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Grace Harlowe's Golden Summer
By JESSIE GRAHAM FLOWER, A. M.
Author of The Grace Harlowe High School Girls Series, The Grace Harlowe
College Girls Series, etc.
PHILADELPHIA
HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY
Copyright, 1917
[Illustration: Grace's Embroidery Dropped From Her Hands.]
CONTENTS
I. A Song of Golden Summer
II. The House Behind the World
III. For Auld Lang Syne
IV. "To Thine Own Self Be True"
V. Flying in the Face of Superstition
VI. The Shadow
VII. The Veiled Prophetess of Destiny
VIII. Unveiling the Prophetess
IX. The Meaning of Semper Fidelis
X. The Shadow Deepens
XI. Postponing Happiness
XII. The Better Part
XIII. An Innocent Meddler
XIV. The Beginning of the End
XV. Merely a Looker-On
XVI. J. Elfreda's Master Stroke
XVII. Fate
XVIII. A Gleam of Hope
XIX. The Letter
XX. The Last Chance
XXI. The Call of the Elf's Horn
XXII. Out of the Valley
XXIII. The Strange Story
XXIV. The Noon of Golden Summer
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Grace's Embroidery Dropped From Her Hands.
Devoted Love Shone in Her Clear Gray Eyes.
"Here You Are, Weary Wanderer," She Said Gayly.
"When You Have Found Tom, Give Him This Letter."
Grace Harlowe's Golden Summer
CHAPTER I
A SONG OF GOLDEN SUMMER
"Now, David, you know that I know that you don't know what I know.
Therefore, if I know that you don't know what I _know_ you don't know,
it's very plain to be seen that either you or I know very little. Now,
which of us is a know-nothing? Don't be afraid to confess. Remember, we
are your friends." Hippy Wingate beamed benevolently upon his victim,
bland expectation written on his plump face.
"No real friend of mine would ever take such cowardly advantage of the
English language," was David Nesbit's scathing retort. "I'll leave it to
Grace if I'm not right."
"There, Grace. At last you have an opportunity to strike for the right.
I believe in striking a valiant blow for the right----"
"So do I," cut in Reddy Brooks decisively. "There is no time like the
present. There couldn't be a better place. Away out here in this
sequestered spot no one will hear your frenzied yells for help." Reddy
rose determinedly from the steps of the old Omnibus House and made a
nimble spring toward the loquacious prattler.
"Never touched me," was wafted defiantly back, as Hippy Wingate
skilfully eluded Reddy's avenging hand and disappeared around the
protecting corner of the one-time hostelry. The old Omnibus House had
ever been his refuge when put to flight by his long-suffering
companions.
"You might have known it," shrugged Nora Wingate with an indifference
which marked long association with the verbose refugee. "In about three
minutes you'll hear a frantic voice calling on me for protection. Don't
say a word, any of you, but just listen."
A sudden silence, broken only by a soft chuckle from the abused David,
descended on the seven young people occupying the worn stone steps.
"No-ra!" From the rear of the old house a plaintive voice sent up this
anguished plea for succor.
"What did I tell you?" Nora's elaborate air of indifference vanished in
a dimpling smile that was reflected on the faces of the group. No one
said a word; neither did Nora rise to the noble duty of rescuer.
"All alone, all alone!
By the wayside she has left me,
And no other's love I'll be;
For to-night I am deserted;
Nora has forgotten me!"
intoned a mournful voice, flagrantly off the key.
"For to-night you are a nuisance, you mean," was Reddy Brooks' shouted
correction. "I'll rescue you."
"Oh, my!" came Hippy's horrified accents, as Reddy Brooks leaped to his
feet and dived toward the sheltering shadow that concealed the self-made
outcast.
"Isn't it a lovely evening, David? Have you noticed it?" A fat, beaming
face was cautiously thrust forth round a corner opposite to that from
which the call for help had so recently emanated. A plump body still
more cautiously followed the face. It was evident that Hippy considered
David the lesser of two evils. "May I sit by you, Anne? I have always
had a great deal of faith in you." Hippy became ingratiating. "I'm sorry
I can't say as much for certain other persons whose names I courteously
refrain from bringing into the discussion." Without waiting for the
requested permission, Hippy crowded himself onto the small space which
Anne, seated at one end of the top step, obligingly made for him, and
calmly awaited the return of his pursuer.
"Oh, what's the use!" jibed the disgruntled avenger, when, strolling
back to the steps, he beheld the nimble object of his pursuit waiting
for him with a wide grin.
"Thus one is always brought to recognize the futility of revenge,"
murmured Hippy with sad gentleness. "Let us agree to forget the bitter
past, Reddy, and turn our faces toward the glorious future. I might also
add that it doesn't pay to take up another's grievances. After all I
didn't actually accuse David of being a know-nothing. I merely asked him
about it. However, I take it all back. David may know a great deal more
than appears on the surface."
