Down the little village street, past the station, and across the
railroad toward Harmony swept the great blue car, with the villagers
turning to stare at Miss Cloud taking a ride so early in the morning
in so gaudy a car, so soon after the funeral, and even without a
veil!
A few minutes later Ellen in her Ford rattled up to the door and got
out with the air of one who had come to do things. She walked
confidently up to the front door and tried it, rattled it, knocked,
and then went angrily around to the back, trying all the doors and
windows. Mrs. Perkins from her parlor window watched a minute; and,
when she saw Ellen come around to the front again and look up at the
second story, she threw a shawl around her shoulders and ran across
the street to impart faithfully her story.
"For the land's sake!" said Ellen indignantly. "What can Julia be
about? Mother always said she never would grow up, and I believe it. I
was afraid when I went away she had some scheme in her mind. She's
always getting up fool ideas. I remember that time when Mrs. Marsh
died she wanted to adopt the twins and bring them up. The idea! When
there was a county poorhouse and no reason why they shouldn't go to
it! But she'll have to come down off her independence and be sensible.
Herbert says we can't have any of her foolishness. It's us that would
have to suffer if she got into trouble and lost what little she's
got, and I suppose I've got to have it out with her once and for all
and get this thing settled. It's getting on all our nerves, and I've
got the fall house-cleaning and jelly to do, and I can't fool around
any longer. Well, I suppose I better try to get into this house. Have
you got any keys that might fit?"
Mrs. Perkins hurried over for all her keys, including trunk-keys; and
soon they had tried every door and every key with no effect, and had
to call in the youngest Perkins and boost him up to the upper-hall
window.
Under the guise of looking after Julia Cloud the two good ladies
invaded her home and proceeded to investigate. The parlor and the hall
gave forth no secrets except for a couple of handsome raincoats slung
carelessly upon chairs. But the dining-room, oh, the dining-room! If
Julia Cloud could have seen their faces as they swung open that
carefully closed door and stood upon the threshold aghast, looking at
the wreck of the breakfast, she would have cringed and shivered even
on her way to Harmony.
But Julia Cloud could not see; she was safely over the bridge and out
on the highway where she would not be likely to be followed, and the
wine of the morning was rising in her veins. Such wonderful air, such
clear blue sky and flying clouds! She felt like a flying cloud herself
as she sped along in the great blue car with the chatter of the
children in her ears and the silvery laughter of Leslie by her side.
How could she help smiling and letting her cheeks grow pink and her
eyes grow bright? Too soon after a funeral? The thought did come to
her. But she knew by the thrill of her heart that her mother in heaven
was gladder now than she had been for years of her bedridden life on
earth, and, if she could look down to see, would no doubt be happy
that some joy was coming to her hard-worked daughter at last. Julia
would just enjoy this day and this delight to the full while it
lasted. If it was not meant to last longer than the day, at least she
would have this wonderful ride to remember always, this bird-like
motion as if she were floating through a panorama! Not a thought of
Ellen poking through her half-cleared house, finding unswept hearth
and unmade beds and unwashed dishes, came to trouble her joy. It was
as if the childhood of her life, long held in abeyance, had come back
to her, and would not be denied.
Ellen and Mrs. Perkins in their inspection of the house came at last
to the upper story and the guests' room strewn with brushes bearing
silver monograms and elaborate appointments of travel that kept them
guessing their use and exclaiming in wonder and horror that any one
would spend so much on little details. Leslie's charming silk negligée
and her frilly little nightgown with its lace and floating ribbons
came in for a large amount of contempt, and it was some time before
the good ladies arrived at Julia Cloud's room and found the open
telegram on her bureau that gave the key to the mystery of the two
visitors.
"H'm!" said Ellen. "So that's it! Well, I thought she had some bee in
her bonnet. She must have written to them or they never would have
come. Now, I suppose she means to keep them all winter, perhaps, and
feed them, and baby them up; and, when she has spent all she has,
she'll come back on us. Well, she'll find out she's much mistaken;
and, when she gets back, I'll just tell her plainly that she can
bundle up her company and send them home and come out to us now,
to-day or to-morrow, or the offer is withdrawn, and she needn't think
she can fall back on Herbert, either, when she's spent everything.
