Rob flushed with pleasure over the proposition. "She is so little,
so sensitive and frail that I do not feel like giving her over to
strangers, even though her mother should consent to it."
"If you are willing to keep her here it would add the much-needed
touch to our methods," said Mr. Armstrong. "There are five of us joined
in administering this fund, of whom I am chairman, or president, or
whatever you choose to call an informal board officer. Our trouble
always is to find a place where our girls can get home training while
they are educating, until they are old enough to be placed in a good
boarding-school. If you will keep this child, I will see that the
funds are provided for the musical education which she deserves. She
should begin to be taught piano at once, and every year as she grows
older suitable instruction shall keep step with her development. If she
proves as talented as we now think her, and you will contribute her
maintenance, as your part of her provision, the sum which her support
would have cost shall be laid aside to send her to Germany to study,
if, when she is grown, it seems better for her to go there."
"It is the most delightful thing I have heard in years, Mr. Armstrong,"
cried Mrs. Grey. "I have wondered and wondered whom we could interest
in little Polly, and how we might get for her the training she should
have. I have taught her the beginnings of the piano, and she recites
her lessons daily to my daughter Oswyth, but we are not rich people, as
you know, and I have never been able to see what I wanted to see in
Polly's future. You have solved it, and I can't tell you how thankful
I am. I must write her poor mother to-night; poor creature, she needs
good tidings, I fear."
"I don't know what you call rich, my dear madam," said the old
gentleman decidedly. "This little house has always seemed to me, and
remained in my memory, as the most richly endowed spot I know. The
money which is at my disposition can give the girl her opportunity
in life, but you will give her far more than that; an education far
surpassing mere schooling, and a training that will fit her to use her
opportunity and to live her life aright. I suppose you would rather
have the money given to crippled children." he added, turning sharply
to Rob. "I'm sorry, but it is a trust fund, its purpose distinctly
limited and defined."
"Indeed, I wouldn't rather have it used for cripples," cried Rob. "The
one thing I ever wanted to do in this world--except to found a home
for dogs and cats and horses--is to give girls a chance, girls who
would use the chance and are hungry for it. To tell the truth I have
drifted into cripples because Mr. Baldwin's daughter made me--she is
the one who started all this. I have helped her, because, after all,
I am sorry for maimed little things in those awful tenements and when
a good cause takes hold of one and pulls one's hands--well, of course,
you can't make a fist! But little girls, like Polly, or even bigger,
appeal to me most. I don't want one penny of the fund for cripples,
Mr. Armstrong. I haven't forgotten the days before you bought the
invention, and how hungry I was for a chance, even with such people as
my mother and the father you did not know. So I can imagine how girls
feel who long for education and who have no home, or worse than none."
"I might have known that you would have cared more for minds and
souls than for bodies, you strong, warm, sensitive child!" said Mr.
Armstrong. "And I see that your quiet sister sympathizes with you,
though I suspect that she dearly loves to comfort and cuddle suffering
bodies. Now see here; about your cripple home," added Mr. Armstrong
rising. "How much money have you?"
"We don't know yet, but enough to take care of three or four children
anyway, if only we had a house for them," said Rob.
"You tell me that this Flanders--Flinders'--farm is not rented. Why not
hire that, and begin? I'll pay the rent, and if the work is inspired it
will grow, and something else will come from this small beginning. If
not, no harm is done; you have made your experiment, and will turn your
energies to the next work at hand. What say you?" And Mr. Armstrong
paused, looking from Wythie to Rob, excluding the mother as if he
wanted to deal here with the girls only.
"Well, why did we never once think of the Flinders' place?" gasped
Wythie. "That would help the Flinders, as well as start our home. It is
a wonderful idea, Mr. Armstrong!"
"The farm would rent for a hundred a year," said Rob, eying their
would-be benefactor doubtfully.
"Very probably. Well, will you accept my offer?" asked Mr. Armstrong.
"Oh, you kindest of fairy godfathers!" cried Rob, laughing, yet very
much in earnest. "I should think we would accept it, and bless you
every day. We will call the farm the Sweet William Farm," she added
slyly.
