AUNT KATE LENDS A HAND
The next morning Virginia wrote Mrs. Henderson about the case of Charles
Augustus. She wrote also to Joe Curtis, but in her letter she did not
refer to her meeting with his mother and lame brother or to her visit
to his home. Afterwards she went out and sat in the hammock. Swinging
gently, she gazed with serious eyes at the landscape; but her thoughts
gave but little heed to the beautiful scenery which lay before her.
With motherly interest, Aunt Kate watched her niece through the kitchen
window. Wise in the habits and customs of young women, she noted
unfavorable portents. "Lands sakes," she called to Helen, "Virginia is
moping away in the hammock trying to make herself homesick. Hurry out
and cheer the poor child up. Don't let her get lonesome and unhappy."
Helen obediently entered upon her kindly mission. Seating herself by her
cousin, she put an arm about her and gave her cheery greeting, "Hello
cuticomes. Of whom are you dreaming?"
"I am thinking of Charles Augustus."
"He is a darling kid. I could eat him for candy." The cannibalistic
Helen smiled anything but fiercely at the thought of her tender prey.
"He is so sweet, Helen. That makes it sadder."
"Makes what sad?"
"His lameness. It is dreadful. Think of it, Helen, never to be able to
run and play in comfort."
Shadows of unhappiness clouded the usual cheerfulness of Helen's face.
"It is terrible," she sighed.
"All through his life," the melancholy Virginia went on, "that crutch
must be with him. Even when he proposes to a girl it will be beside him
at her feet."
"He could leave it in the hall with his hat." Helen's optimism
attempted to thrust aside the enshrouding gloom.
"No." Virginia was determined that no ray of light should brighten the
dark picture she was painting. "When Charles Augustus proposes, unless
the crutch is near, he can't get from his knees."
Helen conceded the point by a helpless nod. "It won't be a bit
romantic. It will be pathetic," she whispered.
"Not if the girl loves him truly. Not if he is the answer to the call of
her heart."
"He would be the Knight of her thoughts then,--the Prince of her
dreams," interjected Helen, the sentimental.
"With a crutch. He will rest on it even at his wedding."
"When they go away on their wedding trip, the rice and old shoes will
beat against it," groaned Helen.
"It will be at his bedside when he dies." Virginia's eyes filled
with tears. "Were he a soldier it would be a badge of honor--a mark
of patriotic suffering; but poor Charles Augustus was always that way
and must always remain so unless some one will pay for an operation."
Virginia buried her tear-drowned eyes in her handkerchief.
The sympathetic Helen succumbed to the prevailing sorrow of the occasion
and wept also.
From her watch tower at the kitchen window, Aunt Kate espied the
sorrowing ones. "My sakes alive, what has got into those girls?" she
exclaimed. "They must be hankering for a funeral." Hastening forth, she
planted herself before them and viewed the weepers with stern eyes.
"What is all of this crying about?" she demanded.
They told her, abating no jot or tittle of gloom.
"Was Charles Augustus unhappy yesterday?"
"No," they admitted.
"Well then," Aunt Kate's voice rang forcefully, "what's the use of
crying over happiness? Tears are to wash sorrows away." Her final remark
pointed her thoughts in a practical direction. "You two can wash the
surrey as well as for me to pay Tom fifty cents to do it. You can use
some of those tears around here if you get tired of pumping water."
So the grief stricken arrayed themselves in bathing suits and tugged
the surrey into the sun. They hitched the hose to the force pump and
labored diligently amidst floods of conversation and torrents of water.
They polished and, inadvertently or with malice aforethought, turned
water upon one another until peals of laughter echoed into the kitchen.
A complacent Aunt Kate gave but little heed to them until they presented
themselves before her, much bedrabbled but in an exceedingly cheerful
frame of mind.
She gazed over her glasses at them and said, "Mercy sakes, I told you
girls to wash the surrey not yourselves. Get off those wet clothes before
you catch your death of cold." As they disappeared towards the stairs
she called after them, "You girls were bound to have a moist morning.
Now I hope that you are satisfied."
