THE GREATEST SURPRISE IN THE WORLD
Janet tiptoed down stairs and stole softly out into the garden. It
was very early in the morning, and even Martha was still asleep. But
there was no sleep for Janet. Her eyes had been wide open since the
first streak of pale light had fallen slantwise across her floor.
For hours she had tossed restlessly, and at last, unable to stand it
any longer, she had dressed.
It was the morning after Tom's arrival. Janet thought over the
events of the night before and frowned. As soon as they had entered
the house he had gone straight to his grandmother's room, and she had
not seen him since. She and Martha had sat up until after ten and
then, very much against her will, she had gone to bed and listened
for a long time to the murmur of voices in the room below. At first
her grandmother's querulous tones had predominated, but after a while
Tom's low rumble sounded comfortingly in her ears, and she had
slipped off to sleep.
This morning, as she thought about it, she tried to imagine all that
had been said behind that closed door, but she found it impossible.
Why there should be anything to discuss, she couldn't imaging. Other
people lived without an air of mystery surrounding them, and at this
moment of Janet's life she envied those people with all her heart.
Once several years before she had asked her grandmother to tell her
about her mother and father. Mrs. Page had told her there was
nothing to tell, and had forbidden her ever to speak of the subject
again. She had looked so gray and sick as she said it that Janet had
been frightened, and she had never ventured to refer to it again
except to Martha, and all Martha could tell her was that her mother
had been a dear patient saint and her father the finest man that ever
lived. Janet had tried to picture them from this description, and up
until a year before she had been contented. Now she wanted to know
more. Mrs. Todd, too, had made her think.
She looked up at Tom's window impatiently, and as she looked the
shade moved and Tom put his head out.
"Hello!" he called down softly. "I knew you'd be up with the birds.
Wait a jiffy, and I'll be down with you."
Janet threw him a kiss and told him to hurry. She listened, smiling,
as she heard him splash in the bathtub. It was not many minutes
before he was beside her, and they were seated on the old stone
garden bench.
"How is my little grown-up sister this morning?" he inquired, as he
kissed her.
"Tommy, please tell me everything," Janet begged. "I want to know so
badly."
"Poor youngster,"--Tom patted her shoulder affectionately--"so you
shall, but first let me have a look at you, I hardly saw you last
night." He turned her face toward him and smiled down into her eyes.
"Janet, what would you say if I told you that you had a sister?" he
asked slowly.
"But--why, how silly! I wouldn't, believe you,"--Janet laughed.
"Not if I told you quite seriously?"
Janet jumped up from her seat and faced her brother.
"Tommy, what do you mean?" she asked wonderingly.
"Not only an ordinary sister," Tom continued, "but a twin sister."
He studied her anxiously.
Janet was more bewildered than ever.
"But I couldn't have, Tommy, and not know it."
"It does sound unreasonable," Tom agreed, "but it's true. Do you
want me to tell you about her?"
Janet put her hands on his shoulders and looked at him, still
doubtful and a little frightened.
"You're not teasing me, are you?" she asked, and her voice trembled.
[Illustration: "You're not teasing me, are you?" she asked, and her
voice trembled.]
Tom stood up and put his arm around her, and they walked slowly down
the garden path.
"No, honey, I'm not teasing you," he said quietly. "Let me try and
explain.
"I will have to say some things about grandmother that I would rather
leave unsaid, but you must try and understand that although she is a
very unreasonable and selfish old lady she did what she thought was
right."
"Of course,"--Janet nodded her head.
"I thought that you must know all about mother and father, I never
dreamed she would refuse to answer your questions, and of course I
knew you would ask questions as soon as you began to think. I've
been a very selfish brother and I am heartily ashamed of myself, I
should have come home ages ago, but we'll let that pass now.
"You know Mrs. Todd?" he paused, and Janet nodded.
"Well, a long time ago grandmother decided that she was to marry
father, but father was in love with mother then; very, very much in
love with her." Tom smiled as he added, "And he married her.
Grandmother was furious, but she adored father and before long she
forgave him and he and mother came here to live. I guess grandmother
had to like mother in spite of herself, but she could never quite
forgive her for not being the girl she had chosen. I was born, and
then ten years later you and Phyllis came along."
"Phyllis, oh, what a lovely name!" Janet exclaimed.
"It was mother's name too," Tom told her, and went on with his story.
"One day when you were just tiny tots father and mother went out for
a sail. It was windy, and grandmother tried to persuade them not to
go, but mother laughed at the idea of danger and they went." Tom
paused and stroked Janet's soft hair.