"Nonsense!" cried the old gentleman, much pleased. "Then it is a
bargain. Baldwin and I talked it over coming out on the train last
night and made up our minds to help you children, he with his legal
lore and I with my wealth galore. Well, I shall lose my train!" he
cried hastily, consulting a watch very thin and small in proportion to
its owner. "Good-bye, little Grey girls. Goodbye, Mrs. Grey. I shall
come out again, purposely to see you, and to complete our arrangements,
after you have heard from Polly's mother. This is a blessed little grey
house, and I believe that it is going to prove like the mustard tree,
whose branches reach out and shelter the helpless creatures."
He was gone in an instant, and Wythie and Rob fairly flew up-stairs to
announce to Hester their startling news, news which made that young
woman sit up, her eyes dilating as she realized that it rendered the
beginning of her beloved project possible with no further delay.
Rob and Wythie took Hester to the station, from which point Wythie
returned home, while Rob went on up the hill to Aunt Azraella's. Her
mother and Cousin Peace had prepared Rob's mind for something out
of the ordinary in this visit by telling her that Mrs. Winslow had
something important to discuss with her, the nature of which they were
under solemn promise not to reveal.
Rob was not greatly interested in the matter; her mind was so full of
the prospect for Polly, and of the events of the night before. She
was tired, and yet the echoes of the gavotte still haunted her. Aunt
Azraella's momentous announcements usually proved less impressive to
others than to herself.
Roberta found Mrs. Winslow seated in the westerly window enjoying the
declining sun, with Tobias, who was of late allowed to visit other
rooms than the kitchen, sitting solemnly blinking near her.
"Good-afternoon, Aunt Azraella. How are you, Tobias? I hope you
remember that I saved your life?" said Rob, bringing into the room the
freshness of her beautiful colouring, and the bright January air.
"You do not look tired, Roberta," said Mrs. Winslow. "Last night was
a great success, I hear. Elvira and Aaron were full of it when they
got home, but I have heard from others to-day that it was really a
beautiful entertainment, and that while all three Grey girls were more
than pretty, that Prue was very handsome."
"She was magnificent, Aunt, really," said Rob. "Prue is going to be so
handsome that I don't know what is to be done with her."
"She'll do it all for herself," remarked Mrs. Winslow with unusual
brevity and wisdom.
"Roberta, lay off your coat and furs, and take that chair and bring it
over here. There is something I must talk to you about. Has your mother
told you?"
"She told me that you wanted to see me about something, yes, Aunt,"
said Rob as she obeyed. "Is it something that I can do for you?"
"It is something that I want to do for you," said her aunt. "Once I
should have sent for Oswyth under these circumstances, but since you
showed so much character and business ability at the time that you held
out against us all in selling your father's invention I regard you as
the cleverest of your family in business matters. Now, first of all,
Roberta, I want you should understand that I have an incurable disease."
Rob caught her breath, and gazed speechlessly at Aunt Azraella, not
knowing how to reply to such a statement made with as little emotion as
if Mrs. Winslow had told her that she was going to the post-office.
"I have seen Dr. Fairbairn, and he brought up two physicians from the
city," Aunt Azraella continued, after waiting an instant for Rob to
speak. "They tell me that I may live three years, but I am entirely
without hope of living longer than that. There isn't any particular
hurry--" here Aunt Azraella paused, and Rob sat helplessly waiting.
Surely Aunt Azraella did not mean that there was no hurry about dying!
And could it be that she was hearing aright? Aunt Azraella could not
possibly be talking in this indifferent way of her doom!
"But I thought," Mrs. Winslow went on, "that I should like to have
everything settled. All the money that your uncle left me will go to
you three girls, as it should. But I don't seem to care about leaving
what came from my family to my own relations. I always liked all the
Winslows, and I can't find any particular affection for the Browns
in my heart when I search it--there's no one nearer than cousins and
two nieces on that side anyway. So I'm going to leave you and Oswyth
and Prudence--" Aunt Azraella used the full names, as befitting
testamentary intentions--"thirty thousand dollars each, and I'm going
to leave you this house."
"Aunt Azraella!" protested Rob, between laughing and crying, for her
nerves were getting the upper hand in this singular interview. "Please
don't tell me such things; please don't talk about dying!"
