"That's why I never could bring myself to speak of it all these years. I
thought nobody'd understand--that they'd laugh at me for spendin' a
fortune that way. But honest, Luella, it is sort o' sacred to me, and
mother's words come to me so often that it's grown to be like one of the
commandments to me." His voice sank almost to a whisper: "'Over the
mountains and over the seas, and be baptized in that same river Jordan,
where the dove descended.' It's been no small matter to live up to,
either. Sometimes it seems to me as if I'd been sent out like the
children of Israel, and it was goin' to take the whole forty years of
wanderin' to reach my promised land. I've spent thirty of 'em in the
wilderness of wantin' _you_, but I begin to see my way clearin' up now
toward the end. Only twenty dollars more! I can go after wheat harvest
and the threshin'. Good Lord, Luella, why don't you _say_ somethin'! But
it's no use; I know you think I'm such an awful fool."
She turned toward him in the dim moonlight, her eyes filled with tears.
"Oh, Bap," she cried, "to think how everybody has misjudged you all this
time! It's perfectly _grand_ of you, and I feel like a dawg when I
remember all I've said about your not being a believer, when all the
time you were better than any of us can ever hope to be. It's like being
the martyrs and crusaders all at once, to stick to such an ambition
through thick and thin. But oh, Bap, why _didn't_ you tell me long ago!"
"Don't cry, Luella," he urged, awkwardly patting the shawl drawn around
her thin shoulders. He was amazed and overwhelmed at this unprecedented
revelation of tenderness in what had always been to him the most
stony-hearted of natures.
"Then maybe, Luella, after wheat harvest," he ventured, floundering out
of an awkward pause, "after I've been and got back, then--will you have
me?"
She slipped her hand into his. She would have had him then and there had
he asked her, and counted it joy to be allowed to help toil for the
funds still needed to carry her saint across the seas. Already she had
fitted a halo about the bald spot she had lately ridiculed, and she
burned to begin her expiation for that sacrilege.
But in the molding of his plans Baptist Sloan had arranged that marriage
was to come after the Mecca, and in the hardening process of the years
that idea had become so firmly set in his mind that nothing short of
supernatural force could have produced a change. It never occurred to
him that it was possible to marry before he went on his pilgrimage.
He held the hand she had given him awkwardly. This was the hour he had
dreamed of, but now that it had come, he was ill at ease, uncertain how
to proceed. Suddenly a little breeze, swinging through the orchard,
stirred the apple-bough above them, and sent a shower of pink-and-white
blossoms across their faces. Velvety soft were the petals, cool with the
night dew, and unspeakably sweet. She looked up at him, her face grown
wonderfully young and fresh again in the moonlight. He stooped and
kissed her. The apple-bough swayed again above them, with another
fragrant shower of pink and white. It, too, was gnarly and old, but
standing glorified, like them, for a little while in the sweetness of
belated blossom-time.
It was the talk of the valley--this pilgrimage of Baptist Sloan's.
Nobody within its borders had ever been out of sight of land, and the
congregation divided itself into two factions regarding him. One
division called it sinful pride that sent him chasing away to parts
unknown on such an errand. Beargrass Creek was good enough for Bap
Sloan's immersion, if it had been good enough for his father's and
grandfather's before him. The other side agreed with Luella, according
him the halo, and she, in the reflected light of such greatness, beamed
proudly and importantly on all her little world.
Several weeks after this disclosure he stopped at the cottage one
morning in great excitement. He held a letter in his hand, some railroad
time-tables, and the itinerary of a "personally conducted" party to
Palestine. "I say, Luella," he cried, "look at this! It's clear
providence that the Paris Exposition happened to start up just now.
Here's a chance to go to the Jordan on excursion rates, with three days
at the Exposition thrown in. I needn't wait till after wheat harvest
now, it's so much cheaper than what I had figured on. And the beauty of
it is, I can not only kill two birds with one stone,--take in Paris and
Palestine both,--but have a guide to look after everything. It's been a
mystery to me all along how I was to find my way around in those furrin
parts by myself. But this settles everything. I can start to New York
next Wednesday, and get there before the ship sails. _Lord_, Luella! To
think it's really comin' to pass after all these years!"
Luella was in a quiver of excitement, but she rose to the occasion with
almost motherly solicitude for his well-being. "I'll put up your lunch,
Bap," she said. "You needn't worry about a thing; only tell me what
you'd like to have cooked. And if you've any clothes that need mending,
just you bring 'em right down, and I'll see to 'em. I'll go over to your
house after you've gone, too, and fix things ready to be left shut up
for the time you're away."