Days passed which Aunt Kate, in her wisdom, saw were busy ones. At last
an answer came to Virginia's letter to Mrs. Henderson. Hennie had a
habit of accomplishing the things which she undertook and her response
was most satisfactory. She had arranged for the operation upon Charles
Augustus at the New York hospital. A place had been found for Mrs. Curtis
to stay and tickets had been placed at the Old Rock station for her
and her son.
Sufficient funds had been raised to cover everything but the operating
fee. But as soon as the case came to the attention of the surgeon, he
had suggested that, as the matter of age was a very important factor in
the ultimate success of his efforts, the operation be performed at once.
He was quite willing to await the result of Mrs. Henderson's further
exertions for the payment of his bill.
A very happy and delighted Virginia cried the good news aloud to Aunt
Kate and Helen. "Right after lunch we will go and see Mrs. Curtis and
Charles Augustus and tell them the good news," she planned. "Isn't
Hennie perfectly splendid?"
Aunt Kate was making pies. Her eyes twinkled as she told Virginia, "I
don't gather from this letter that your friend Mrs. Henderson spent much
time weeping over Charles Augustus's crutch. She is going to get rid of
the old thing. That line or two you wrote did the lame boy much more good
than all the tears you and Helen wasted around here the other morning."
Virginia bobbed her head in agreement with the wisdom of her aunt. Then
she climbed the stairs to make ready for her trip, lifting a sweet little
voice in song.
As Aunt Kate heard her, she smiled gently; but her face grew suddenly
stern as she muttered, "Until I settle brother Obadiah's hash, I'd
better keep an umbrella and a mackintosh handy if I don't want to get
wet"; after which she dusted the flour from her hands with great vigor.
The two girls gave little time to their lunch that noon, and soon
afterwards started up the pond in a canoe. Helen was filled with energy.
She dug her paddle into the water and pulled mightily.
"Stop, Helen, we are turning around," protested Virginia.
"Paddle your share, 'V.'," retorted Helen with an air of injury.
"Remember, you are not a passenger."
By vigorously wielding her paddle, Virginia managed to hold the canoe on
its course. "Please don't make me work so hard, Helen," she objected.
"We want to hurry and get there."
"We are doing that splendidly, 'V.' We can't go very fast if you want
to sit and dream. Paddle, dear heart--work your way."
[Illustration: "'YOU ARE MY SWEETHEART,' THE BRAZEN HELEN TOLD HIM"]
So it came to pass that Virginia paddled to keep up with Helen and that
young woman paddled to make her cousin work, and thus the light canoe
was driven over the water with speed and they soon reached the end of
their voyage.
Charles Augustus espied their approach afar off and hobbled down the
meadow path to meet them with joyous outcry. "Hello, you came to see
me, didn't you?"
"Of course. You are my sweetheart," the brazen Helen told him.
"My!" he sighed, shaking his head after the manner of an elderly
philosopher. "It's been a long time since I saw you. I expected you
every day. Mother said that she guessed you were busy people."
Mrs. Curtis came to the door at the sound of voices. Her face lighted
when she recognized them. "Charles has been watching for you each day,"
she told them. "I tried to persuade him that you might have interests
besides visiting small boys; but I wasn't very successful."
Charles Augustus balked in the pathway, pulling at the hand of Helen.
"Don't let's go in. It's much nicer out here. Let's play as we did
the other day."
Mrs. Curtis nodded understandingly when Helen bowed to her admirer's
wishes, and led Virginia into the house. "It is nice of you to come
and see me again so soon," she told the girl when they were seated in
the front room; "especially after the way I must have tired you with my
troubles and drowned you with my tears." Her forced gaiety could not
deceive one to whom she had opened her heart. The marks of trouble and
anxiety showed too plainly in her face.
Virginia saw the opportunity to transmit the good tidings she had
brought. Its very bigness embarrassed her. "I have some good news
for you," she cried, and abruptly thrust the letter towards the older
woman, her eyes big and tender with the joy of her message. "There!"
she stammered. "Read--read that, please."
Mrs. Curtis took the letter from Mrs. Henderson and began to peruse it.
It seemed to Virginia that she would never finish.