"Roberta, I want you should be sensible," her aunt rebuked her. "There
is no reason why people should not face facts and admit them. Within
three years I shall be no more, and you three girls will have the bulk
of my property. If you marry those wealthy Rutherfords you won't need
it--"
"Aunt Azraella, I'm not going to marry the Rutherfords!" cried poor
Rob. "And you are not really ill."
"You are not going to marry all three of them, but Wythie will marry
Basil, and you will marry the second one, the one that is going to
study with Dr. Fairbairn, and very likely Prue will have the youngest,"
said Aunt Azraella with deadly certainty. "For the rest, I have already
told you that I am incurable, and I have suffered a good deal at times
that I haven't told any one about. But that is neither here nor there.
It doesn't matter about me just now, nor about marrying. What I wanted
to ask you was this: I'm going to leave you this house. Now, would you
rather have it for yourself, or would you like to have me leave it to
you for this cripple home you are getting up?"
"Oh, it's your house; you must do what you like to with it! This is the
most dreadful thing to ask me, Aunt Azraella! You know I don't want to
take your house," protested Rob.
"I suppose you know, Roberta, that when I am dead it will not be my
house, and that I must leave it behind for some one," said Aunt
Azraella with the same resolute common sense. "It will be yours, but
shall it be for yourself, or for your charity?"
Rob made an effort and succeeded in forcing herself to meet her aunt on
her own ground.
"I would rather the house were used as pleased you, Aunt Azraella," she
said. "But we must remember one thing: The home for crippled children
may fall through. Don't you think you ought to wait to see if it
succeeds before you give it this beautiful, big house?"
"You are sensible, as usual, Roberta, when you put your mind on a
thing," said her aunt in a tone of relief. "To tell the truth I prefer
to leave you the house, but I thought you might like it given outright
to this charity, which really is a good one. I shall will the house to
you, and you will remember that we have had this talk, and feel free
to live in it, sell it, or donate it to charity, just as you prefer. I
wanted to please you; that's all."
"Mr. Armstrong is going to hire the Flinders' farm for us to begin on,"
said Rob, realizing that this was not the proper remark, but utterly
unable to say anything else.
Aunt Azraella seemed relieved that she had modified the subject.
"That's a good notion!" she exclaimed. "Tell me about it."
And Rob found herself telling Aunt Azraella the story of Mr.
Armstrong's call, as if this were the most ordinary visit of the many
which she had paid her aunt at this hour between daylight and dark.
Aunt Azraella seemed pleased by the tidings, and Rob rose to go,
wondering if the tragic news that had been imparted to her had been
heard in a dream.
"I appreciate your coming, Roberta," said Aunt Azraella. "And I
appreciate the way you have behaved, after your first shock was over.
I want all you girls should behave in your ordinary manner to me right
along. I'm not going to be pitied, nor coddled because I've come to
where we must all be some day, only most of us won't know it so long
ahead. Good-night."
"Good-night," said Rob faintly, not daring so much as to put out her
hand.
The crescent moon shone low in the west as she left the big house on
the hill to cross the dry fields to the little grey house.
"Oh, poor, hard, shut-in woman! Poor Aunt Azraella!" Rob found herself
saying aloud.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ITS DEADLY INSULT
Wythie was in her "uniform," as the Grey girls still called the plain
dark blue ginghams, feather-stitched in white which, renewed as fast
as they wore out, were their housework gowns. With her plump hands
protected by old gloves, she was sweeping her and Rob's room. A blue
bordered handkerchief formed into a dusting-cap added greatly to her
picturesque effect as she leaned on her broom and watched Rob coming up
the street.
There had been several days in which to get used to the thought that
Aunt Azraella was going hence from the big house on the hill, leaving
it to Roberta for whatever purpose she pleased to use it. The question
had been discussed in family conclaves, between the girls in private
and with their mother and Miss Charlotte. It was an exciting thought
that the power to do much was coming into the Grey girls' young hands,
though the outlook was not for more wealth than would have seemed to
many people just sufficient for their own wants. It was characteristic
of these simple-hearted Grey people that they should be quite satisfied
with what they already had, and begin at once to plan to help others
with their moderate excess.
Wythie leaned out of the window as Rob drew near, and the brisk winter
wind promptly removed her cap to deposit it at Rob's feet as she turned
in at the low gate, set back for the season against the hedge and out
of the way of drifts.