"I decline to rise to the bait," laughed David. "I came out here to
enjoy myself; not to squabble. It's our last evening together until we
all gather home again to see Grace and Tom take the highway of
matrimony. Let's make the most of it."
Those who have faithfully followed Grace Harlowe through the eventful
phases of her high school and college life are equally well acquainted
with the other seven members of the Eight Originals. In "Grace
Harlowe's Plebe Year at High School," "Grace Harlowe's
Sophomore Year at High School," "Grace Harlowe's Junior Year at
High School," and "Grace Harlowe's Senior Year at High
School," were recorded the countless interesting sayings and doings
of these eight highly congenial friends. Later, when Grace had been
graduated from Oakdale High School to continue her education at Overton
College, accompanied by her friends, Anne Pierson and Miriam Nesbit, the
devoted little band had remained unswerving in their allegiance to one
another.
Once she had become a freshman at Overton College, Grace's equable
disposition and love of fair play had attracted equally loyal allegiance
to her standard. In "Grace Harlowe's First Year at Overton
College," "Grace Harlowe's Second Year at Overton
College," "Grace Harlowe's Third Year at Overton College,"
"Grace Harlowe's Fourth Year At Overton College," "Grace
Harlowe's Return To Overton Campus" and "Grace Harlowe's
Problem," will be found a minute record of the principal happenings
which made her college years memorable.
Absorbed in what she had firmly believed to be her destined work, Grace
had long and obstinately shut love from her life, only to find at last
that even her beloved work could not forever crowd it out. Seeing
clearly, after months of doubt, she had cheerfully resigned her position
as manager of Harlowe House to prepare for the more important position
in life which early September was to bring her.
"It doesn't seem possible that we've had the blessed chance to be
together for two whole weeks." Grace's eyes had grown dreamy. "I can't
really believe that I've been back in Oakdale that long. It seems not
more than two evenings ago that we held a reunion at our Fairy
Godmother's and--" She paused, a little flush rising to her cheeks.
"And you and Tom told us the good news," supplemented Nora
mischievously.
"I hadn't intended to say _that_, but never mind," laughed Grace. "It
ceased to be a secret on that night. While I am on the subject I might
as well add that until yesterday we couldn't make up our minds regarding
our wedding day. But it's all settled now. Every one of you must be sure
to be with us on the evening of September tenth."
"'Must' is the word," broke in Tom Gray, his eyes resting fondly on the
slender, radiant-faced girl beside him. "We can't start on the great
adventure without the blessing of this happy band."
"Rest assured, Thomas, we'll be there," averred Hippy. "Having comported
myself with dignity at my own and several other weddings, I shall hail
yours with the greatest of joy."
"Which means that I shall be obliged to keep a watchful eye on you every
moment," translated Nora, her blue eyes twinkling.
"I'll help you, Nora," volunteered Reddy. "I haven't yet forgiven your
wayward husband for the unkind remarks he made about my hair on _my_
wedding day."
"I don't remember them," retorted Hippy, unabashed. "I've made so many
remarks at so many different times about those same flaming, crimson
locks that it would take a long while to sort out the dates. But there's
nothing like trying. Let me see. The first occasion on which I chanced
to note----"
"Now see what you've done." David Nesbit fixed the unfortunate Reddy
with a severe eye.
"I see," was Reddy's grim comment. Picking up the idle mandolin that he
had hastily deposited on Jessica's lap when he made his vengeful dash
upon Hippy, he strummed it lightly. "Why lug a mandolin along if no one
intends to sing?" he asked pointedly, ignoring Hippy's disrespectful
reminiscences.
"Oh, very well." Promptly foregoing the will to gather data concerning
Reddy's too-oft maligned Titian locks, Hippy began a lively warbling
which had nothing in common with the tinkling melody of the mandolin. As
a result the patient instrument immediately ceased its complaining
tinkle. Hippy, however, lilted on, undisturbed, for a matter of five
seconds, when a chorus of threatening protests warned him to cease.
"Do be good," admonished Nora, laughing in spite of herself. "Either
sing prettily or don't try to sing at all."
"Madam, it is not necessary for me to _try_ to sing. Song and I are one.
Let me give you an illustration. Name a ditty best suited to my voice
and I will prove myself."
"I can't recall one," discouraged Nora.
"Silent singing would suit _you_ best," grumbled Reddy. "You could make
your lips do the deed without damaging any one else's ear drums."
"I'll try it," amiably agreed the noisy soloist. "Just watch me." He
proceeded to indulge in a series of labial contortions that a dumb man
would have envied, and which had a most hilarious effect upon those whom
he had lately persecuted with raucous sound. Rudely requested to desist
from even this newly discovered pastime, he subsided with a frantic
signalling to the effect that he had actually been stricken dumb.
