's
faces. "We Four against the World!" they repeated. "The Snowy, the
Fluffy, the Horny, and the Innocent; Hurrah for us!" and the shout they
raised brought the whole corridor running to see what was going on.
THE END.
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes:
Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
Page 5, caption was missing from original. Added from the List of
Illustrations.
Page 233, "all" changed to "a" (For a reply)
Page 301, "does't" changed to "doesn't" (and doesn't know that)