Herbert is not a man to be put upon."
"I should say not!" said Mrs. Perkins sympathetically, looking over
her friend's shoulder at the telegram. "So those were your brother's
two children! He must 'uv been pretty well off for them to have a car
like that. I must say I think it's a harm to children to be brought up
wealthy."
"Their mother was rich," said Ellen sourly. It had always been a thorn
in her flesh. "She was a snob, too, and her children'll likely be the
limit by this time. But Julia is such a fool!"
They sat in Julia Cloud's parlor, one at each window, discussing the
probabilities until half-past eleven. Then Ellen said she must go. She
positively couldn't wait another minute; but she would return, in the
afternoon, and Mrs. Perkins must tell her sister that she was coming
and wanted her to remain at home. That it was very important.
"I'll settle her!" she said with her thin lips set in a hard line.
Then she stooped to crank her Ford.
Mrs. Perkins watched her away, then hurried to her own neglected work;
and ten minutes later the big blue car sailed noiselessly up to the
place. It was not until the Perkins children discovered it and told
their mother that she knew it had arrived. This was very annoying. She
had wanted to catch them quite casually on their arrival, and now she
would have to make a special errand over, and as likely as not have
them not come to the door again. Besides, she was getting dinner, and
things were likely to burn. Nevertheless, she dared not wait with that
big blue car standing so capably at the door, ready to spirit them
away again at any moment. She wiped her hands on her apron, grabbed a
teacup for an excuse, and ran over to borrow that soda once more.
Peals of laughter were echoing through the old house when she knocked
at the door, and a regular rush and scramble was going on, so unseemly
just after a funeral! The door was on the latch, too, as if they did
not care who heard; and to save her life she couldn't help pushing it
a little with her foot, just enough to see in. And there was Julia
Cloud, her white hair awry, and her face rosy with mirth, an ear of
corn in one hand and a knife in the other, being carried--yes,
actually _carried_--across the dining-room in the arms of a tall young
man and deposited firmly on the big old couch.
"There, Cloudy Jewel! You'll lie right there and rest while Leslie and
I get lunch. You're all tired out; I can see it in your eyes; and we
can't afford to let you stay so. No, we don't need any succotash for
lunch or dinner, either. I know it's good; but we haven't time now,
and we aren't going to let you work," announced the young man
joyously as he towered above her lying quiescent and weak with
laughter.
"No, nor you aren't going to wash the dishes, either," gurgled the
young girl who danced behind the young man; "Allison and I will wash
them all while you take a nap, and then we're going to ride again."
Julia Cloud, her eyes bright with the joy of all this loving
playfulness, tried to protest; but suddenly into the midst of this
tumult came Mrs. Perkins's raucous assertion:
"H'm-m!"
The two young people whirled around alertly, and Julia Cloud sat up
with a wild attempt to bring her hair into subjection as she
recognized her neighbor. The color flooded into her sweet face, but
she rose with gentle dignity.
"O Mrs. Perkins, we must have been making such a noise that we didn't
hear your knock," she said.
As a matter of fact Mrs. Perkins hadn't knocked. She had been led on
by curiosity until she stood in the open dining-room door, rank
disapproval written on her face.
"It did seem a good bit of noise for a house of mourning," said Mrs.
Perkins dryly.
Julia Cloud's sweet eyes suddenly lost their smile, and she drew
herself up ever so little. There was just a ripple of a quiver of her
gentle lips, and she said quite quietly and with a dignity that could
not help impressing her caller:
"This is not a house of mourning, Mrs. Perkins. I don't think my dear
mother would want us to mourn because she was released from a bed of
pain where she had lain for nine long years, and gone to heaven where
she could be young and free and happy. I'm glad for her, just as glad
as I can be; and I know she would want me to be. But won't you sit
down? Mrs. Perkins, this is my niece and nephew, Leslie and Allison
Cloud from California. I guess you remember them when they were little
children. Or no; you hadn't moved here yet when they were here----"
Mrs. Perkins with pursed lips acknowledged the introduction distantly,
one might almost say insolently, and turned her back on them as if
they had been little children.