Her prompt decision was so much like his sister Sarah's that he never
thought of protesting. It seemed good to be managed once more, and he
meekly acquiesced to all she proposed.
Luella had a sharp tongue, but it had lost its sting for him since she
had put him on the pedestal of hero and saint. But it had not lost its
cutting qualities when turned on other people.
"What's this big empty sarsaparilla bottle doing in your carpet-bag?"
she demanded suddenly on the day of his departure.
"Old Mis' Bates wants that I should take it along and fill it at the
Jordan. She's countin' on havin' all the family baptized out of it when
I get back."
"Out of one quart bottle!" sniffed Luella, scornfully. "Humph! Just like
the Bateses. Much good any one of 'em will get out of such a stingy
sprinkling. Why didn't you tell her you couldn't be bothered with it?
You always was the kind to be imposed on, Bap Sloan. If I wasn't so
afraid of water that horses couldn't pull me on to a ship, I'd go along
to look after you. _Do_ take care of yourself!"
And that was the chorus shouted after him as he swung himself up the
car-steps, stumbling over his carpet-bag and big cotton umbrella. Fully
two thirds of the congregation were down at the station to bid him
good-bye. In the midst of the general hand-shaking some one started a
hymn, and the last words that Bap Sloan heard, as he hung out of the
train window to wave his hat, were:
"By the grace of God we'll meet you
On Jordan's happy shore!"
There was one last look at Luella, wildly waving a limp wet
handkerchief. The sight so affected him that he had to draw out his
bandana and violently blow his nose; but he smiled as the train went
leaping down the track. All the weary waiting was over at last, and his
face was set toward his Promised Land.
* * * * *
Several days later, in one of the southbound trains pulling out of New
York, the conductor noticed a man sitting with his head bowed in his
hands. His soft slouch-hat was pulled over his eyes, and an antiquated
carpet-bag and big cotton umbrella were piled on the seat beside him.
Except when he showed his ticket, there was no change in his attitude.
Mile after mile he rode, never lifting his head, the hopeless droop of
his bowed shoulders seeming to suggest that some burden had been laid
upon them too great for a mortal to bear.
Night came, and he slept at intervals. Then his head fell back against
the cushion of the seat, and one could see how haggard and worn was the
face heretofore hidden. In the gray light of the early morning the
conductor passed again and turned to give a second glance at the
furrowed face with its unshaven chin, unconsciously dropped, and the
gray, uncombed hair straggling over the forehead. Even in sleep it wore
an expression of abject hopelessness, and looked ten years older than
when, only three days before, it smiled good-bye to the singing crowd at
Beargrass Valley station. Baptist Sloan was homeward bound, and yet he
had not so much as even seen the ship which was to have carried him to
his Jordan.
It was only the repetition of an old story--old as the road going down
from Jerusalem to Jericho. He had fallen among thieves. In the
bewilderment and daze which fell upon him when he found himself alone in
a great city, he had been easy prey for confidence men. There had been a
pretended arrest. He had been taken into custody by a man who showed his
badge and assumed to be a private detective. Sure that he could prove
his innocence, and smiling grimly as he compared himself once more to a
harmless sheep in wolf's clothing, he allowed himself, without an
outcry, to be bundled into a carriage that was to take him to the police
station. When he came to himself it was morning, and he was on the steps
of a cellar, with every pocket empty. He had been robbed of his little
fortune, stripped bare of his lifelong hope.
How he was at last started homeward with a ticket in his hand could have
been explained by a young newspaper reporter who interviewed him
exhaustively at the police station, whither he finally found his way.
The reporter made a good story of it, touching up its homely romance
with effective sketching; and then because he had come from the same
State as Baptist Sloan, because he had once lived on a farm and knew an
honest man when he saw one, he loaned him the money that was to take
this disabled knight errant home with his mortal wound.
It was on the afternoon of the second day that Baptist Sloan opened his
old carpet-bag for the remnants of the lunch that Luella had packed
inside. His hand struck against Mrs. Bates's sarsaparilla bottle, and he
shut his eyes with a sickening sensation of inward sinking.
"And I've got to take that there thing back to her _empty_," he said,
gritting his teeth. "Where am I ever goin' to get the spunk to face 'em
all? They'll say it was a judgment on me, for a good many of 'em seemed
to think that I was too proud to be baptized in Beargrass. They'll say
that maybe it's to save me from fallin' short of heaven that I failed to
reach the Jordan."