At last Mrs. Curtis turned towards the girl. Her face was pale and the
stress of her emotion weakened her. "I can't thank you," she whispered
in a queer strained voice. Suddenly her strength swept back to her. Under
the force of the joy which enveloped her she spoke in a dead monotone,
staring ahead of her with unseeing eyes. "My Charles will walk and play
like other boys. In a few weeks--perhaps before Thanksgiving Day--he
can throw aside his crutch."
Virginia, agitated by the intenseness of the other's feelings, watched
in silence.
Mrs. Curtis had forgotten her visitor now. She was thinking aloud.
"What a happy day it will be for Joe and Charles and me," she
murmured,--"the happiest since my husband died."
The gladness of the other thrilled the girl.
Like a flash there came a change in Mrs. Curtis's mood. Her joy came
into conflict with a defiant pride. Her face became cold and hard.
"It's charity," she wailed, "just plain charity. Am I a beggar now?"
She turned furiously upon Virginia, transformed by passion, "If my
husband had lived--if I, a weak woman, had been given a fair chance to
make an honest living in this land of the free," she sneered, "I too
would ride in my automobile in silks and diamonds and extend charity to
the poor. If there were justice among men I would not be in a position
where people could offer me charity."
A bewildered Virginia listened timidly as the woman, almost beside
herself, went on, "There is no justice--there is no right," Her eyes
seemed ablaze to the startled girl. She thrust her arms above her head.
"The wicked prosper and the good are ruined. It's all wrong--wickedly
wrong," she screamed and, rushing into an adjoining room, cast herself
across the bed, sobbing convulsively.
Amazed at the effect of Hennie's letter, Virginia was tempted to run
away. She hesitated, however. Through the doorway she could see the
shaking form of Joe's mother upon the bed. Quickly the passion died out
of the sobs of the weeping woman and in its place came a note of pathetic
helplessness which clutched at the girl's heart and seemed to call her.
In a moment Virginia was at the side of the bed. Leaning over, she took
one of the toil worn hands into her own. There came an answering
pressure and the girl seated herself by the bed-side holding the
knotted fingers in her own. The sobs lessened, the quivering form
became calmer, and at length Mrs. Curtis sat up and raised wet eyes
to those of her visitor. "You must think me lacking in appreciation of
the generosity of your friends," she choked, still shaken by the reflex
of her sobs. "It's not true, though. That was a display of my silly
pride. It's about all that I have left of the happiest days of my
life. Forget my words, dear, and forgive me. From the bottom of my
heart, I thank you for what you have done for my boy and me. To have
him walk without a crutch, on my hands and knees I'd scrub the most
crowded street in the world. There is no humiliation too great for me to
undergo for him. I would glory in it." In the glow of mother love
her face softened and became beautiful. Now she seemed to grasp the
full significance of the news and to be filled with unrest as if
afraid that the opportunity might escape. "When can we go?" she
worried--"tomorrow?"
"Today, if you wish," Virginia explained.
Her woes cast aside and filled with excitement, Mrs. Curtis dried her
tears and returned to the other room with the girl. Through the window
Charles Augustus could be seen hobbling about in a game with the active
Helen. His mother watched his awkward movements intently for a moment.
"In a few months he will be running about without the crutch," she
whispered and, swinging about, she seized Virginia by her shoulders,
looked deep into her eyes as she murmured gently, "May God bless you
and yours for what you are doing for me and mine, and may happiness be
yours and theirs until the end of time."
Charles Augustus displayed greater interest in the journey he was about
to take than in the fact that he might no longer need his crutch. As
he passed through the meadow with the girls he explained his position.
"It's great fun to travel on the cars. I don't care a bit where I
go, so it's some place else." Possible objections arising from the
change struck him. "When I come back, will you come and see me, even
if I don't have a crutch?" he asked Helen.
The enchantress caught him in her arms and answered him with a kiss.
Regardless of this attention, dissatisfaction crept into his face. "If I
don't have my crutch, I will catch you all of the time. There'll be no
fun in playing with a girl who always has to be 'it.'"
His fears did not impress Helen the agile. "When you are able to play
without your crutch," she promised him, "I shall fly with delight."