"They never came back, dear," he said gently. After a little he went
on: "When grandmother heard it she almost lost her mind from grief,
and she was sick for a long time. When she got better she had a
fixed idea in her head that it was mother's fault and she would not
let any one mention her name before her. Aunt Marjorie, mother's
sister, came down, and of course she wanted to take you and Phyllis
home with her, but grandmother wouldn't let her. She let her have
Phyllis, because she had been named for mother, but she kept you.
Aunt Marjorie was very angry and when she left grandmother told her
never to come back and never to write to you or to me. Of course
there was nothing for Aunt Mog to do but to agree. However, she
didn't keep her promise, for she used to write to me at school and
send me all kinds of things to eat. But I never saw her.
Grandmother sent me away to school, and because I was noisy in the
house she wouldn't let me come home for vacations. I was glad of it,
for some of the boys always took me to their houses and I had a much
better time. After I finished college I went west and for a while I
was so busy on my ranch that I forgot I had any sisters. I used to
write to grandmother now and again, as you know, and I sent my love
to you, you were quite right to object to that kind of love," he
added, laughing.
"But how could you tell I wasn't the horrid prim thing that wrote
those letters that grandmother corrected,"--Janet was quick to defend
him against himself. "Did you ever write to Phyllis!"
"Only at Christinas and after a while I stopped doing even that. She
was just a little kid and I was so far away. Aunt Mog writes me
whenever they move and change addresses. Bless her heart, I
shouldn't wonder if perhaps she'd guessed that some day we would all
want to be together. You'll love Aunt Mog; she's a dear."
Janet walked back to the bench and sat down limply, her knees felt
shaky.
"A sister," she said softly.
"A twin," Tom corrected her, laughing.
"It's the same thing, only better," Janet answered, and then she
laughed too. "Oh, Tommy, I'm so happy I think I'm going to cry like
an idiotic baby."
"Cry ahead, I won't look," Tom promised, but Janet had too many
questions to ask to waste time crying. She swallowed hard, gave
herself a little shake, and no tears came.
"Am I going to see Phyllis soon?" she inquired.
"Just as soon as I can get ahold of Aunt Mog and arrange for them to
come down," Tom assured her.
"Come down!" Janet exclaimed. "Will grandmother let them?"
Tom smiled a peculiar sort of a smile. "Grandmother is going to
_ask_ them to come down," he said quietly.
Janet looked at him in amazement. It was hard to imagine her
grandmother's giving in to anybody, but it was harder still to look
at Tom's mouth and imagine anybody not giving in to him.
As they had talked, Martha had been busy about the kitchen, and the
sound of pots and pans and running water reached the garden. Finally
Tom sniffed.
"Muffins," he exclaimed, "and I am as hungry as a bear. Come along
and let's find breakfast."
Martha's excitement and bewilderment were such that it is a wonder
everything was not burned for breakfast, but her ability as a cook
was greater than any temporary shock, and the breakfast was delicious.
Tom and Janet did it full justice.
"It is such fun to have some one at the table to talk to," Janet
said, and Tom had a sudden vision of her sitting alone year after
year in the big dining-room, and once more he called himself a
thoroughly selfish brother and choked a little over his coffee.
After breakfast Janet went to her grandmother's door and knocked as
she had always done. It was all a little different this morning and
she hesitated a second on the threshold before she went in.
Mrs. Page, propped up as usual by countless pillows, looked smaller
and older than ever, and any feeling of resentment that Janet may
have felt disappeared and an understanding sympathy took its place.
"Good morning, grandmother?" she said as usual.
"Have you seen your brother?" Mrs. Page asked a little shakily.
"Yes, grandmother, and he told me everything." Janet spoke very
gently.
"Well, what have you to say about it? Come, speak up," Mrs. Page
fidgeted with the bed clothes.
"I haven't anything to say," Janet answered. "Of course I am awfully
glad really to know Tom and I want more than anything in the world to
see my sister."
"You do, eh? Very well, you shall; but if you don't like her, don't
blame me. I've tried to keep you away from unhappiness but now you
may do as you like."
Janet thought of the lonely yet happy years, and she laid her hand on
her grandmother's that was nervously stroking the sheet.
"I know you have, grandmother, and I am very grateful, truly I am;
and of course I will love Phyllis," she added with a gay little laugh.
Tom was waiting for her in the garden with Boru.
"Let's take a walk down to the village. I want to send off a wire
and then you can show me the sights," he suggested.
"I'll take you over to the big house on the hill,"--Janet was eager
to be off. "Get your hat and let's start this minute. Oh, dear,
I've so many things to ask you and twice as many to tell you."
