"I'm going up-stairs to put on that calico wrapper you loaned me, Aunt
Jewel," shouted Leslie, putting a rosy face into the dining-room for
an instant and then vanishing.
"I bought a pair of overalls at the store, as you suggested, Cloudy,"
put in Allison, waving a pair of blue jeans at her and vanishing
also.
Ellen Robinson stood mopping her eyes and staring out from the
dining-room window--not at the hills--and sniffing.
"I should think you'd stop them calling you that ridiculous name!" she
snorted. "It isn't respectful. It sounds like making fun of the
family."
Poor Ellen Robinson! She had her good points, but a sense of humor
wasn't one of them. Also it went against the grain to give up her own
way, and she couldn't remember when she hadn't planned for the freedom
she would have when Julia came to live with her. Having an entirely
different temperament from Julia's and no spiritual outlook whatever
on life, she was unable to understand what thraldom she had been
preparing and planning for her patient elder sister. A little of this
perhaps penetrated to Julia Cloud's disturbed consciousness as she
watched her sister's irate back; for, when she spoke again, it was in
a gentle, soothing tone.
"There now, Ellen, let's forget it all, and just put it away. I shall
be coming back to see you now and then, perhaps, and you can come and
see me. That'll be something new to look forward to. Suppose now we
just get to work and see what's to be done. Have you decided what you
want to have taken over to the house?"
It is doubtful whether Ellen would have succumbed so easily, had not
the two young people returned just then and demanded that they have
something to do.
As quietly as if she were used to packing and moving every year of her
life, Julia Cloud gave them each a pile of newspapers, and set them to
wrapping and packing dishes in a big barrel; and Ellen was forced to
join in and say what she wanted to have of her mother's things.
Without a word Julia set aside anything Ellen asked for, even when it
was something she would have liked to keep herself; and Ellen, her
lips pursed and her eyes bright with defeat, went from room to room,
picking and choosing as if she were at an auction.
Allison still in overalls rushed out in the car, and got a man with a
moving-wagon; and before twelve o'clock Ellen Robinson saw a goodly
load of household furniture start for her own home; and, being
somewhat anxious as to how it would be disposed on its arrival, she
took the car, and sped away to placate Herbert. She really felt quite
triumphant at the ease with which she had secured several valuable
pieces of mahogany which she knew had always been favorites with
Julia.
"Gee!" said Allison as the car vanished out of sight, "isn't Aunt
Ellen some depressor? Was she always so awfully grown up? I say,
Cloudy, you won't get that way, will you when we get you off in our
house? If you do, take poison, or get married, or something. Say,
Cloudy Jewel, you're twenty years younger than she is, do you know it?
Now what'll I do next? That closet is all empty. Shall I begin on this
one? You want this barrel up in the attic, you say? All right; here
goes! No, I won't hurt my back; I'm strong as a horse. I know how to
lift things without hurting myself. Open that door, Leslie, and move
that chair out of my way. Which corner shall I stow it, Cloudy?
Southwest? All right!" and he vanished up the stairs with his barrel.
At half-past twelve a man and a woman arrived whom Julia Cloud had
hired to help; and the house was like a busy hive, not a drone among
them. It really was wonderful how short a time it took to dismantle a
home that had been running for years. But the hands were wonderfully
eager that took hold of the work, and they went at things with a will.
Moreover, Julia Cloud's domain was always in perfect order, which made
a big difference.
They ate their lunch from the pantry shelf, because Ellen had taken
the dining-room table. But it was a good lunch, bread and butter,
apple butter, cookies, half a custard pie, and glasses of rich, foamy
milk. Then they went to work again. The children were smudged with
dust and tumbled and happy. They were doing real things for the first
time in their lives, and they liked it. Moreover, they were bringing
to pass a beloved plan that had seemed at first impossible; and they
wanted to hustle it through before anything spoiled or delayed it.
There was Aunt Ellen. There was no telling what she might not do to
hinder, and Julia Cloud was easily troubled by her sister, they could
see that, wise children that they were; so they worked with all their
might and main.
Two more men were requisitioned, and the furniture began a steady
march up to the attic, where it was to be stored.
Leslie developed a talent for finding the place where she was most
needed and getting to work. She put the sideboard drawers in order,
and then went to packing away garments from the closets in drawers and
trunks and chests, until by four o'clock a great many little nooks and
corners in the house were absolutely clear and empty, ready for the
cleaning before the new tenants arrived, although, to tell the truth,
there was scarcely a spot in Julia Cloud's house that needed much
cleaning, because it had always been kept immaculate.
When Ellen Robinson in her car arrived in sight of the house at
half-past four she identified the parlor and dining-room carpets
hanging on a line strung across the back yard, and two bedroom carpets
being beaten in the side yard. Mrs. Perkins from her patient
watch-tower had also identified them, and hurried out to greet her
friend and get more accurate information; but Ellen was in too much of
a hurry to get inside and secure several other articles, which she had
thought of and desired to have, to spend much time in gossip.
Besides, if Julia was really going, it was just as well to make as
much of it as possible; so she greeted Mrs. Perkins as one too busy
with important affairs to tell details, and hurried into the house.