"Like an aeroplane?" inquired Charles Augustus with great seriousness.
They left him standing upon the shore. As they paddled away he was
leaning on his crutch, watching something. Suddenly he made a hopping
dart and dropped to the ground. Instantly he was up again, shouting
triumphantly, "Look--look at the old bullfrog I caught." He held the
slimy creature aloft, by one of its legs, for the admiration of the
girls and asked, "Do you think that my mother will let me take him to
New York with me?"
"Ask her," suggested the diplomatic Helen.
Notwithstanding the happy outcome of her efforts to help Charles
Augustus, Virginia was very silent and preoccupied that evening.
"That child is homesick," Aunt Kate thought, as she kissed her good
night and watched her slowly ascend the stairs, candlestick in hand.
As Virginia undressed, she was very thoughtful. She went over to the
dresser and, holding Mrs. Henderson's letter close to the candle's
flame, re-read it. There was a wistful, helpless look in her face when
she was ready to climb into bed. "Oh, Daddy, Daddy," she whispered
sadly, "please believe as mother did, so that I can come back home."
An hour afterwards she fell asleep upon a pillow moistened with tears.
The two girls were at the station in the morning to say good bye to
Charles Augustus and his mother as they departed for New York.
Before the train left Charles Augustus complained to Helen, "Mother
wouldn't let me take my frog to New York."
"That is too bad," commiserated the deceitful Helen.
"Mother said that the frog wouldn't care for New York. He might get
lonesome there."
Helen gravely considered the problem. "Your mother is right, Charles. A
frog would find few friends and little amusement in New York."
Virginia bade Mrs. Curtis good bye at the car steps. "You will write
and tell us about everything, won't you?" she begged.
The older woman embraced her. "Good bye," she murmured. "Words can't
tell what I would say to you, dear. Of course I will write."
Again the days passed and the best of news came from New York. The
operation was performed and the twisted muscles worked into place. The
surgeon was confident of the success of his efforts and felt sure that,
at the worst, Charles Augustus would only have a slight limp which would
disappear with age.
Yet Virginia was not happy. Very sweet she was and thoughtful of others;
but she was serious and often, too, a look of sadness rested on her face.
Aunt Kate watched her with the vigilant eye of a mother in those days.
One afternoon she discovered her niece alone in the hammock, viewing
the pond with a melancholy countenance. "Land sakes, that child is
moping again," she groaned. Leaving her work, she joined the girl and
commanded, "Tell me your thoughts, Virginia?"
For the moment the girl was startled. "I was thinking about South
Ridgefield," she confessed timidly.
"I knew it," Aunt Kate exclaimed, apparently much puffed up by her
mind-reading ability. "You are trying to see how unhappy you can make
yourself and every one else who looks at you."
Virginia was mute before this accusation.
"Were you thinking of your father?" asked Aunt Kate, proceeding with
her examination of the witness.
The girl nodded sadly.
"Why do you think of him?" Aunt Kate seemed shocked at the depraved
taste of Obadiah's daughter.
"Oh, Aunt Kate, I do wish that he would pay for Charles Augustus's
operation. I would feel as if there might be some chance of my going
home some day."
"I am sorry that you don't care for the company of Helen and me,
Virginia."
The girl gave her aunt a pleading look. "You know what I mean. I love
you and Helen dearly."
The older woman softened, patting her niece upon the cheek; but she stuck
to the business at hand. "That water business would cost your father
a lot of money, wouldn't it?"
"I think so," Virginia agreed.
"Hum," muttered Aunt Kate. "We'd better give Obadiah a light dose
to begin on."
"I don't understand you, Aunt Kate," said the girl.
"No matter," responded the older woman. "What I want to know is, have
you asked your father to pay for the operation on that lame boy?"
"No, he knows nothing about it," admitted Virginia. "Aunt Kate, I
would be afraid to ask him after the way he talked to me."
"Afraid!" Aunt Kate was filled with astonishment. "Afraid of Obadiah?