Rob picked it up and bowed low to her sister, holding the cap in a
position of salute, while, with the other hand, she waved a letter
upward.
"From Mrs. Flinders," she called, and Wythie immediately began to
divest herself of her sweeping gloves as she called back: "I'm glad
we've heard from her at last. I'm coming down."
She found Rob already hatless by the fireside in the sitting-room,
where their mother and Cousin Peace were established with their work,
and Polly, with Roberta Charlotte on her knee and Hortense in a doll's
rocking-chair at her side, was reading aloud Hans Christian Andersen's
Wonder Tales with much satisfaction in her own proficiency.
"Will Pollykins go out to visit Lydia for a little while?" asked Rob
coaxingly. "We shall have something to tell her when she comes back,
and we want to surprise her."
The quiet child arose at once and went obediently away, taking her
family with her. Rob opened her mother's letter the instant that the
door was closed behind the small representative of "the Flinders."
"It is addressed to you, Mardy, but I suppose it doesn't matter,"
remarked Rob as she acted on her supposition.
"Dear Mrs. Grey," Rob read. "I hope you are all enjoying the health at
present which we are. He is not better, but remains much the same. I am
about as usual. I received your letter which I now take my pen in hand
to answer and would say that I do not know of any objections to renting
our farm but the contrary because the taxes runs up pretty fast and
when it is not worked it goes all to pieces. The hundred dollars which
you mention as the price the man you wrote about will pay is more than
we could get from any one round there but there is not no reason why
you ought to tell him this if he wants to pay that much and we don't
mind what use it gets so as we get the money regular. So if he wants
it we will let him take it and be a relief off our minds more my mind
than his because I got to take the care now he is laid up. What you
say about Maimie sounds all right to me. I don't feel as if I could
stand in her way if you think musics what she can do best of course she
will have her own living to earn some-way. In the matter of education I
do not feel as if I had enough myself to speak about it I can make out
to spell right I guess because there is always a dictionary and nobody
has no need to spell bad but for the rest I guess I had better leave it
to you to do what you think is best about Maimie. I hope she knows that
she is lucky to have such friends raised up to her when her father's
stricken down and tell her to mind what you tell her and study hard.
I guess she won't ever be our child again when she has got through
studying. But it don't matter if she gets through her life better than
we have. Her father would like to be remembered to you if he was just
himself, but to-day is one of his times when he is sort of queer in his
head. My love to Maimie, and my regards to all the family particularly
Roberta.
"Yours respectfully. REBECCA ANN FLINDERS.
"P. S. Excuse mistakes and my poor writing my hand is sort of cramped
from not writing much and doing housework."
"Oh, dear," sighed Rob, wiping away the tears of mingled amusement and
pity which had risen in eyes quick to respond to both. "Isn't it funny?
Spelled correctly, as she says, but guiltless of punctuation! And isn't
it pathetic?"
"Very, when she says Polly will never be their child again--and I'm
afraid it is true," said Mrs. Grey.
"But for all that she desires the child's best good; there spoke the
mother, revealed in spite of ignorance, as eloquently as mother-love
can be expressed," said Cousin Peace.
"This is certainly for Polly's best good," said Wythie. "I wish one
were less often half sorry for succeeding in this world! However, we
can now write Mr. Armstrong; Polly can be regularly installed as the
next heir to his fund, and he can hire the farm, and Hester can begin
her home for cripples without much longer delay."
"It seems to me we are getting into charities without any effort on our
part," observed Rob. "We live our uneventful, commonplace lives, and
a sort of warm gulf stream of the milk of human kindness is at once
penetrating us and bearing us away upon its bosom."
"Dear me, Rob, what oratory!" laughed her mother.
"Literary style, gained from composing my stories and telling them to
the children," explained Rob.
"Poor little ones!" commented Cousin Peace mischievously.
"Well, it really is queer," persisted Rob. "Hester began it with her
vague aspirations, like the little St. Theresa going out to see if she
couldn't find some obliging person to martyr her, and then we began to
find we could help one or two little miserables so easily that there
was no escaping doing it, and now comes Mr. Armstrong, following Mr.