"Thirteen years' worth,"--Tom laughed, and they set off.
It was a glorious day, the wind blew the red-brown leaves in graceful
swirls, and the sunshine melted everything to a misty gold.
It was surely a never-to-be-forgotten day in Janet's life. Tom told
her thrilling stories of the West and his own ranch, and in return
she confided all her secrets. He was interested, especially in
Peter, for he had heard of his father. He blessed Mrs. Todd secretly
for her interest in Janet, and his wish of the night before to meet
her took on a new significance.
At the end of the day the "thirteen years" had very nearly been
bridged, and Tom's admiration for his little sister was only equalled
by her love for him.
"Do you know, Janet," he said half seriously, as they climbed the
steps from the shore, "I'm not nearly as sorry as I was that I have
neglected you for so long. Left to yourself you have certainly made
a very acceptable little sister, and think how badly I might have
spoiled you."
"Oh, do stop blaming yourself," Janet cried; "what is the use of
thinking about anything that is farther back than last night or
perhaps two weeks ago?" she corrected herself, thinking of Peter and
Mrs. Todd.
XIV
A LONG DAY
Some one was tapping the knocker on the porch below, and Janet
stopped in her work to listen. It was an unfamiliar sound, for most
callers came to the house by way of the garden.
She tiptoed to the window and looked down. Alice and Mildred Blake
stood below her. She could see the tops of their brown felt hats. A
minute later she heard Martha let them in, and then call her from the
foot of the stairs.
She looked about her in dismay. She was getting the front room ready
for Phyllis and Aunt Mog, and she did not want to be disturbed.
"Miss Janet," Martha called again, and this time Janet answered.
"Just a minute, Martha; I'll be right down." She flew to her room
and brushed her tossled hair and took off the huge apron of Martha's
that she was wearing.
Alice and Mildred came forward to meet her together.
"Oh, Janet!" they exclaimed in chorus, "we have just heard that your
sister is coming. Isn't it exciting! Miss Clark told mother, and
she sent us over to ask you if you wouldn't bring her and your
aunt--mother used to know her when they were girls--to tea just as
soon as they come."
"Why, that's awfully nice of you,"--Janet was a little taken back.
"I'd be glad to."
"When are they coming?" Alice queried.
"To-morrow," Janet told them. "Tom went to New York last Monday and
he sent me a telegram saying they would all be here to-morrow."
"Yes, so Miss Clark said." Mildred did not try to conceal the fact
that her sister's question was asked purely to make conversation.
The date and hour had been circulated freely about the village as
soon as Tom's wire had arrived.
"How is Mrs. Todd?" Janet asked, to save Alice further embarrassment.
The girls exchanged glances.
"It's lucky you spoke of her or we might have forgotten to give you a
message she sent you in a letter to mother," Mildred said. "She said
to tell you that you could drive Clinker any time you liked and that
she would be very glad to have you exercise him."
"How sweet of her!" Janet exclaimed. "She knows I love to drive.
I'll come this very afternoon and take him out."
"We have our own horse, you know." Alice spoke with condescension,
although Janet knew quite well that only the rector ever drove the
ancient gray mare that kept Clinker company in the rectory barn.
"I was tired of driving long ago," Mildred upheld her sister. "I
wish father would buy an automobile."
"Do you?" Janet asked. "I don't believe I could ever love an
automobile."
Mildred looked at her in surprise and turned to her sister.
"We must go, Alice," she said. "Good-by, Janet; don't forget to
bring your sister to tea."
"No, I won't, and thank you ever so much." Janet watched her
visitors until they reached the shore road below the house. She
marveled at the easy way in which they spoke of Phyllis and called
her "your sister" when she herself found it so hard to grow
accustomed to the relationship. Finally she went back to her work.
The room that Phyllis and her aunt were to have was long and low
ceilinged. It ran the length of the front of the house. Six
latticed windows opened to the south and looked over the bay below.
It was a quaint room, hung in faded chintz and furnished with heavy
old mahogany. Janet was doing her best to make it shine.
"I'll put some asters in a bowl on the table," she said to Boru, who
was watching operations from the doorway, "and then I think we will
be all ready. Are you going to like your new sister?" she asked
laughingly, as she dropped to her knee beside him and rubbed her
cheek against his shaggy coat. "You must, you know, because she's my
twin, but you mustn't love her as much as you do me."
Boru got up and walked away, as though he considered that the only
way to answer such a silly remark.
Janet sat on the floor where he had left her and cradled her chin in
her hand and gave herself up to sudden gloomy speculation. Suppose
Phyllis turned out to be like Alice and Mildred! The very idea
chilled her, and she stared dismally at the pretty room.