My stars and garters! You must begin some place! How on earth do you
expect him to give to something he never heard of? Don't you know child,
that to get a Dale to do anything which costs money you must ask them
not once, but thrice. Seventy times seven is about right for Obadiah."
"But, Aunt Kate, after what my father said, I couldn't ask him to help
pay Charles Augustus's bill."
"Why not?" demanded Aunt Kate.
"I don't know why. I am sure, though, that I couldn't."
"I know why," declared Aunt Kate. "It is obstinacy--plain Dale
obstinacy sticking out of you."
Virginia was silent for a moment, possibly reviewing her personal
characteristics as illuminated by her aunt. Then she asked, "You think
that I should ask him?"
"Certainly, give brother Obadiah a chance."
"But, Aunt Kate, he will refuse."
"We will write him then that you are going to stay with me."
"Oh," groaned Virginia, great tears springing into her eyes opened wide
with alarm. "Then I could never go home as long as I live. I'd never
see Daddy or Serena or even Ike again."
"Fiddlesticks, child, don't be a weakling." Her eyes twinkled. "This
is no tragedy. It is only a difference of opinion, with brother Obadiah,
as usual, wrong."
"It would be a tragedy if I could never go and see my father." Virginia
shook her head sorrowfully. "I have been thinking about it lots lately,
and sometimes I wonder if my mother would want me to stay away from home
much longer."
Aunt Kate put her arm about the girl. "Won't you trust to the judgment
of your old aunt, who knew your mother before you? I don't want your
efforts to help other people to be turned into a punishment."
"I have thought of that, too." Virginia was very solemn as she spoke.
"Perhaps I went about it the wrong way. If I had done things differently
perhaps I wouldn't have made Daddy angry."
"You must not allow yourself to worry, dear. We will give your father
a chance to help Charles Augustus. If he doesn't do it, something else
will come up and we will keep on giving him the opportunity. In the end
everything will work out for the best, I am sure."
So that afternoon Virginia wrote to her father and asked him to
contribute towards the expense of the operation upon Charles Augustus.
It was a cheery letter and in no word of it could one guess the tears
and longings between the lines.
Obadiah's answer, as befitted a good business man, was prompt. While he
admitted the sadness of the case he could see no reason why he should
be asked to pay for an operation upon a boy of whom he knew nothing. He
enclosed a small check and concluded his letter with directions that his
daughter return home at once.
"Just as I expected," announced Aunt Kate, when Virginia, the
bewildered subject of conflicting emotions, brought it to her. "Obadiah
is wild to have you home. That is our strength. Don't you surrender to
him, Virginia. I wouldn't be a slave to any man and certainly not to
brother Obadiah. I always made him step about, I can promise you. And if
you follow my advice you can, too."
Virginia's face was wistful. "I don't want to make Daddy step about,
Aunt Kate."
"You started this revolution, Virginia, and you must see it through.
Now, I am in it. The only slave in that big house in South Ridgefield is
going to be Obadiah. My dander is up, child, and I am going to make him
sweat. I must finish the job of training which I started years ago. He
never disobeyed me then and he had better not try it now." Her eyes
flashed and her manner was extremely menacing. "In the meantime,"
she stormed, "he has brought you into the world, which complicates
matters but does not relieve me of my responsibilities."
The second letter to Obadiah was in the hand of Virginia but it breathed
the words and spirit of his sister Kate. It was an independent document.
Every line of it bristled with the spirit of '76. It regretted his
decision not to help in the case of Charles Augustus and also that
Virginia had not completed her visit so that she could return to South
Ridgefield. In vague terms it referred to a home with her aunt, and
discussed a career, as well as certain positions for teachers available
in and about Old Rock.
Virginia copied the letter and signed her name. Then she re-read with
increasing alarm the ultimatum which she had approved. Had she been alone
it would have been instantly destroyed; but under the stern eye of her
aunt she was helpless. Obediently she addressed the envelope and, shaking
way down in her very boots, she watched her aunt fold, seal and bear away
for personal mailing the bolt which was to be cast at her father's head.
At the door Aunt Kate turned and, with the greatest assurance, told the
fear-shaken girl, "Mark my words! This letter will make brother Obadiah
sit up and take notice."