As he slowly munched the dry remains of his lunch, the cogs of the
car-wheels started anew the question that had tormented him all the way.
"What _will_-Lu-_el_-la _say_? What _will_-Lu-_el_-la _say_?" they
shrieked over and over.
"She'll say that I'm an awful fool," he told himself. "She never could
abide to be laughed at, and if people poke fun at me, she'll never have
me in the world." The alternate hope and despair that seized him were
like the deadly burning and chill of fever and ague. "If I only knew how
_she'd_ take it!" was his inward cry. When he thought of her proverbial
sharp tongue he quailed at the ordeal of meeting her. But through every
interval of doubt came the fragrance of the moonlighted apple-orchard,
the old stile, that one kiss--a remembrance as sweet as the blossom-time
itself. Surely Luella must think of that.
Presently he noticed that the brakeman was calling out the names of
familiar stations, and he realized that he was almost home. Only a few
minutes more to summon his courage and brace himself for his trial. The
train rumbled over a trestle, and peering out through the gathering dusk
he saw the shallow waters of Beargrass Creek, black with the reflection
of the evening shadows. "The only Jordan Bap Sloan will ever see now,"
he said, with a shiver that sent a tremor through his bowed shoulders.
"Beargrass Valley!" he heard the brakeman call. Nervously he clutched
his carpet-bag and umbrella, and lurched down the aisle. But when the
train stopped and he was half-way down the steps, he paused and clung an
instant to the railing. "O Lord!" he groaned once more, involuntarily
shrinking back. "If women wa'n't so awfully oncertain! If I just _knew_
what Luella's goin' to say!"
As Baptist Sloan clicked the latch of his front gate behind him, and
stood a moment in the path, the familiar outlines of his old home rising
up in the dim light smote him with fresh pain. The thirty years of hope
and struggle were there to meet him with accusing faces and to turn his
home-coming into bitterness unspeakable--such bitterness as only those
can know who have cringed under the slow heartbreak of utter failure. He
did not even unlock the door, but dropping his carpet-bag and umbrella
on the porch floor, sank down into the old wooden rocker, covering his
face with his hands.
It was in this attitude that Luella found him an hour later, when she
came hurrying down the path with quick, fluttering steps. The moonlight,
struggling through the vines on the porch, showed her the object of her
search.
"I just now heard you was home!" she cried, with a nervous little laugh.
"It was in the evening paper, all about it. The doctor stopped by and
showed it to me."
She paused on the top step, out of breath, and awed by the rigid despair
showing in every line of the silent figure. She had divined that he
might need comfort, but she was not prepared for such desolation as
this. Silently she took another step toward him, then another, and laid
her hand timidly on his shoulder. His only response was a long,
shivering sigh.
"Oh, Bap, _don't_!" she cried. "Don't take it like _that_!"
"I've give' up," he said dully. "Seems as if it wa'n't worth while to go
on living any longer, when I've made such an awful failure. It's the
hope of a lifetime blasted, and I can't help feelin' that some way or
'nother mother knows it, too, and is disappointed in me."
She gathered the bowed head in her arms, and pressing it toward her,
began stroking it with soothing touches, as tenderly as if she had been
that disappointed mother.
"There, there!" she sobbed, with a choking voice. "You sha'n't say that
again. The world might count it a failure, same as they would a
race-horse that didn't get under the wire first. But what if you didn't
get there, Bap, _think how you ran_! You went just as far as the Lord
let you, and nobody can count it a failure when He stepped in and
stopped you. Look at Moses! He didn't get to his Promised Land either.
Maybe it ain't right for me to make Bible comparisons, but you went just
as far as he did, where you could stand and look over, and I'm proud of
you _for_ it. It's a sight farther than most people get."
There was tender silence for a little space, then she descended from the
Pisgah on which she had placed him and came down to the concerns of
every-day life. When she spoke again it was with her usual bustling air
of authority.
"Here, I've brought the key," she said. "Stick your carpet-bag inside
the door, and come home with me. Jordan or no Jordan, you've got to have
a cup of tea and a good hot supper."
THE END.
WORKS OF ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON
THE LITTLE COLONEL BOOKS (Trade Mark)
_By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON_
_Each 1 vol., large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per vol._ $1.50
THE LITTLE COLONEL STORIES (Trade Mark)
Being three "Little Colonel" stories in the Cosy Corner Series, "The
Little Colonel," "Two Little Knights of Kentucky," and "The Great
Scissors," put into a single volume.
THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HOUSE PARTY (Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HOLIDAYS (Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HERO (Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL AT BOARDING-SCHOOL (Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL IN ARIZONA (Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL'S CHRISTMAS VACATION (Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL, MAID OF HONOR (Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL'S KNIGHT COMES RIDING (Trade Mark)
MARY WARE: THE LITTLE COLONEL'S CHUM (Trade Mark)
MARY WARE IN TEXAS
_These eleven volumes, with The Little Colonel's Good Times Book, boxed
as a twelve-volume set_, $18.00.
THE LITTLE COLONEL (Trade Mark)
TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY
THE GIANT SCISSORS
BIG BROTHER
Special Holiday Editions
Each one volume, cloth decorative, small quarto, $1.25
New plates, handsomely illustrated with eight full-page drawings in
color, and many marginal sketches.
IN THE DESERT OF WAITING: THE LEGEND OF CAMELBACK MOUNTAIN.
THE THREE WEAVERS: A FAIRY TALE FOR FATHERS AND MOTHERS AS WELL AS FOR
THEIR DAUGHTERS.
KEEPING TRYST
THE LEGEND OF THE BLEEDING HEART
THE RESCUE OF PRINCESS WINSOME: A FAIRY PLAY FOR OLD AND YOUNG.
THE JESTERS SWORD
Each one volume, tall 16mo, cloth decorative $0.50
Paper boards .35
There has been a constant demand for publication in separate form of
these six stories which were originally included in six of the "Little
Colonel" books.
JOEL: A BOY OF GALILEE: BY ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON. Illustrated by L. J.
Bridgman.
New illustrated edition, uniform with the Little Colonel
Books, 1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative $1.50
A story of the time of Christ, which is one of the author's best-known
books.
THE LITTLE COLONEL GOOD TIMES BOOK
Uniform in size with the Little Colonel Series $1.50
Bound in white kid (morocco) and gold 3.00
Cover design and decorations by Peter Verberg.
Published in response to many inquiries from readers of the Little
Colonel books as to where they could obtain a "Good Times Book" such as
Betty kept.
THE LITTLE COLONEL DOLL BOOK
Large quarto, boards $1.50
A series of "Little Colonel" dolls,--not only the Little Colonel
herself, but Betty and Kitty and Mary Ware, yes, and Rob, Phil, and many
another of the well-loved characters,--even Mom' Beck herself. There are
many of them and each has several changes of costume, so that the happy
group can be appropriately clad for the rehearsal of any scene or
incident in the series.
The large, cumbersome sheets of most of the so-called doll "books" have
been discarded, and instead each character, each costume, occupies a
sheet by itself, the dolls and costumes being cut out only as they are
wanted.
ASA HOLMES: OR, AT THE CROSS-ROADS. A sketch of Country Life and Country
Humor. By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON.
With a frontispiece by Ernest Fosbery.
Large 16mo, cloth, gilt top $1.00
"'Asa Holmes; or, At the Cross-Roads' is the most delightful, most
sympathetic and wholesome book that has been published in a long
while."--_Boston Times._
TRAVELERS FIVE: ALONG LIFE'S HIGHWAY. By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON.
With a frontispiece in color from a painting by Edmund
H. Garrett. 12mo, cloth decorative $1.25
In her new book, written with the same grace and ease that have
distinguished her former works, Mrs. Johnston introduces five travelers
along life's highway. The characters are all so different--some
humorous, some pathetic--and yet all so very real, that their progress
along the road will afford entertainment and pleasure. The book is full
of life and action.
COSY CORNER SERIES
It is the intention of the publishers that this series
shall contain only the very highest and purest
literature,--stories that shall not only appeal to the
children themselves, but be appreciated by all those
who feel with them in their joys and sorrows.
The numerous illustrations in each book are by
well-known artists, and each volume has a separate
attractive cover design.
Each 1 vol., 16mo, cloth $0.50
_By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON_
THE LITTLE COLONEL (Trade Mark.)
The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its heroine is a small
girl, who is known as the Little Colonel, on account of her fancied
resemblance to an old-school Southern gentleman, whose fine estate and
old family are famous in the region.
THE GIANT SCISSORS
This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in France. Joyce is a
great friend of the Little Colonel, and in later volumes shares with her
the delightful experiences of the "House Party" and the "Holidays."
TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY
WHO WERE THE LITTLE COLONEL'S NEIGHBORS.
In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an old friend, but
with added grace and charm. She is not, however, the central figure of
the story, that place being taken by the "two little knights."
MILDRED'S INHERITANCE
A delightful little story of a lonely English girl who comes to America
and is befriended by a sympathetic American family who are attracted by
her beautiful speaking voice. By means of this one gift she is enabled
to help a school-girl who has temporarily lost the use of her eyes, and
thus finally her life becomes a busy, happy one.
CICELY AND OTHER STORIES FOR GIRLS
The readers of Mrs. Johnston's charming juveniles will be glad to learn
of the issue of this volume for young people.
AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO AND OTHER STORIES
A collection of six bright little stories, which will appeal to all boys
and most girls.
BIG BROTHER
A story of two boys. The devotion and care of Stephen, himself a small
boy, for his baby brother, is the theme of the simple tale.
OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT
"Ole Mammy's Torment" has been fitly called "a classic of Southern
life." It relates the haps and mishaps of a small negro lad, and tells
how he was led by love and kindness to a knowledge of the right.
THE STORY OF DAGO
In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago, a pet monkey,
owned jointly by two brothers. Dago tells his own story, and the account
of his haps and mishaps is both interesting and amusing.
THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT
A pleasant little story of a boy's labor of love, and how it changed the
course of his life many years after it was accomplished.
FLIP'S ISLANDS OF PROVIDENCE
A story of a boy's life battle, his early defeat, and his final triumph,
well worth the reading.
From L. C. Page & Company's Announcement List of New Fiction
THE STORY GIRL
By L. M. MONTGOMERY.
Cloth, 12mo, illustrated, decorative jacket $1.50
To quote from one of our editor's reports on the new Montgomery
book--"Miss Montgomery has decidedly _arrived_ in this story!" The
remarkable success of her delightful ANNE books and of the charming
"Kilmeny of the Orchard" has established her as one of America's leading
authors--a writer of books which touch the heart, uplift the spirit, and
leave an imprint of lasting sweetness on the memory. But in "The Story
Girl," everywhere the touch of the _finished_ artist is evident--a
smoothness and polish which heightens the unusual style of a gifted
author.
The environment is again the author's beloved Prince Edward Island and
the story and incidents possess the same simplicity and charm which
characterize Miss Montgomery's earlier books. The Story Girl,
herself--Sara Stanley--is a fascinating creature, and will delight and
thrill her readers with her weird tales of ghosts "and things." She
tells in wondrous voice of "The Mystery of the Golden Milestone," "How
Kissing Was Discovered," and of just how the Milky Way happened into the
heavens. She will make you feel the spell of the old orchard where she
and her playmates spend such happy days, and with Felix, Dan and Beverly
you will live again with her the "tragedies of childhood."
Of Miss Montgomery's previous books, the reviewers have written as
follows:
"The art which pervades every page is so refined that the cultivated
imagination will return to the story again and again in memory to find
always something fresh to enjoy."--_Toronto World._
"Miss Montgomery has attained an honored place among the worth-while
writers of fiction."-_-Beacon and Budget._
"Miss Montgomery has a sympathetic knowledge of human nature, joined to
high ideals, a reasonably romantic view point and a distinct gift of
description."--_Chicago Record-Herald._
A CAPTAIN OF RALEIGH'S
By G. E. THEODORE ROBERTS, author of "A Cavalier of Virginia," "Comrades
of the Trails," "Red Feathers," etc. Cloth, 12mo, illustrated,
decorative jacket
_Net_ $1.25 (carriage, 13c. extra)
A typical Roberts romance--dashing and brisk with the scenes for the
most part laid in the infant colony of Newfoundland, at the time when
Sir Walter Raleigh and other famous captains swept the seas for England.
Sir Walter is one of the characters in the romance but the chief
interest centres about one of his officers, Captain John Percy.
Elizabeth Duwaney, the heroine, is beautiful and vivacious enough to
quite turn the heads of the several gallant gentlemen who struggle for
her hand, and to keep the reader guessing until the very last page as to
which suitor will find favor in her eyes. Unusual and unexpected
situations in the plot are handled skilfully and you close the book
agreeing with our editor that "Mr. Roberts has given us another capital
yarn!"
"Mr. Roberts has undoubted skill in portraying character and carrying
events along to a satisfactory conclusion."--_The Smart Set._