Silsby and Dr. Fairbairn's interest in the project, and Aunt Azraella
crowns it all. Truly, I knew some people had greatness thrust upon
them, but I never knew any one had goodness thrust upon them--I always
thought one had to achieve sanctity painfully! Yet, here we are getting
made benefactors and saints in spite of ourselves!"
"Don't worry, Rob; it takes more than one home for destitute children,
and more than a little kindly feeling to make a saint," said her mother.
Just then Polly turned the handle of the door and looked in timidly.
"Please will it bother you if I tell you that Lydia said she should
like to have Rob come out in the kitchen? Because Ben Bolt has a man
treed, she says, in the orchard," said Polly, without showing any
curiosity as to why she had been dismissed.
"A man in the orchard!" cried Rob, springing to her feet, and rushing
out after Polly, followed in turn by Wythie, while Mrs. Grey and Miss
Charlotte folded up their work to come after them.
Rob almost ran into Lydia in the kitchen door-way, and encountered her
reproachful gaze.
"That goat," said Lydia severely, "has got a man penned up behind
an apple-tree. He's a real nice looking man, and he was coming here
through the orchard, short cutting from the back street. I guess he
thinks it's not a very Christian way of receiving a person."
"I don't see why he should look for Christian ways in a goat," laughed
Rob. "Poor old Ben Bolt! He knows we have no dog, and Kiku-san can't
guard us, so who else is there but him to keep off intruders? I'll go
out and rescue this one, however." Rob pulled on her old rubbers, kept
convenient in the kitchen, and went out to save the person skulking
behind the tree, while old grey Ben Bolt, the family friend whom Prue
had rescued from the hands of his enemies, years ago when he was a
kid, stood with lowered horns, holding at bay the stranger whom he
evidently regarded as a menace to the estate.
Rob ran up and seized Ben's horns. "He really is not dangerous," she
explained, struggling with her desire to laugh at the same time that
she struggled with Ben Bolt. "He acts dangerous, but he is a lamb."
"Exactly so," observed the stranger, emerging from the position which
Braddock's men were so disastrously withheld from taking, and rubbing
the frayed lichens from the sleeve which had dung so tenaciously to the
apple-tree. "It is a beautiful goat; a very fine specimen. I am devoted
to animals myself, but he seemed disinclined to accept my homage. I was
told that this was a short cut to Mrs. Grey's house, but I fear it has
consumed more time than the longer way would have required. Is this
Miss Grey whom I have the honour to address?"
"Yes," said Rob, not considering it worth while to enter into the order
of succession in the Grey family. "Won't you follow me to the house? I
will guarantee your safety."
"Thank you," said the man fervently. "I have come on a matter of
business, and I should be obliged to go around the front way and
reappear if I did not go with you now."
"Dreadful alternative!" murmured Rob, holding Ben Bolt firmly while
the stranger skittishly circumnavigated him. After he was past she
liberated the goat and followed the visitor towards the house,
wondering much at his manner, which was a delicate blend of effrontery
and timidity, and at his voice and language which were both of the
suavest. She decided as she watched him that there was no need of
apologizing for taking him in by the kitchen way where Lydia stood
holding the door open with her most correct and reserved manner to
contradict the active interest in her eye.
"Thank you, miss," said the stranger as Lydia indicated the cocoa mat
with a movement of her foot; Lydia was conservative of her kitchen
floor.
"I see that the family has assembled to witness my predicament with the
bearded monster yonder," he continued with a playfulness that his voice
carefully labelled as such. "This is fortunate for me. Permit me to
present my card."
Rob, who still stood nearest to this personage, took the card and read:
"Albert Lockwell, Dealer in Antiques. Colonial Furniture a Specialty.
Antique furniture, old china, pewter, silver and brass bought and sold.
Highest prices given and lowest asked-- Fourth Avenue, New York." And
in the lower left-hand corner she read: "Mr. Demetrius Dennis."
"That is my name," said the stranger indicating the latter inscription
with his thumb-nail backward. "I represent the well-known firm of
Lockwell. Please allow the other ladies to peruse the card."
Rob handed it to Lydia to be given over to her mother; the solemn
handmaiden carefully "perused" the card herself before yielding it up.
"That, madam, as I have said, is my name: Demetrius Dennis,
representing ALBERT LOCKWELL."