"Your sister's been here all morning waiting for you!" she said
accusingly. She gave a significant glance at the unwashed breakfast
dishes, only part of which had been removed to the kitchen. "She
couldn't imagine where you'd gone at that hour an' left your beds and
your dishes."
A wave of indignation swept over Julia Cloud's sweet face.
"So you have been in my house during my absence!" she said quietly.
"That seems strange since Ellen has no key!"
There was nothing in her voice to indicate rebuke, but Mrs. Perkins
got very red.
"I s'pose your own sister has a right to get into the house where she
was born," she snapped.
"Oh, of course," said Julia Cloud pleasantly. "And Ellen used to be a
good climber before she got so fat. I suppose she climbed in the
second-story window, although I hadn't realized she could. However,
it doesn't matter. I suppose you have had to leave your dishes and
beds once in a while when you were called away on business. You have a
cup there; did you want to borrow something?"
Mrs. Perkins was one of those people who are never quite aware of it
when they are in a corner; but she felt most uncomfortable, especially
as she caught a stifled giggle from Allison, who bolted into the
parlor hastily and began noisily to turn over the pages of a book on
the table; but she managed to ask for her soda and get herself out of
the house.
"Thank you for bringing my sister's message," called Julia Cloud after
her. She never could quite bear to be unpleasant even to a prying
neighbor, and Mrs. Perkins through the years had managed to make
herself unpleasant many times.
"The old cat!" said Leslie in a clear, carrying voice. "Why did you
thank her, Auntie Jewel? She didn't deserve it."
"Hush, Leslie, dear! She will hear you!" said Julia Cloud, hastily
closing the door on the last words.
"I hope she did," said Leslie comfortably. "I _meant_ she should."
"But, deary, that isn't right! It isn't--Christian!" said her aunt in
distress.
"Then I'm no Christian," chanted Leslie mischievously. "Why isn't it
right, I'd like to know? Isn't she an old cat?"
"But you hurt her feelings, dear. I'm afraid I was to blame, too; I
didn't answer her any too sweetly myself."
"Well, didn't she hurt yours first? _Sweet!_ Why, you were honey
itself, Cloudy, dear, thanking her for her old prying!"
"I hope it's the kind of honey that gets bitter after you swallow it!"
growled Allison, coming out of the parlor. "If she'd said much more,
I'd just have put her out of the house, talking to you like that, as
if you were a little child, Cloudy!"
"Why, children! That didn't really hurt me any; it just stirred up my
temper a little; but I'm ashamed that I let it, and I don't want you
to talk like that. It isn't a bit right. It distresses me to have you
think it's right to answer back that way and take vengeance on
people."
"Well, there, Cloudy, let's lay that subject on the table for some of
our night talks; and you can scold us all you like. We have a lot of
work to do now, and let's forget the old pry. Now you lie down on that
couch where I put you, and Leslie and I'll wash these dishes."
Julia Cloud lay obediently on the couch, but her mind was not at rest.
She was in a tumult of indignation at her prying neighbor and an
uncertainty of anxiety about Ellen and what she might do next. But
beneath it all was a vague fear about these her dear children who were
about to become her responsibility. Could she do it? Dared she do it?
How differently they had been brought up from all the traditions which
had controlled her life!
Take, for instance, that matter of Christianity. How would they feel
about it? Would they be in sympathy with her ideas and ideals of right
and wrong? They were no longer little children to obey her. They would
have ideas of their own, yes, and ideals. Would there be constant
clashing? Would she be haunted with a feeling that she was not doing
her duty by them? There were so many such questions, amusements, and
Sabbath, and churchgoing, and how to treat other people. And doubtless
she was old-fashioned, and they would chafe under her rule.
Take the little matter of Leslie's calling Mrs. Perkins a cat. She
_was_ a cat, but Leslie ought not to have told her so. It wasn't
polite, and it wasn't Christian. And yet how could she, plain Julia
Cloud, who had never been anywhere much outside of her home town, who
had had no opportunity for study or wide reading, and who had only
worked quietly all her life, and thought her plain little thoughts of
love to God and to her neighbors, be able to explain all those things
to this pair of lovable, uncontrolled children, who had always had
their own way, and whose ideals were the ideals of the great wide
unchristian world?