Standing within the old hallway, she gazed about, startled. How on
earth had Julia managed to tear up things in such a hurry? The
pictures had all vanished from the walls. The books were gone from the
old book-case; the furniture itself was being carried away, the
marble-topped table being the last piece left. The woman was washing
the parlor floor, slopping on the soapy water with that air of
finality that made Ellen Robinson realize that the old home was broken
up at last. Grimly she walked into the dining-room, and saw immaculate
empty closets and cleanly shining window-panes. As far as the work had
progressed it had been done thoroughly.
Up-stairs a cheery chatter came from the rooms, and Ellen Robinson
experienced a pang of real jealousy of these two young things who had
swept in and carried her neglected sister by storm. Somehow it seemed
to her that they had taken something that belonged to her, and she
began to feel bereft. Julia ought to love her better than these two
young strangers; why didn't she? Why didn't those two children make
such a fuss over her as they did over Julia? It certainly was strange!
Perhaps some gleam of perception that it might all be her own fault
began to filter to Ellen Robinson's consciousness as she stood there
on the stairs and listened to the pleasant chatter.
"O Cloudy, dear! Is this really Daddy's picture when he was a little
boy? What a funny collar and necktie! But wasn't he a darling? I love
the way his hair curls around his face. I can remember Daddy quite
well. Mother used to say he was a wonderful man. I think he must have
been a good deal like you. Our old nurse used to say that families
went in streaks. I guess you and Daddy were off the same streak,
weren't you? I hope Allison and I will be, too. Say, Cloudy, can't I
have this picture of Daddy to hang in my room in our new house? I love
it."
Ellen Robinson wondered whether they had classified her as another
"streak," and somehow the thought was unpleasant. It was like one of
those little rare mirrors that flash us a look now and then in which
we "see oursel's as ithers see us," and are warned to take account of
stock. As she climbed the old stairs, Ellen Robinson took account of
herself, as it were, and resolved to show a better side to these
children than she had shown heretofore; and so, when she appeared
among them, she put aside her grim aspect for a while, and spoke in
quite an affable tone:
"Well, you certainly can work!"
The contrast was so great that both the young people blinked at her in
wonder, and a smile broke out on Leslie's lovely face. Somehow it
warmed Aunt Ellen's heart, and she went on:
"But you all must be tired. You better come up to our house for supper
to-night. You won't have any chance to get it here."
"Oh, we don't mind picnicking," said Leslie hastily. Then she caught a
glimpse of her aunt's face, and her natural kindliness came to the
front. "But of course that would be lovely if it won't be too much
trouble for you," she added pleasantly with one of her brilliant
smiles, although she could see Allison making violent motions and
shaking his head at her from the other room, where he was out of his
Aunt Ellen's sight. Leslie really had a lovely nature, and was always
quick to discern it when she had hurt any one. Ellen Robinson looked
at her suspiciously, alert for the insult always, but yielded suddenly
and unexpectedly to the girl's loveliness. Was it something in
Leslie's eyes that reminded Ellen of her big brother who used to come
home now and then, and tease her, and bring her lovely gifts? She
watched Leslie a moment wistfully, and then with a sigh turned away.
She wished one of her little girls could look like that.
"Well, I'd better go right home and get supper ready," she said
alertly; and there was a note of almost pleased eagerness in her voice
that she was included in this function of packing and moving that
seemed somehow to have turned into a delightful game in which
weariness and care were forgotten.
"I'll have supper ready to dish up by seven o'clock," she admonished
her astonished sister as she swept past the bedroom where she was at
work putting away blankets and pillows in camphor. "You won't be ready
much before that; but don't you be a minute later, or the supper will
be spoiled."
By which admonition Julia Cloud became aware that Ellen was going to
favor them with some of her famous chicken potpie. She stood still for
a whole minute with a light in her eyes and a smile on her face,
listening to Ellen's retreating footsteps down the stairs; then, as
the Ford set up its churning clatter, she turned back to her task, and
murmured softly, "Poor Ellen!"
The supper passed off very well. Herbert was a trifle gruff and
silent; but it was plain that Allison's stories amused him, for now
and then a half-smile crept into his stolid countenance. Julia Cloud
was so glad that she could have cried. She hated scenes, and she
dreaded being at outs with her relatives. So she ate her chicken
potpie and fresh pumpkin-pie thankfully, and forgot how weary she was.
After supper Leslie sat down at the piano, and rattled off rag-time;
and she and Allison sang song after song, while the children stood
about admiringly, and even Herbert sat by as at a social function and
listened. The atmosphere was really quite clear when at last they
prepared to leave, and Julia Cloud had an inkling that the big blue
car had something to do with it.
"That's some car you've got," said Herbert patronizingly as he held a
lantern for them to get down the steps. "Get it this year? What do you
have to pay for that make now? I'm thinking of getting a new one
myself pretty soon."
Down upon their knees in the lantern-light went the two men of the
party, examining this and that point of interest, their noses turned
to the mysterious inner workings of the wonderful mechanism, while
Julia Cloud sat and marveled that here at last was something which
Herbert Robinson respected.
And Ellen stood upon the steps, really smiling and saying how nice it
had been to have them, for all the world as if they were company, all
the hard lines of her rapidly maturing face softened by kindliness! It
seemed like a miracle. Julia Cloud settled back into the deep
cushions, and lifted her eyes to the dark line of the hills against
the sky. "From whence cometh my help," trailed the words through her
tired brain; and her heart murmured, "God, I thank Thee!"