"It's too good to be true," exclaimed the relieved Reddy, laying fresh
hold on the mandolin. "While we have peace, sing for us, Nora. We ought
to make the most of this unexpected opportunity."
"Give us that song you used to sing about Golden Summer," begged
Jessica. "Don't you remember, that was one of the first pieces Reddy
learned to play on the mandolin? I haven't heard it in ages. I'd love to
hear Nora sing it again."
"Yes, sing it, Nora." Grace added her plea. "I don't believe I've ever
heard it. It will be very appropriate to the occasion."
"Wait a minute until I think how it goes." Reddy began a reflective
strumming, bringing back, bit by bit, a plaintive little air that
carried a subdued heart throb. "I've got it," he nodded. "Go ahead,
Nora."
Her hands loosely clasped, Nora's clear, high voice, which Grace always
declared "had tears in it," took up the song of Jessica's fancy to the
subdued accompaniment of the mandolin.
"Golden Summer's in the land!
Hark! Her call soars high and sweet.
Hedge-rows flow'r at her command;
Roses spring beneath her feet.
Skies grow azure; life beats strong;
Nature listens to adore;
Thrilling at the siren's song,
Yields her wond'rous treasured store.
Precious fabrics of her loom
Clothe her darling of the year;
Wealth of sunshine; breath of bloom;
Cloudless days, so fair, so dear.
"Golden Summer's voice is stilled--
Autumn chants a requiem low.
Gone the days with rapture filled.
Life's a-throbbing, sad and slow.
Skies grow hazy; sunshine wanes,
Vivid green fast turns to brown;
Here and there along the lanes,
Flames the sumac's lonely crown.
Sings the voice of Mem'ry now,
'Cleave to Love--lest it depart;
Bind remembrance on thy brow,
Cherish Summer in thy heart.'"
"I don't like that song at all." As the last haunting cadence died away,
the dumb man came into energetic speech.
"Why not, Hippy? I think it is beautiful." Grace turned surprised eyes
on the stout protestant.
"It gives me the creeps," he declared shortly and with unmistakable
earnestness. "The first verse is all very nice. Summer is a golden time,
etc. But why remind us that fall is coming?" He had now resumed his old,
bantering tone. "I prefer to have summer three hundred and sixty-five
days in the year. I don't like murky skies, worn-out grass, skeleton
hedge-rows, muddy lanes, lonesome sumacs and cold winds. As for winter,
lead me away from it. I absolutely refuse to carry summer about in so
useful an organ as my heart, when it's ten below zero and the water
pipes are all frozen up."
"That is because you have no sentiment," challenged Reddy. Whereupon the
divine power of song was at once swallowed up in a fresh burst of
argument as futile as it was laughable. It was ended by tactful Anne,
who was always supremely useful when called upon to arbitrate such
important matters. The relative merits of "Golden Summer" having been
successfully decided and laid to rest, Nora again lifted up her voice in
a selection infinitely more to her liege lord's liking. Then followed an
old-fashioned song in which every one took part, filling the quiet
moonlit night with sweetest harmony.
"It's half-past ten, children," reminded David, as striking a match he
consulted his watch. "Anne, Jessica, Reddy, and I are due to catch early
trains to-morrow morning. Anne and I mustn't miss ours. We promised
Miriam we'd surely be with her to-morrow night."
"Anne, don't forget to tell Miriam not to dare do any shopping until
Mother and I arrive in New York," reminded Grace. "She promised to wait
for me, so that we could do our shopping together. I've written her
about it, but I wish you'd emphasize the fact for me."
"I will," promised Anne. "I know she will wait for you, though. She told
me she intended to."
With knowledge of the coming parting so near, the little company grew a
trifle less merry as they strolled home across the familiar fields in
the moonlight. Though Hippy had been the only one to confess it, the
plaintive melody of Nora's song of Golden Summer haunted them. With
summer at high tide in each heart, it was, as Hippy had remarked, not
quite pleasant to be reminded even tunefully that life holds the
inevitable autumn.
"I really believe Hippy meant what he said about that song," Tom
remarked meditatively to Grace.
"Were you thinking of that, too?" A faint, almost melancholy smile
flickered about Grace's lips as she asked the question. "It seemed to me
he was in earnest."
"I almost wish Nora hadn't sung it," returned Tom with unexpected
bluntness. "I went through such a long, dreary winter before _my_ Golden
Summer came. Now I wish it to stay with me forever. I'd like our lives
from this moment on always to be one long, continued Golden Summer like
the last two weeks. I can't bear to think that it might ever be
otherwise."
"'Perfect love casteth out fear,'" quoted Grace softly. "It's the only
true safeguard against the ills of life. After all, there's a note of
triumph in the ending of that song. With love to light us on our way, it
can't help but be always Golden Summer in our hearts."