"I don't suppose she'll have to like me just because she's my
sister," she said aloud; "perhaps she'll think I'm different too, or
maybe she'll think I'm countrified. Oh, dear, I almost wish she were
not coming."
Boru came back and snuggled into her lap, and they sat quiet, both
busy with their own thoughts until Martha interrupted them.
"There you are, Miss Janet. I knew you'd be tiring yourself out with
all this fixing. Come down to your lunch now; do, like a good child,
and let me do the rest."
Janet got up slowly.
"Oh, Martha, I don't feel a bit like eating," she said dolefully.
"And no wonder, working yourself to death, poor lamb." Martha's arms
comforted her as they had done many times before, and from the
shelter of one broad shoulder Janet confessed her fears.
"Martha, what will I do if Phyllis doesn't like me?"
Martha may be said to have snorted in disgust.
"Not like you!" she ejaculated; "but, my lamb, she's bound to; she's
your own mother's daughter and so, tell me now, how could she do
anything else?" She offered this method of reasoning as though it
were sure to cast out any doubts, and Janet gladly accepted it.
"What a baby I am," she laughed, wiping her eyes; "look at Boru; he's
disgusted with me, and no wonder."
"Come now and have your lunch," Martha insisted; "you'll see how
hungry you are after the first bite."
Janet was hungry, and her spirits brightened with every mouthful.
"I wish it were to-morrow," she said, as she lingered over her
cantaloupe. "I think I will die of suspense if I don't find
something to do. I thought I was going for a ride, but look, it's
raining."
"And a good thing too," Martha replied emphatically. "I can't
understand Mrs. Todd letting you drive that horse of hers. Some day
it will run away and kill you, and then I wonder what she will say."
Janet laughed in spite of herself at so dismal a picture, and got up
from the table.
"Well, I won't die to-day, that's sure," she said. "I wish I could
think of something really interesting to do."
Martha thought for a minute, and then a smile lit up her face.
"Perhaps I can find something that will interest you," she said with
some hesitation. "Now that you know all about everything there can't
be any harm in it," she continued, lowering her voice.
"In what?" Janet inquired.
Martha beckoned to her mysteriously and led the way upstairs all the
way to the big attic. It was filled with old trunks and bits of
broken furniture and pictures, Janet had passed them many times on
her way to the "widow's walk" but she had never been curious enough
to give them a second thought.
She watched Martha with interest as she pulled out a little old trunk
from one corner. From a bunch of keys that was hanging to one of the
rafters she selected the right one, and gave it to Janet.
"There now, open that and see what you find," she said mysteriously.
"Now I must get back to my work," she added briskly and bustled down
the stairs, leaving Janet looking at the key in her hand.
Boru patted up the stairs and sniffed the trunk.
"What do you suppose we will find, old fellow?" Janet asked him, as
she fitted the key in the lock.
At sight of the contents of the first tray she gave a little
exclamation of delight. It was filled with soft silks and laces, now
yellow with age. Janet lifted them out gently and discovered that
they were dresses. Old-fashioned little things. There was a pale
yellow one and a robin's-egg blue, made with hundreds of little tucks.
Janet smoothed them out with reverent fingers, for she knew they had
belonged to her mother.
The next tray held odds and ends, and Janet sat down on the floor and
lifted them out one by one. Packages of letters that almost fell to
pieces as she touched them, silk stockings of every color, and three
pairs of tiny slippers. She could hardly believe a foot was ever
small enough to fit them.
She found a wooden box too, beautifully carved and filled with dozens
of sheer handkerchiefs and, best of all, a pile of books. She read
their titles eagerly; "Pride and Prejudice" by Jane Austin, Scott's
"Lady of the Lake," Shakespeare's "As You Like It" and a beautifully
bound copy of Mrs. Browning's poems.
"Then mother loved 'Little Ellie' too!" she exclaimed. There was
something very wonderful in the knowledge.
She put the books to one side and went on with her discoveries.
Toward the very bottom she found a chamois bag wrapped up in a yellow
piece of paper. Inside of it was a jeweler's black-leather case.
Janet's fingers trembled as she opened it.
Lying on a bed of blue velvet was a miniature set in a gold frame,
and as she looked she gave a cry of astonishment. A face almost
exactly like her own smiled up at her.
"Mother," she whispered softly.
It was dusk before she left the attic, but when she did go down
stairs she went straight to Martha.
"Did you know what was in that trunk?" she asked.
Martha nodded.
"I put them there myself," she said. "Did you have a happy
afternoon?"
For answer, Janet threw her arms around her and hugged her tight.