A little pucker grew between her brows, and a tired, troubled tear
stole softly between her lashes. When the children, tiptoeing about
and whispering, came to peek in at the door and see whether she was
asleep, they discovered her expression at once, and, drawing near,
sighted the tear. Then they went down upon their knees beside her
couch, and noisily demanded the cause thereof.
Little by little they drew her fears from her.
"Why, Cloudy, dear! We'll do what you want. We'll let all the old cats
in the community walk over you if that will make you happy," declared
Leslie, patting her face.
"No, we won't!" put in Allison; "we'll keep 'em away from her, but we
won't let 'em know how we despise 'em. Won't that do, Cloudy? And as
for all those other things you are afraid about, why couldn't you just
wait till we come to them? We're anything but angels, I admit, but
we're going to try to do what you want us to if it busts the eye-teeth
out of us, because we want you. And you always have been such a good
scout. As for the church dope and all that, why, it's like that guy in
the Bible you used to tell us about when we were children--or was she
a lady? It's a case of 'Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my
God,' or words to that effect. If we don't agree on our own account,
we'll do it because you want it. Isn't that about the idea? Wouldn't
that fill the bill?"
"You dear children!" said Julia Cloud, her eyes full of smiles and
tears now as she gathered them both into a loving embrace. "I don't
know how anybody could promise more than that. I wasn't afraid of you;
it was myself. You know I'm not at all wise, and it's pretty late in
life for me to begin to bring up children."
"Well, you're all right, anyhow, Cloudy; and you're the only person in
the world we'll let bring us up; so it's up to you to do it the best
you can, or it won't get done. Come on now; we've got lunch ready.
There's cold chicken and bread and milk and pie and cake, and I've
got the teakettle boiling like a house afire, so if you want any tea
or anything you can have it."
So they had a merry meal, and Julia Cloud ate and laughed with them,
and thought she never had been so happy since she was a little girl.
Then, mindful of her prying neighbor and her imminent sister, she
insisted on putting the house in order to the last bed and dish before
she was ready for the afternoon.
"And now we're going to call on Aunt Ellen!" announced Allison as
Julia Cloud hung up the clean dish-towels steaming from their scalding
bath, and washed her hands at the sink.
"Why, she's coming here!" said his aunt, whirling around with a
troubled look. "And, as she's left word she was coming, I suppose
we'll have to wait for her. It's too bad, for she won't be here till
three, and it's only a quarter of two. I'm sorry, because you wanted
to go out in the car, didn't you?"
"We're going!" said Allison, again with a commanding twinkle in his
eye. "We can't waste all that time; and, besides, don't you see if she
comes here, she'll likely stay all the afternoon and argue? If we go
there, we can come away when we like; and she'll feel we're more
polite to come to her, anyhow, won't she, Cloudy?"
Julia Cloud looked into the boy's convincing eyes, and her trouble
cleared away. Perhaps he was right. Anyhow, why should they spoil a
whole day to conciliate Ellen? Ellen would be disagreeable about it,
however they did; and they might as well rise above it, and just be
pleasant, and let it go at that.
It was the first time in her long life of self-sacrifice that Julia
Cloud had been able to rise above her anxiety about her sister's
tantrums and go calmly on her way. It is scarcely likely that she
would have managed it now if it hadn't been that she felt that Allison
and Leslie ought not to be sacrificed.
She never did anything just for herself. It was not in her.
"All right," she said briskly, glancing at the clock; "then we must go
at once, or we shall miss her. I'll be ready in five minutes. How
about you, Leslie?"
"Oh, I'm ready now," said the girl, patting her curly hair into shape
before the old mahogany-framed mirror in the hall.
In five minutes more they were stowed away in the big blue car again,
speeding down the road, with Mrs. Perkins indignantly and openly
watching them from her front porch.
"We put one over on Mrs. Pry, didn't we, Cloudy?" said Allison,
turning around to wink a naughty eye back toward the Perkins house.
"She thinks you've dared to run away after she gave you orders to stay
at home."
Julia Cloud could not suppress a smile of enjoyment, and wondered
whether she was getting childish that she should be so happy with
these children.